Watyll

Props upon thee for taking name from Arthurian legend.

Deep within the swirling currents of the spirit realm, all is not as it seems. Whilst on the plane of the mortal realm, chaos rages, it seems quiet and calm here. The Uruks in their rage slaughter each other, as the Badger fights the Turtle. Yet- the spirit realm remains as placid as a desert oasis. Shamans do not sense the despair within that is about to begin. For within the darkest levels of the spirit realm, in the shadows of shadow that are this immaterial world, five beings meet. For a mere instant, it seems, the immaterial plane becomes material, a space rather than a void. Within this space, this floating rock within the ocean of nonexistence, appears a quintet of madness. First to arrive upon the scene is a wretched being, a cage filled to the brim with writhing and twisted forms. Arms attach to legs, eyeballs are inside out. The voices of the anguished ones pierce through the void. Second comes a more lithe, composed form. Within its wake trails shadows and mist. Her serpent tail slithers across the floor of the meeting place, and she places a delicate finger upon her lip, studying the wretched cage across from her intently. They speak not a word, for more are soon to arrive. A vast roar announces the presence of a warrior, long before he arrives. A ripping, tearing sound approaches as a portal slashes open and yet another sentience issues forth. It is a great warrior, bearing swords of cunningly wrought steel. His teeth are clenched in a rictus snarl. The Uruk warrior’s forest green body is pocked with scars, and his flesh is torn and bleeding in many places. Intestines hang loose from his open stomach. The lithe serpentess smiles as she sees him, before turning her head as another form emerges. This spirit appears rather unimpressive compared to the rest. A portal spits out a dried and cracked pile of bones, which shamble along the floor of the void-made-space. The Uruk warrior glares at the bones as they appear, letting out a snarl. Finally, last to the party of plotting, comes an old man, his skin stretched over thin and brittle bones like the canvas over a tent. Sores cover his body, festering. Maggots eat at them, and flies buzz perpetually about the man. He has six arms, the three on the right hold a rusted spear, sword, and axe. Upon his left side, the arms hold a halberd, a warhammer, and a bow. It seems that the weakened man can barely hold them up. Each spirit stares at each other in turn, before finally the woman speaks in an ancient tongue known to few but the Orcs, who name it Old Blah. “Why have you called us here, Krathol?” The pile of bones rustles. “You know why, Shezept. You know very well why, I think. And if I had not summoned you, one of the others would have.” The warrior snarls. “Always you speak in riddles, Krathol. I know not of what you speak. You distract me from my true task. The Azogs are tearing at the throats of the Uzg, and I must continue my mission. Soon the War Nation will fall, and the Shamans with it.” The warrior spits some crimson blood, as if to punctuate his point. “Surely,” said the spirit of the cage, speaking through each of the mouths imprisoned within, “If your power was so great, Anyhuluz, you would have destroyed the Uzg long ago. You have not the tact for such strategy.” The voices sound like a chorus of pain, some of them speaking off-kilter to the others and creating a chaotic and ill noise. Anyhuluz pounds his chest, roaring. “I am responsible for all strife, Ogrol! I brought down the Rexdom a thousand times, and I will do so again!” “Of that we have no doubt,” said the elderly man, speaking in a quiet voice, “You always manage to bring the Rexdom down. But the Uzg never falls with it. Such is the way of the Uruk, Anyhuluz. The strong survive to rule, and the weak die.” “Enough prattling,” cut in Krathol. “We have business to attend to.” The spirits quieted, looking uneasily around each other. “I will speak his name then, if you all fear it so much.” said Shezept, smiling lightly. “Ikuras has returned to the spirit realm.” The pile of bones rattled. “Yes.” “Then we destroy him.” growled Anyhuluz. Ogrol’s many mouths grunted. “The trap of the Aenguls was cunningly made. I had not thought he would be able to escape it.” “Why