Reece Nolan

"Ahn such, ah scapegoat 'as been chosen." Angr sighs as he reads in front of his small campfire, "Et es dah responsibiliteh ov dah Grand Keng tae address t'ese growing tensions wife 'is council. Nae da common dwedmar tae see ahnd 'ear fer da throne. Et es Bakir's responsibiliteh tae pay attention, nae use 'is folk 'as eyes and ears." He'd finish, tossing the missive into the fire. "Ah cahn onleh 'ope da next election comes soon, befur dah madness grippin' t'es kingdom consumes all befur our Keng even notices..."

A prevalent issue is that, these dead regions are perfectly fine, it's that nothing is ever put into them. Take Arcas for example, Urguan had massive caverns of bare stone that had a lot of potential, but nothing was ever evolved from them until much later in the map. The same applies to Almaris, as the caves are left unfinished and clearly world edited, as if given up on half way through and just sealed off. Understandably, the world team has a deadline to meet the moment that they announce the next map. These dead areas aren't a result of poor map design or any flaws, they're signs of underdevelopment, likely from not having enough time to think of anything to put there. As far as incentive to even go out there, there's plenty of things one could do, such as adding sealed off event entrances for later use or utilitizing the node system in creative and clever ways, like a ruined keep that's overgrown and at the top a rare herb node sits, or maybe literally just a really neat place to RP at for events players or st can host. Possibly one of the biggest advantages of putting interesting things out in these dead areas, is giving unique and already completed areas for small groups such as spooks or even a poltergeist haunt, or perhaps a new monument or landmark to settle around. Rather than just having the player be the only source of inspiration for their establishment, imagine they come across a giant mushroom out in a forest, suddenly there is the potential for them to form their own story around it, when in reality it serves no other purpose in the world lore than just being a feature of the land.

Far under the city in the oft-forgotten deep roads, Angr sat on his rotting pinewood bench reading over news of the assassination which had spread like wildfire. In front of the dwed sat a pot of bubbling pigs feet stew which rattled the lid constantly, echoing out far and wide into the dark cavernous blackness surrounding him. "Ov all da dwed, ahm convinced Torsun deserved tae die. Even soh, 'e should 'av paid fer 'is crimes en dah court ov law ratha t'an aht dah 'ands ov ahnotha dwarf." He comments, setting the missive aside and ladling himself a bowl of his signature and miserable stew, complete with chunks of unseasoned pork, undercooked beans and bland pork broth. "Khorvad's influence spreads evah more en t'es kingdom..."

Fridgeir sits on the longboat headed towards the shores of Almaris, carefully painting onto his Sagasteel the account of his journey across the vast ocean, a small depiction of crashing waves splashed now onto the edge.

