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The Battle of Orcoburg Desert The young Hordespeaker sat on the walls of San’Briu. The hot sun of the desert briefly cloaked with clouds as a cool breeze swept down from the mountains of the Hordelands. For a brief moment he was alone. The clamouring of the Goths and the clan chieftains, the incessant letters from humans, all in their irritating chicken scratch text, the direction of the Rukas, the training of the Krughai; for a moment he had silence. It was time to think. He had returned from the diplomacy meeting with the Haenser Rex. His chieftains had urged him not to go to the meeting, surely he would be assassinated, the Horde’s fragile stability would be shattered with the taking of one life. Luckily the quick wit of Kho’Gorkil had saved him from such a dishonourable course. A day for cunning rather than for brutality. The warriors who had assembled to Guard the Hordespeaker had all donned the armour of the Horde, as had Grommash. Young warriors such as Kub’ub rugged veterans such as Grimruk’Lur were indistinguishable beneath the full helms of the Krughai armour. They had ventured to the snowlands of the Haensers. They had been offered little of interest, so they had returned. The humans always wove such wondrous pictures with their words, yet Grommash always recalled the words of the Ologarch. He would not be led astray. Surprisingly they had not been attacked on their departure. Perhaps the humans understood the sacred laws of Guestright and honour. == The Hordespeaker was left with a curious predicament. One way or another blood would flow in the lands of men. Where would that lead his fragile horde. The chieftains had accepted him as the voice of the Horde. His people were beginning to show signs of flourishing. Old urukz not seen in the Hordelands for many years were beginning to return. Kybal, Chieftain of the Akaals had returned, paying homage to the Lord of the Horde amongst his warband before bestowing upon him the massive Rexhammer. The ancient elders Eath’Lur and Falum’Lur had returned, seen often in whispered conversation near the bonfire, bent from the centuries the two of them had witnessed. Yet the Horde swelled with new life as young orcs entered adulthood, proudly joining the warriors, the workers or the shamans. The vitality of these young warriors had already led them to many victories not only in the hunting grounds but on the endless tribute missions and raids of the Horde. So much promise. Yet so fragile. A single mistake and the clans would be at each other’s throats once more. It was not enough. Many times before the Orcs had emerged from squalor, rebuilding themselves into something of note. Only to be smashed. If the humans were allowed to fight then the winner would once more become the dominant power. And as so many times, the bored humans would look to the activities of the Orcs as an easy distraction. A brief expedition into the holy desert, drowning the children of the Horde in a tide of flesh. If the cycle of the Orcs was to be broken then history must be seized with both hands. Now was the season of war, and his Horde would not hide meekly in the sidelines waiting for a new overlord to emerge that they must cower to. It would be war. == The traveller Izh’Rak has returned to the Hordelands recently, seeking a brief respite amongst his brethren before he ventured once more from the holy desert to learn of the Krugless. The Horde-see’r spoke of great columns of humans clad in steel, vast trails of wagons laden with foodstuffs and engines of war. The bragging and the threats of humans was one thing. They were a proud and short lived race. Breeding likes rabbits and consuming everything in their path. Grommash could tolerate their tongue dancing. But he would not tolerate the violation of the holy Hordelands. The desert was a beautiful thing. Around the cooking fires the Shamans leaped and danced, drawing the very stars down from the night sky as they spun memories from words. Krug had given the desert to his children. Not the forests of the Elfs, not the mountain fortresses of the Dwarfs, nor the fertile meadows of the Humans, Krug had given his children the best land. The Desert was hard, it was flat. One found no respite or refuge in the desert, hardened each day by the sun the greenskins grew strong. This was the blessing of Krug, he had placed them in the crucible, and like steel the Orcs, the Ologs, the Goblins, all had become hard. Those who could not survive died. And thus the Horde grew stronger with each passing generation. These humans with their great caravans thought they could march through the holy lands of Krug without asking for permission? They thought they could defile the sands with the dung of their idiot oxen? Poison the oases with the infinite thirst of their uncountable throats? No. The dreams of the Hordespeaker had spoken the truth. For months his rest has been filled with the scent of blood, with cries of pain and the clash of steel on steel. The Warsong was on the dream winds. Soon it would be heard on the winds of the waking world as well. Peering into the flames of his cooking fire Grommash called for one of his trusted Rukas “Minto” He rumbled “Find Grimruk, find Kho, summon the chieftains. The desert cries out for justice. Krug demands blood. The Horde is going to war” WARGOAL: Interception of the Balian Warpath, Preventing the Balian Army from passing through Orcish lands, Preventing the Balian Army from reaching Veletz to reinforce [Interception to take place on Desert 8] ATTACKERS: The Kingdom of Balian DEFENDERS: The Horde TIME: Not really sure how this works tbh. I don't think anyone has done an interception battle before. LOCATION/WARPATH: Rules as Written justifying this War Action: Proof of Sovereignty
