Inferno_Ougi

“Hannibal was a bastard. That's what my father told me, that's what his father told him, and now I’m telling you two.” ~ Camilius Helane to his two sons. Hannibal Pertinax was in the twilight of his years. As a young man, he had fought as a mercenary and a merchant of the Nottingham Trading Company. When the company was exiled from Adria, it had eventually been declared a terrorist organization by the Renatian Empire. With their main source of revenue gone, the company would disband, leaving Hannibal a vagrant on the run. By good fortune, he was allowed to stay with and live alongside a small Dark Elven enclave, going under the name Tarkus. Later on, he had sided with Renatus in the War of Two Emperors. Taking command of the army on various occasions, his little mark on history was made on the Battle of the Rivers. Hannibal closed his eyes, straining as sunlight shone on his head from an embrasure on the wall in front of him. “So many at Helena. So few after.” When the war ended, he was legitimized as a Horen. Yet, Hannibal was unhappy. For he had wanted more: he had thought his destiny to be that of inheriting the legend of his father, Antonius, a famed warrior and commander. Furthermore, numerous battles had battered and worn down his mind. Personally witnessing comrades fall, and slaying dozens himself— many he knew before the war— he had become prone to bouts of madness. A sword that does not swing is no sword at all, and so he refused to settle down after the war. He had fought on every battlefield, in every corner of Arcas. Still, Hannibal had yet to be satiated. Taking up arms once more as a mercenary, he had cofounded Ruswick with his fellow highwaymen, in hopes to revive his dream of conquest. Bloody raids against the nations of Arcas had once again labeled him a criminal and a bandit. He sired children with various women— nobles, or peasant women— he cared not. He cast away his eldest, a daughter, to a life of nobility, for he had no use for them in battle. His sons, he would take from their mothers when he learned of their birth, and train them in the mercenary settlement of Ruswick. Those that could not hold their own against another Russ, were beaten harshly until they could. When they were of fighting age, he would send them into the world as highwaymen and mercenaries. With every death in the family, there was no ceremony to be had. At least, not to Hannibal’s knowledge, for Hannibal did not care. There was little love to be had for the man, for he had none for his sons. What feelings there were for Hannibal by his sons were that of fear and contempt, for his temper burnt brightly and his forgiveness was dim. “What was her name…” He leaned back in his chair, placing an inked quill on the table before him. “I can’t seem to recall.” Upon returning to Hangman’s Bridge at the conclusion of the battle, Hannibal searched the battlefield, looting it for valuables. Stepping over a corpse that had been impaled in the chest, he squinted and leaned over. He noticed breathing underneath. “Look at this! The only way you’ll hit someone with your sword is by them falling on it.” Octavian groaned as he opened his eyes. “Bite it, you old bastard.” He spit blood into Hannibal’s eyes. “Right, right. You seem well enough. Get up now, find your brothers, before everyone else takes our share.” Hannibal pushed the corpse off of Octavian, sauntering off to gain his spoils. The youngest, Octavian, was now Hannibal’s sole heir. Hannibal had taken a moment to sit and think in the Ruswick Keep. What had his life been for? He was a dragon— so he told himself in his past. But now, he was aging, and in a brief moment of clarity, he knew that his mind was faltering and his body was failing. The delusion could not stand any longer, unable to pride himself on the leadership and swordsmanship he once stood out for. He knew what he was: a bastard. A bastard who had chased a dream of conquest and yet thrown away what could have made him happy. Any other bastard would have been happy to be legitimate, to have a daughter with a woman he had loved. Now, there was only a sword he could not swing, armor he could not wear, and the nameless graves of his sons. “Octavian!” He shouted abruptly, tensing up. Octavian immediately stood up. “I,” he paused. “No, wait, wait.” Hannibal’s words began to trail off. Octavian knew better than to sit back down, nor cut him off. He would get an earful and extra training, meaning less time to mourn. “Do you like fighting?” He shuffled in his seat. “Of course sir–” “No, you f***ing dog!” Hannibal roared, cutting off Octavian. “I’ve trained you too well,” he sighed. “No, no, no,” he struggled to find the words. “Would you prefer it if— if you stopped fighting? At least, well, I wouldn’t make you anymore.” Octavian knew his father too well. This was a simple test of his loyalty. “Of course not, sir.” Hannibal grimaced and paused. “Good answer, boy. Testing you, of course. Now, begone with you, shoo.” He waved Octavian away, refusing to look at him as he left. When Octavian left the room, Hannibal's breathing was ragged. Looking down, his left hand was covered in blood. His right arm was bleeding. Octavian sat in his cabin. It had all happened so fast, too fast for him to understand. He was returning home from the tavern when multiple Russ mercenaries stopped him. They forcefully brought him onto a ship, into a cabin, which, for all intents and purposes, was as nice as what he had in Ruswick. One handed him a piece of parchment folded in half, shutting the door on him thereafter. Sitting on his bed, he opened it, causing another piece of parchment to fall onto the floor. To my only legitimate son, Octavian Helane Sickness and age plagues me, the power of my body is leaving me and death awaits me. So, I declare that you are my only legitimate male offspring and successor, and that you stand to inherit all of my wealth, which will be soon delivered to you, in Aeldin Signed, Hannibal Helane, Champion of Renatus Octavian scrambled to his knees to find the fallen piece. Whereas the first was neatly written— assumedly done by Hannibal’s scribe— the second was clearly written by his father. The writing was barely legible, with the first half being inked and scratched out. I am sending you to Aeldin, wherever that is. Your brothers are dead, and I will be too. I’ve provided you with enough that you can survive there, or wherever your ass lands. You’re a fool if you thought I’d give you it all. You will serve me better by ingratiating yourself there. Bring glory to our name. And remember, I am not a damn Helane. Damned nobles like that name better. I am a Pertinax. You are too. Best remember that. Fear the Dragon. Octavian crumpled it into a ball and threw it at the other side of the wall. For better or for worse, he was leaving the reins of his father and Ruswick. “Bastard.” OOC: If you've read this far, thanks for reading. If you've only skipped to the end, thanks for viewing it I guess. This isn't a "true" PK post because for all purposes he has been dead for almost a century IRP (I am also banned). Thanks to Valecius for indirectly motivating me to write an end to Hannibal's story. I had a lot of fun writing this. Let me know what you think about the writing and such, I'm always trying to improve. Again, thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone I've RPed with or PvPed with. LOTC was fun.

