Malgonious

"...Words can no longer be spared upon this issue. The Dwarfen do not wish for peace, if they did they would have accepted our many attempts prior. Even with the looming hordes of the seemingly innumerable undead, their petty grudges on Thoromir Armhank, nae even a Rurik, haunts us to this day… And they speak of the banished Ashtyr blood-line? Baldur the Bastard himself was slain by the Dwarf King’s Host, they had vengeance for their slain King at the hands of our traitorous brother… Let me remind you brothers where Baldur hailed.. can you guess? Upsalla… the Dwarfen puppet-state.” The disgruntled assembly would sneer and jibe at the name, ‘Upsalla,’ “ The thirst for war is embedded deep within their stunted skulls, just as their Grand Arbiter attempted an assault on our young Prince Artyom before his schooling, they poke and prod even now so they may have their war. They want blood, retribution, glory. They want your homes, your wives, your children, they’d seem them all carried away in burlap sacks! They can try for all. They shall soon find what awaits them here is nothing of the like." A grin would appear across the young King's face, "Only the All-Father's shield-wall awaits these half-men! Join me brothers, humanity stands defiant against the threat of the Sons of Urguan, let us rally and stand against the half-men's assembly as one! Donovan would clear his throat briefly as he gazes over his rallied horde once more. "IRON FROM ICE!" (- Donovan Ruric to his assembly gathered in the Krag -) *** Shortly following the proceeding, Donovan would proceed inward to the Krag’s humble walls, a long drawn-out sigh extruding from his lips. A hand would slowly come to bear down upon Donovan’s shoulder, startling cold, as he turned to face the man, a short, wrinkled man of many summers stood over him. “...So you must be the Donovan Ruric I’ve been hearing of..” A faint smile would appear on the elder’s mouth as his gaze fixated on the young King, examining his garb and stature. “That I am, High King of Norland. What brings you to my castle stranger, how might you’ve gotten past the guards?” Donovan seemed weary of the old man, his hand rested firmly on the sword sheathed at his side. “I was allowed through by an old friend.. Donovan. I am Hakon Ruric, your great uncle. I have come to you for this reason,” the old man would motion to him two sealed Red Scrolls, and a regular sealed letter. “This shall make sense in time my boy nephew. For now, take these scrolls and preserve them. These are the surviving Red Scrolls from Seahelm’s libraries, I had stolen them with my Ashguard from the occupying Horenite forces. These are the purest teachings and historias of our All-father…” Hakon would place the scrolls on his desk, and then the final letter into Donovan’s hand. “You are going through a difficult time, Donovan. Your people’s fate hangs in the balance. The Sons of Urguan have been wronged by your elders, that fact is certain… but you should not be the ones to carry the blame. People and times change.. And it’s time the Dwarves under the mountain learned compassion, as I have done in my old age.” Hakon looked wearily towards the North, knowing his path was clear. “Rally your men as you have done, teach them from these Scrolls, and defend our home as I had failed to do so long ago…” Hakon would suddenly stop as he observed a picture of Avar. A saddened expression would appear across Hakon’s lips. “So many of my little ones died in the dark walls of Seahelm, burned alive or torn to shred by the hounds of war.. For this I joined the Dreadlands and caused hell upon the men responsible…” Hakon would look at Donovan in the eye. “This time is different, son. You’ve a chance to save your people, unlike myself. You can do this. You can be the King they need you to be, and you can rally the hearts of Mankind to stand against the dwedmar interlopers… you must only believe in your own strength.” Hakon would place a reassuring hand on Donovan at his speech’s conclusion, smiling as he pats it, and heads out of the darkened study to places unknown. Donovan stood alone in the walls of his study, his gaze shifting from the scrolls, to the door, to the letter now settled in his hand. “So.. that was Hakon Ruric.” Donovan sighed as he sat into his chair, breaking the ash-tree seal of the letter, and observing its contents: Donovan had finished his letter, and concluded his mind. Hakon was doing his part, and now it was time for the King to his. He grabbed the red cloak and Ash-tree shield adorned beside his armour-stand, and headed out with his assembly. "The shield-wall of Humanity shall not be broken."

"The Hordes of Norland can agree to a global ceasefire as the prominence of a marching undead onslaught is more starling then a bunch of half men rolling down from their mountains towards our strongholds. We can hold the conflict off if the dwarfen warmongers can agree for the well-being of all rather than their selfish endeavor's on another race," pens an aged and eager Hakon Ruric from Asul.

Quality if I've ever seen it.))

Markus (doopnoot) signs.

Smashing

A hooded Jyor Volaren would observe from a distance, smiling upon Donovan's big day.

Well I'm happy even in a dystopian dream the Kingdom of Norland retains its sovereignty, a wrinkled Ruric would remark!

LoTC McM, WcW, and two people to permanently ban from the server.

