PraiseTheLord

SPIRITUAL EXPEDITION Ganak Örtog Ulks| Spluttertongue [X] The great Obelisk, wild in corruption. The Venture conjured when Klunka’Raguk, Yazgoth of the notorious and industrious clan called his brothers forth to Fiimurz-Glat in sodality. A numerous grouping emerged, many bearing old and wisened faces, yet just as many young and brash. Nevertheless, they congregated and discussed recent news and old stories from the ancestors. Yet directionless talk bears heavy on patience, and Klunka’s was running thin already. He stood, groaning as he did so; “We have expeditioned here, to this camp, as a unit. Yet in singularity I have done some expeditioning of myself! I have ventured into the firelands to find a home of firm placement, a home that is inveterate in strength! Sound the revs of war and march out with me.” Thus, rose Megaflat’Raguk atop his makeshift tower, bound to play the heavy metal Ragukian tunes of inspiration endlessly. With these riffs cascading across the jagged rocks and steaming magma, the fellowship set out into Ganak Örtog Ulks, the uncharted firelands. . . [X] The thaumaturgic Khorgol’Raguk before the obelisk, it’s chaos calmed. With bleeding appendages following the journey, and heaved breaths, the grouping stumbled upon an obelisk of unnatural nature. A spreader of corruption upon their new lands. Megaflat’Raguk’s distant tunes and the thundering of the magma conjuring forth a symphony of industry, fitting ambience to the shaman who sat before the Obelisk. Queries touched the atmosphere, Trazha and Zteehl questioning the shaman’s actions. The very air surrounding the shaman grew thick and heavy, growing thicker still with each phrase. Khorgol’s body began to quiver, body tensing as he now began to chant again and again, repeating a single name “Scotharuz, Scotharuz!” repeated amongst a sea of old-blah phrases, as the ashes around the shaman began to notably lighten in hue. “Dalg-Amirz! Dalg-burzum! Dalg-buzog!” Resonated, aided by the shaman’s bone drum. Contorted and changed, there would now be a circular shape of dirt of where scorched earth stood. Yet with the life given to the lands, Khorgol’s appearance grew pale. Confused bickering grew louder between the Raguks, as they observed with wariness in their eyes. “Scotharuz-Grak Izgul-Buzog! Fiim-Uzg!” Khorgol cried in resounding finality as he lofted upwards, smashing his right foot into the landscape. With this act, a ripple screened across the orks, shaking the very earth. Yet, the magma calmed and the tension faded, the air grew breathable once more and Khorgol tilted towards Klunka, cranium bowing. “We can pass . . . The taint, am subsided.” [X] An envisionment of the Mohk-Raguk Free Territories. Once more the footsteps of the Ragukian warband met with the firelands’ rough exterior. Klunka had recently found a great plateau, and within it shared the missing Leydluk’s envisionment of a great citadel. Yet, uncertainty filled the young ork, for he knew not the pantheon’s intentions. For this reason, he brought the most spiritual with him. That of Morug, that of Khorgol. “Am these lands not blessed, brothers? It is where we were birthed to be, and birthed into hardship will our children be, so that battle will not even flinch them. These lands are not ripe, but we harbor no need for twigsdelicacies, but the meat from the ironkow.” He paused. “That, is why I called the spiritualists to this land, the pantheon do not speak to me. What do they say?” Khorgol rasped, growing silent and sensing once more. As he did so, criticisms. formed in Klunka’s compatriots’ minds, as were accustomed for Ragukians to be as proficient as they could. The trio’s bickering were silenced when Khorgol confirmed; “The pantheon. . . They hold some influence in this land. . . Aye, Klunka, but. .“ He falters, bowing his head considerably. “I will need to meditate. I feel. . . Two other strong presences in this land. I must meet with them.” His palm clasping across the ash below. “ There be basalt, hardened magma beneath. It aint that far. Shrines, we must erect. Praisal, we must give, lest we risk bein’ burnt to crisps. The pantheon is not alone in these lands” “Then we shall erect a great multitude of praisal shrines. Chrome will be the tattoos of our snaga, for they invoke the right of sacrifice. Will this tame the spirit’s bonfire?” Klunka queried. “Maybe, we will peep, in tik. Mi must go meditate. . .” And with that the grouping split off once more, as Megaflat’Raguk’s riffs served as an anchor to lead back home. Some went to labour, other to think on the matter. However, a new certainty crossed their minds. They were not alone, and their new lands were not yet liberated. This would come in time.