Hannibal Helane looks down from the Seven Skies, smiling the sun's smile that the dragon's blood still flows. The return of his descendants to their homeland pleases him greatly.

This was awesome!!! My heart goes out to the RUSTLERS!!! I hope their leaders get unbanned!!

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Hannibal Pertinax smiles the sun’s smile, light glistening from his teeth as he looked off into the sunset after reading the missive. “No more hiding, boys,” he spoke to the rest of the Nottinglads, “It looks like they caught onto us. To the Empire’s fall!” He cheered, drinking to Rubern’s good fortune and the Empire’s bad fortune.

Nygenaba’Shrogo mourns the (kind of) loss of his prophet. But he also hasn’t left his cave in years so he goes back to eating shrooms.

the DON’T CRITICEZE IT IF YOU DIDN’T WATCH IT!

are you dumb man? did you not notice the voice over? something’s wrong with you today man

you were a good fleeper. i’ll see you in a month ;dd

lame but done not clan specific, just named that for lore reasons 🙂 (check trip to arcas). fighty fish will definitely be the most common name for how easy it is

“I can’t believe my eyes... Isn’t he selling at a deficit?” Nygenaba’Shrogo commented

Jorgan Frostbeard shook his head. “Not pogfish at all.”

__________________________________ Glottgut stood alongside Leydluk and Morkar, witness to the ascension of Skalp’Raguk. He had not met the orc, but he recognized a legendary redskin when he saw it. ”Welkum, brother. Lat had brought death and destruction tuh lats enemiez, an’ dat has brought lat respekt tuh da realms uv da spiritz. But most ov all, lat has put latz name down intuh da hiztory ub Raguk. Join uz, in da eternal service ub da Pantheon.” __________________________________

Thanks man. It would be cool to flesh out the environment just a little bit more. Water pools around the cavern would be cool too, I think. Thanks for the comment 🙂

Thank you, my friend. May God keep you safe in these trying times.