Click. That was the moment, the smoking gun that told Angr he was no longer safe. The click of a steel lock linking heavy iron chains around his body heralded the destruction of his senses, his perception of the real world. Ulfar's mighty beard drooped and leaked onto the floor. Hairs dripped from his friend's chin until it resembled the beardless neck of Gildroc, a former Goldhand. "Ulfar, yer beard?..." He asked nervously, now painfully aware of his drugged state. The melting Starbreaker would sink into the floor in a violent frenzy of liquids, stabbing through the cobbles and dragging him along with. Had he been able to, Angr would have screamed into the bloody sea which welcomed him to its abyss in the most horrifying of ways. The Worldmaker's Chamber fell apart into a frenzy of gore, teeth snapped and popped as the magma poured down an esophagus as the mountain and city he knew was swallowed whole alongside the pillars of the Brathmordakin. All pillars but one. When he thought he could not take it anymore, tangled in floating nerves and veins, just when he believed he might actually drown did he finally breathe for his first time anew. Angr was regurgitated into a place simultaneously foreign and familiar to him. He was on the roads on the outskirts of Elvenesse, but something was... Different. He rose to his feet, drenched in someone else's blood. He began to walk, and with him came two dwarven shapes formed from the coagulated and sloppy mess of guts, bone and yet more blood. A reoccurring theme of violence. To his left took the form of Grand King Bakir Ireheart, his beard growing off a skull-less jaw and his crown of teeth sat upon a gaping hole where one's face would be. The King's doppelganger wielded an axe made from a femur and a pelvis, decorated with a wrap of uruk skins and elf ears dangling from the grip. To Angr's right formed a distortion of Ragrin Ireheart, his usual bare chest moreso than it usually was, skin removed to show how strong and prideful their muscles and exposed, fleshy abs really were. Normally the sight of gore would not bother him, but this... This was too much even for him. He tried his best to keep his composure, marching alongside his twisted kin towards the gates of Elvenesse as the road behind them was drenched with red, rendering the lands both alien and hellish. An approaching traveler, a wood elf carrying wares and goods from one point to the next was spotted on the roads. Without hesitation, these shambling bodies rushed for them screaming from many mouths and open orifices, "MURDER! KILL! HONOR!" Angr cringed at the words, stopping as he watched their heavy and frenzied stride take them to their victim. He watched on as the weary merchant was slaughtered needlessly, their ears and tongue ripped from their body and incorporated into the madness. Where one elf died a new Bloodheart rose, consumed by an ire not green, but red. Their entrails littered the forest floor as the dwarf shaped vessels looked back at him, this new one assuming the likeness of Gror. The onslaught pressed forward, dragging him along with their quizzical inquiries. "WHAT'S WRONG IREHEART?! SHOW THEM YOUR COURAGE! They demanded, thrusting him forth towards their destination. The massive iron gates of Elvenesse stood open before him, welcoming a flood of travelers in a time where it was once more lively. Locals had stopped, in shock and horror at the grizzly sight before them, a wave of unreasonable death marching unto their gates given a dwarven shape. He was tossed an axe, formed from the bones of a long dead olog and an intestinal wrap still pulsing below his fingers. "T'es esn't righ'! Where es tah honor ov our ancestors, da rhyme er reason ov Yavok o' Kjellos?! Da purpose instilled wifin Urir?!" He lashed back, facing these maddening creatures. Bakir raised his own axe and pointed it at Angr, screeching from the hollow cavity where it's face should reside, "COWARD! DISHONORABLE! BETRAYER! UNWORTHY!" It rushed him with an almost unbeatable might, knocking him to the ground and wailing on the handle of his axe which he desperately held in defense of himself. He blocked and blocked as much as he could, suffering cuts and bruises, cracks wildly forming on the bone handle of his only protecting tool. "KILL! COWARD! DIE! BURN!" It roared, continuing its relentless assault. The fellow Bloodhearts, locals and even the plants cheered on his demise, cursing him for being an Ireheart, condemning him for the actions of his peers. Tears welled in his eyes, for he knew he could not strike the King, nor could he ever match him in combat. The meaning of this lesson was nearly lost on him, before his gaze flicked to the only outlier in this setting. A white visage, featureless and benign watched him from the furthest reaches of his vision. It was a figure indiscernible aside from its iron mask, a cobalt fog billowing behind it faintly and clashing with the crimson world into a soft lavender aura. Much symbolism was lost on him, aside from the vacant and hollow stare of the mask, just as the meaning of the trials and the teachings of Dungrimm had been lost upon his false kin. In that moment did something give, a shattering blow snapped his axe's handle in twain. Using this revelation, this moment of opportunity... Angr sprung up and embraced Bakir's copy, it's pulsing and bloody surface soaking his pelts and trousers. He held the paralyzed creature for an eternity and then some, a pained expression splattered on his face. "Meh honor es differen' from yurs, ahn yours differs from moine." He tells it, the world falling silent aside from the gurgles and squelches of the illusory gore forest. "Per'aps nae'un cahn undahstand da pride en bein ahn Ire'eart, maybeh ahl beh blamed fer yer actions fer da rest ov me loife, but ets toime ah stopped expectin' ye tae beh ah hero, o' du fings my way." The world grew warm once again as the sun pierced an endlessly clouded sky and bathed the land in radiance. The forest and other creatures burned in the sunlight, purged of their wickedness and filling the air with the smell of ashen rot, burnt flesh and seared bone. "Ah nevah 'ated ye lot, ah jus imposed me own morals on ye. But ef ahm tae burn fer loving moi own famileh, t'en ahm nevah gonnah let goh." He smiles as the body he's holding falls apart, sizzling in the golden and glorious sunlight. He turns to face it, welcoming the inferno into his heart and exposing his blood drenched skin to the bare sun for it to anihillate him with his loved ones. Click. He woke, drenched not in blood, but sweat. The sun peered in directly into his eyes and pierced his pupils with a searing pain, its rays bathing the Worldmaker's Chamber in a brilliant dawn. Casting a faint shadow stood his friend and mentor, Ulfar Starbreaker, watching over him. He rose and felt something wet fall off of his head, splatting to the ground. "Yeh 'ad ah bad fever, et's jus ahn icepack." He tells Angr, "Don' try tae sit up yet."

