Proddy

A sense of fear and dread ran through the Halfling’s body as he’d glance up at the darkened sky, others swarming around him to catch glimpse of the phenomen. Posco had heard the tales of times long gone and wars once waged. How the Dark Lord Iblees had consumed the lands of Aegis whole, a paradise for his undead minions to roam free. He shuddered even considering what wrath he would bring upon the lands now...

(( Could a non-Mali catch wind of this? Or is this an Elf only event? ))

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Gj7Fq42AE0 “KLOMP! KLOMP!” “KLOMP EN DAH PITZ!” “FLAT! FLAT!” The uproar of the crowd could be heard from long distances away, two Uruks standing across from eachother. They were to fight until death itself would reach down and grasp one of them into it’s hands. Today, one of them would die, but for what purpose? They would clash and collide over the insignificant life of a mere slave. At one side of the arean, stood Kurgoth, of the Gorkil klan. A shorter Uruk, standing at a solid seven foot tall, and quite arguably, the shortest Uruk of the War Uzgz loins. Pale-green of skin and ice-blue of eyes, he was not one to hide his lack of Orcish honour, nor his sadism and cruelty. He regarded the code of Krug with sour distate. It was his belief that Orcs were superior to all, that his kind could take and do as they pleased. He woud hold such views until he was lying in the cold ground, he lamented. “Latz readee?” a more feminine voice called out to him from across the pit, in the Orcish blah. His opponent, the Feuruk, was Illah of the Yar klan. Despite their incredible difference in height, her standing about eight foot nine, Kurgoth was no fazed. Where she lacked in speed and agility, he made up for it. He could easily run her in circle, tire her and then move in for the kill, he knew, But what a measly tactic, that was. The Uruk let out a gentle sigh as he peered over his shoulder once more, toward Isabella, who sat in the stands, two Orcs vigil either side of her. He smiled a sad smile. He had grown a certain attachment to the Human, for the short time he had her in captivity. Though she was a slave, and nothing more. A plaything, to toy with for his own amusement. In a strange way he’d miss her, should he die here. He turned back toward Illah, giving her a nod. He was ready. He drew his battleaxe from his back, as she drew her staff, double-bladed at both ends. They prowled toward one another, lusting for blood… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYKUeZQbMF0 And in a moments, their weapons clashed. The Uruks swung, slashed and slice at one another, and in what felt like no time at all, Kurgoth found her spear through his gut, and his vision began to blur… But still, he fought on. The two Orcs fell onto one another into a heap, scrapping it out on the warm sand, Kurgoth clawing desperately at the she-Orcs eye, clinging onto the hope of a draw. But such would not come to pass. Illah would raise her spear, impaling it down into Kurgoth, rendering him immobilized. And just as soon as it had began, the klomp was over… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oh6NKK8M2VQ The defeated greenskin spluttered up some blood, glancing down at the stab mark running through his abodomen, a scar of his impalement. He chuckled lightly. He had always dreamed of his death being glorious. Falling in battle something of the like. Something he’d be remember for, mourned for. As he layed there, sweltering in the heat, bleeding out like a pig, he felt afraid. Fearful of the underword or eternal punishment that awaited him. He had done no good during his life. He’d killed people, sold people and stole from people, as well as maiming and skinning countless others for own amusement and enjoyment, but only to keep his true bloodlest under a lock and key. Yet, amongst all his worries and doubts… his heart cried out for his mate, Irgek, and for the child he may never see birthed into this world, and get to hold in his arms for the first and last time. He’d never again feel his lovers warm embrace, or comforting words. Illah loomed over him, and as she offered him the calamity of a few lasts word, he knew what he needed to say already. His dying wish for her to be to take care of Irgek whislt he was gone, and his kub, should it even make it into this world. With a simple nod, the Feuruk lunged her staff into once again, more blood spluttering up from his pipes. He felt his vision brighten, as his soul passed on, into the next life that awaited him, whether it be for better or worse… And so ends the story of Kurgoth, a loyal Orc of the War Nation. And soon enough, another shall begin...

Ho there! So, I've been wanting to play a Halfling on here since watching some of hobbinroods, and I have a few questions that would be great if answered. 1) What timezone are the majority of the player based in? 2) When are you guys most active (a rough time rule of sorts would be nice) 3) Is it uncommon for a Halfling to go venturing outside of Gimblewood? 4) What influential families are there, currently?

Hallelujah, finally.

I'm an Orc, and it displeases me to see fellow Orcs flaming because they can't win every fight and want to be the Incredible Hulk of Lord of the Craft. Please just stop.

Kurgoth’s lip would form into a sneer. “Hurhurhur, yub. Hozh ideeya, bruddah” he’d say, as they make their return to the Uzg.

Kurgoth’Gorkil, having travelled to Petrus alongside his Orcish kin Zar’roc, would stare up at the corpse in wonder, a small laugh escaping his lips as his brother would flee the area. He wouldn’t bother to read the notice along with it due to it being in the common tongue, turning away after some time and going to catch up to Zar’roc. ~ Some time later, a cloaked and hooded figure would approach the show of blood and gore, his only noteable features being his dark skin and defined beard. He’d gaze up at the hanging corpse with wrinkled nostrils, reading over the flier accompanying it with a light shake of his head as he’d turn without a word, heading back off down the road, away from the capital.

Petrus, the human capital San'Vitar, Orc city

Love these, makes me really want to consider playing a Halfing. Keep it up!