THE FROSTBEARD FIGHTIN’ FISH OR OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE “FIGHTY FISH” AND “MAC FACE FISH” The very vicious fish in water Overview The “Frostbeard Fightin’ Fish”, or otherwise known as the “Fighty Fish” or “Mac Face Fish”, is a brackish fish originating from deep within Kal’Tarak’s inner cavern in Atlas, where small populations of the fish lived in aquifers and large pools of water. While not a dominant species in the cave’s grand ecosystem, it has proven to be a very hardy fish when introduced to other cavernous ecosystems, much of which can be attributed to it’s highly aggressive and territorial nature that ensures their populations survive. True to their name, the Fighty Fish will attack anything that enters their wide and ever expanding territory, and larger creatures are no exception to this. Despite their incredibly aggressive nature, Mac Face Fish attacks are rarely fatal to those unfortunate enough to suffer from them. Unfortunately for the fish, they are delicious when roasted, making them a delicacy for those who are willing to risk the pain involved in fishing and handling them. The name, Frostbeard Fightin’ Fish, of course, originates from their discovery within Kal’Tarak, along with their aggressive nature. Fighty Fish is simply a much easier way to say it. It has been named the Mac Face Fish by the villagers of Nottingham (a village on the edge of Garrond’s Vale) due to the face of the fish being similar to a man named Mac. The Trip to Arcas A dwarf guards his caravan, containing breeding pairs of Frostbeard Fightin’ Fish When Kaz’Ulrah fell, the survivors of the siege of Kal’Tarak fled Garrond’s Vale to live elsewhere, such as Sutica and Agnarum. Some missed the taste of the Fighty Fish, among many other delicacies specific to the region (see: Dogoth Crab and Garrond Goat), and either paid the villagers of Nottingham to fish it for them, or fished it themselves in order to start fish farms of the delicious fish. However, when descendants were forced to travel through the cold, southern wastes, few thought to bring the Mac Face Fish, let alone a breeding pair. Fortunately for all, the one dwarf did: Gardalf Frostbeard. 16XX, account of the Atlas migration The journey so far has been long and perilous. I, along with many others, have escaped the growing frost with the aid of the Vael. But the journey had not been without it’s own hardship. My Frostbeard brethren, that I have been fortunate enough to reunite with, are almost at their wit’s end. I myself have lost count of the days and year. In truth, our journey is perilous, and I know not when we shall leave this frozen wasteland. Just yesterday, I had awoken from my cot to find an elven child trying to steal my Fighty Fish. To my knowledge there are no others that had brought breeding pairs with them, and so I flew into a fit of rage and nearly beat the poor boy to death. But as a man of the Brathmordakin, I stopped myself and showed him mercy. He scampered off soon thereafter. I am disgusted with myself. I do not know for how long my sanity will last. Gardalf Frostbeard was an expert fisherman, who himself was taught his skills by Wilson McGrath. He was a connoisseur of fish, and despite many of the Fightin’ Fish stock dying, just enough survived to breed on the other side of the great ice wall. He would travel with the Frostbeards in Arcas, eventually joining the Underkingdom of Urguan when Argnos Frostbeard made the decision to bring the clan into the kingdom. Our story does not end there, however. 16XX, account of a certain incident Was bringing my stuff from the caravan and I tripped. I was holding a barrel of the fish with big teeth and they fell into the river. The fishies swam away, and Vithar yelled at me. My bad. With the Fightin’ Fish released upon the Under-Realm’s ecosystem, their population would gradually grow as an invasive species. While their populations is not as large as it once was in Kal’Tarak, they can occasionally be found and fished within Urguan’s deep cave system. Fish Facts The fish, after being roasted over a fire They are brackish fish (a mix of saltwater and freshwater). They will die in saltwater, but can survive (not thrive) in freshwater. They are carnivorous fish. They will derive no nutrients from plants. Thus, it is common for Fighty Fish to begin eating each other. At most, and very rarely, will a Mac Face Fish be 2 feet (60cm for freedom haters). They are typically around 1 foot, but much of their growth is dependent on how much one can eat. They typically have a lifespan of 10 years. The fish has many bones protruding from its body along the nostril, gill cover, pectoral fin, and lateral line (see picture in beginning), along with having very jagged teeth. Appearance wise (see picture again) it is easier to imagine it as a very bony piranha. They will constantly jump out of the water, as a way to intimidate predators. While they typically live in breeding pairs, Fighty Fish can and will form schools in the right conditions: a large body of water, and a large enough population. Due to their aggressive nature, they can often be found eating one another. Representation in game A barrel of Frostbeard Fighting Fish violently jumping and thrashing in the water A salmon is used to represent the fish as an item. In game, it can be represented through arrows being pushed up by a bubble column. This is done through soul sand below the water, creating a bubble column that pushes towards the surface. Shoot arrows into the water, and they will bounce up and down. It is like shooting fishes into a barrel. Clever, no? Redlines This has nothing to do with it, but I thought it looked really cool and I wanted to share They can be farmed, but they are too aggressive to be made into pets. While dangerous, they are rarely fatal, as two or so will be unable to do more than give cuts and wounds that barely puncture the flesh. They will be painful, however. A school of the fish may be fatal, but the existence of one is extremely rare. (see fish facts for conditions) A player can not roleplay for a fish without the other involved players consent. This is to ensure that no traps are made where someone is dropped into a pool of Fightin’ Fish. But that would be cool, like a mafia movie, yeah. EX: Player 1 tells Player 2 that a Mac Face Fish bites their leg Credits Special thanks to @Twodiks for noticing a lore-related mistake I made Fish - https://www.deviantart.com/piotr490/art/Demon-Piranha-144574519 Dwarf Caravan - https://caravanstudio.com/2015/05/04/the-expedition/#popup-content Cooked fish - https://www.istockphoto.com/vector/fried-fish-on-stick-vector-illustration-isolated-gm1174464694-326657758 Unrelated - https://www.muddycolors.com/ And to you, the reader 🙂 +1 and comment