Tried once before, denied. I doubt the answer will be different if I tried again. Doesn't matter if I'm good at building, me and the staff just tend to not like eachother.

While I do like the fact that this kills meta birds and instant birds, I'm a bit iffy on the implications of the ruling against discord birds. Generally speaking, it takes roughly the same amount of time for a person to receive a discord message, decide to read it, open up Minecraft and log into LOTC, as something like a bird travelling for 2 ~ 5 minutes. Otherwise, phenomenal job, I'm sure Heffrum would make great use of this.

Angr would be working away at the stonemill, watching as his fellow dwedmar stormed the fallen Sunbreak Keep from so far away, as evident by the thick billowing of smoke and smog followed by the rumbling of the earth. He simply shaped clay, cut stone and laid grout as he moved about the obliterated gate, a slight smile on his face as he did what he loved, working. "Meh kin 'r likeleh maken d'eir bloodlines proud oot t'ere. Ahs much as ah woul lov tae 'av joined t'em, weh each 'av ah part tae play." He comments to himself, laying down the next brick in place and smearing the grout down with his gloved fingers to ensure a nice smooth surface in-between. He muses to himself for a moment, thinking back to Hana's words on order, on the balance necessary in this life. "Jus' as d'ey need fightahs tenden tu da battlfron', d'ey need meh tae tend tu our citeh's wounds... Ah see now..."

Very wordy, a few spelling errors as well but those are minor issues. The biggest problem I could see this creature having is that it offers very little outside of voidal afflicted areas, and still very little even in them.

