Malgonious

Adalwulf would simply stare at the inferno, his Turkin brothers and loyal bannerforce at his back. "My heart and mind are concluded.. Arthas, you will die by my hands for this transgression against your kin." His back would turn but a single word would utter from across his lips, "Snake."

A lone horen would stand before the flames in the once dim, now everbright halls of the temple. "Praise be the light of dawn to this holy temple. Father guide us."

Minecraft Name: Malgonious (Adalwulf) Race: Human Duel/Joust: Duel

yep

Adalwulf Horen found himself surrounded in the blizzard that had enveloped the ruins of the heartland of Johan.. on this particular day upon the snowfields however.. A fur-cloaked soldier along with a sparse assembly of bannermen with him, slowly began to approach the the rocky ruin of humanity. “Missur, how much further must we heft into dis’ wastelan’? O’im not too fond of the cold!” A servant would bark, hefting many quivers of arrows over his shoulders. “Raheem! Stop yer whinin’ and git movin!” William would shout over the few men separating them in the assembly. “Buh ees cold! O’im real sore, my toes.. They ache with this weird blue snow.. Ees pretteh ‘ard too..” Adalwulf would slowly turn to his men, raising his hand for them to stop behind him.. He would continue walking. “I tell you this, not to frighten you all.. Nor to discourage. But you may turn around if you wish. I know not how much further I must tread.. But I am resolved. Where I go.. is further. Into the heart of this cold hell.. I intend to see what was left behind of my people.. What they fought and fell for.. That is my path forward into this pain and agony..” Adalwulf would continue, walking further into the blizzard. His entire bannerforce followed suit, not a soul turned back around to leave their leader behind. And so.. They tread on. *** Adalwulf slowly approached the crater of Johannesburg.. He could feel the thanium-dust in the air begin to thicken, his breath becoming short and brief..The fall of his father’s empire.. His passion, hopes and dreams all lied in the hole that appeared to open and expand evermore into his visage. “Men.. hold.” the young leader would bark with a concern upon his tone. Adalwulf would slowly walk further, the crater below would be described as follows “A pit of what was lost, what could have been, and what will never be.” Black Legion and coalition forces seconds after the thanium explosion of Johannesburg The fallen of the Fifth Empire of Oren lay beneath the crater.. The surrounding Black Legion had encircled the city as the barrage of dwarven artillery shells began to rock the city and landscape already into a wasteland. The blackened armor of those defenders, along with coalition armed berserkers, legionnaires, and courlandic infantrymen would be seen beneath the iced crater-side, their ruination etched into the icy block of solid thanium frozen into the rock and soil. Crumbled stonework and decayed palisade would dot the thanium-drift, blown heavily around the crater of what would then appear in the visage to be the heart of the fallen empire, the Capital of Johannesburg. The redbrick had stained a deep-blue.. Their scattering about the landscape would be ever-evident, along with massive amount of scorched stones and cobbles. Black and purple would be evidently a strong color, as the frayed wool would sometimes appear strong, perhaps to the banners below that were incinerated in the frozen air. *** Adalwulf began to slow his pace, feeling his knee fall and slowly touch to the ground. The dulled violet cape that he had dawned wrapped around his figure, cradling him as his arm began to sift through the snowdrift, pressing the thanium dust aside to reveal the permafrost that had overtaken the grasses below.. Scorched and burned were the small green speckles beneath the icy block. Adalwulf closed his eyes, taking up a small pinch of the dust into his hands, and letting it fall back down the earth. He slowly raised his knee once more, his figure outstretched and observant of what was before him.. “The past of my people.. My past. All these stories of heroism, of bravery.. Those who stood firm to their final breath. They lie before me, before us..” he would turn to the small collective behind him, a look of determination upon his face. "I can’t let their sacrifice be for nothing.. I owe this to them.. To my father." His hands would grip around his cloak, tearing it from his shoulders, tying it to a scorched fencepost nearby, letting it wave in the frozen winds that whipped the crater. “I pledge this to you, my people.. Father! This does not end with you.” The few men that weren't busy shivering in the cold, and coughing gave a half-hearted cheer to their commander. The enclave of soldiers and their aspirant leader would be seen leaving the blast site.. The dulled violet cape slowly blew in the wind, the sigil on the front being that of the Black Legion.. of renewed hope for a brighter day to come for the descendants of Horen.

