_Jandy_

Yeah. True. Good feedback mr. vevo.

"May all whitewazhes follow hiz courze - agh may Kor turn their zoul back unto da Void." sneered a Lutauman of Lurak

"Kor shall surely nub deny her..." croaks out a somber Grothzark'Dom who dons an oversized black cloak as he honors her passing.

Sounds good. Congrats on becoming a homeowner.

There within The Shaman Lodge sat a group who puffed from a pipe of green, which was duly dubbed “Krug’s Kief”, as it passed around the group. The men sat in their heavy war armor, eager to consult the spirits for their sage guidance on the matter of Rex Rue’Lur’s newfangled crusade. At the head of the group of five was the former Targoth, Grothzark’Dom, who was taught the art of shamanic lutaumancy by the Motsham himself. To his right was his newfound clansmate, a blue uruk named Rhak’Dom. Beside the two Doms was the honorable human hero Hacket Hemoss himself, an outsider but a friend to the urukhim at large. Flanking the human was a goblin raised in Haensetti gutters, Dimitri, who wore a thick hat which was considered strange to the desert dwellers. Lastly sat a remarkably young but eager uruk who was called Moktar the Clanless. The ritual proceeded. It included rocking back and forth, indulging in the effects of the cured green, low and then loud chanting and hollering, and an eagerness to bare witness to the Stargush’Stroh - Krug’s greatest gift to the urukhim, their paradisal afterlife. As the ritual concluded the band of mortal warriors slowly awakened within a heavy boscage which was cooled by the night air. A staunch comparison to the desert that they were in just moments ago, these verdant wilds offered tall grasses for the men to duck beneath as they slowly awoke. The buzzing of insects filled the air as the moon alone lit their surroundings. The insects came to an unheralded silence for a heartbeat before a wounded jabbernack broke through the treeline and collapsed before the men, who looked to find that their soul had not carried their many armaments into this new plane. The lizard beast, an ancient symbol of Mogroka’s War Nation, oozed ruby blood across the foliage. The red pierced the veil of night as it glared across misty unkempt blades of grass. The thick hide of the creature had been slashed deeply at the throat and had bite marks sunk into its rear haunches. Those gathered mortals looked at the fell beast, a few curious and a few slowly pacing back. It was the young Moktar who spoke up “It is not our kill to pillage..” A roar was suppressed by the hunter, vibrating deep within the throat. The beast remained concealed within the treeline as the men looked towards it. Only the lunar reflection upon a pair of beady black eyes suggested the size of their imminent foe. “Retreat.” barked the lutauman who had brought them here. They backed away slowly at first until the beast made it’s move. A form of dire-bear with pitch black fur lunged forth, seizing upon the bested jabbernak. A swipe of its paw opened up the intestines of the massive lizard which filled the air with the smell of monstrous bile. The four orks and a human blitzed to the opposite treeline. They skidded to a stop as they found three orcs staring down upon them. A short goblin tracker who wore wolf paws upon the back of his hands. A heavy set uruk who carried an immense amount of provisions, armaments, and supplies. And lastly, clearly the leader of the trio, was a muscularly built and heavily scarred greenskinned uruk who wore a slate cowl. The shadows of the cowl, which should have displayed eyes, shifted past the new quintet and focused upon the two beasts in the clearing. A wide hand pointed towards the ravaging bear as the ancestral spirit declared it “Muruk’Thaguzg.” He took a long breath before he turned towards the uruk who carried his hunting tools. He pointed to a wide collection of handaxes that rested against the man’s left ribcage. Hurriedly the uruk dispensed two handaxes to each of the men in attendance. Dimitri spun the unfamiliar weapons in his hands as he turned back towards the feasting beast. The cowled ancestral turned back and roared from the depths of his stomach “VOTAAAAAAR!” He led the blitz forwards as eight fighters surged forth. His axe was the first to find purchase. The beast aimed to swat against him and the blade of the tomahawk buried deeply into the leathery pads. Blood sprayed across the elder’s cowl, turning the worn blue-grey into a sopping wet red. There was a very short struggle as the predator attempted to squash the uruk who first met it. Though the beats was ultimately doomed. It did not retreat as the storm of blades began to hack into it. Spine, skull, joints, throat, and even the nethery bits found axeheads buried and then used as an entry point to tear open much larger wounds. The blood washed elder sat upon the butchery like a throne, a broad grin across his face. He removed his cowl to wash it clean. The Lutauman stepped forth, kneeling before the spirit perhaps in reverence but his belabored breaths suggested it was simply to recover from the exertion of the brawl. “Craotor.” The Dom declared, recognizing the famed ancestral “We mortals come forth in search for blessing before the War Nation marches.” The spirit leaned forth, resting elbows on his knees as he seemed truly interested in the matter “Why do you march?” The shaman, fool as he was, gave the propagandized answer to the question “We must cleanse the jungle. We-” The spirit cut him off, donning his washed cowl once more. “The urukhim do not care for the jungles. Speak rightly- why do you march?” The grey skinned Dom turned to his cohorts for help to answer. Dimitri the goblin spoke up first “For glory!” Then the human “I have joined to help the allies who I am sworn to.” And Grothzark attempted another answer “We follow the will of our Rex.” Moktar chimed in “Honor’s sake.” Craotor’Lur offered a nod to this, now pleased. “Honor. Kinship. Loyalty. It is a war the Ilzgul favor. Go boldly and proclaim it so. Be with valor and honor will not forsake you.” The words brought solace to those who sought such validation. The Lutauman scanned over the other mortals whom he could tell would sit here to commune with the ancient Lur for years if they could. But they could not - rather they ought not. ~ Time within the Stargush’Stroh must be earned and it was time that they returned to the domain of mortality so that they could do so.