EPIC MUSIC : ) BIRTH OF AN ERA Fiimûrz-Glat | Spluttertongue DATE ESTABLISHED: UNKOWN [CONSTRUCTION | NAVAL ] They of Ragukian ilk were not numerous, nor were they rich. In the stead of such virtues, stood capability and endurance. Them of Ragukian ilk garnered their numbers at the temple, and at the head stood Klunka, his eyes placid yet at the same time filled with determination. “Alright, boys. It’s time. We are humble in numerical value and strength, we are neither nomadic nor sedentary. We are Raguks, and we choose to endure. Look above, the garnered nebulas of the pantheon smile at us now, now as we make the great traversal. Trasha, you stand beside me, so do you, brothers of red ilk. They-” And the machination of Raguk industry pointed his index at the starry night “-have done their job, and they have forged us a home. Let’s go take it!” So the entourage of brave uruksfolk folded their cowardice and birthed curiosity. Traversing to the cerulean shores of Sutica, and boarding their schooners. The great journey of navality was carried out over many a sunset and many a sunrise. Many a time Klunka would require to soothe his own temper as his compass grew faulty and rusted. Alas, they pushed through rogue waves and landed themselves on a land far more hellish than of earthly value, yet to the Vanguard the firelands were angelic. Overjoyed, they stumbled upon a camp of Raguk design on the outskirts of the scorched landscape, even though none claimed to be it’s maker, and none claimed to have set foot on the lands before. It was theorized that either the Pantheon, or the missing Targoth Leydluk’Raguk was aiding them. Either way, their ambition was no longer humbled, and the great machine had been reborn. OOC COORDS: XYZ: -2644 | 53 | 1437

TO ALL OF RED ILK Of whom were contacted, ranged from the miniature Ragukian goblinsfolk of Sutica’s sewers, to those of large capacity whom roamed famished across the plains. The behemoth, Klunka’Raguk pondered the Ragukian future, the past birthed off stern, and the present state of his clan. In his lobe was an image conjured by Leydluk, the golden hue of industry and wealth sprawled across the firelands, Rexulks-Ob-Örtag, a clan unified and prosperous. As much as Klunka idolized the notorious wargoth, it was Leydluk’s dormant disappearance of which jumpstarted the machine; Klunka was to take up the mantle whilst his predecessor was on pilgrimage, though this was a temporary state, for Krukleyd’s return was prophesied. Thus, he whipped and beat Imp’Raguk to conjure a jumpstart of his own machination, the unification of his people. “Lat gits better get ready. For too long have our PEOPLE been dormant, silent as Arcas churns forth. Our mark has faded, and our cleavers grown rusted. The forges flicker no more. One would assume da boyz have fallen into inactivity, and one would assume right! But for no longer, come find me, Klunka’Raguk, ya gits. Return, brothers of Leyd, and relight the passion of industry. “Return!” OOC: If you’ve been thinking of playing a Raguk for a while, this would be the perfect time to make one, since it makes sense in roleplay. We have a detailed bot and great community that’ll help you set up your character. If you've already got an existing Raguk character, come rp with us. Raguk discord: https://discord.gg/T9u5hvY Raguk subforum for more info: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/forum/953-clan-raguk/

says garsen wyne

WoW had guns, Warhammer had guns. We’re a fantasy server, live a little. Absolute +1

[!] A tune fills your mind. . . THE COG STILL GRINDS [Forums are scuffed, no image.] [X] A Ragukian warrior, angered upon hearing news. The sun screened across the desert’s landscape, calming in it’s afternoon haziness, yet it’s calm ambience was overridden by the thumping of sabatons, and the wrapping of chains. Krukleyd’Raguk, son of Wargoth Leydluk’Raguk, was dropped before a pit of flame. His brawl against a duo of uruks had brought him down low. Golden pupils focused on the Rex, and the ork felt the razoring of an axehead scraping across his neck, hanging dormantly and awaiting the Rex’s -of whom stood before Krukleyd now-, orders. The Ragukian, however, did not see fit to abide to orders, nor did he see fit to die chained. “Murak’Gorkil, Rex of Krugmar. I have lived a life many consider dishonorable, yet allow me to do this; allow me death in combat, as Leyd would have sought it, an Honorable death. Repent.” Murak agreed swiftly, they were placed in the arena of which the bricks were first placed by slaves. As the Bloodsmith flicked his eyes across the vast architecture of the structure, he came to a realization, and understanding. This was to be his final moments. If he emerged the victor, he would be maimed for being a whitewash. There was only one exit; that of the afterlife. “I march on my way to the Gates of Kor, and already I hear the cackling from the Death-wolf. My axe, in life, was sharp, but it will be sharper in the halls of Leyd! However, my Ragukian brothers will not receive such a pleasantry, as their swords are sharpened to the tune of my death! To the tune of wagh!” This was followed by cries of war, and fists cascading against flesh. Krukleyd began strong, grappling the Rex and delivering a hailstorm of blows to the jaw; yet his brash rage would be his undoing. A technique of art, Murak slipped from his grip and delivered a strike to the temple, collapsing the Ork. As he peered down onto the setting sun, with dusk’s first stars blooming over his physique and chrome tattoo’s, he would only manage a bloody cough; and bloody were the words that followed before his death, aswell: “Bahaha. . . The cog still grinds, brothers. . . The cog still grinds!”

