DixieDemolisher

This will suffice.

Contemplates homicide.

“What is greater than death is the Dwarvish stubbornness to resist it.” - Ancient Dwarven Proverb. It was not the pain that bothered Jorvin the most, it was the smell. Pain was familiar to Jorvin Starbreaker, not in the sense of one full of self-loathing or melancholy, but in the sense of a man who has spent years at a time on campaign. In the aspect of pain, Jorvin’s senses had seemed to dull with the years, that is not to claim he did not feel pain, only that he was unwilling to let it hinder him. No, what bothered him most wasn’t the blood, it was the...Festering of it all, the uncleanliness, the pus of infection, and the festering of his wound. In truth, the severity of the wound did not dawn on him until he smelled it, and until he felt that sickness in his veins, the rot. He’d rather have his guts spilled upon the floor than be killed from the inside, it was no fitting death for a soldier, or a king. It wasn’t that he didn’t have among the finest doctors in Arcas mind you, but doctors could only do so much for a wound once the infection had already begun to swell, Jorvin blamed the accursed and rusted weapons of the Neverborn, no mortal weapon would have stricken him like this, with a torn, jagged wound that struggled to heal properly, and a festering that caused him to fall into a feverish state. At least that’s what he told himself. The mighty Jorvin Starbreaker couldn’t be felled by a mere infection after all. And with the fever came ill thoughts that had always plagued him so. Dark thoughts, thoughts of paranoia and worst of all, weakness. The strongest thing he could do then was admit he was in no position to lead, not without his wounds tended to. Slowly but surely, Jorvin Starbreaker arose from his bed, wiping sweat from his brow as he shifted his arm, wincing as pain in his side flared. The infection had subsided now, gods knowing it had taken long enough...His senses had not yet fully returned to him. But he could walk, he could think, that was enough. With the help of a walking stick at his beside, Jorvin moved to the nearby desk, he looked around, noting his papers in disarray, clearly him and Dhaen had different ways of organizing things. The thought of her brought a faint smile to his face, and just a tinge of shame. No doubt she was worried, and he should’ve never shouldered the burden upon her. It went well enough though, he supposed. Easing himself into his seat, Jorvin winced once more, grumbling several curses under his breath. He reached for pockets he didn’t have, wearing only his trousers and the many bandages under his arm, being half-dead and delirious made one care little for being well dressed. Instead, he fished a quill from the desk, and ink-well beside it. Finally, leaning forward, Jorvin set the pen to paper. Back to work. FROM THE OFFICE OF THE GRAND KING ᚠᚱᛟᛗᛏᚺᛖᛟᚠᚠᛁᚲᛖᛟᚠᚷᚱᚨᚾᛞᚴᛁᚾᚷ 10th of Malin's Welcome, 1795 Sickness gives one much time to dwell on things, the good and the bad, and namely what one should have done differently. To be left without respite to such thoughts is a miserable existence, little wonder why lesser beings would lose the will to live in such circumstances. But to surrender oneself to such thoughts is Undwarvish. Such weaknesses best be left to soft surface-dwellers. My wounds remain, but my fever has subsided, and I no longer stand a poor night’s sleep away from entry into Khaz’A’Dentrumm, as such, I henceforth reassume the duties set upon me as Grand King of Urguan’s Folk, and declare a formal end to the regency. With my return to duty I intend to resume governance with renewed vigor. Too often of late have I allowed my thoughts muddled with worry, in these times our folk require a king of action, and it is such a King I swore to be. Once I have readjusted, there are several projects I intend to announce, and changes to administration and foreign policy I wish to announce. I apologize for my absence, and thank you all for your prayers. I remain your Grand King and loyal servant. Jorvin Kazrinsson of the Clan of Starbreaker.

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE GRAND KING ᚠᚱᛟᛗᛏᚺᛖᛟᚠᚠᛁᚲᛖᛟᚠᛏᚺᛖᚷᚱᚨᚾᛞᚴᛁᚾᚷ 14th of the Grand Harvest, 1794 It is on the 14th of the Grand Harvest, 1794 which I write from my bed, stricken with pestilence, which I believe inflamed by the infection of wounds gained during the Korvassan campaign. I find myself unable to move without the aid of my advisors, and resigned to my palace bedroom. I fear myself to be incapable of ruling, and have decided that it is indisputable that Urguan needs a leader in this moment. TO THAT END, do I Grand King Jorvin ‘Kazrinsson’ Starbreaker nominate Grand Merchant Dhaen Grandaxe to be Lord Regent of this Grand Kingdom of Urguan, to lead in my stead and maintain unity of the Sons and Daughters of Urguan, until such a time where I may once more assume my royal duties. I urge the Grand Council of Urguan to meet on this matter and as according to those most hallowed Articles of Urguan to vote with simple majority and establish the existence of the position of Lord Regent as an official Lower Office of the Crown, and hereby give my written consent should such position be made for Grand Merchant Dhaen Grandaxe to be my appointee. Such a position should hold the full authority of the Grand King, yet have a timed existence for a maximum of three weeks and requisite only a simple majority to be deposed. OOC: Haven't been in a good mental state at all lately, been too stressed out from IRL and IRP to the point where I've been very ill lately. I'm taking a break until I can sort my head out, I will be back.

