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About Narthok

  • Birthday 07/24/1997

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  1. The Last of the Giants Karliene - The Last of the Giants In my youth the Elders told me of the great sagas of history. Not just the tales of the Urukhim, of the exploits of Krug, his sons, of Mogroka the great Rex. The Elders also spoke of the Heroes of the lesser races. Mortals of honour, of wit, of great courage. Where now dwell the heroes of this world? Where now dwell the light against the darkness, the best of each race, who inspired yet greater heights from their followers? It is clear that their days have passed. The gaze of the descendants looks no longer to the stars. To the example of our creator and our ancestors. Rather, the gaze of the mortal realms graces the boots and the soil. The first concern themselves not with the spreading of virtue, the building up of civilization, the revelry of creation. Rather, they concern themselves with the preservation of their corner of the world. Their little patch of creation, clutched desperately against the sands of time. Surely, words, lathered as they are in gilt and gold shall banish the march of time. Shall bestow upon them who bear them notoriety and status. For it shall be by innumerable goldwords that the worth of a mortal is now known. But who am I to speak? Am I not amongst their number? -From the Uruniad The mountain was tall, its height obscured by the thunderous clouds that swirled about its summit. Its face lashed with the searing gaze of the great golden sun, great tyrant of the desert, giver of life and death. Today the Orcish chieftain would climb. The years had aged the young Hordespeaker far beyond the steady march of the seasons. When he had first ascended to the throne of Krug’s chosen many of the elders had considered him little more than a kub. Yet the Ologoth had selected him from the Horde, the wisdom of the dying behemoth a mystery to all. Here tradition had been broken, A Rex had ascended to the throne of Krug without bloodshed, without fighting. Perhaps an omen for what was to come. The young Rex had spent his early years engulfed in an almost fanatic energy. Great structures had been smashed into dust, replaced by new ones within a year. The lands of the Urukhim buzzed with energy and passion. The forges fired day and night, the Feuruk tanned the hides of the innumerable cattle of the Horde. The clans, scattered and broken before his time had been absolved of their offences and returned to the embrace of the Horde. Then war. Grommash had never pretended to understand the traditions of men, the ‘Huways’. The Hurexes and their innumerable Chieftains marched to war once more. Such was the nature of the Huriim. The Rex grunted to himself, for once he was utterly alone, in the true sense of that word. Isolated not only in mind but in body from the endless parades of pettitioners. Unplagued by the incessant whining of the village. There was no one nipping at his ankles to resolve their inane dramas and endless petty feuds. News of the antics of foolish warriors, warriors who had yet to subdue their blood rage did not fill his ears. Emissaries from foreign lands, full of requests, yet offering little were no longer polluting his gaze. He was alone. His company the desert wind and heat of the sun. Peace. Grommash advanced slowly, his bare feat, calloused from a harsh life of hunting in his native land, from conquering the rugged mountains of the south, and from the many campaigns he had fought pressing deeply into the sand. The familiar ritual was comforting. More comforting than he had expected. The burden of the Rexdom had weighed heavily upon him. Gone were the days of his easy smile. The days when he had donned the spirit masks and danced with his brethren about the great bonfires of the Urukhim. Giving glory to the spirits through the leaps and swirls of his immense form, a gift from the Orcfather. All of that had changed when he had been called to lead, to rule, to speak for the Horde. Anointed by fate, the Rex stood apart from the rest. Surrounded at all times, yet utterly alone. The Hordespeaker chuckled to himself as he placed his hands against the sheer face of the mountainside. The searing heat of the sunbaked stones provided familiar comfort to his thickly callused hands. To the Rex, the Orcfather granted the charisma of command. It was by the will of the Rex, chosen of Krug that the lives of the Urukhim were spent like so many coin. And spent them he had. The Great War in the Midlands had taken many lives. Hand over hand the Rex ascended. He had chosen to ascend the western face, far from the easy ascent provided to those not of the blood of the Orcfather. Today he wished to feel the burn of his muscles, the sear of the sun upon his flesh, to be accompanied only by the song of the desert wind. Pulling himself onto a thin ledge, still far from the summit, the Chieftain turned his gaze to the expansive desert below. In the far distance the mountains of Numendil could be seen rising out from the sands of the northern desert. In the west the lands of Hyspia and the Qalasheen. His dreams were once more consumed with the warsong. The screaming of the dead and dying, the clash of blades, the scent of blood, the hill of rusted swords. He had dreamed this dream so many times it often felt