Da Dverga Eron Da Kadrelakvel ᛞᚨ ᛞᚹᛖᚱᚷᚨ ᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᛞᚨ ᚲᚨᛞᚱᛖᛚᚨᚲᚹᛖᛚ |>x<| ᚨᛁᚾᚨ'ᚲ'ᚨᛉ ᚺᛖᚠᛃᚺᛟᚱ ᛞᚨ ᚨᚲᚺᛟᚱᚨᛚ'ᚷᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᚹᚨᚱᛖᚲᚨᚾ ᛃᛟᛏᚺ ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ ᛚᛁᚷᚷᛃᚨ ᚲ ᛟᛉ ᚠᛃᛚᚷᛃᚨ |>x<| The Birth of the Forgeguard Founded upon the sacred principles of the ancestral order of Dungrimm’s Folk, The Brotherhood of the Forgeguard, established by Angr Ireheart, Torsun Goldhand, and Ulfar Starbreaker, seeks to revive the brotherly teachings of the ancient order to the Grand Kingdom of Urguan once more. Composed of only the best fighters across the continent, this battalion of elite warriors aims to protect the heritage and culture of the dwarves from beasts and unholy creatures of all kinds, sparing no expense to ensure the safety of both the Working Guilds and Urguan itself. The Brotherhood cares not for your clan nor your race, simply carrying out the work and teachings of Dungrimm as well as making Almaris a safer place for all involved. One could still lead a normal life outside of the Forgeguard, so long as they answer when duty calls. Initially, the concept of Dungrimm’s Folk was pitched by the late Grand King Vorstag Ireheart, who passed proprietary rights of the Folk to his sons upon his untimely death, who then passed leadership to his youngest son, Vorstag II, a dwarf who bore many similarities to his father. The order was later revived by Vulkin Frostbeard many years later, only to fall back into obscurity. Now it has risen once more, repurposed and bathed in aurum as it takes up the mantle of protecting the Grand Kingdom of Urguan once more, though no longer at odds with the legion. Duties & Purpose Pilgrimages & Lectures First and foremost, every two stone months the brotherhood prepares for a pilgrimage out into the vast lands of Almaris. Such ventures are to educate members on the history and traditions surrounding Dungrimm, among them are the Teachings of the Mask as outlined by Da Kirkja Dverga, as well as the information within texts authored by the Prelates of Dungrimm. Members may bring food and water to be blessed, gifts, trophies and weaponry, these may be taken to shrines, temples or even used in the making of a new shrine. Outside of these religious expeditions, the Forgeguard will be hosting lessons on navigation, mapping, survival, and most importantly, creatures. These lessons are also mandatory, as they can prove to be life or death when out in the field. Lessons outlining creatures may have a live specimen or a corpse used to demonstrate weak points, bodily functions, and uses of harvested parts such as bone or hides. Lessons on navigation and mapping explore topics of terrain traversal and proper usage of equipment such as filtered masks in the swamps. Lessons outlining survival are more practical, taking members into the field to learn firsthand survival techniques. Hunts Hunts are a major part of the brotherhood, as descendant races are not the only threat posed to the Kingdom of Urguan or the various Working Guilds. Hunts are undertaken by individuals or groups and range from all types of creatures. These hunts are often carried out in areas of high interest such as the voidal hallow or the freezing tundras of the north, areas which need to be kept safe in order for our workers to meet their quotas and supply the kingdom with all that they can muster. Although uncommon, these hunts can also be carried out on our own turf such as the valleys or deep roads, these are just as important if not even more so as a threat closer to home could risk the lives of the common folk. When a hunt is undertaken, there is no discrimination. Voidal, Infernal, Ghostly, Afflicted, Azdrazi, Beastly creatures and even Descendants with a bounty are fair game. Our goals are solid and impenetrable as is the earth we were molded from, and with it, our resolve to protect the kingdom from any foe. Patrols The Forgeguard maintains their own route through Almaris, as opposed to the Legion which scours our roads for bandits and protects us in times of war. Such routes are patrolled regularly and usually either arrive in, start at or encircle property of the Working Guilds scattered across Almaris. This includes but is not limited to shop stalls, forges, foundries, mining equipment, nodes, mine entrances, ports, trade routes, the homes of important figures such as guild masters and so on. These patrols can also follow imminent threats to