The Ireheart-Tahorran-Ilathdyn Vengence Grudge has been entered into the book.

Well said, very well said.

Free me from the fresh hell that is Arcas.

Grand King Jorvin Starbreaker reads from within the royal apartment of Kal’Evraal, tired eyes flicking across the document in the dim firelight which illuminated the chamber. As he read, he recalled each story told to him by his mentors and friends in the halls of Kal’Azgaryum. How long ago that was...Jorvin felt the passage of time weigh down upon him like a brick. He was a boy when Ulrah fell, a boy traumatized by the sights, sounds, and smells of war. Those dwellers of of the southern peaks had no reason to welcome his kin. His father, his uncles, and his siblings had been on the wrong side of history. And yet they did. He remembered the marching and drills under Utak and Dain, marshalling a disciplined throng from a host of outcasts, cripples, and refugees. So few they were, yet nevertheless ready for the day the Empire, the Urks, or any other foe came to their door. Jorvin memorized those drills, he practiced them every day until he could preform them in his sleep. Twice a day, every day for years, Twenty? Thirty? He didn’t remember now. He patrolled the hinterlands and valleys surrounding Azgaraz until he grew as familiar with them as he had his childhood home. While his father still mourned the loss of the Crownhold and Jorvin’s mother, it was Gimli Metalfist who first taught the young Starbreaker how to forge, and how to defend himself if need-be. During those dark years, Gimli was like an older brother to him, a mentor for a troubled youth, who himself was not all too old. It was a friendship that would last. Jorvin and Gimli’s expeditions into the Yatl Wastes saw to that. In that dark, cold place where no light did shone. He remembered the hospitality of Bjor, who he shared drinks with every day during his morning patrol. Funny to think now the silly Dwarf with a talent for mead was a religious icon, and cultic figure for the forest-folk. He recalled the medal given to him by Utak after his seventh training. It was nothing major, a simple reward for diligent behavior, but Jorvin cherished it. To him it was a sign he was no longer the scared boy bleeding to near-death in the streets of Ulrah, but a man ready and trained to defend his home and his kin, however few they were. That tiny hold on the edge of the wastelands carried their race through one of the darkest chapters in their history. Never again would their race fall. That was what those who dwelled within the hold of outcasts and refugees said to him. Those words were what Jorvin held close to his heart. When they battled through arctic winds and Vaeyl hordes to reach refuge. When he commanded the Dwarven forces against the voidal scourge that threatened Arcas thirty years ago...And now, as he commanded the Throng of Urguan against the Neverborn, the Host of the Damned, the Inferi. Never again. The Grand King ceased his internal musings for a moment, and his eyes drifted. He looked to his bed, the riches piled beside it worth a dozen human kingdoms, wealth unimaginable during those days. He looked to the sleeping form beside him, and recalled how he never expected to live long enough to see such things as...Love, not when the Long War was in need of winning. Finally, his gaze drifted to the wall, where a faded, torn and bloodstained Azgaryumos banner hung beside that of the Grand Kingdom, the Kingdom they built. He might have been no veteran of the Confederation, he might not have known all the struggles, but he shared many, and Gods know by now he was the veteran of dozens of battles himself. All to uphold his oath sworn under the peak of Azgaraz, his oath to protect the Dwarvish folk. PUBLIC WRIT OF ENDORSEMENT FROM THE OFFICE OF THE GRAND KING Being the son of the High Remembrancer, it is rare I find a historical piece that intrigues me, for much of it I already know and have studied. This is likewise the case here, however while I know its contents well from stories told round the hearth and Legion campfire, I can say with certain this is the first document in many years which has truly moved me. The history of our folk during the Atlesian Period is one wrought with tragedy. It is a story of kinstrife and sacrifice, but most of all, how the determination and stubbornness of a rare few can alter the course of history. No longer do we live on borrowed time, in fear of a mighty Empire. No longer do we suffer barely the means to sustain ourselves. Not only has Grand Urguan been reforged, it has been forged stronger from said hardship. All my adult life, I have bled in service to the idea that is Grand Urguan, and I can say without a shred of doubt that without those dauntless few of the Confederation, we would not be the Superpower we are now. To those few who remain who carried our people through the final years of the Kinstrife, to those without whom our people would remain under the boot of tyrants and foreigners, I say this. Narvak oz Agnarum Yarred Den-Agnar’azgaraz thamar ihonlor threin Na oz narvak-nar-tazarak thamar velak Thoth ok kraviil'ur'khrum Yoth Urguan ᚾᚨᚱᚡᚨᚴᛟᛉᚨᚷᚾᚨᚱᚢᛗ ᚤᚨᚱᚱᛖᛞᛞᛖᚾᚨᚷᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉᚷᚨᚱᚨᛉᛏᚺᚨᛗᚨᚱᛁᚺᛟᚾᛚᛟᚱᛏᚺᚱᛖᛁᚾ ᚾᚨᛟᛉᚾᚨᚱᚡᚨᚴᚾᚨᚱᛏᚨᛉᚨᚱᚨᚴᛏᚺᚨᛗᚨᚱᚡᛖᛚᚨᚴ ᛏᚺᛟᛏᚺᛟᚴᚴᚱᚨᚡᛁᛁᛚᚢᚱᚴᚺᚱᚢᛗ ᚤᛟᛏᚺᚢᚱᚷᚢᚨᚾ