more familiar than the waking world. The war had been harsh on the clans. Many of the Horde’s greatest hunters had fallen, their immense bulk brought low by the innumerable pikes and arrows of the flesh tide. The scars of the war ran deep. Rarely a day passed where Grommash was not called to restrain some bloodmad warrior still seeking vengeance upon the nations of the midlands. But the war was over. For how long that situation would last the Hordespeaker could not know. He had cast the die on preventing the unification of humanity. For the sagas and tales of the Elders had made clear the consequences of that cycle. Now the rumblings of new Empire could be heard across the lands of Aevos. And now, once neutral nations such as the Elfin of Haelun’or were threatened. Grommash shook his head, banishing such thoughts from his mind. The various Chieftains of Veletz had made many oaths during the war. Oaths of everlasting friendship with the Urukhim. So many oaths. So many promises. The traditions of men confused Grommash. Of what use was an oath if the oathmaker had broken oaths before. Why insist on so much tonguedance, so much wordgold if everyone knew, even if they did not say, that the oaths were mere decoration, having no binding authority on the giver of the oath. So many of the mortal races spoke of ‘honour’ and ‘courage’ as if these virtues were known widely and practiced by many. Yet what was honour if not binding oneself to disadvantage for the purpose of doing what is right and true. The oath givers were gone now, scattered to the four winds, their oaths as binding as the breath upon which they had been spoken. In this sense the Rex was doubtful of some of the teachings of the Elders. To him it seemed clear that the quality of descendants dwindled with each passing generation. Ever since the betrayal of the evil one, and the fall of the four brothers, the world had become more and more broken. Often the outriders of the Rex reported the children of the evil one consorting with mortals and descendants. Rexes and Chieftains doing business with peddlers of undeath, of black magics, of all manner of foulness. His whisperers spoke of strange lizard people hiding in plain sight amongst the great realms of the descendants. Offering up worship to their evil lizard God. The world was not just broken, it was breaking. Evil abounded in the lands, growing with each passing day. Those supposedly assigned by providence, given great power, to defeat said evil spent their time in endless internecine feuds and sordid romantic affairs. All of it was so pointless. The Orcfather had given him his gifts. When he spoke others listened. When he commanded, others obeyed. Yet the world of mortals disgusted him. Bickering in the mud like dogs. How dare the first of the Urukhim appoint him to this task. Who was Krug to shackle him with the chains of leadership, to bind him with so many invisible bonds to the Throne. And what of ‘the way’? So often spoken of by the Elders, by the spirits. So often ignored by the Urukhim. The curse of the blood. The betrayed had cursed the Urukhim, the descendant of the greatest of the four with black rage in their hearts. Never could any Urukhim hope to escape their curse. Another cruel joke. The Orcfather demanded of them honour, that they suppress the fruits of his defeat for their entire lives. Battling incessantly against the red hot rage that boiled in their hearts. Ignoring the sneers and jests of the lesser races, the races who consorted so frequently with the children of the betrayer. Who knelt at her feet and partook in her poisonous gifts. A world of slaves. Slaves to their pathetic impulses. Forgoing honour, surrendering to the rage in their hearts, looting and pillaging like animals. No wonder theirs was called a race of beasts. No desire for more. No hunger for mountain summit, no burning love for the stars. Perhaps this was the great burden of the ‘noble’ mortals, a term so abused by the Huriim. ‘Nobility’ one of the innumerable words of mantongue. To Grommash’s mind they used it to describe ‘one of great honour’, this ‘great honour’ coming from the quality of their blood, of their breeding. Yet so many who bore the title of ‘noble’ could not be described as possessing ‘great honour’. If anything they would be more accurately described as the ‘stained knees’, forever grovelling and debasing themselves in pursuit of ever more gold coated words with which to sign their documents. The Chieftain no longer knew and no longer cared. Having caught his breath he continued his ascent. Honour, Command, what did they matter anymore? The sharp rocks tore at his hands, each new handhold being coated in light patches of blood. Sweat drenched his brow, stinging his eyes and obscuring his vision. He pressed on. His shoulders screamed, his hands and feet, slashed and scraped by the gift of the mountain. Yet finally, his right hand gripped the edge of the summit. Collapsing beneath the harsh gaze of the sun Grommash knew quiet. Blood still dripping from his hands, dyeing the sands of the summit red, the Rex pushed himself to his feet. He proceeded to the center of the summit, the great ritual bonfire gracing the center of Stonetalon peak. His vision shimmered, the edges of things fading, no, blending together. No longer did the fire merely burn, it danced, leaping and twisting, the fire glorified in the