was he trapped there, and not the accursed realm?” asked Orgon quietly. “Because the Nether holds the other one. No prison can hold the two of them together.” spoke Krathol. “This is true,” muttered Anyhuluz reluctantly, “But still, I say we kill him. He is too dangerous, too powerful.” “I agree.” said Ogrol. “As do I.” said Shezept. “You are fools,” said Krathol, rattling the pile of his bones, “You know not the power he can bring.” “I do very well.” said Shezept, snarling. Her tail rattled with annoyance. “But I do not want to lose my grip on this realm. We have held sway here for the last thousand years while Ikuras was locked away in that prison of his. Why should we give it up now? Why should we give to him souls that we have toiled to gain?” “I am not surprised you support him,” said Ogrol’s wailing voices, “You were once his greatest servant, Krathol. I know you wish for dominion over us once more. What say you on the matter, Orgon?” “I say nothing.” said the old starving man. “I once served him, as did all of you. I do not wish to give up my realm, but the price of failure is too high to risk it. Do you forget what he did to Rashar?” The spirits all recollected the fate of the dead spirit of Dread and Foretelling. The spirit had screamed for years. None of those gathered had thought something like that could even be done to a being such as themselves. “Then it is a majority.” said Anyhuluz. “We kill him.” “But how?” said Shezept. “I know not. That is your specialty, betrayer.” The serpentess chuckled. “This thing is true. Why don’t we contact… Rolfizh. It has been some time since he has had such an offer.” “You speak of offers,” said Ogrol, “But what do we have to offer him?” “A place upon this council. He has much desired it for eons.” Anyhuluz growled. “I will not allow that tuskless slinking maggot on this council. He cannot fight head on, like a true spirit of power.” Krathol laughed, bones rattling with mirth. “If you hold your honor in such high regard, go kill Ikuras yourself.” Anyhuluz was silent. “Or, don’t kill him at all.” said a new voice. The spirits’ heads all snapped to the direction of the new voice. A shaman strode in, purple skinned with tattoos running around his body. “Zogrocka.” growled Anyhuluz. “Your purpose was finished. You failed to lead the Azogs into war. Leave this place before I destroy you.” “I no longer fear you, o spirit of malice. I have a higher power protecting me. I believe you were just speaking of him.” spoke Zogrocka, voice filled with amusement. Anyhuluz glared. “Have you come to inform on us, then?” “Nay. My master comes with an offer. Think carefully, for this offer will come but once. Think carefully in turn. Ogrol, when was the last time you captured a soul? I imagine quite a long time. Nobody has dared summon you in ages. And Shezept, the Orcs code of honor has all but destroyed your practice. Oh, you still get some magnificent betrayals in the Human land, but they are not as sweet as the Orc betrayals of old, codes of honor smashed to bits over greed and violence. Anyhuluz, you yearn for blood and strife. Who better is a harbinger of strife but the spirit of Fear and Insanity himself? Cannot Ikuras and Anyhuluz help each other?” Ogrol’s many heads looked thoughtful, if twas possible for faces twisted in agony. Shezept looked troubled, and Anyhuluz looked slightly less angry. “You know what I say is true. But serve my master, and you will walk the earth again, free. You will devour all the souls you want. You will taste the flesh of your enemies, feel their blood dripping down their face. I know how much you yearn for the destruction of Jevex, Shezept. My master can kill him, you know this. He can help.” “Let us think upon this.” muttered Shezept. “No, no thinking. The offer applies now. It will not come again. The decision must be made. War comes.” “Very well…” said Shezept, serpent’s tail lashing back and forth in anxiety “I will serve Ikuras.” “As will I.” said Ogrol with a sigh. “And… I… I too will serve… Ikuras.” Anyhuluz said, muttering to himself after he spoke the words. Zogrocka looked to Orgon. Orgon simply nodded, and Zogrocka then turned to Krathol. “I will serve Ikuras, as I ever have, Dark Shaman.” Zogrocka cackled. “Then follow me, honorable spirits. We have work to do.

