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NO STRIFE IN SLOTH TO TALAR’SHEN, UNFIT HERALD OF STRIFE, The mantle of Herald of Strife is one that is berife with, and rightfully so, struggle. You languish atop a throne you hold no right, through your languid tenure, to sit upon. Absent, you have been, from debate, from discussions of Xion. You do not herald in, as you should, further generations of our Way. You do not struggle. You have no strife. You wage no war, and so you cannot possibly hope to achieve eternal war. I asked our brothers of the Synod if your post was vacant. Only when I asked your kin, my creator, Melandrach, had I even heard of your name. How fit is a leader that does not take to lead? As is my right, I, Vander, Zet’gul, Lieutenant of the Pale Legion claim the mantle you seem not to desire regardless. I call for a CLASH OF BLADES, between ourselves, and only ourselves. Stand as your own champion, or forever run and hide from Strife and struggle. A challenge left unanswered is a forfeit. VANDER, ZET’GUL, LIEUTENANT OF THE PALE LEGION
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-DA KLOMP TO DEFY- -ANZ FATE- || Imperial 1962|| S.A 167 || Under the blazing sun of the Honorbound lands, the Urukhim would gather around an oval pit of dirt. From honouraries that possess the soul of an orc and goblins that tinker away on their newest creation, to Wargoths of Klans and large Ologs, digging into beasts as large as they. All of them - were here to witness a fight. A KLOMP! A CHALLENGE TO ALL OF URUKHIM! The young Thraalûk'Gorkil, rode into the pit with his MIGHTY Gorkil-boar. With an estimate from the sight of its sheer size and mass, one would guess it was around 550lbs heavy and 6ft in length. Thrallûk’s legs are wrapped around the boar and his hands held a MIGHTY glaive. A blackened orcish polearm forged from black ferrum. It is composed of a lengthy [6½ft] wooden shaft that features slayer-steel rings and a curved blade that protrudes [3½ft] outwards. At the base of the blade, silver elven hair from the victims of the coalition war is hung proudly. Despite its fearsome appearance, one can spot an eye for its inner beauty and its successful craftsmanship. It is truly a weapon to hold with honour and skill. The Boar itsef was decorated in powdered, bone white ritualistic circles. It looked angry, blood-lusted like the rider himself. Its tusk bearing and hooves within the mud - preparing to kick off when needed by its rider. “THIS KLOP AM UNTIL AZH OF TE KLOMPERZ FLATZ! BOTH GET WEAPONS OF THEIR ZCHOOCIN, BUT TEI KAN NUB USE MOJO, ALKEMI OR OTHER SKAH LIKE THAT FOR TE KLOMP! NEITHER OF ‘EM HAS ANI ARMOR EITHER!” called out Kretz’Ox Wargoth of Klan Ox. “BOTH START ON A STEED, BUT IF TEI FALL OFF TEI KAN NUB GET BACK ON! AZH OF UZ ON TE SIDE WILL REMOVE TE STEED FROM TE KLOMPIN PIT!” “IF TE YOUNG URUK WINZ, HE WILL GET TE WHITEWAZH GOB’S FLAT BODI AGH ITEMS. BUT IF TE WHITEWAZH GOB WINZ, HE WILL GET TE URUK’S BODI AGH ITEMS! ALONG THAT, HE WILl be all…” Gob Ztabba-Zniffa would tune out the rest - he knew the rules of ‘The Klomp’. The goblin would hop onto his stocky wagh-pony. While it dwarfed in size to The Gorkil’s mount, just like its rider. it had a fierce look upon it. Gob would unfold his javelin from the side of the mount, grabbing hold of it while Kretz’Ox read the rules - his Falx sitting on his hip. A crude, curved weapon made for the purpose of dismembering the opponents in the 'Ten Year War'. It measures 30" in it's total length - 1/3 of it being