brightness, in the brevity of its life. The wind did not blow it sang, its many tones filling the peaks with the chorus of creation. The peak, once bereft of life now teemed with activity. From the stones emerged the innumerable lesser spirits of the mountain. The innumerable spirits of loose stones, the bane of any climber. The fathers of the avalanche and the rockfall, creatures of great heft. The siren-spirits of the mountain winds, their harmonies enchanting to the ears of any who could hear. Even the minor spirits of the sun could be seen, galavanting around the edges of the peak, the rays of the setting sun highlighting the edges of the summit in a warm glow as the sun paid its last goodbyes. As night fell, to the wonder of the Rex the great procession of the night parade emerged. First the spirits of the dusk and the moon. Glowing softly with all the tones of twilight, it was they who led the grand procession, their path trailed by innumerable shimmering stars. The troupe of twilight was soon followed by the middling spirits of the deserts, lords of sand and dune, these spirits, clad in great robes of shifting sand, cloaked in the shimmering gems of the desert were followed by yet grander spirits. Towering beasts of shimmering azure water, cloaked in palm frond and reed. The great Lords of the Oases. On and on came the night parade, the uncountable river of spirits proceeding in a great circle Finally the sun began to crest the horizon, the emmissaries of the great spirits of Stargush’stroh arrived. The emissary of Enrohk, a titan of fire and black steel, at his feet scuttled endless courtiers, here strode one of the great retainers of the war spirit. In his wake, a great blanket of dancing flame, the sound of drums, of screams, the clash of steel on steel. Grommash squinted, peering deep into the flames, the scenes he saw were familiar to him, he had seen them countless times in his dreams. The screams, the clashing of steel, the blood running so thick it lapped at the knees of all but the largest of the warriors of the Urukhim. He saw what had been, what could have been, and perhaps what was to come. His warriors pierced with innumerable spears, laughing as their flesh failed them, and their mouths filled with the blood of their ruined lungs. He saw the great iron rain of the Huriim flame spitters, with horror he watched his warriors torn in twain by a foe they had never seen. Their ruined bodies adorning the shattered fortresses of the Midlands. He saw his warriors putting blade to kneck. Again and again, the blades fell, crowned heads separated from bodies clad in finery and gold. More blood, more fire. His warriors losing themselves to their curse. The warsong growing louder, the warriors of the Horde falling one by one to savagery. Putting fang to soft pale throat, snarling and roaring as the feral beasts the betrayer had always intended to be. And laughter, beautiful laughter, for the betrayer glorified in the fruition of her plan. At last she had cast down the Urukhim, the children of the hated Krug, the one who had seen her for her lies, who had wounded her, who had wounded her pride. Look upon the fruits of the Orcfather, look now upon the destiny of the children of honoured one. And in this truth know despair. Grommash tore his eyes away from the rippling flame of the emissaries cloak. The beautiful laughter of the vision subsided. Yet he was shaken to his very core. Of what use was all his labours, all of his efforts if the depravity of his people was irresistible. Already so many warriors had abandoned the path of the Orcfather, had abandoned the way of honour, had embraced the bestial nature of their curse. Bandits and thugs, compelled by their base instincts to take whatever they wish, no desire for the path of their progenitor. No desire for the fruits of honour, for civilization, for the banishing of the darkness from the realms as was the duty given unto them by their father. Then as the final scraps of darkness were banished by the rising sun, the last and the greatest of the night parade could be briefly seen. The spirit of the great mountain. A cloak of swirling wind, a raiment of shifting stones, eyes of precious gems. For the duration of the night parade none had stopped, none had acknowledged the presence of the Chieftain. Yet in the final moments of dawn the great spirit looked down upon the exhausted form of Grommash. The sands about him dyed red, dried blood yet clinging to his hands and feet. He looked deep into the eyes of the Rex. And he nodded The night parade had come to its end, the pilgrimage of the Rex had left him with more despair, more questions than when he had departed from Orcgrimmar. He did not know if he would keep the throne of Krug. He did not know if he could save the Urukhim from the betrayer. If he could save them from themselves. The future was grim, and the spirits had offered him little solace. He began his descent “The days of heroes and the giants of history have long passed, distorted by the years of telling, there are none now who can claim the mantle of the past. I am tired Minto, yet more is demanded of me. Has our father not asked enough of me? Have I not served as a son should serve?”
  2. A few more blogposts organized in discord then maybe you guys can get around to pulling the trigger on this empire thing instead of edging yourselves about it