((This was a badass post.)) Rayd'Azog hears news of the vision. "Mehbe da Azogs shuld nub klomp... Nub zure bout dis anymur."

Rayd'Azog gets hyped.

I first met drone when he was playing Azel Bloodseeker. It was pretty cool back then because he had just founded Darkhaven and I was helping him set it up. He really stepped up and showed a lot of responsibility while running his sub race. When he returned from being banned, I brought him into the Ikuras cult. From there he quickly worked his way up, showing initiative and giving good ideas. He's now one of the leaders of the cult, and has helped with the great Ikuras player made event line. I give a +1 to this man.

*jotuns

After years of planning, his plans had finally come to fruition. It seemed an eon since had had first begun this journey. But now, Ikuras would be freed, and his wife would be returned to him. He held the key aloft, ignorant to the sounds of battle from the outcropping adjacent to his floating platform, suspended over the void. Kknotos held the key out to Dhaun'che, and she took it. "Do it." he said. "Scream it to the heavens." Dhaun looked at it for a moment, as the mere two clerics that had come to her aid were set upon by Wraith, Shade, and their minions. Kknotos watched her as she looked over the edge, and prepared to jump if she threw it, but she merely wept as she screamed. "Ikuras, I release you!" Dhaun began to float up in the air, blue life force streaming from her mouth as she went unconscious. The azure energy streamed into the key, which began to crack. Kknotos felt a sense of euphoria and pure joy as he sensed his master drawing near. With a final whisper, the last glowing orb of life was sucked from Dhaun, and her body dropped to the stone of the altar. Kknotos watched, confused, as the key then dropped to the altar. "What? Why did nothing happen?" uttered Kknotos. Skale made eye contact with him, also confused. Kknotos bent to pick up the key. As he touched it, the glass shattered, and an explosion ripped outwards. A cloud of blackness- but not a cloud, rather the absence of space itself, ripped free from the key. The force blew everyone off their feet on the adjacent platform, tossing people like rag dolls. Kknotos felt his body consumed, inch by inch, and screamed in agony as he dissolved. ~~~ Ikuras was freed. Throughout the land of Athera, Clerics, Druids, and Shamans feel a flinch of pain in their very souls. A deep, rumbling explosion is carried on the wind from the West, followed shortly by words deep and ancient as the time before the world. "I AWAKEN." Ikuras was freed.

Siege weaponry system is godly. Make sure unbiased GMs are put on the team overseeing the claim.

Kknotos stared at his hands, leaning forwards in his seat. The throne was humble, a simple one of pinewood. He was not the master, but a servant of a far greater power. In his left hand he clutched a solitary key. In his right, three glowing crystals of power siphoned from three powerful mages. Two of them had died. The third one yet vexed him, but that was a matter for another time. He still had doubts. Even now, after all that he had done. Who was he to question His orders? But then, would this be what she really wanted? Would she love him if Ikuras brought her back? If only he could remember her! Kknotos stared for another short time at key and crystals before rising from his seat, making nary a sound as he strode out from the underground. The darkness of the room hid the corners where his disciples waited. "We are weakened." Kknotos says, speaking into the darkness in black language. "So?" says Kraal, his flaming eye sockets lighting up the shadows, "We three are yet powerful. Our cult grows with every passing day. It is a small matter that the high and mighty Dread Lord has left to play nanny to a group of automatons." Kknotos shoots a glare at Kraal. "Do not speak ill of our allies. Vorrul served us well, while he was in our ranks. What have you heard from the Dark Shaman you spoke of?" "He has agreed to make us a flesh golem." Kknotos nodded, before looking up at the night sky through the window. "The time to free our master is nigh. The stars begin to align." Outside the window are four red stars, each slowly moving into alignment. "We alone cannot defend the ceremony. Let us send the word to our allies." "But master," says Siggourdnbad, hidden within cloak and corner, "What if the messages are intercepted by our foes?" Kknotos nods. "They will be in Black Language. One of our own would have to betray us." "And if they do?" "Then they will beg for death." ~~~~~~~ All over the land of Athera, along roads and checkpoints, obelisks of stone begin to rise from the ground. They are covered in many carvings, depicting life, death, torture. At the very top is carved a red, four pointed star. It is the only spot of color on the stone. At eye level, wrapping around each obelisk is text: It would burn the eyes of any pure souled person, but to those with dark and tainted spirits it is easy to read. Nobody knows whence these obelisks came, it is as if they appeared overnight. But the four pointed star is easily recognizable, and many wonder what is to come next.

Are you looking for dead cultures as well? There's much to be said for them. You should make a list of dead cultures.

"Rebuild Mt. Ire." Says ghostly dwarf voice

Suicide. Such a depressed man on the inside.

(Warning:Spicy langugae :O) bruised rekt destroyed smashed crushed!!!! u really showed him m8! how are u still a gm : ^) Rayd'Azog rubs his head and places his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Mi hab grukd dat wi hab juzt got oud ob klomp wid twiggiez and pinkiez. Ug. Zu bi id." Rayd asks for Krug's blessing before going to join his brothers.

The ghost of Grimherst Grandaxe mutters something about being an OG grandaxe when there was still blackaxes and greataxes.

