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I'll be your e-boy if I win

i tried lol

https://youtu.be/uy60yvawImo?t=101 7th of The Grand Harvest, 1645 Einar Stormbreaker sat alone upon his chair inside his cabin in the Ithrun’drakna. He stared at the wall for hours on end, letting his mind drift away as he pondered about his life. Einar took a piece of parchment and dipped his quill in a pot of ink and began writing on it slowly, choosing his words carefully. To the dwarves of the Kingdom of Kaz’Ulrah, I have to leave, my friends. With Barradin, Morug and most of our kin gone there is nothing left for me here. This world no longer interests me. That’s why I must submit myself to the tides, and the winds, and the will of the gods. Come what may. In the sea, I shall find myself once more. I hope to come back to our kingdom in the future, but if I am fated to be taken by the tide then worry not about my soul, for I shall feast with our ancestors in the halls of Kaz’A’Dentrumm if the gods deem it so. Farewell to you all, and may the gods guide your paths even through the darkest of times. Narvak oz Kaz’Ulrah, Narvak oz Ithrunnazka. Signed, Einar of the Stormbreaker Clan And with that he dissapeared on the misty horizon, leaving the golden medallion of High Ambassador behind, as well as the crown of the Princedom of Mount Ardol in Brynjar Stormbreaker’s chamber. Farewell

"May deh gods guide yer path, meh friend. And may Brynjar return shortleh and lead us well. Narvak oz Beitiris 'the Sea-maiden!'" Einar says to himself after reading the letter.

A saddened Einar Stormbreaker prays for the soul of his fallen clanmate, unaware of his reanimation. "Dungrimm... please take Barradin's soul and may he feast and foight in deh halls of Khaz'A'Dentrumm alongsoide our kin till exhaustion."

I'd love to join the raffle

AZ DVERGA ERON DUNGRIMMUMM -= Dungrimm’s Folk ordermen, 1641 =- The High Order of Dungrimm's Folk is the elite army of the Kingdom of Kaz'Ulrah, and its primary military force. The dwarves of the legion serve as protectors of the dwarven people and the Brathmordakin, and are tasked with the duty of maintaining peace, order and unity within the kingdom. The soldiers are highly regarded as warriors with undying iron loyalty to their people, and are famous amongst dwarves for their unmatched ability on the field of battle. PURPOSE The dwarves of The High Order of Dungrimm’s Folk are tasked with defending the Kingdom of Kaz’Ulrah and its citizens. The fearless and zealous warriors within the legion’s ranks are in charge of defending and upholding the Brathmordakin faith, as well as being in charge of keeping the kingdom free of any dark, corrupted and undead creatures, ensuring the safety of the dwarven people against any threat. HIERARCHY VELERAK - Grand Marshal The Velerak is the leader of the legion. He is charged with leading his men through peaceful times, as well as leading them in battle as the field marshal. The safety of the kingdom rests upon his shoulders, for he is tasked with keeping the dwarves of the Dungrimm’s Folk battle-ready at all times. KRONOK - Grand Admiral / Lieutenant Kronoks are dwarves who have distinguished themselves throughout their whole military career. They hold the position of highest renown within the legion without being Grand Marshal. Kronoks are granted the command of one to two Kariks and most of them serve as advisers to the Marshal. They are paid a hundred and fifty minas per stone week. KARIK - Commander Kariks consist of former Khorens who have displayed leadership traits. They are granted the command of a small warband consisting of three to five ordermen. They are paid a hundred and twenty-five minas per stone week. KHOREN - Soldier Khorens are dwarves who have shown acts of great courage on the battlefield. The most experienced and veteran warriors deserve a spot within this rank. They are paid a hundred minas per stone week. KRONUL - Guard Kronuls make up the bulk of the order’s ranks. They are dwarves who have shown loyalty and commitment to the legion and the kingdom. They are paid seventy-five minas per stone week. KADAN - Recruit Kadan is the rank that is obtained immediately after joining the ranks. Kadans are soldiers in training who have yet to prove their worthy to the order and the kingdom. They are paid fifty minas per stone week. DUTIES - To fight for the kingdom in times of war. - To protect the citizenry of the kingdom and its allies come what may. - To attend all training sessions held by the Grand Marshal and the Kronok. - To patrol the kingdom’s territory regularly, to ensure safety within our borders. - To obey the commands of the Grand Marshal and the Kronos. - To fight with unyielding courage and honor in the eyes of the enemy. ENLISTING Those with the desire to become part of our ranks should present themselves to an officer in the capital city of Kal’Tarak. RP [!] An old, battle-hardened dwarf clad in heavy steel armor and a graying beard stands before you with a black ferrum war-axe resting on his shoulder. “Wot be yer name?”: “Hrmph... Ye got aneh experience on deh battlefield, lad?”: The dwarf strokes his beard as he analyzes you. “Wot be yer reasons for joinin’?”: “So be it, lad. Wot’s yer trade?”: OOC Username: Discord: SIGNED AND CONFIRMED BY, Morug oz Brathmordakin, Grand Marshal of Kaz’Ulrah ISSUED BY, Einar, Father of the Stormbreaker Clan, Grand Admiral of Kaz’Ulrah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBATrLRWySg Rumours of alcohol and tea being served free of charge in the Drunken Bounty Tavern were spread all across the lands! The sounds of laughter echoed throughout Jornheim’s walls as the dwarves of Kaz’Ulrah enjoyed a mug of ale in the welcoming tavern of the dwarven kingdom. The Stormbreakers were gathered by the counter, the Frostbeards assembled near the entrance and finally, the Goldhands and the Blackaxes sat in the big round table by the hearth of the tavern, emptying their pockets as they played the famous dice game of cretzer craps. Some dwarves danced at the rhythm of the bard's music, some of them sang along and others merely observed, taking swigs of ale down their throats. Nevertheless, all of the gathered dwarves enjoyed the occasion and drank until their livers couldn’t tolerate beer any longer. [!] A missive was pinned in the Cloud Temple and every settlement of importance that read: “If ye be lookin’ for booze and a noice toime come to deh Drunken Bounty Tavern in Jornheim, Kingdom of Kaz’Ulrah! All drinks be completeh free for a limited toime so come ‘ere and get wasted. Signed, Einar Stormbreakah, Tavern owner.”