“Finalli, Ang Gund Griizh, boys!” Krukleyd said.

“Lats a Git. Da Dar Ob Griizh ‘ave exizted for aeonz, before evun mi popo tuuk da reignz. Ang gund griizh, ****!” Krukleyd, the more boisterous and hot-headed of the duo proclaimed, lofting his cleaver into the air.

Kinda did try to blow up Krugmar with thanium when people didn’t like Pieman’s rule that one time

Don’t see how Bloodsmithing is circle jerking since anyone could easily get it by making a raguk and going on ONE spirit walk. Btw please don’t tell me you’re gonna be negative about every thing orcs do since you got caught for being a lying snake.

Krukleyd’Raguk wanders the sea of sand, reflecting upon the spiritual journeys he had undertaken. [[Really good clan.]]

I really appreciate Rin posting this for me. This is something I've tried to do many times over, but now I've finally followed through and requested a permanent self ban. I've been around on lotc for many years now, 3? Around there. Thousands of hours, dozens and dozens of people who I enjoyed interacting with who've come and gone . I've enjoyed it, really, but for months now I've just found myself logging on and waiting to do something, something new, something engaging. It never came, and I think it's time I called it. Minecraft roleplay's lost my interest, and with recent changes in my life, I doubt that I have the time to commit to it again. Just a few mentions @Heathen @The_Broken_God @mitto @Heero @PraiseTheLord @grubgoth_wud @Zarsies @Elk @Ougi @Caranthir_ @Jentos @Skylez1 If I haven't mentioned you, which there's probably many of you. I'm sorry and I'll be sending out a few more discord pms at a later date. Good luck you all.

WARPAINT, JEWELRY AND TATTOOS ⚙-⚙-⚙ Jewelry and warpaint, to a Raguk, are as defining of their identity as the shade of their skin and the illusive Naakh-za-Barash. Whilst some warpaint or jewelry is arbitrary and there to boast combative acclaim or the possessors skillful craftsmanship, others hold spiritual or occult qualities. WARPAINT “Red makes lat go fasta’, itz been proved by da tunzantarz mi swear it!” It is customary for the Raguks to slather red-paint on their Myrzyms or their Battlewagons prior to a skirmish or battle. Superstition states that, in a similar fashion to their Bloodsteel weaponry, if the paint is made with blood and blessed by Gazigash, she will grant them a boon of immense speed. “Da blue gitz iz a danger’us lot.” In the Raguk culture, blue-paint is reserved for only the most brutal Redskins. It is said that those who are privileged enough to wear blue-paint have the blood of Baderkuk in them, from the days when Braduk and Raguk were joined as one. How much of this is true is up for debate. “Yella’ is da lukky colour ov looterz agh freebootas. . .” Raguks with an affinity for gold and all things shiny - usually goblins - may paint themselves yellow before a major battle to heighten their chances of finding themselves something of interest on the corpses of enemies. “Da blakka’, da choppia.” It is not uncommon to see glyphs painted in black along the edge of weaponry or siege equipment; or to see a Myrzym’s tusks coated entirely with black paint. This is because it is believed that black-paint makes weaponry all “da more choppia”, or more effective in combat. “Chrome - colour ov da flatted.” Aged Raguks who anticipate their death in battle may slather their face with chrome paint beforehand to make it damned clear to Kor that a Raguk is approaching the gates of the Stargush, in death. Similarly, deceased uruks are painted chrome for the same reason. The method to craft this chrome paint, however, is knowledge known only by the Yellers. JEWELRY Jewelry, in a similar fashion to warpaint, has sentimental and spiritual value to a Raguk if not for vanity. For example, it is not uncommon to see an elf-ear necklace to boast the amount of elves a Raguk has killed, or a piece of bone or a tooth from giant game. Sometimes this jewelry contains gold, silver or platinum; sometimes bloodsteel and other exotic metals like mage-gold; or strange gems and stones to give it a qualitative lustre. In a somewhat grizzly deviation, it is also not entirely uncommon for Raguks to take fingers, toes, tusks and ears from fallen kin to turn into amulets and charms, believing that the felled ork’s strength will transfer unto them.