Treaty of Crow and Stone 11th of the Sun’s Smile, 1791 Article I: On Sovereignty The Dual Monarchy of Hanseti-Ruska and the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, hereon referred as “the signatories”, do pledge to mutually recognize each other’s status as suzerain powers, meaning: THAT the power of rule of each signatory in their respective territories be fully respected by the other. THAT the signatories agree to engage in diplomatic functions as two states. THAT the signatories accept the authorities of the heads of state of each party (The King of Hanseti-Ruska and the Grand King of Urguan respectively) as representative of the will of their peoples, and that the signatories accept no other position claiming such title instead. Article II: Non-Aggression The signatories enumerated do mutually agree that any forces affiliated with their banner, nation, families-in-power, etc. will not engage in military action against the other party. If such an event is to occur, diplomatic courses of action will be considered to resolve the issue. When this treaty expires it may be extended, advanced to a military alliance, or be abrogated. Article III: Trade Agreement The signatories enumerated do mutually agree to afford merchants from each respective party to trade by hand in each other's lands free of tax, tariff, harassment, or other imposed burden. The signatories do mutually agree that large scale trading agreements between each party can be of either the purchasing kind (meaning that wares are purchased for minae) or of the bartering kind (meaning that different wares are traded on rates mutually agreed upon or previously set by precedent). Article IV: Military Correspondence The signatories enumerated do mutually agree to train their militaries together when the chance is afforded to better vest themselves in the maintenance of good relations between the two aforementioned parties. Article V: Diplomatic Correspondence The signatories enumerated do mutually agree to establish formal embassies to promote closer diplomatic relations and mutual cooperation with one another. Article VI: Duration The signatories enumerated do mutually agree that the pact is to last the duration of 10 Stone years. His Royal Majesty, Josef, by the grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Dules, Ulgaard, Lahy, Sorbesborg and Slesvik, Duke of Carnatia and Vidaus, Margrave of Rothswald, Count of Graiswald, Karikhov, Baranya, Kvasz, Kavat, Karovia, Kovachgrad, Torun, Turov, Alban, Markev, Reza and Kaunas, Baron of Rytsburg, Venzia, Esenstadt, Krepost and Kralta, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. Jórvin son of Kazrin, of the Elder Clan of Starbreaker, Grand King of Urguan’s Folk, Clan-Lord of Gotrek’s Folk, Lord of Kal’Evraal, Bane of the Neverborn, Founding Member of the Council of the Fourth Grand Kingdom of Urguan, Beloved by the Brathmordakin, Holder of the Great Book of Grudges.

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE GRAND KING ᚠᚱᛟᛗᛏᚺᛖᛟᚠᚠᛁᚲᛖᛟᚠᛏᚺᛖᚷᚱᚨᚾᛞᚴᛁᚾᚷ 11th of the First Seed, 1791 [MUSIC] There is no such thing as a Good Orc, however some are far worse than others. Swift Urguan has always been to aid a friend in need, and this case is no difference. Attacking the Kingdom of Norland unprompted, members of Clan Raguk saw fit to attempt to enslave and kill members of the Norlandic Royal Household, though such efforts were thwarted with the timely intervention of former Grand King, Utak ‘The Liberator’ Ireheart. As Grand King of Urguan, I know the character of the Raguks and their ilk, and it is poor. I remember well how they slighted our folk fifty years ago, and desecrated our holy underrealms with their presence at the invite of Clan Frostbeard. Such slight and many others were crossed out during the Krugmar Grudge War some two decades ago, though clearly it was not enough, and clearer still be that these red-skinned sons of Krug need another reprimand. The Council of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan has seen fit to unanimously back the Norlandic people, and prosecute war against the Orcish Clan of Raguk. However, I will not justify this conflict as a war, for Grand Urguan has bested far worse foes than a single clan of arrogant Urks and Grobbi. It is pest control at best. Let it be known then. That a bounty of five hundred mina is to be placed on the head of every red-skinned Orc collected and brought before the Obsidian Throne. A Bounty of two hundred Minae shall be placed on every collaborator and ‘honorary Orc’ of Clan Raguk until said clan has been thoroughly exterminated.

Having received word of the attacks upon the haflings by bird. Grand King Jorvin Starbreaker of the Dwarves sharpens his axe, commenting as he did so. ”Onleh ah’ coward attacks wee-folk. If ah’ find out who’s harmin’ our distant kin, t’ere’ll be ah’ reckonin’.”

Grand King Jorvin Starbreaker comments. ”Bold move tae be breakin’ from tradition suh early intae her reign. T’ough ah’m sure she knows wots bes’ fer ‘er folk.”

Why is it just a box.

Neat.