    1. Show previous comments  6 more
    2. Publius


      Don't be scared homie!

    3. Narthok


      @Publius whose scared, i've been saying do an Empire for months.

    4. Charles The Bald

      Charles The Bald

      A few more blogposts organized in discord then maybe you orcs can get around to pulling the trigger on this roleplay thing instead of edging yourselves about it

  3. 10th of the Grand Harvest, SA 170 The Rex of the Urukhim has agreed with the Chieftain of Aluria to offer all Alurians shelter and protection within the jungles of the Horde. The Chieftain of Aluria shall be afforded the following protections and privileges within the Hordelands by word of the Hordespeaker. ALURIA AND THE SUN ELVES SHALL, BY THE WORD OF THE REX: ⇀Respect the laws of the Horde. This includes the assurance that the void will not be connected to nor practiced, nor darkspawn harbored or made friendly with ⇀Attend gatherings and offer words ⇀Share meat, drink, and fire with the Rex and the Urukhim ⇀Pay a yearly sum of 100 minas ⇀Send a minimum of 5 warriors to war when called upon ALURIANS MAY, BY THE WORD OF THE REX: ⇀Hunt, Fish, and Trap in the desert and jungles of the Horde ⇀Travel freely within the desert and jungles of the horde ⇀Wage war according to the will of its Chieftain except against targets forbidden by the Rex THE CHIEFTAIN OF ALURIA MAY, BY THE WORD OF THE REX: ⇀Attend Klamors and offer their words as Rex of Aluria ⇀Attend Clan Councils and offer a vote on council matters as if he is the head of a Clan ⇀Pass rules and commands within the limits of Aluria ⇀Arm, armour and command the Alurians as seen fit so long as the commands do not violate Horde law THE HORDE SHALL, BY THE WORD OF THE REX: ⇀Protect Aluria ⇀Allow Aluria to hunt, fish and trap within the desert and jungles ⇀Allow Aluria to move freely within the desert and jungles ⇀Grant Aluria a parcel of the jungles to dwell in ⇀Grant the Chieftain of Aluria a seat upon the Kurul’tai so that they may contribute to the governance of the South His Royal Highness Jakob Calavénon. Her Serene Highness Ember Mah’nel-Calavénon.
  4. How about you do your rp with me instead 🤗
  5. @Ewdrawings Grommash would have his local jester goblin @Haserothpen a letter to the Merchant Chieftain Chieftain of Kaethul, Grommash has learned that new markets be opening in south. Grommash wonders if this will interfere with southern monopoly of Kaethul. Perhaps is worth discussing with Chieftain of Lurin.
  6. Grommash fondly remembers his warriors breaching the walls of the small settlement of sun worshippers. With a chuckle he instructs his warriors to prepare for a new season of raids against those who would insult the Motsham and insult the Urukhim.
  7. Sincere religious belief bros....
  8. It might have been me on Father Paul
  9. 4th Hordespeaker Decree: Summons to ShamKlamor “Bring me my Bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire!” THE PROLOGUE The Rex invites all Shamans and Spiritualists to the sacred heights of Stonetalon peak for a Shamklamor regarding the future of the Spiritualist faith. The Shamklamor is called with the blessing of the Motsham of the Spirit Lodge. “Send forth the criers into the market, let the people know the truth, let them bring from their number the finest for our fellowship, let us amongst their towers erect our own” Topics I. THE FUTURE OF THE FAITH OF SPIRITS IN THE LANDS OF AEVOS II. THE CREATION OF SHRINES AND TEMPLES TO PLACATE AND PLEASE THE SPIRITS OF CROSSROADS, MOUNTAINS, RIVER CROSSINGS, FARM FIELDS, FORGES, ETC III. THE ADMINISTRATION OF TEMPLES AND SHRINES BY HIGH-SHAMANS, OR LOCAL EQUIVALENT IV. THE SELECTION AND SUPPORTING OF EVANGELIZERS AND MISSIONARIES V. THE DEFENCE OF SPIRITUALISTS, TEMPLES, AND SHRINES “When coming to a place of crossing it is wise to make an offering at the shrine of the local crossing spirit. One never knows when the fortune of cross roads and bridges shall turn against them.” THE SHAMKLAMOR IS TO OCCUR AT STONETALON PEAK, THE MOUNTAIN BEHIND THE EMERALD PILLAR AT 5PM IN THE TIME OF THE RED SPIRITS ON ‘SATURDAY’, THE RED SPIRIT DAY OF REST “They say that those who spill blood on the stones of Stonetalon peak are hated by the spirits for 7 years 7 months and 7 days”
  10. (( Sure but every man a prince is almost not a satirical description of modern humans ((Andustar self dunking from the top rope, admitting his posts are in fact not worth reading