Event Planners, MC Names: AemonTargaryen Event Type: Hunt Your Timezone: UTC-7 Affected Groups: Dwarves of Kaz'Ulrah, Stormbreaker Clan Event Location: The Sea of Kaz'Ulrah / Open Sea Summation: It was a cold, foggy morning when the dwarves of the Stormbreaker clan sighted a whale on the sea of the Kingdom of Kaz'Ulrah as they sailed the shores in a usual, rutinary patrol. Captain Barradin Stormbreaker wrote a letter to the Grand Admiral, Einar Stormbreaker to infrom him of the creature that wandered in their territory, infroming him about his desire to hunt the beast. After recieving the news Einar sent a letter in return, telling Barradin to prepare the ships, the harpoons and the crew for the hunt that was yet to come. A missive was pinned outside Jornheim's tavern by Einar that read: "To every dwed of Kaz'Ulrah... A whale was spotted roaming our shores and a hunt is to be organized to slay the creature. If you deem yourself fit to aid in the killing of this beast report to the navy." After this, Einar headed towards Tal'Korezorst to prepare his men for the hunt. Concept Images/Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/dzWOt What help do you require from the ET Actors or Builders? An actor to RP as a whale and builders to copy and paste the ship and build the whale carcass on the shore if the hunt is successful.

Allows dwarves to expand upon culture and diversity +1

The loud snores of Einar Stormbreaker would be heard throughout Jornheim's stone walls as he slept on the chair he stole from Zahrer Irongrinder's spot in the round table of The Citadel, dreaming about the great heist he and his mates had performed a couple months back. "Zzz-zzz-zzz."

Land charter (cart) or Sea charter (boat): Cart Island: Tahn Point A: Jornheim Exact co-ordinates of Point A: X: 275 Z: -2260 Point B: Stormbreaker Fortress Exact co-ordinates of Point B: X: 1141 Z: -2104 https://gyazo.com/0800546e8adeedc2f86fd83bb0aa121f

"Parathek nir da ithrum." Einar Stormbreaker mutters under his breath as he reads the parchment.