As Ograhad Decrees, Clan Father Jorgan Frostbeard Son of Garrond Frostbeard

[!] Those in Urguan would periodically hear horns blaring from the Frostbeard clan hall and from atop the mountain peaks [!] [!] Missives would be spread all throughout Arcas, especially around the mountains [!] TO THE KIN OF KAZ’ULRAH THE MOUNTAIN HORNS BLOW 2nd of Sun’s Smile, 1767 My Frostbeard brethren, I call to you to return to the mountain halls of Kal’Evraal. While our clan hall has grown dusty in our absence, it is time for the Frostbeards to regain the renown and stature that we once had. Many of you, like me, went into seclusion, where the harsh and biting air let you feel free. But now, I call upon you to join our ranks once more. My father, Garrond Frostbeard, father to many of us, gave me the title of clan father in hopes of breathing new life into the clan. But I can not do it alone. Come, brothers, take up your arms in the name of Urguan and clan Frostbeard. Our road ahead is long, and we shall pave it in the blood of those who oppose us and Urguan. I, Jorgan Frostbeard, son of Garrond Frostbeard, twin of Hobjord Frostbeard, promise to glory and honor to those who return. The mountain calls— who among us can deny it? As Ograhad Decrees, Clan Father Jorgan Frostbeard Son of Garrond Frostbeard If you’re interested in playing a Frostbeard, new or old, send me a message over discord (Inferno_Ougi#1709)

Jorgan stood from the throne in his clan hall. “Ah’ll show w’oever fool that’s holdin’ on tae the relics the powers o’ t’Fros’beards!” He declared, to the applause of the rest of the Frostbeards...

Hannibal frowned upon finishing his reading of the guide. “Detailed and everything, but where are the red-lines!? Ptoo!” He spat on the paper, crumpled it soon after and threw it to the ground.

poo poo pee pee funny british man 😅😅😅