  11. I don't think tenets of religion billions subscribe to on entirely legitimate grounds should be banned from being expressed just because you have the same politics as burger king. I think homosexuality is wrong. I believe this for religious and sociological reasons. I do not attack members of my community who are gay or transexual despite disagreeing with their life choices. The imposition of a single narrow partisan view on the communal story telling is anti-thetical to what Lotc was and is. Perhaps the staff will cave to this new wave to moral hysteria. We will see. If they do it will be another drastic cultural shift from the laissez faire freedom oriented ethos of old LOTC.
  12. 3rd Hordespeaker Decree to the Hands of the Horde “Orcgrimmar home of the Urukhim. Greatest Shrine of the Spirits. Divided into three parts: The town itself, the oasis and the vicious sands.” THE PROLOGUE The Reforms of the Horde have found great success. There is peace and law in the lands of the Urukhim. The children are fed, and the clans do not suffer from raids or plague. The desert hardens our people, yet the oases are lush with game and provides endless water to the families. The Lodges busy themselves with their industrious tasks. The Spirit Lodge, peopled by the wisest and most learned of the speakers of the Spirits, waxes magnificently. As new shrines and temples are created, many flock to the Path. The great fortresses of the Horde and her many allies rise proud and unbroken. Despite the horrors of the War of Ten the families have begun to recover. The holes in the families are slowly being filled by a new generation of young warriors. Even the dividing the governing of the Horde into the hands. The right, bearer of quill, of hoe, of hammer, the productive hand. The hand that feeds, builds, provides, creates. The Goths of the right hand, under the supervision of the Dominus, have achieved great things. During the Great War, the Rukahai famously produced mountains of arms and armour despite the less developed nature of the Horde at the time. Then, the left, bearer of shield, travel pack, and foreign gifts, the protective hand. The hand that shields explores, and speaks to foreigners. The Goths of the left hand, under the supervision of the Vizier have achieved great things. The warriors of the Krughai took many heads during the war despite the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Finally, the unaligned. The Motsham, the Keshigoth, the Krimpgoth. Each answerable directly to the Rex, much has changed within each of their respective dominions. But it is insufficient that we achieve; it is not enough that we do ‘good’, more is demanded of us. In light of the success of the reforms and of the effort of the Goths the Horde shall begin to look to the future as we have never done before. “They spoke of tribal war, of a gathering of vultures in the southeast, and a terrible leader who led his swiftly increasing hordes to victory.” THE TABLES I. THE RIGHT HAND II. THE LEFT HAND III. THE UNALIGNED IV. THE GREAT CULTURAL REVOLUTION “Let milk and honey flow, let the children play in the azure depths of the Oasis. Let the warriors trade tales of wars past and of triumphant hunts. Let the Feorcs gossip sing songs of gladness, and dance the dance of Joy. Today we are alive, let celebrate” THE RIGHT HAND The REX, Speaker of the Horde, Master of the Desert, Defender of the Shrines and Temples, invites the DOMINUS Master of the Right Hand to the following. The DOMINUS is invited to prepare the roads and infrastructure necessary for the proper administration of the cattle lands. He is to enlist the Goths of the Right Hand to this end. Upon completion of the infrastructure, he is to construct a series of breeding barns to be used for the purposes of the Orconomy or rented out as seen fit. The DOMINUS is invited to return the Orconomy to production and stockpiling with the assistance of the Goths of the Rukahai. The DOMINUS is to work with his Goths of the Yazgurtanry to determine if offering tax credits in exchange for clan donations is feasible. The intended goal is to have a full crate of all staple materials and two crates of all war materials including ladders, ammunition, siege engines, etc. The DOMINUS is invited to appoint a new Goth who shall oversee the creation of the Goth council. Upon creation, the Goth council is to issue invitations to all Chieftains within the Horde. The DOMINUS is invited to find suitable land for the [REDACTED] who are seeking land for settlement in the desert with permission and goodwill from the REX. The DOMINUS is invited to find suitable land for the [REDACTED] who are seeking land for settlement in the desert with permission and goodwill from the REX. “Before leaving for war, have your mate compose your death-song. For the warrior never knows when his life will be spent in service of the Horde and he shall be called to Stargush’stroh” THE LEFT HAND The REX, Speaker of the Horde, Master of the Desert, Defender of the Shrines and Temples invites the VIZIER Master of the Left Hand to