((Username:)) AemonTargaryen Full name: Helgi Age: 101 District: Two Political Party (If applicable): Poncetian Agrarian Party Brief bio/speech/campaign kick off: "Poncetians...! If ye' elect me as yer senator Ah' will make sure tha' a plate o' food nevah goes missin' on yer tables... for Ah' will produce big sources o' employment by makin' farms 'round this great Margraviate 'nd enhance our economeh! And lastleh but not least Ah' will alwoys look out for yer well being, me people. Vote wiseleh, vote Helgi!"

"Ah'll take care of this." Helgi thought as he ripped the flier from the board.

Stefjan Kovachev rushed towards his homestead after the death of his own kin by his own hands. The knot on his throat made him feel as if he couldn't breathe, his heart pounded as never before and it made him feel as if his chest was about to burst. Stefjan had ended the life of two persons who he genuinely cared about, besides his late wife and daughter whom his father took care of. The guilt of his own actions weighed on his shoulders as it had never done before. "My actions weren't against my kin, they were against my kingdom. Why did they had to hunt me down? They are now dead because of this." These words kept appearing in his mind as he laid on his bed, looking towards the ceiling with lost eyes, feeling sickly and weak. The anger that had made him leave Hanseti-Ruska grew bigger and it made an impact in his mind and body. Alas, he proved a point to the Norlandic people with the execution of two of his family members, a point that had to be proven.

You

Stefjan Kovachev sat solemnly upon his old steed, analyzing the landscape of a certain region in the vast redwood forest of the Westerlands. He wrapped his fingers around the reigns of the bridle and let out an elongated sigh. As he sighed, a thick cloud of steam escaped his mouth, for it was one of the coldest days of that winter. He placed his boots on the stirrup that hanged from each side of the saddle and sat upright before he pulled the reigns to signal the horse to start trotting. The horse began to trot slowly, and Stefjan commenced to look around the forest, further analyzing his surroundings. The hoot of a snowy owl was heard from one of the trees nearby. “Who-who… who-who.” Was heard throughout the adjacent area. A pair of yellow orbs stood out from the hollow of a redwood tree. Stefjan’s lips tugged upwards after a moment of carefully hearing the owl’s hoot. It had been the first moment in a long time he had experienced genuine peace, and him and his horse continued to trot through the woods calmly. He began to remember everything he once had and admired as he made his way back to the road that led to the capital. He recalled seeing the great warships of House Vanir in the sea of Serpentstone. He recalled when his father revealed him that his mother had passed away due to a strange illness that affected her lungs. He recalled the last time his entire family sat down on the great hall of Kovagrad to enjoy each other’s company and a lavish feast. Stefjan found himself on the main road after wandering the woods for some time. He wiped his face with the cloth on his sleeve and hugged his legs around his horse whilst he pulled the reigns once more to make the steed gallop. The cold wind passed through him with ease, but it made him miss the warmth of his old castle. The city of Bastion appeared in the distance, disguised amongst the dense fog. The steed galloped hastily, and Stefjan arrived at the capital promptly. He made rode his horse towards the stables and dismounted him. He ran his fingers through the steed’s snout to caress it gently and tied him to a post inside the stable. Stefjan turned about and exited the wooden structure to enter Bastion, but he made sure that the horse had enough food and water for the rest of the day. After entering the capital, the man pushed the door of his household open and went upstairs to enter his bedchambers. Upon entering he found Aleksandra holding a sleeping Astrid on her arms. He smiled warmly and approached the duo. “Privyet, love.” He said to Aleksandra before he leaned downwards to peck his daughter’s forehead whilst she was sleeping on her mother’s arms. Aleksandra smiled widely as Stefjan did this, and she greeted him back. Stefjan stared blankly past his wife and further realized that what he holded dear did not vanish along with the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska and that being in the place he was currently was an opportunity to amend everything he had done wrong in the past. OOC. As always, I hope you enjoyed this read. Please excuse any errors in the writing!