the kingdom such as patrolling the voidal hallow, the deep roads and the Rimeveld to ensure there is no buildup or nest forming that could pose even greater danger down the line if unchecked. Escorts The brotherhood is responsible for escorting members of the various Working Guilds to their destination. Without thid vital workforce, the kingdom may perish and as such, the Forgeguard with it. Members of the order are expected to accompany, if possible, missions out to nodes where miners may collect them, smiths on their way to cities, or trade routes traveled by the merchants of our grand city. Any of the guilds under Yemekar’s Pick are treated as a high-priority escort whenever they are to leave the city. No matter the number of individuals in need of an escort, the Forgeguard must gather as many of the brotherhood as they can and be prepared with PvP Gear and appropriate CRP weaponry or equipment at all times during these escorts. Association with the Legion While the Forgeguard is a separate entity from the Legion, there are still certain measures required in order to keep the Grand Kingdom well oiled. If you aren’t a member of the Legion already, you are not expected to show up to Legion Training of any kind. However, you are expected to rally with the legion in more serious circumstances such as rallies to defend, times of war and rescue raids. The Forgeguard is not obligated to attend raiding parties assaulting other nations not involved in war, nor is it responsible to attend Legion Patrols. Handling the Dead As disciples and acolytes of Dungrimm, naturally, we should also strive to do his work. This includes the responsibility of tending to the dead. Should a member encounter a corpse or make one themselves, they are responsible for either burying the body with rites traditional to the descendant’s culture, the rites of Dungrimm, or returning the body to their loved ones so that they may tend to their fallen. In the case of beasts, it should be remembered that these creatures are not to be considered merely as fodder to be slaughtered, instead they should be honored for their lives and respected as a formidable foe that has fallen. After the pickings have been removed by the brotherhood, a trophy of the creature should be displayed proudly as to emphasize their ferocity and tenacity. Ranks & Trials Waymaster | ᛋᛁᚱᚲᚲᚱᛟᚾᛟᚲ The Waymaster is the leader of the brotherhood, a title that is given only by Yemekar’s Pick or the Grand King himself. The Waymaster has the final say when it comes to matters such as dwelling, brotherhood structure, ranking and political affairs. The Waymaster has seen their days of battle and is typically occupied with keeping the brotherhood intact and working in tandem with its environment and allies. Vigilant Shield | ᛞᛟᚲᚱᚢᛗ ᚲᛚᚨᛞᛁᚨᚾ The Vigilant Shield is hand picked by the Waymaster to serve as a sort of administrator. In times of absence, the Vigilant Shield takes on the responsibilities of the Waymaster. Outside of these times, they work alongside the Waymaster to lead the brotherhood, often organizing hunts and patrols, managing the planning of future events and the direction that the rest of the brotherhood follows. Light Bearer | ᚺᛖᚠᛃᚺᛟᚱ ᚹᚨᚱᛖᚲᚨᚾ The Light Bearer is the title of our active rangers, these are members which have proven reliable time and time again and are thus given the responsibility of spearheading our gatherings. They are responsible for leading our brotherhood out on Patrols, Expeditions, Pilgrimages and so on. The light bearer is to set an example for all ranks beneath it and as such, is a title to be carried with dignity. Songslayer | ᛋóᚾᚷᚱᛞᚱᛖᚾᚷ The Songslayer forms the backbone of our brotherhood, drawing inspiration from the prelates of Dungrimm who would give sermons in battle. Songslayers are responsible for shaping our recruits and initiates through the issuing of trials, sparring and hunts. They are devout and fierce fighters who have proven that they can hold their own out in the field. Oathbound | ᛒᚨᚱᚨᛉᚤᚾᛟ'ᚠᛃᛟᛏᚱᚱ The Oathbound is the initiate, the flame unkindled and the light but a flicker. They are at the start of their journey within the brotherhood, undertaking the many tasks and trials assigned to them by the Songslayer in an effort to form them into proper Forgeguard. |>x<| Trials of the Oathbound |>x<| The Unlit does not stop facing trials once they have been initiated. As Oathbound, you face the many tasks and trials assigned to you by a Songslayer. These trials