This whole thread is just a warning point waiting to happen, pass.

My people sunk to their graves in Dogger Bay, beneath shallow waters their prideful hearts fell. My people burned alive in the hallowed Walls of Seahelm, their wives and children along with them. My people were hunted like dogs and rats, they became refugees, running is all we knew. My people grew again alone, raising one another as brothers and sisters. Our ancestors before us gone with your ambition. My people have suffered enough at your hands. Have you ever felt the pain of those beneath your boot of imperialism? ... You will. The descendants of Eirik come for you. Hakon's Memoir, recollecting the recent news of his son and grandsons war to come before his passing. Hakon's corpse has arrived to the Krag within a hallowed dreadlandic cart. His protector declared him dead seven weeks ago, just arriving now for his proper burial. An assortment of artifacts and scripture would be tucked inside the cart for his descendants to read and wield. Ancient weapons and armour from the days of the Red Brothers, Ashguard and other fallen norlandic organizations would be available for reconstruction or immediate use. Check the cart for more details.

Jyor Volaren would stand idle in his clan's hall, gazing around at the elves and companions he had gathered. He would raise his hand to lower the common chatter in the clan hall, clearing his throat, "My friends, lend me your ears. For the time of retribution is at hand. Our beloved Amaryllis had officially been declared killed in action at the bequest of foreign Interlopers. The denizens of Ponce deny the All father, and slaughter in the name of their God. They will feel the vindication we have. While we have not an army.. we've dedicated men and women who care for one another.. and they took one of our beloved away." Jyor would observe the reactions in the room, nodding at he continued; "There are things we must do in this life that are hard. But because they are hard, we have grown strong. Together, we stand united in a common purpose. The loyalty of Amaryllis was unquestionable, her faith and duty paramount. Her life shall not be lost in vain, she dines now in the Hall of Valkryia, high in the clouds where her service to the Father will be seen by all. Let us tread the path COMRADES, let us take up the banner of the Faith, of Volaren, and March forward...Toward retribution. Jyor would raise the claymore of Clan Volaren given to him by his father Vykk Volaren in the air, his heart and rallying call known to those before him. "FOR THE FATHER'S WILL SHALL BE DONE!" *** Jyor would stand just outside the settlement of Ponce, familiar faces all doned in Brawm, Volaren and other banditry outfittings at his back. "So it begins."

Jyor Volaren would begin drafting a war post with his fellow Sentinels upon hearing the news of his faithful servant's demise. "Horrid deeds never go unpunished, there must be justice for this."

[*] [*] [*] [*] Quest: Assemble the Red Scroll of Fortitude (Legendary) Details: The Red Scrolls have gone far too long without their ruinous powers coming to fruition in the realm of Mortality. Javier Ruric & Lord Purifier Angus have declared a quest to assemble such an artifact to be used in wars to come, the Scroll bearing unheard of power bestown by the Father himself. The Red Scroll of Fortitude was lost upon the death of Baldur Ashtyr, before he fell he split the legendary artifact into three separate pages. The first page was said to have been stored in the old Jarldom of Mjol, somewhere beneath where dark scales shadow it's blinding light. The second page was said to have felled upon Baldur's corpse, to the Dwarf that felled him, or the spot for which he fell, such is unknown to the Faith. The third page is currently within possession of Baelrock the Betrayer, former servant of the Red Faith who had struck out and stolen the precious page from our libraries. Once all three pages are assembled, bring them to the Lord Purifier so the ritual may be completed, and the Scroll presented back to this world. Reward: Red Scroll of Fortitude (Legendary) x1 2000 Minas

Malgunuz the Old nods in approval