Grothzark'Dom leads an initiative to consult with the ancestral spirits of the Stargush'Stroh. He stands proudly beside his long lost clanmate.

Previously: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/237769-a-mirage-in-the-sands The recent vision that the ape held was seared into the mind of the Zarei. Blood. Desolation. The now malformed Hei-Zhu found himself contemplating the prophecy of Hou-shen. The first Hou of Metztli. The one who had truly achieved balance. Nirvana. His teachings cultivated a culture of monastic life which nestled in Asul’s Poisoned Jungle. His disciples were those who could manipulate the Chi which lay dormant in the nature around them. Mori-Yu looked to the jungles of the world now. Hideous, assaulted, vandalized. There was no respect for the nature of the world. Introspection was overwhelming and the ape realized, as had been done to his form, had been done to the jungles of this world. As had been done by the state dubbed- Vikela. Disgust turned the stomach of the Rakaal. His gut yearned for flesh and this sensation only drove the fiend to further disgust. He had been a fool and now he was a monster. Perhaps he was still capable of doing something right, even now. It was foretold that Hou-Shen would return and Mori-Yu sought now to be the catalyst. The jungles must be cleansed. The Ape-Father must be appeased. Balance must be offered. Banish the mortals from the jungles. Sacrifice the Kharajyr. Unite the last of the Hou. The ape established notices around the wretched state of Vikela: Leave now. This jungle is not safe for you. This is the destined territory of the Hou. A new Huangdi, Mori-Yu, has ascended and wears the Jade Crown. Undying. Unrelenting. Unyielding. Hou-Shen shall return.