the handle made of Petran oak wrapped in leather, allowing it's used both hands and a shield. The weapon's blade is made of ferrum that's sharpened on one edge. It's at a slight angle and curves at the top - allowing it's wielder to cut through even the toughest of leather and flesh. A little excited grin would appear on Gob’s face as he faced his opponent in a do-or-die situation. Perking up as he heard the call from Kretz’Ox if he’s ready, giving a thumbs up. “ZQUEEEEEEEEEELLLL!” Called out the boar! The rider yelled out “WAGH!” in response. His Glaive preparing itself by reaching outwards in protection. “BOTH AM REDI! THREE.. DUB.. ANZ.. KLOMP!” Kretz’Ox yelled. . . . . . . . “Ow” comes quietly from Minto’Lur A nod from Gutlug’Lur as he watches the might displayed. Gob however, has no thoughts as he watches his own horse being thrown at him - even if he could move, his torn up body would not save him. Flashes of memories flood Gob’s mind. There’s been no peace in his life - growing up admits the ‘Ten Years’ War.’ There’s been no growth - only thing he’s got to show are feeble attempts and failure. It’s been an endless struggle - to make others respect him. He will never see the fruits of his labour - for only now have the first puds begun to spurt from the ground. His brain tries to grasp onto anything good in his life - anything. Friends he’s made.. Starting with Barnabus, Lady Angelina, Abbess Rebbecca.. People who cared for him.. Juniper, Pinebaron, Rhosyn Cardinal Casica.. People he’s learned from.. The Reinhold ‘Room-mates’, Kretz’Ox, Friend… His comrades in arms.. The Von Theonus House, The Ausecan Corps, Krognag… His friendly rivals.. Rigoberto, Marcus Galken.. People he’s saved.. His adoptive son, Queen Catherine I, The People of Petra.. As his own horse casts a shadow over him - Gob blinks, a flicker of a thought in his mind: “MI JUZT BEKAME AHN ZQUIRE! NEVAH AHN KNIGHT! IZI ZUKKZ BALLZ!” THE BELLS ON THE GOBLIN’S HAT WOULD RING FOR THE LAST TIME AS HE’S BEING FLATTEN’D! … LITERALLY!
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@siglms_ Mi challenge the honor of Krimpgoth agh hiz decizion, uzing the negleckful example of the foreign Onizhiman Uruks, and pardoning the Petra whitewazh whoze faith iz in the burs gods of Krug's enemies, agh who iz nub committed to the zacred zpirit of Krug, the Old Popo and Spirit Popo. A collectiun of beliefz is more like a confuzed zpirit than one who grukz its purpose. Any Orc that does not conform to the path ub Krug and their ancestors is lozt and haz fallen to the darknezz. I intend to challunj Druz the Krimpgoth to an honor klomp until he exhibits regret for his actions and seeks absolution in Krug and the Ancestor Spirits. Forgiving a deluzional brudda is nub an act of compazzion but rather an affirmation of their diztorted world-peep and collekted religiouz beliefz. A zon of Krug ought to remain wit hiz kin and blood family who can better protect and guide him in life. If there is no honor among blood-bound relativez, then the blessingz of Krug have been lost from the Uzg. Unfortuunatly, an Elder haz to be the only ash to uphold the remaining honor among blood bruddas. Name the tik agh plaze. [This is a challenge to the spirit of the Krimpgoth decision to pardon Gob Ztabba-Zniffa (@MrMojoMordor) of Whitewash status despite his lack of faith in Krug and absence from the Fatherland of the Desert. If the Krimpgoth reverses his decision, the challenge will be resolved. It is not an attempt to claim the role of Krimpgoth.]