Kurgoth would grin, sharpening his daggers and preparing his hunting bow.

[[OOC]] MC Name: Xtreme_Prodigy Roleplay name: Kurgoth'Gorkil Timezone: GMT Forum name: XtremeProdigy [[RP]] [[ Try to answer in a creative roleplaying way as you would be standing one on one with the officer. ]] * You stand in the millitary barracks of the Krug-hai. A uruk officer of the krug-hai known as Warboss Fagor'Kog would look you straight in the eye inspecting you once fully from head to toe.. he would grunt afterwards* Wub bi latz naem?: "Mi naem iz Kurgoth." Wub klan bi lat uf?: "Mi iz frum da Gorkil klan." Wai zhult mi bi chuuzin lat fur da Krug-hai?: "Mi wuntz tu klomp und flat da enemeeyz ov da Uzg!"

The long dead Jonathan Blackwell sheds a tear as he watches from the Seven Skies

first ayyyyy lmao good night sweet rep

MC Name: Xtreme_Prodigy Character you are applying for: Viktor Steelwall Timezone: GMT Skype: harrison.oleary69 Will this be your main character?: Sure. Why do you want to play this character?: Sounds like fun.

OOC Minecraft Username: Xtreme_Prodigy Age: 15 Please write a small portion of RP depicting you using magic of your choice, this should be done as if it were an emote and not include internal though processes: Thalonn body would tense and stiffen as he'd inhale deeply, his arm extending forward, his palm facing outwards. He'd stare forward with an intense concentration, his right eye beginning to faintly twitch as his arm would begin to shake lightly. A small, light glow would emit from his hand, as he'd turn it over to the side, clicking his fingers as a small flame would begin to burn at the oakwood before him. He'd take a seat by the small fire he'd just made. panting as he'd raise an arm to wipe the few droplets of sweat running down his forehead. IC Name: Thalonn Age: Seventy-six Race: I am a hybrid of two races, my father being a Cave Dwarf and my mother a Mali'Ame. Disregarding my pointed ears and the lack of an accent, however, I'd consider myself more Dwarf than I would Elf. Known Magic: None. I would hope this wouldn't be a benefactor to my acceptance, however. Are you capable of teaching this magic: If I was taught any form of magic at all, perhaps.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQoRXhS7vlU "The eye has been watching... and the eye is displeased..."

A smile would form upon the Captain’s lips, as he’d pen a reply, pinning it under the notice as a correspondance. I am interested, though we would have discuss things such as prices and what not, I’d assume? Expect a raven in due time. -Iman

Iman’s eyes would flicker over the application, as he’d soon enough put pen to paper. A simple note would be sent in return. Accepted.

Iman would smile as he reads over the application sent in, with an approving nod. He’d return the bird, with a simple note attached to it’s leg. Accepted. I shall be in contact…

The Pirates of the Abyssian Sea are a newly formed band of common men and outlaws, each sharing the same goals and aspirations. Each seek fortune, fame, wealth, glory and power, and will go to dangerous and illicit means to earn what they seek. Bandits and raiders on land, and pirates and marauders at sea, they plunder and pillage as they see fit. They carve a path that they believe the Creator intended for them, one of free will and sated wishes. Their presence in the lands of Athera are fairly new, and they claim no deep history or far-back roots or footings. Their beginnings start with a single man of common birth, by the name of Iman Tanner. Born a Tanner’s son as his surname would suggest, Iman would join a crew of pirates at an age of nine-and-ten, going on to become a sellsword after his crew split. Feeling himself more suited to a life at sea, he seeks out men and woman alike who share the same common goal and ideals as his own to join his crew. The Pecking Order Though respecting one another as free and equal men and woman, The Pirates follow a loose hierachy structure, referred to as the “Pecking Order” Captain (Xtreme_Prodigy) The Captain is the bossman of the crew, the leader of the pack. He is responsible for both the management and welfare of his ship and crew, as well as distribution of food and loot earned. In the event that a Captain would pass away or decide to forsake his crewmen, the crew would elect another to take the mantle. First Mate (Vacant) The First Mates are the Captains right hand, his eyes and his ears. He’s usually been around for quite a while, or otherwise the Captain would hold great faith in him or her. The Captain holds the right to choose someone to fill the in the spot, and remove them if he feels they aren’t stepping up to the responsibilities of the position. Quartermasters These are the ‘elders’ of the group, if you will, having been around for quite some time. Whilst not technically holding any sort of power above anyone else, they are generally looked up too for knowing what they’re doing and as people to follow and learn from. Crewmen The cannon fodder, the Crewmen are the middle-ground men. They’ve proven their worth to their higher-ups, and have been allowed to fully become apart of the group. They’re in it for the fame, glory and wealth, the same as many others. Whelps The fresh bait of the crew, the Whelps are those who have yet to prove their worth and affirm their loyalties. They’re usually sent on the most harshest and enduring tasks, as space to distinguish themselves as worthy of moving up the ladder. Joining the Crew Has this caught your eye? Spike your interest? Perhaps you’d like to join us? Send a bird to the Captain with the application format below, and he’ll get back to you as soon as possible! Name: Age: Gender: Race: Previous line of work, if any?: Why do you wish to join us?: What can you bring to the table?: ~ (( OOC Minecraft Username: Got Skype?: Got Teamspeak?: ))