Previously - https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/237385-infernal-tresspass Coarse sands whipped across the desert's coast as the warriors rode out. Spurring forth resistant steeds which carried man, demon, magi, and construct alike, they sought in vain for their enemy until the sun rose to its zenith. Harsh heat reverberated off of the dune, their tongues dried in their maws, the beasts of burden refused to trudge further and were abandoned. In the horizon a swirling sandstorm raged towards them but the Norns and Ibleesians were eager to find their foes. They had traveled from cursed jungle and wretched tundras alike in search of this battle. The mortals in their heavy northern furs were the first to bare witness to the great ape, Mori-Yu, as he climbed the steepled sands and gazed down upon them. Quickly to his side came a four armed rakaal, a shambling darkstalker, and a heavily robed voidmage whose garments rebuffed the buffeting gales of grain. The Azdrazi uruk, Daahd’Lur, was flanked by the Thegn of Solgaard, the Thegn’s trusted construct companion, a voidal magi who was surprisingly well armored, and a loyal sage. The warriors surged up the slope, fighting the sands which fell away under heel. Demons attempted to hurl spears which stood no chance in the wind. Alchemical vials similarly were thrown to little effect, being carried away at once and disappearing. The sandstorm overtook the combatants and they lost sight of foe and ally ~ Mori-Yu broke through the wall of the sandstorm with a great leap and the sight sunk the demon’s stomach. Tens of thousands of dead Hou-Zi floated atop a great red river which coarse through a jungle. The current coursed around the ancient temple of Asul. Gold walls and spires shimmered in moonlight as the Zarei approached, trudging through the waters which turned corpses of those who were once kin. The malformed Hei-Zhou stepped from the tide of corpses, his body washed in gore and bile, as he stepped under the archway. He approached the colossal seated statue of Hou-Shen, the progenitor of the simic creations of Metztli. The statue seemed unphased by it’s nightmarish surroundings, the pungent smell of rot did not infiltrate inanimate nostrils. The eyelids of the golden monkey monk were snapped shut and bore no witness to the corpses of apes which bobbed like flotsam. The legends of Hou-Shen always prophesied his return though when Mori-Yu knelt before the figure, the plaque reading ‘In the dawn’s light he returns; wisdom and harmony abound him.’ Despair struck the beast, he could not even recall the last time he had seen another of Hou-Shen’s children alive. “Is this the dawn which heralds your return? We must all pass and relinquish attachment to our lives?” The ancient monk wept, the tears warping his vision. As he peered through welled eyes his skin had returned to its rough gray with black patches of fur, he wore the green robes of a monk once more. The ape turned away from the statue of Hou-Shen to see that flames danced over trees beyond the sea of corpses. The inferno threatened to cross the threshold and ravage the temple. Mori-Yu, now once more in his former body - Chen-Yu, lept into action and he began to fight the flames with the only liquid available. He shoveled blood from the river onto the daring walls of flame which would press towards him. The blood of brothers and sisters alike, it was unthinkable what he must do. The Hei-Zhu looked around for help and he witnessed others knee deep in the torrent of gore helping to fight the encroachment of flames. The Norns, the Lur who contested his tower, the four armed Rakaal, and a voidmage. A handful of blood at a time they would successfully douse the shore and stymie the encroaching blaze ~ The sand swept over the party, the red eyes of the uruk, Daahd’Lur, only seeing through the great storm through some esoteric rite or ritual performed upon him before the dawn of the battle; it mattered little. He passed through the sands and into a swamp laden with corpses. Those of his underlings and allies, the trees and spirits which he worshiped, were silent, and nothing came from them but whimpers. Ash. Desolation. Lands he had once found lush and beautiful, perhaps even suitable for settlement, were torn from their roots and before they lay that heretical figure, that wicked shrine: Bal'ance. The monstrous shroud carried the Swiv in his jaw amongst the wild animals he had begun killing for sport. He rushed down the pathway and away; though he was no coward, the mere sight of it frightened him, and he did not know why. He pushed himself against cover, a nearby building, and whilst peering inside, he saw machinations as unfit for morality, an elaborate system of execution, and evil- torturous devices of war. Then he turned to flee to the woodlands he had seen in the distance but found them gone. In their place was a singular tree, but it was no ordinary tree- it twisted and turned and warped itself about. It spoke to him. “Five,” it said, though its meaning was nothing. It contorted—now it was there talking and showing the number. This tree, a manifestation of some unknown power, seemed to hold a key to his fate. Hold the key. He turned, and Bal'ance had made its way to ****** him with its jaws. Dark. Light. He awoke. ~ Through the sandstorm trudged the once-ghoul, Goibbled, the coarse desert sand sanding down the bone of its new form. With time the skeletal undead reached the eye of the storm, where it witnessed its comrades and foes battling hordes of large, green, lizard-like beings - the Shuul. Thoughts of the vision that flooded its memory over decades ago raced through its thoughts, “Dey invaded? Kere? Wyyy?”. These thoughts quickly faded into reality as it overlooked the ongoing battle: Must. Flat. With hurried steps it advanced towards the nearest Shuul warrior, black abyssal smog quickly forming around its appendages. The lizard-warrior stood no chance, taken by surprise by the Nascent as the green beast battled with the Thegan; a war-axe of necrotic origin split the beast’s head open like a ripe watermelon. From within the intense fighting, the Darkstalker saw the inferi-Houzi, Mori-Yu battling an aged Shuul warrior, atop its head a crown. ~ The construct dubbed ‘Warlock’ whirred and buzzed from beneath a mound of sound, emitting a lone beep.