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IUDICIUM ACCEDIT Issued by the KONGZEM OF HAENSE, KINGDOM OF BALIAN, COMMONWEALTH OF THE PETRA, GRAND KINGDOM OF URGUAN & PROTECTORATE OF HYSPIA LET ALL OF AEVOS HEAR AND TAKE HEED, In this year, the blood of the faithless has been shed, and those who have raised their banners against their allies judged; for on this day, the blood of the betrayer has been shed, and those who have murdered their own liege expunged; for on this day, the blood of the cowardly has been shed, and those who set their blades upon children punished. And the world will weep, for more will follow. King Edmund of Aaun is dead. In his seat of Whitespire, he awaited the arrival of his crowned brethren of Haense, Petra, Balian, and Veletz in the hope that he might broker peace between them. The only banner he lived to see arrive, however, was the burgundy standard of Veletz, who joined the March of Stassion in the act of regicide, and so it was that King Edmund was murdered with the dream of peace on his lips. We have avenged King Edmund. The Stassionite ambitions of claiming the throne of Aaun were dashed mere hours after their grave sin was committed, and now their corpses pile the streets of Whitespire alongside the dead of Veletz, who had comported themselves as leal allies to King Edmund only to press their hand to Stassion’s knife. And so, on this day, a host of 7,000 soldiers of Stassion and Veletz were annihilated on the streets of Whitespire. We mourn the avenged King Edmund. But we do not share his means of peace. For decades, the League of Veletz has sought a great war to satiate their base bloodlust, and yet they have lacked the courage to declare it akin to true warriors. “Oh, how they invade us!” they cry, when our forces escort the Pontiff to release a hostage they had taken unprovoked. “Oh, how they harass us!” they whine, when they send a boy to throw himself atop Svetjlast. To make peace with those who hold their allies at knife-point is to make peace with a bear by feeding it your arm; to make peace with those who target children and pregnant women is to make peace with a vampyre by tithing your blood; to make peace with those cannot control their blades is to make peace with a rabied rodent. We reject this cowardice. We reject this dishonour. We reject this savagery. And so, we do therefore declare the formation of the COVENANT OF FIVE, a grand military cooperative comprised of the Kongzem of Haense, the Kingdom of Balian, the Commonwealth of the Petra, the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, and the Protectorate of Hyspia. Together, we reject the ambitions of the League of Veletz. They would call themselves Emperors, and yet in a mere decade they have rotted their own Heartland Accord from within and turned nearly every one of their allies against them with their incompetence. And so, we, the Covenant of Five, declare that we are coming to excise this tumour. W E A R E C O M I N G T O K I L L Y O U. HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Aleksandr II, by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Order of the Crow, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Slesvik, Solvesborg, and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia, and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Siegrad, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Astfield, Buck, Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, and Rytsburg, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector and Lord of the Highlanders, etcetera. HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Adrian I, by the Grace of GOD, King of Balian, Viscount of Pompourelia, Eflen and Anatis, Baron of Brucca,Valens, Malenos, Goza and Ciavola, Lord of Portoregne, Atrus and Monterosa, Warden of La Costa Rubinissima, Prince of the Holy Orenian Empire, Protector of the Heartlanders and the South, etcetera. HIS HIGHNESS, Cesar II de Pelear, Viceroy of Hyspia, Duke of Pacazu, Baron of Arenisca and Del’mar, Lord of La Dorada, Lord of Niseep, Gereon's Hold, and Ciudad de Plata, Protector of the Hyspian People, Patriarch of House de Pelear. HER MAJESTY, Catherine I, Queen of the Commonwealth of the Petra, Marquise de Val d’Estenou, Countess of Temesch and Moere, Baroness of Garmont, Valfleur, Vallagne-en-Petra, Artois, and of the Phoenixspire, Protector of the Meadows. HIS GRANDNESS, Garedyn The Emerald, Grand King of Urguan, Chief of the Mossborn, Seer of Hefrumm, Zealot of the Triad.
