Pancakehz

Azhug took a breath as the news of this passing reached him. After Gutlug kneeled and yielded during their duel, rendering it complete and declaring Azhug the victor according to tradition, he feared that this might happen. He shook his head "Azhug offered you peace, offered to speak with you. Yet you continued to claim my kin were heretics and claimed to speak for Krug." he sighed, for it was always a burden on him when one of Krug's children passed on. Azhug took hold of the letter that was addressed to him and read it. As his eyes moved back and forth, he spoke to himself "I have been the only descendent of Gorkil for some time, strange to read such claims from one who knows so little of my grizh." he snorted momentarily before continuing on "Even in death, he cannot see that the Lur clan was never the issue. Only his wild tongue and disrespectful nature." he shook his head, folding the letter once more and discarding it. "Rest well, Brother Gutlug."

Azhug sat within the home of the Akaal. His hands traced over his books and ingredients as he searched for the ideal ones. Krug's justice will be had and Azhug would help it come to fruition.

W eeveelution lover (Umbreon da goat tho) W cyberpunk lover W star wars lover W Dodgers fan #bleedblue

Pact of Mirrors A cool breeze drifted over the Goi, a stark contrast to the blistering, arid climate that typically blanketed the Hordelands. In his home, Azhug prepared himself. Soft hums escaped his maw as he retrieved a freshly rolled blunt, packed tightly with the finest and most potent cactus green he had ever smoked. The Akaal moved from doorway to doorway, gathering his tools, before finally finding himself on the top floor of his tower. It was there that he chose to travel to the Immortal Realm. The Red Orc leaned forward, lighting his blunt with the flame of a nearby torch. He peered down at the embers gathering at its end before bringing it to his lips and taking a long drag, inhaling deeply. “Veist-û, lûpizg lat. Tûzg lat-izish ag trov.” he muttered, shutting his eyes as he breathed in through his nose, his mind and soul seemingly leaving his body. He drifted. Through nothing? Through everything? His mind and body felt weightless, and his eyes saw nothing but darkness. His gaze into the abyss was interrupted only when he blinked and suddenly found himself in the midst of a fiery battlefield. He peered back and forth, seeing bodies strewn across the terrain. His ears were flooded with roars and screams, echoing from formless beings that Azhug himself could not see. His nose filled with the scent of blood, death, and decay. His eyes traveled across the field in search of anything that could lead him toward his goal. It was there, atop a nearby hill, that he spotted a figure so towering and fearsome that even Azhug, a battle-hardened veteran, felt unease creep into his chest. He approached the figure, crawling through the mounds of blood, dirt, and debris. As he climbed, his foot slipped from beneath him. He peered downward, grasping at what he could to regain his balance. He peered up once more, the figure that was before him now vanished as if it were never there. Azhug took a deep breath. It was clear to him that his surroundings were not what they seemed. Something wasn’t right and Azhug felt unsure of what he could trust in this domain. He shut his eyes once more, “Za kul fîgû, baduzg-izish atâr.” he muttered before opening his eyes once more. His eyes were now set upon a vast desert. The Domain of Dazkur? Azhug shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He traversed through the dunes, feet sluggishly dragging through the sand as he moved onward. “Veist, baduzg-izish trovlab agh baduzg-izish atâr.” With these words, the sands began to twist and swirl around him. His lungs seemingly gasped for air and his hands found their way to his throat, clawing with desperation. His vision began to spin in tandem with the sand that swirled around him. As he struggled to breathe, the sand suddenly came to a halt, forming a reflective wall around him. Azhug took a long-awaited breath, inhaling sharply and gasping for what air he could find. As he peered around, he noticed sharp angles within the reflective surface. Each angle offered a different portrayal of himself. As he looked at each version of himself, he found that each wore a different expression. They blinked at different times, they breathed differently. This couldn’t be real, could it? He closed his eyes once more, “Veist! Thlûk za! Shum baduzg-izish atâr!” he exclaimed ferociously. “Hahehehahaha…” he heard a cackle surround him, seemingly coming from all sides. Azhug hesitated a moment before opening his eyes. Before him stood a being, a grin adorning his face as he looked into the Akaal's eyes. “Mirz kul lat?” the Spirit said to him. It moved around him in circles. At first, it slithered, then it appeared as a man, then as a beast. “Bugud-izub kul Azhug, ghashn-izish bugudlab Ilzgûl.” The Spirit looked at him silently, his grin never wavering as he watched the Akaal intently. “Bugudizub kul Hygerak. Amat lat skaat tul?” The two conversed back and forth in the language that both understood. “Skaat-izg u gimb-izg gothûrz Veist.” said Azhug, his red eyes following Hygerak carefully. Three apparitions appeared before him. Each one differed slightly, though all were a reflection of himself. Hygerak commanded him to identify the true copy. Azhug peered over each one, his eyes tracing each and every detail. The first appeared nearly identical, though his stature was a head shorter than Azhug himself was. He moved onto the second, a copy that stood equal in height and width. He studied the details of this one as well before his gaze landed on his arm, a hand missing. Azhug peered down at his own hands, both intact. He shook his head before pointing to the third. Hygerak nodded. The three apparitions faded away, returning to the air from whence they came. Hygerak turned his back to Azhug, moving further into the desert, Azhug following behind him. As they moved, the sands shifted as grass began to sprout from beneath the dunes. The landscape around him moved in unnatural ways, twisting and morphing into something new. Hygerak led Azhug to a solitary door that stood amid the landscape. Upon entry, it opened into a void with a mirror bridge. Surrounding him were shattered pieces of reflective glass that appeared to float in the air. Hygerak turned back to him, “Lat paash hon dushizub. Lat paash fitg gothûrz Veist. Ukh lat u nau dursh agh lûmp lat, za baduzg lat fitg dushizub.” Azhug nodded before he took a few steps forward, peering over the end of the bridge into nothingness. If what Hygerak said was true, this was his final test given to him by the Lesser of Veist. The Red Orc positioned himself before taking a deep breath and throwing himself from the bridge. As he fell, the cackles of Hygerak grew quieter, fading into the void that surrounded him. As his mind was violently thrust back into his mortal form, Azhug rubbed his temples. His mind was weary from the walk and the puzzles therein, but he knew that this pact would serve him well.