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Small, tightly wound letters fill the missive - seen upon black as midnight paper. “Exalted Horen and Saint Julia, behold us prostrate at your feet, learning by your most noble example. Through God our Lord, grant us peace and harmony, and, through the abundant graces God hath given to you, bless us in times of need and plenty alike.” My Dearest Brother, the Duke of Stran, Ser Istvan Ivanovich and my Honorable intended, the Baron af Brasca, George af Brasca, I am writing to you with a heavy heart, as I find myself torn between the brother I grew up with and the man I have come to care for. As you are aware, the Baron George af Brasca has sought my hand in marriage, and his proposal has left me with a difficult decision to make. I care deeply for each of you, and I find it unbearable to think that a dispute over my affections might lead to a result no one wishes to see. I implore the both of you, with all the love and sincerity that resides in my heart, to approach this situation with humility and a commitment to humanity. The prospect of a duel, a clash of swords, is a time honored tradition - one I would dare not stop. This letter is simply to request one thing of the both of you, so I may look forward to the duel instead of lamenting it with bated breath. I ask you, my dear brother, to consider the profound bond of family that we share. Our relationship is a treasure beyond measure, and I cannot bear to see it strained or severed over a matter of the heart. Baron George, your intentions have touched my soul, and I have come to appreciate the depth of your character. Please, look to our growing bond and consider my plea. I beseech you both, whether win or lose, to offer not harm to the other. The terms set were that of the winner having the ability to request what they wish, and as I know you are both honorable individuals, I know you will accept my plea. As the winner, offer no cruelty but instead dignity and respect, considering the feelings of all involved. I am confident that the love and compassion you have shown me can extend outward and to either side. My heart aches at the thought of causing strife between the men I care for so deeply. I trust in your wisdom and goodness, and I pray that you will heed my plea for a humane and harmonious resolution to this upcoming duel. “God, who alone art perfect Charity, if I should speak, think or do things in unkindness today, rebuke me, but, before that, strengthen my own meekness and mildness, that I might be the font of Thee.” With all my love and gratitude for your understanding, Her Ladyship, Viktoria Helena Ivanovich, ward to the Princess Adeline of Aaun @Pork@WaveLincoln
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ᚱᛟᚲᚴ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛋᛏᛟᚾᛖ Cultural Exchange: Chess Tournament Between Hanseti-Ruska & Urguan ᛏᛟ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᛟᚾᛖ ROCK AND STONE TO THE BONE 12th of the Amber Cold, in the 111th Year of the Second Age 12th of Joma Ag Umund in the Year 460th of Exalted Sigismund, As per the Renewed Iron Accord, Signed in the 110th Year of the Second Age/459th Year of Exalted Sigismund, The Grand-Kingdom of Urguan hereby Announces a Cultural Exchange Event within the Dual-Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. A Chess Tournament will be held within the Capital of the Dual-Kingdom: Karosgrad, upon the Palace Grounds. There will be a Trophy Handed out to the Winner of the Tournament, for those willing to test their mettle, whilst friendlier games available for the participation of all those who wish to come. CHESS TOURNAMENT I. The Chess Tournament will be held on two boards outside the Palace of Karosgrad. II: Competitors will be arranged into pairs to compete against each other, with the winner of each pair moving to the next round. III: The winner of the chess Tournament will be granted the honorific title of ‘Chess Grandmaster’, confirmed to them by the receiving of a Chess Grandmaster Trophy, as well as prize of mina. IV: If you are interested in competing, please reply to this announcement stating your name and your race. These will be compiled by the Grand Ambassador of Urguan for the Tournament. Other available games: I. Naughts & Crosses II: Hanseti Chess III: Bowling EVENT LOCATION & TIME The Karosgrad Palace grounds The Snow’s Maiden, In the 113th Year of the Second Age Msitza Ag Dargund, In the 462nd Year of Exalted Sigismund Signed, Her Excellency, Viorica Kortrevich, Grand Lady of the Morrivi Court His Lordship, Aurik Bishop, Baron of Ostervik, Ambassador to Urguan Dagmir Grandaxe, Grand Ambassador of Urguan
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Harald, @TheEnglishDuck It goes without saying that your actions as of late have proved less than commendable, or at least to those of whom your silver tongue has yet to charm. For a time I thought I knew you well, believing you to be a virtuous and pious individual. You claimed to be an anointed knight of Hanseti-Ruska and a sanctified priest of the Church of Canon. But I find my perception warped as of late, especially when considering the abuse of your recently divorced wife, Eryane. Now, I will admit that the intrigues of a shattered foreign marriage are somewhat beyond my scope of expertise. Even when the news emerged of your violent and heinous conduct, I stayed my hand as the political ramifications were not mine to interfere with. However, you have not only insulted your former spouse but have walked the extra mile and dishonoured my lady wife, your sister, Juliana Rosemarie Vernhart de Lyons. You have strayed too close to the lion's cage. I will not stand idly by as my wife is insulted in such a spiteful manner, called to repent when she has committed no crime but the mistake of believing you were a better man. Declared unfit to bear her maiden name and birthright whilst you squander the legacy of your forefathers and bloodline, pursuing titles you do not merit. By my honour as a Knight, I challenge you to a duel! Let us settle the matter, before an audience if we must. Just as your life will be on the line, so shall mine, and only God may bear the right to determine the outcome. Should you refuse, with the host of the Seven Skies bearing witness, I shall dub you craven and bear your contempt of the code of chivalry as further proof you are but a rat undeserving of the name Vernhart. You have one Saint Day to comply! SIGNED, Ser Arthur Hughes de Lyons, Knight of the Sovereign Order of the Petrine Laurel.