(Vailor Map of Norland Pre-Warclaim) Nestled deep within the heart of Vailor, Norland found itself to be made and claimed by a certain Thoromir Armahnk. From his Polari Watch and denizens he brought from Athera, he had established his foothold on Vailor. This foothold would come to be known to the new settlers as Norland. - The settlers had been a war-like people, hailing from the red mesas they were accustomed to a rapidly changing lifestyle. They were quick to set into the old residents of Norland's establishments. It would seem a certain group of half-human, half-elfen folk had taken home in the valley that would come to be Frostholm. Thoromir quickly ascended the mighty hill, and placed his new banner into the frostbitten earth. The banner would be the Kingdom of Norland, established upon the foothills of the All-Father himself, his gaze all-seeing and watchful on the humble peoples that dwell beneath. - With the Kingdom established, a King must be declared and it was quick to see the man rise to the occasion, Thoromir, their past leader. His warriors elected him Warrior-King of Norland, and with it many customs and reformations came about in a rapid pace. The idea of a warrior-culture was paramount to the new settlers that had followed him and from this notion Thoromir began rallying a large contingent of his warriors from all of the budding settlements that had began to dot the Norlandic landscape. - The warriors all rallied and gathered, each hailing from a different settlement with a different banner, all were startled to see so many of their ilk in one place. It did not become apparant how many settlers had arrived post-arrival and with Thoromir's Jarls arriving with their mighty hosts, a huge feast was to be held in the name of their god The All-Father, he who watches over all. With a magnificent feast concluded, servants began to bring out crates of red armaments to the Jarl's hostiers, and the brave warriors who had arrived of their own accord. They began to outfit themselves with the new uniform, mighty plate armour and battle-axes was all that could be seen in the modest hall atop Frostholm. With his followers outfitted, the Red Brothers made for the Dock of Seahelm. It was time to repay a debt to a Dwarfen ally. - The Red Brothers had assembled a massive fleet of longboats, and a single frigate ship used by the Polari watch. Transporting a large amount of their supplies on the frigate, most of the brothers traveled light in their longboats, hunkering down and preparing for the sail to Rhewengrad, the heart of the fighting between the Urguanite and Orenian forces. Nearly twenty-thousand brothers arrived on Eastern shores of Rhewengrad, completely behind the encroaching Orenian forces. The Red Brothers launched a full charge into the back of the orenian force, relieving the pressure from the Dwarfen front, allowing them to completely route the enemies back to their fortress, of which was quickly sealed and archers arrived to the wall for guard duty. A great victory was had, the Red Brothers and the Rhewengrad Defenders rejoiced and ate supper, as they began to root in for the long war, or so it would seem... - The war had lasted from that nearly two more years, both of which Norland was a heavy player in the battlefront. It became steadily apparent however, that their Dwarfen allies were sending in less and less reinforcements to the front, while the Red Brothers were dedicating their complete resources and manpower to the war. It became infuriating to the already mentally decaying Thoromir, to which he had taken note of that their official contract with the Urguanite forces had come to a conclusion, having served their Two-Year term, Thoromir ordered the return home and that their Frigate barring the Strait to Dogger Bay be moved, allowing the Orenian fleet to proceed through their waters. Despite heavy backlash and virtually zero support for both these actions from his Warrior Council, Thoromir did so anyway and the repercussions for Norland would become very apparent very quickly. - Will finish this up tonight when I'm home from my slave shift.

Deep within the heart of Asul's overgrowth, a darkened figure lurk through the shadowy mushroom stalks, his gaze lowered and dulled. Within his hand brandished a heavy claymore, the figure bearing the weight quite well for such a decrepit little creature. On his right, a rusted blade of fine castle-forged steel, on his left, a pouch filled to the brim with harvested forest berries. The old creature swayed back and forth through the shadowed growth, what had awoken such a sedimentary Hakon to stroll upon the Asulian backwood? His eyes closed once more as he stopped in a patch of sunlight that bore through the thick stalks. The beaming rays of warmth alit his aged corpse like nothing other. It had been weeks since the old man moved from his patchwork tent, a large collection of scribed works and drafts being all that bore from such idleness, in his old age it would appear Hakon had taken more so to the pen than to his sword as he had done most his life. However, it would seem something mused Hakon from his idleness on this particular day as he approached the small raven's nest, a scroll in hand. He slowly tied the scroll to his infamous bird, and set loose the sealed scroll towards the Isle of Tahn, its destination; The Krag -This post will be updated on 4/5/2017 as the Raven will take some time to reach it's destination-

A rapidly aging and decrepit Hakon Ruric smiles from Asul, raising a crusted mug to his kin in Tahn, "Making moves."

Lil Mac is fierce, I'll Skype you my buddy code let's play today

Falco for 1v1s and Bowser going against randoms

PUB, CS:GO and some SSB4. To have done your duty soldier. Don't tell @villageidiot54 your alt

Title says it all, keep it real.

How do you feel about Turkin

good lord cease all of you