@Anadunae

The sun had set, and the moon slowly began to rise. The dense redwood forest and the surrounding areas went silent as only the dim moonlight gleamed from above. Stefjan Kovachev rested the palm of his left hand on the pommel of his sheathed longsword and decided to make his way back to the city of Bastion, knowing the great danger that involved staying on the forest after the sunlight vanished. He pushed himself up from the ground and gave a last look at the arctic landscape that was right before his eyes, a frozen fjord that a community of frost trolls had taken as residence, although he did not see any of these brutal creatures. He finally turned about and released a sigh before he started to walk amongst the redwood trees, heading towards the road that led to the capital of the Westerlands. The night began to turn darker as the moon continued to rise, but due to this a beautiful starry night sky was revealed. After a considerable amount of time walking on the dangerous woods, Stefjan found himself near Leopold’s wall, and was able to spot the light that the torches on the gatehouse emitted from afar. He began to feel uneasy as he continued to approach the wooden structure and let his left hand slip from the pommel of his sword to warp the fingers of his right hand around the leather strap that enveloped the hilt of the blade. He accelerated his pace greatly, to a speed of almost running. A wicked and devilish laugh resounded throughout the whole area, its source was unknown to him. The sound of a cavalry charge was heard coming from both flanks in the distance. “Raise the gates!” A westerlandic soldier shouted upon noticing the situation from his post. “Aye, boss!” Said his companion, and went to raise the wooden gates hastily. Stefjan started to run towards the gatehouse with all his energy and began to breathe without ease. The footsteps of the galloping horses echoed throughout the forest, and began to sound closer and closer as every second passed. A loud war-horn was heard a few times. One of the westerlandic soldiers had used it to signal for reinforcements. “He’s a dead man- Shut the gate!” One of the soldiers shouted, and the other obeyed without a word. Stefjan started to feel how his feet and legs began to numb, but did not falter. He ran as fast as any man could run, and at last, went through the gate as it was about to close. Upon entering the safe-zone he fell to the ground sweating heavily and taking deep breaths, unquestionably exhausted. He stood up and placed his hands on the joint of his knees, and slowly began to regain his resistance. A large battalion of westerlandic soldiers and knights arrived the scene, formed of pikemen, archers and heavy infantry. The undead army commenced to grow as more, and more creatures lurked from the darkness of the forest and joined their ranks. The undead forces stopped, and simply watched from afar as the human archers got into position on the wooden towers and various formations. “Knock… draw… loose!” A western commander ordered, and soon a rain of arrows fell upon the undead army. Another devilish laughter was heard from the other side of the field, and the undead horsemen charged forward. The pikemen quickly began to build formations, holding wooden shields and aurum-tipped lances. Stefjan Kovachev unsheathed his sword in a swift motion and ran towards the heavy infantry division carelessly, for he was wearing no type of protection. Western forces abandoned the safe-zone and entered the open forest, the undead charge did not hesitate to stop or retreat, but quite the opposite. The heavy infantry was split, and placed in each side of the formation. Everyone went silent, and no one said a word. Only the arrows, and the footsteps of the approaching horde could be heard. At last, the two armies clashed against each other on the field. The desperate cries of help from wounded soldiers, the sound of steel smashing against steel, and the groans of the dying horses did not lack at any moment. The battle lasted hours, and both parties took heavy losses. The Westerlands lost more soldiers than what they could afford, and the undead forces that remained retreated from the field after they had been lowered in numbers greatly. “Hoo-rah, hoo-rah!” They chanted as the battle had come to an end. This was another victory for the Kingdom of the Westerlands, but they knew there were many more fights to come, and that the war was not over. As soon as the sun rose, the western men had set up pyres to burn the bodies of his fallen comrades, to prevent them from turning into one of those creatures. Stefjan Kovachev approached the scene and placed a hand on his chest as the flames consumed the bodies of the dead soldiers. His eyes closed and he dipped his head before the pyres, offering respect to those who had lost their life the night before. OOC. This actually didn’t happen in RP. This is my entry for the Le Trio writing contest. I hope you had a good time reading this. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. @Anadunae