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Event Planners, MC Names: EbonsquireEvent Type: RP | ExplorationYour Timezone: EST -5, Midwest (Indiana)Affected Groups: It's open. Any group may come, though 6-8 people is the recommended amount.Event Location: Northwestern Coast of Asul Summation: The Helderenberg is a mighty vessel, built from burly, dark wood and strong ferrum nails. Love and sweat was put into this ship whose course was set for Balanak Peak, an island some ways away past Axios in the middle of the eastern ocean. The living quarters were of adequate quality, fitted with a desk for each crew member and relatively comfortable bedspreads. A good twenty rooms in all did the ship have just for the main crew. But they were nothing as grand as the captains quarters! A king-sized bed, a desk with enough area on the top for doing some heavy duty paperwork, a great view of the ocean, and other such amenities befitting a nobleman. But, oddly enough, there were twenty-six members on this ship, and not twenty-one. And twenty-six rooms. in total. Unfortunately, the Helderenberg managed to go completely off course and collided with the sun-scorched sands of northern Asul instead, that once wondrous ship becoming a capsized mess along the beaches. Well, not really. In fact, it managed to remain relatively intact after impact, tough as the damn thing was. But nothing stirred. And there were twenty-six rooms on the Helderenberg. And now there were five members, who similarly did not stir. Concept Images/Screenshots: What help do you require from the ET Actors or Builders?: I'll need help building the ship -- it shouldn't be too large or too small. Should have 4 larger quarters 20 small quarters, a storage room, and a captains quarters along with a few others for the crew at least. Will also need actors, which can be a combination of non-ET players and ET.
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Character Name Archibald Hariman Avery Vallero Basic Information Nicknames: Archembalt, Archie, Arch, Archembalt the Azure, Moor Age: 24 Gender: Male Race: Human, Southeron Status: "Alive" and well. Description Height: 5'8" Weight: 142 lbs Body Type: Medium frame, athletic thin. Eyes: Hazel, but steadily becoming paler as time progresses. Hair: Jet black, short dreadlocks. Skin: Caramel complexion. It is also becoming steadily, yet unnoticeably, paler. Markings/Tattoos: His bare forearms and hands sport unsightly scars which shape themselves akin to a lightning strike, though they are gloved for the most part. Health: Fine enough. He is not the healthiest he could be, but he exerts effort in an attempt to keep himself in a decent enough shape. Personality: Crafty, fluctuates between being purposefully rude and friendly at times, hedonistic, narcissistic . . . Inventory: Nondescript carbarum-tipped spear, iron-studded leather tunic underneath his robes, and glass vials (some are filled, some are not). Occasionally, he might be carrying sheets of paper that are commonly tucked away within his robes or pack. Further Details: Compulsive liar, and a hypocrite. Life Style Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Deity: Creator Religion: ??? Alliance/Nation/Home: ??? Job/Class: Spellsword Title(s): N/A Profession(s): ??? Special Skill(s): ??? Flaw(s): Prone to underestimating the intelligence of his enemy and overestimating his own, which has resulted in him landing in trouble many, many times. Magic Current Status: Dark Mage Arch-type: Mysticism Sub-Type: N/A Rank: N/A Weakness(es): Aurum, Fi' magic, Xan paladin magic, and Tah clerical magic Strength(s): ??? Current Spell(s): ??? Weaponry Fighting Style: Prefers a spear, mace staff, or quarter staff. His style is stiff, and lacks elegance or creativity as of now. Trained Weapon: Quarter staff. Favored Weapon: Archery: Biography Parents: Siblings: Children: Extended Family: Pet(s): History Artwork