are not limited, though precautions are taken to ensure that the Oathbound does not die as a result of a task being insurmountable. Such trials focus on the inherent weaknesses of the descendant, such as an Elgi facing a test of strength. Unlit | ᚢᚾ'ᚹᚨᚱᛖᚲᚨᚾ The Unlit is the uninitiated, having not yet been branded but still considered an ally or an individual interested in joining the Brotherhood. Before those bearing this title can even swear their oath, they must undertake the sole trial of the Unlit, as described below. |>x<| Trial of the Unlit |>x<| Once the Unlit is prepared to undertake their journey and join the brotherhood, they must pass the Trial of the Unlit. At some point in each member’s journey, a lantern is taken into their arsenal either as a chain weapon or a simple tool. Some even opt to make their lanterns into a sort of flail to bash creatures over the head with. These lanterns are of great significance as they are a symbol of our service to Dungrimm, guiding all behind us to safety just as Dungrimm himself shepherds our lost ancestors to the great halls. The Unlit must make their own lantern and carry a flame to the peak of our mountain while weighed down with stones at the ankle. This flame cannot go out, lest they wish to return to the base of the mountain and start again. Once they have reached the top, they may pour their burning oil into the magma beneath the shrine of the world maker, and retrieve their aurum crest placed there prior to the trial. Once they come back down, they are ready for their oath. |>x<| The Oath of the Forgeguard |>x<| Once the Trial of the Unlit is passed, the Unlit is brought before Yemekar’s Pick and made to kneel over their lantern while they swear their oath aloud, “As Forgeguard, I am molten, a metal yet to be formed into one of many instruments for our kingdom. I am remade into a holy warrior, bound to the Brathmordakin by oath like a sword to its handle. I serve our Working Guilds, our Clans, and our Grand King with my life alongside my brotherhood. I light the way when all is dark, I guide those behind me.” At this point, they are branded by closing a red hot cuff around their dominant forearm, which is engraved with a hammer and lantern interwoven between lines and runes reading, “ᚨᛁᚾᚨ'ᚲ'ᚨᛉ ᚺᛖᚠᛃᚺᛟᚱ ᛞᚨ ᚨᚲᚺᛟᚱᚨᛚ'ᚷᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᚹᚨᚱᛖᚲᚨᚾ ᛃᛟᛏᚺ ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ ᛚᛁᚷᚷᛃᚨ ᚲ ᛟᛉ ᚠᛃᛚᚷᛃᚨ.” Meaning, "I bear the guiding light for all behind me to follow." This essentially tattoos their arm with a scar that cannot be erased. Ruhn Caller | ᚱᚢᚺᚾ ᛒᛃᛟᚦᚨ A unique rank not among the primary ones, the Ruhn Caller is the one that herds our golems, be it preparing them for battle or repairing them, these are the golemancers and imperas capable of commanding our heavier weaponry. Ruhn Golem | ᚱᚢᚺᚾ ᚲᚺᛟᚱᛖᚾ A unique rank not among the primary ones, the Ruhn Golem is a rank reserved for constructs such as Golems, Animii, and Atronachs. These constructs typically don’t require initiation and are simply referred to as Ruhn Golems. Medals & Honors Medal of Dungrimm Awarded for showing gallantry in battle. Medal of Khazadmar Awarded for showing brotherhood in all fields. Medal of Victory Awarded for leading consecutive offensive victories. Medal of Hearth Awarded for leading multiple defensive victories in our lands. Medal of Wilds Awarded for slaying a beast that posed significant threat to the kingdom. Medal of Honor Awarded for showing dignity and respect towards a foe in combat. Recognition of Loyalty Awarded for staying with the order for one stone month. Recognition of Faith Awarded for showing dedication to the Brathmordakin as a whole. Recognition of Valor Awarded for finishing ten infernal, voidal or ghostly creatures. Recognition of Fervor Awarded for saving the life of another. Recognition of Study Awarded for having finished magical studies. (Either becoming a T5 or passing MA.) Recognition of Bonds Awarded for resolving a major conflict peacefully. References Thy_Serf (Torsun Goldhand) XxEnderking (Ulfar Starbreaker) Reece_Nolan (Angr Ireheart) Nooblius43 (Norli Starbreaker) DixieDemolisher (Enryn Blackhammer) Terry_23 (Ulfric Frostbeard) DrHope (Kazrin Starbeaker) Da Kirkja Dverga Dungrimm Post Prelates of Dungrimm Document Original Dungrimm's Folk Post Second Dungrimm's Folk Post Third Dungrimm's Folk Post Grand Hunters Guild Post (Message me in-game Reece_Nolan or over discord Reece | Sam#7749 if interested in joining.)