Azhug returns home to the Horde, bruised and battered. He sat in silence as the smoke from the mountain hold could be seen across the continent.

[!] The Halls of Khaz'A'Dentrumm echoed with the ringing of bells, signaling the arrival of another fallen Dwed. Paragon Gror made his way to meet the fallen warrior at the gates, for even if they thought themselves unworthy of recognition, he knows a true warrior when he sees one. "Welcome home, Tomrin."

Azhug read the missive. "Is always those who do nub carry a mantle that claim to gruk the most about how it should be done." he said. The Red orc set the paper to the side and made his way toward the throne room for the Klamor. "Lat did hozh Torosh. Now it is tik for a new Uruk to take lat place."

What has been your favorite memory? Can be RP related or friendships OOC

Rorry Irongrinder reads the missive. He confers with his father on what they are to do about the strange beast that roams the Urguanian wilds.

Azhug prepares himself to aid the Motsham in this endeavor. "Azhug will find out all that he can, will blah these to lat Motsham." he said to Maukurz

Happy to have known and interacted with you for so long Fimlin. You've been an integral part of the server whether it be as ST or World Dev. Best wishes man, thank you for all you've done.

Still couldn't conquer the world

Azhug of the Gorkils readies a band of Keshig and Urukhim hunters, setting out to track down and bring justice upon this evil being.

I think this is a very real conversation that should be had, and I applaud the initiative taken to actually come up with an idea on how it should be approached. +1 and much support from me.

Azhug sheds a tear for Gruul, he fucked around and found out. Azhug will miss his surprise stews, though he never was quite sure what the ingredients were.