the following. The VIZIER is invited to appoint a new Targoth who shall complete the comprehensive reforms of the Krughai. The Krughai are to be returned to active duty and are to resume training and patrols. The VIZIER is invited to speak with the Master of Whispers and reorient the efforts of the Whisperers towards the targets that were discussed by the two of them in private. The VIZIER is invited to appoint a number of new Diplomats and to deploy them to the relevant nations for the final signatures on the new alliances The VIZIER is invited to deploy the scouts regarding the relevant target regarding potential raid entrances and the placement of siege equipment. The VIZIER is invited to work with the Goths of the Left Hand to create a comprehensive list of relations, classifying each nation in Aevos as Confederated-Allied-Friendly-Neutral-Unfriendly-Hostile-At War. This list is to be presented to the REX and the Council of Goths upon completion “Let us go now. Let us spread the truth to our friends and neighbours. In every town a temple, on every crossroad, a shrine. Let the south be no shelter for the children of Iblees” THE UNALIGNED The REX, Speaker of the Horde, Master of the Desert, Defender of the Shrines and Temples invites the MOTSHAM First of the Shamans, Master of the Spirit Lodge to the following. The MOTSHAM is invited to attend the Rex’s upcoming Shamklamor and to, from amongst the ranks of the Spirit Lodge, select Missionaries for the spreading of Spiritualism. The MOTSHAM is invited to have agents of the Spirit Lodge find appropriate settlements for new temples and locations for new shrines. He is to work with the Goths of the Right hand to secure materials and construction designs, The REX, Speaker of the Horde, Master of the Desert, Defender of the Shrines and Temples commands the KRIMPGOTH Master of the Spirit Lodge to the following. The KRIMPGOTH is commanded to prepare a series of trials for the redemption of those who have been declared whitewash The KRIMPGOTH is commanded to work with the Goths of the Right, specifically, with permission from the DOMINUS, the SCRIPTGOTH and the PAINTGOTH for the creation of a center of learning for the Urukhim, where history, philosophy and the Spirits can be studied in depth. The REX, Speaker of the Horde, Master of the Desert, Defender of the Shrines and Temples commands the KESHIGOTH First Warrior of the Horde, First of the Keshig to the following. The KESHIGOTH is commanded to assemble all the Keshig and issue them their formal armour and have them give their formal oaths to the Rex. The KRIMPGOTH is commanded to deploy the Keshig in defence of the missionaries of the Spirit Lodge and in defence of the Temples and Shrines of our faith. The KRIMPGOTH is commanded to present all Keshig to the Motsham and the Spirit lodge for blessings as Holy Warriors of the spirits and guardians of Spiritualism on behalf of the will of the REX who protects all Temples and Shrines. "They will trade their freedom for harps and lutes, Discard the bow and the dart; They will build a prison of satin and gold. And call it culture and art" THE GREAT CULTURAL REVOLUTION The REX, Speaker of the Horde, Master of the Desert, Defender of the Shrines and Temples has the following words for the tribes of the Horde and for their allies in the South. The time has come for the flowering of the Horde and the Spirits. We have laboured long and have built strong foundations of stone and honour. There are none who question the reliability of the oath of the Horde, all know that we shall fight to the death before breaking our word. For what is honour if it is only involved in times of warmth and plenty. We stand now in such a time. We have peace amongst the tribes. The families do not raid each other for food or for water. Our enemies encroach upon our lands. Yet they fear the Urukhim and cloak themselves in a thousand alliances in fear of our reprisals. So the REX declares the beginning of the GREAT CULTURAL REVOLUTION. The Horde shall look to the future, it shall spread the truth of the spirits, particularly with the assistance of the many members of the Spirit Lodge. It shall put the children of the fallen one to the sword. It shall build great monuments to glorify the spirits and the ancestors. And it shall bind the peoples and the tribes of the Horde by the Great Law. The first steps of this plan have been taken with the Rex’s missives to the Goths. More shall come in the coming years. “Bring me my axe and my quill. Let the spirits know glory. Let the Horde do the will of our masters. Let the children of the fallen one know terror”
  13. erm... did you use a clientside means of communicating.. how foolish of you

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