Angr would be high up in the mountains, sat atop a rotted log he had dragged into his camp as he watches his pork belly stew boil. He looks out to the snowy peaks, catching a glimpse of his pigeon swooping up from the valleys bearing a letter. He whistles for Yrsa, having her land on his bruised and bandaged arm as he takes the letter from her talons. "Good girl, 'ere. 'Av som' pegs feet." He mumbles, tossing a foot from the carcass of the wild pig he had slaughtered off to the side for her to pick at. As he reads the letter with his one good eye, he sighs sharply and scrunches up the paper into a ball. "Weh lose moar ahn moar by tah dey, ahn yet stell..." He pauses, looking to his arms again. "Meh kin need meh." He says, getting up from the log and leaving as his pigeon now sits alone at the small fire, still eating its pickings from the carcass.

You forgot the part where Oren falls apart because the introduction of guns leads to a massive spike in homicide due to humans inability to live with other humans.

What this submission hears when ScreamingDingo has been spotted in the distance near the next loremags date:

A long time had passed since it had last surfaced, the entity's image becoming weaker and weaker as the years passed. Though the memory of its life would eventually fade as all things do, the condemned form had one last visit to make before it could give in and finally cease to be. Within the shadows of Kal'Darakaan's mighty defenses built high above the gates stood a stout and singed figure, hidden from prying eyes. Though none could see it, a weak smile crept across withered skin as it watched an old friend depart for greener pastures.

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Name: Angr Ireheart ((Discord)): Reece#7749 Submission Description: The Playermade Deep Roads Expansion serves as a method of providing Urguan with more locales to RP while we wait patiently for the World Team to finish their work. Submission Example: https://m.imgur.com/a/YDniRso

Angr would have been been working away at the project he had drafted in order to compete for the position of Grand Architect, though as this news was brought to him his hammer had fallen silent. He did not know Rhewen and he knew the Frostbeards even less, but he felt an intolerable heat pumping through his veins. "Grand Architec' can wait." He wheezed, tossing his workman's belt into the grass. He thought to himself as he walked home, here was another warrior slain in effort to bring about peace and prosperity once more. The awful taste of the name Frostbeard was dulled on his tongus. He recalled the legend of Yavok, a mighty dwarf who bravely fought on his lonesome to liberate tbe Kingdom of its fears. He thought on how he might have been too quick to judge this clan, for traitors could never produce heroes like this. Regardless, one thing in his mind needed not a second thought, blood was going to be spilled for this Frostbeard's murder.