MC Name: _jandy_ Discord: taxseason Image: Description of Image: An oyashiman wanted poster of a terrible demonic hou-zi Dimensions: 1x1

Grothzark'Dom grins broadly at the news "Da Stargush becomes more appealing as each strong bruddah illuminates it. May latz reward be enjoyed eternally."

The Infernal Ape of Hexicanum tended to his wound, watching as the fiends of the Cursed Forest savaged the fallen adventurers. The Old Man had not the strength of the recent Haensetti Knight, nor the renowned Adrian General, but he fought nonetheless. That was more than could be said for many mortals that he encountered. The Rakaal, when his wound had been tended to, would stand in order to prepare for the battle that was to transpire at The Bloodmon Tower.

ur so real for this

Previously: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/237333-the-apes-claim “Monkey!” a stout metalclad creature called out at Mori-Yu, The Infernal Ape of Hexicanum, as the demon stared over the precipice of his newly taken tower. The Rakaal turned towards Draahd’Lur with a sickly grin plastered across his face “Welcome to Bloodmoon Tower, little goblinoid.” The armored figure glowered up towards the gorilla and with clear annoyance he retorted “Before you arrived here, this dark spire, Luraq, was mine and it still is. You trespass far beyond the forests of the Oyashi and you insult an Admiral of Azdromoth.” Mori-Yu released a mad cackle before cooing “Plans within plans within plans.. Words alone will not drive me out. Assemble the forces of your own to meet the might of The Legion.” “I know not what vile trickery permitted your claim over my lands but when I discover it they will feel the same wrath that is destined for you.” The Kapo croaked out before giving a sharp exhale and storming off to assemble his forces for a siege. “Kekekeke. KA-KEKEKEKEKEEEEE!” The wretched laugh rung out throughout the desert before the twisted Hou-Zi also went to call to arms the disciples of Gashadokuro. SPECIAL EVENTLINE RULES: The events will happen every other day and take place at varying times so as to be EU friendly. If a player's character is killed in battle they may not return for the next battle but they may appear for the battle thereafter. [Killed players go on cooldown] Each side will battle in squads of 5 for the sake of crp clarity. - Each squad will be limited to summoning 3 non-player entities for the purpose of combat. [Rule pending change depending on the outcome of battles.] - If each side has the same amount of victorious squads then the surviving victors will fight (or concede) the following day at the same time. - Wounds may not be healed in the time between fights [only in the event of concluding a tie] though stamina may be recovered. Players caught unjustly whining in looc [if a mod rules against their complaint] will be wholly banned from future participation in this eventline. The Legion of Iblees will be defending from within the fort. The Azdrazi and their allies will be able to use the nearby ship and campsite as launchpoints and safe havens. Players will not loot fallen foes. Potions used must be used, horses killed must be killed, projectiles expended must be destroyed, and other such single use items must be appropriately disposed of. A forum post must be made by the victorious side of each event which does not detail specific character deaths (unless a player decides to PK of their own volition) Field battle and Gate Breach [FRIDAY 5/31 @ 4:30 pm EST] Layer 1 [SUNDAY 6/2 @ 7:15 pm EST] Layer 2 & 3 [TUESDAY 6/4 @ 12:30 pm EST] Layer 4 & 5 [THURSDAY @ 4:30 pm EST] The Summit [FRIDAY @ 7:15 pm EST] 180 / -10 / 2170 The results will be determined by which side seems to have won the majority of the 5 events. The winning side may remove either @_Jandy_ or @Sean_VEVO as a region owner of ironhorde_vassal_swivlur.

Boomsteel cracked the skull, Goblin sentry fell in blood, Blackened cobbles stained. Infernal gorilla, Fists pounding chest, roaring loud, Victory resounds. Climbing the tower, Handhold by twisted handhold, Demon’s ascent fierce. Over the desert, Peering from the precipice, Eyes burn with malflame. Blast after fiery blast, Through the air, power unleashed, Until exhaustion. Resting on his throne, Lounging in the conquered tower, His domain now won.