Or will it... Kknotos sat upon his chair within the ruined village, looking about him. He vaguely remembered waking up at the Cloud Temple. Kknotos had never understood why the monks healed beings both good and evil. It was a puzzlement to him. He could only attribute it to the foolishness of magic users of the light. While he sat upon his chair, he knew that his plans had not gone as he had anticipated. The Dread Lord had informed him of that. ~~~ It had all begun when Kknotos kidnapped three mages of great power. Ouity, Buubztik'Lur, and Hosper. Each from a different group. Druids, Shamans, and the Clerical Order. He had spirited them away to a dark tower, chaining them so that they could not escape. About the tower he had built a massive maze, and within the maze, arenas. Kknotos summoned his allies, and cordially sent out invitations to the groups to meet at the Cloud Temple, where they would be led to his quandary. Twas Sprat that met them there. Sprat guided the mages to the quandary, and at the entrance it was Kknotos that met them. He spoke to them and welcomed them to his abode. Then instructed them to send five of their best into their quandary. The druids had only sent two, which made Kknotos chuckle inwardly. He knew what waited for them within. Kknotos allowed them into their separate passageways. Instead of making it to the center of the tower, each mage found himself facing another mage across a clearing. Shamans faced Clerics, Clerics faced Druids, Druids faced Shamans. Kknotos stepped atop the tower and addressed them, as the doors to each arena slammed shut. "The man or woman in front of you is the man or woman you are to kill. The last man standing gets his leader back." Kknotos could barely contain his laughter. Each of these mages claimed to be pure of heart, truly good. That all crumpled before the animalistic urges to kill. This was truly what Ikuras was about! This was his masters work! The druids were killed quickly, by an orc and a cleric. Then it was brutal fighting in the pits as the clerics and orcs met in mortal combat. Match after match was fought. Meanwhile at the front gate, the stench of death rolled over the area. A gigantic ghoul lumbered up, smashing through the wall to get at those who were left outside the den of confusion. Following it were dark mages, necromancers, and Dread Knights. There was nothing the few left at the front could do, and they were slaughtered wholesale. After that, the Dread Knights were set to guard the prisoners within the tower, Ouity, Hosper, and Buubztik. Meanwhile, something had gone wrong in the pits. A horn sounded out from the arena containing the rex, Grogmar Gorkil. Shrieks and hissing sounded from the east, and Kknotos turned with a furrowed brow. On the horizon appeared a scaddernak, Lurgoi. Lurgoi smashed into the quandary walls, scooping up Grogmar and his companion Strigz. They stormed through the maze. Kknotos summoned up a strike of lightning, shocking Grogmar into unconsciousness. The lightning spasmed through Lurgoi as well, weakening it. Unfortunately for Kknotos, Grogmar had got off a shot with his crossbow, which struck him right in the shoulder. Kknotos toppled off the wall, crawling away. Luckily enough, it seemed that the Dread Lord, Verin, had slain the dread Lurgoi. But the bad luck was not over for the tainted ones. A boom of sound and a wash of golden light announced the arrival of Ivanus, the Itharel. Kknotos stumbled up to him, and looked at him suspiciously. The Itharel made a deal with him, agreeing to heal the wound in his shoulder if Kknotos would allow Hosper to go free. Kknotos agreed. The arrow was yanked out of his shoulder. The Itharel then promptly whacked Kknotos on the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. During this time, it seemed a fight had broken out in the tower and Buubztik, now insane, came up behind Kknotos and ripped his throat out. ~~~ After he had died, Kknotos had been informed that two Dread Knights escaped, along with the clerics and the orcs. Buubztik, still affected by insanity, rampaged about, killing his own kind. It seemed a sort of clerical sentinel had been busted free, and was keeping Hosper alive. You see, Kknotos had poisoned each of the mages. Ouity and Buubztik were now dead from it, and Hosper was now being only kept alive by the power of the Sentinel of Tahariae. He couldn't even use magic. Kknotos lets out a laugh as he shuffles in his hands the crystals filled with the arcane energy of the three mages. Did they honestly think he would invite them to his hideaway so that the three could be rescued? He had gotten what he wanted. Evil may not ever win, but nor does it ever completely lose.

Kknotos sheds a tear of grief, as he thought Ikuras was going to be causing this.

((Awesome.))

Unbeknownst to the mage, a figure behind her heard the comment. The figure smiles, walking away from the site of the grisly crime of a body half eaten, with a four pointed star. When out of sight, the figure removed his stone ring, revealing himself to be the lich, Kraal. ​"I do love a challenge…" he states, going to report to his master. ~~~ Weeks later, charred remains are found outside the Raine academy. Nailed to the ground is an unrecognizable corpse. The corpse's hands and feet are impaled, so that each limb is 90 degrees from the next. Trailing from each limb to the next is a thick trail of blood, forming the unmistakeable outline of a four pointed star. Loosely placed on top of the body is a wooden signpost, which reads "Alirya Darkwood. We do not take insults lightly."