Inferno_Ougi

“Ah, t’kin o’ filtheh interbreeders ‘ave nae choice o’ bein’ born, o’ who they’re bein’ born tae. Ah good decision, oi’m glad interbreedin’ is still illegal.” Jorgan spoke to his brother as he stole from the fields of the Heffrum.

a true good boy, enjoy ur summer

11 hours ago, Hot_Dip said:

[!] These fliers would be pinned up all over most cities [!]

 

Fellow descendants! Bandits Snitches plague our roads and cities. If there were a way to identify and exterminate these bandit snitches, we may be able to thwart their good deeds. It is for this reason that I am starting an incentive program. Below this flier bandits who have been snitched on or have seen someone else should post a description of the snitches. For the heads of any of the snitches listed below, I will pay the slayer 100 mina a kill. [[You don’t necessarily have to have their head, I just need screenies to make sure it is real and what-a-naught]]. When you have killed one, send myself a bird and we can meet post haste.

 

Posting Format

 

Rp Name:

 

Username:

 

Description [[Skin]]:

 

Any other important details:

 

Let us stop these white knights together, the good in the world can not stand to our collective will of banditry! [!] The bottom of the post would have a signature in heavy blue ink reading ‘Bron Brokus’. [!]

 

RP Name: Hannibal Pertinax

Username: Inferno_Ougi

Description: Clad in evil black armor, decorated with a golden trim and military decorations.

Important details: kill the whites (knigt)

(formatted it wrong bud but thats ok :dd)

Jorgan, only a young beardling when he fled from Kal'Tarak before the siege, smiled with the utmost pride. "We stand unoited."

nazis would not play elves

they are too weak willed and weak minded

“This name sucks!” Complained the sickly Hannibal Helane from his bed in Reza, seemingly in his death throes.

“Very, very good, yes-yes!” Screamed Mygenaba from within his far away cave dwelling.

lak almost as epic as raguk and shrogo so play them they are epic :DD

“Your nations life span is two weeks. Stop writing this dribble up and get to working on the defenses!” Screamed Hannibal from the streets of Reza.

Hannibal shook his head at the Haeseni incompetency! "The men of Brawm were not aware of a raid! You blithering fools didn't even notify us. You better hope to God that the next regent isn't as slowminded." He raved to one of the Mudds (he could never tell them apart) and went about his day.

“The fock ahm ah lookin’ eht?” Jorgan commented before ripping a poster off the walls of Kal’Varoth.

Glottgut'Raguk laments from within the realms of Stargush'Stroh, seeing the old Lur enter this way. Yet, as a servant of Gazigazh, he could do nothing but reminisce of when Burbur returned to Krugmar for the doomed Coalition war.

Hannibal would hear of the news, keeping in contact with the mercenaries on the other side of the war. "I only wish the snow elven people the best. It was an honor to fight alongside him when I did. Even so against him. We were not friends, but I hope his soul rests easy."

FALUM’S HUNT

[x] A Raguk explorer in the volcanic firelands

https://www.deviantart.com/shahabalizadeh/art/Howling-Fields-681673677

Deep amidst the mist of the Firelands, and amongst several of his crimson brothers, Garrdum’Raguk sharpened his cleaver. The others prepared aswell. Blades tempered within oil and wood sharpened the natural arc of a bow. All of this beneath the tune of Megaflat’Raguk’s heavy metal guitar; it’s sound resonating across the cliffsides.

The Targoth stood, holding his blade flatlined, golden eyes inspecting it’s bite. He then turned to a dissimilar goblin. Skrew-luz’Raguk was the name born unto him. Tenacious and cruel words were exchanged, and soon commands were given. The goblin hurried offwards, pen and paper in hand.

To the Lurs:

Word has reached our borders of Falum’Lur, son of Vorgo’Yar’s,  illness. The spirits spit on his likeness, but the pantheon has not forgotten his sacrifices, nor the eternal warmachine that is Clan Raguk. 

If he is to die now, he would be barred entrance to Stargush’Stroh, our ancestral promised land. Thus, Targoth Garrdum’Raguk, bloodbrother to Hazurk’Raguk, calls to our warhorns.

We can save Falum’Lur’s soul, but only through impressing the spirits in his name.

Meet at us at the monk’s temple the next Grand Harvest, and together we shall bring a bounty so large neither of our clans had ever seen. Only then, will he reach immortality in the Halls of Krug.

Signed Garrdum’Raguk

Scribed by Skrew-Luz’Raguk

"Ang Gund Griish."

[Next Saturday 3PM EST (6/15/19), meet at CT. Basically just a hunt event.]

From the Seven Skies, Hasasun Chet d'Montelliano really wants Darius to give up the ghost.

“Wait, what? It’s over?” Hannibal screamed

16 minutes ago, Auriel_ said:

so you want to play LOTC

he's unbanned... cringe of u to say that lal

Glottgut'Raguk grins from Stargush'Stroh, knowing that blood will flow.

--

Hannibal rubbed his chin. "More pagans? Ah, well. I was hoping this war would last longer, but now the odds of Haense winning are nigh impossible"

No. To all of them. Does Llir even play? How often has he been in a raid, defemding or attacking?

Stargush'Stroh surely bustled more than usual. From the Gates of Kor, Glottgut'Raguk would CALL OUT to the old orc. "Falum! Lat ol' GIT! Lat shud git wiffuz now!” Laughed the fallen Raguk, smiling ear to ear. "Dere'z klompin' waitin' behin' deze wallz!"

"God was swift in his judgement. He died like a damned fool. I regret it was not I to fell the dog; a pyre is too good for the likes of elves." Lamented Hannibal.

“Oi’m finkin’ t’at Edel dwed oi’ve ‘eard ‘bout wuhd be t’a bes’ candidate.” Jorgan commented.

MC Name: Inferno_Ougi

RP Name: Jorgan Frostbeard

Dwelling(Kal’Varoth, Hefrumm, etc.): Kal’Varoth

Candidate: Atandt Irongrinder

Hannibal makes a note to show up.

Hannibal smiled at the news. "Good riddance. Killing our own allies... If I'd knew it was him, I would've duelled him myself. Men like him should not be tolerated within the Empire. Although, I am not one to talk."

Hannibal walks into the outhouse and throws the paper into the latrine. “I’ve had enough of these! No one reads these!” He pissed on it.