A Tombkeeper's Diary "Return" ~o.O.o~ [Music] A bright, sunny day washed the dwarven mountains with gentle warmth in contrast to the cold and crisp air morning air, birds sang their songs and boars drank from the many fresh water lakes Urguan's valleys held. Any remaining early dew clung to the tall grass as afternoon was fast approaching, though the time of day was not the only thing making a return. Far below the cloudless, sun scorched sky trudged a lone dwarf hauling a cart of hewn stone blocks. His green war paint glistened as beads of sweat streamed down his mighty forehead and onto his thick black eyebrows. Angr Ireheart, a dwed of Dreek's bloodline, marched up the winding Urguani roads with an orange and gray banner mounted to his cart flapping in the breeze, his eyes spoke of growth and grief as his few year departure into the expanse of untouched wilds had surely moved him. His beard was longer, his body had been refined and his wrists though bruised, were bandage free once more. His gaze flicked up at the sound of a distant scuffle further along the road, and Angr could see it. A bandit, while he wasn't a Ferryman he was human, and in typical human fashion was preying on anything lesser than them. As he approached, the injured elf cried out for help and was promptly bashed in the head with the hilt of the bandit's shortsword, though Angr would pay no heed to the situation as it was not of his concern. Once he had passed, the human had called out to him. "Hold it, just where do you think you're going, short ****?!" Angr again chose to ignore the petty thief and continued to lug his cart towards a crossroads further down the road. "Don't tell me you're as dumb as this knife-eared scum! I'm talking to you!" He persisted, walking after Angr with his sword still drawn. "Shut et, boy. Ahm buseh." The Ireheart growled as the crunching of gravel under their feet continued to fill nature's otherwise blissful silence. The bandit immediately charged him with a scream and swung just short of Angr's cloak, though he would not be given another chance to slay his opponent. In a swift motion, Angr's rugged hand reached up and grabbed the man by his family jewels at which point he yanked the bandit down by his balls and onto his knees. The dwarf uttered no words and offered no remorse as he wrenched the shortsword free and drove it through his forearm. "No! No please I-" He begged as he was cut off by a solid crack to the temple. Angr silently got up and approached his cart, briefly browzing the selection of giant stones before settling on a fairly heavy piece. He hefted the torso sized brick to the dazed man and took in his features, noting that he was easily no older than twenty as he raised the stone over his head. "Please! N-" And that was that. A sickening squelch echoed into the surroundings as part of the bandit's brain was ejected from his now crushed skull. He looked up to the cowering elven woman and gave her a slow nod, this was not to say she was safe, but rather, to run. She needed no explanation as she immediately scrambled to her feet and took off in the other direction. With solitude restored at last, Angr's single eye settled on the young thief as he sighed, undoing the ties to an iron mask on his work belt. Angr shoved aside the large stone and began carefully tieing. The mask to what was left of the man's face and once he was done, hefted the body to his cart. "Yu were sadleh mesguided, may Dungrimm see t'es beacon and gentleh bring yu tu yur rest, young'in." He muttered. Many hours later, Angr would arrive at the capitol of the Grand Kingdom, his absence seemingly unnoticed. He would pass by many dear and familiar faces as he loaded his stone cart onto a rickety lift and sent it below towards the Worker's Guild. While descending the stairs, something caught his eye that was nailed to the bulletin board, a paper recently published regarding a competition for Grand Architect. "Tae fock es t'es shoite?" He grumbled, tempted to remark on how the only other able builders he knew were Grudgebeared and Magni. "T'es ain' ah competition, ye daft focken Frostbeard, ye need tae foind tae best, nae tah most ambitious!" He shouted, tearing up the announcement written by Azkel. "Ye wannu kill 'alf ov Urguan by 'avin teir focken new triangle 'ouses fall ontu t'em, ahm not gonna let t'at 'appen..." He grumbles, continuing to complain as he retrieves his cart at the lower section of the city and tugs it towards the processing area. "Ah keep tellen t'em Frostbeards ain't good fer anehfing otha t'an treason..." Angr lets another huge and stressful sigh escape him as he slumps into a seat within the Worker's Guild headquarters, unfurling blank parchment out in front of him as he begins to draft new designs he may be able to use for the competition. After a while though, an idea would stick with him, one that was sure to prove just how qualified he was for the job.

Never listened to them

No, get your mynaboar ressurection out of here.

I like them. Da da da da de dan dan dan dan de da da da da de I am typically an Ireheart, I started back at the beginning of Arcas and eventually found my way into Urguan after a few months in Curon. i was Reghor "Swamp Ass" Ireheart and Durgar Ireheart, I am currently Angr Ireheart. Ive played multiple ologs before and I have a musin. I'm a pretty good builder and I do a lot of building and grinding for Urguan for most of the time im online. I can be pretty abrassive to interact with if I happen to be malding No

Who says I havent already? Didn't i just dig a massive cavern out below the city?

Yes.

Ask me anything. Do it, you wont.

IGN: Reece_Nolan RP NAME: Angr Ireheart AGE: 230~ (Can't remember the exact number.) ACTIVITY REQUIREMENT: Mountainguard, Royal Engineer, Proficient Miner of the Workers Guild, Member of the Hunters Guild, Lowest Rank in the Clergy, Owner of Crypt House, Ireheart. (Legion, Guild, Home Owner, Clan List) CANDIDATE: Levian'Tol Grandaxe