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A CALL TO DUEL TO MIKHAIL VAR RUTHERN Issued by the BARONY OF GHAESTENWALD On this 11th day of Joma ag Umund of 419 ES TO THE BARON OF ROSTIG, The venomous snake strikes once more. It seems the removal of its poison does little to remove its aggression and capacity to induce pain. Within this Saint’s Day, it has been announced that a betrothal between yourself, Lord Mikhail Ruthern, and the woman who I had been permitted to court; the woman whose mutual affection has been renowned publicly for years now. Many can recall the day where you struck Lady Margrait with great ire and fury, for you, Lord Mikhail, have publicly apologised for. Fewer can recall where your assurance had been afforded that you would stay away from Margrait, to ensure no further violence would come her way. I had come to forgive your sleights. Alas, it appears these words meant naught, as you have betrayed your words and caused me great anguish. Wisdom has failed me, in allowing myself to trust in your word, which has been forever contorted and tainted for the entirety of your existence upon this plane. You are a snake with no venom, and as such, I do not fear your bite; but your bite still has caused great pain, and suffering. I am no snake. My word is as strong as steel. My bite is steel. My bite shall hurt. Face me in the hippodrome of Karosgrad within a saint’s hour from now accompanied by your second. The duel shall be for honour, with the provided terms below by Lady Margrait herself; to the first wound. I may not be able to change this future union, as much as my heart yearns for it. But, I am able to preserve a sliver of my dignity. SHOULD I WIN THIS DUEL, THE FOLLOWING TERMS ARE AGREED: I. With this announcement reveals your deceit and lies to all, one which is now apparent. Since your Lordship is privy to treachery, it will do no further harm to break another promise you have made. I shall be given permission to wed Dorothea vas Ruthern, sister to you and good friend of Margrait should she not find a worthy match. In the instance she should, then Viktoriya vas Ruthern shall take the place of Dorothea in my desire for union. It is the foremost priority of a noble to procure a suitable heir to continue their family’s noble lineage. I foolishly thought I had secured such a marriage, but it has forcibly been wrenched from my grasp. Thus, I shall forcibly regain it, and with someone whom I know I can trust. If I shall not marry for love, then I shall marry out of duty. Let the marriage be loveless; but I shall not make it miserable. You have promised Dorothea a happy marriage; I am happy to provide for Dorothea, for my conscience, for you, Mikhail, and for Margrait. Dorothea may not be my Ruskan Rose, but her petals and thorns shall belong to me. II. For this marriage, all fees shall be paid by you, Mikhail var Ruthern. III. I shall be able to absolutely privately visit and check up upon your betrothed, Lady Margrait, to ensure she is being treated with the utmost respect, that her dignity is being preserved, and that no physical harm is being dealt, as has been done in the past. SHOULD I LOSE THIS DUEL, THE FOLLOWING TERMS ARE AGREED: I. I shall suck the big toe of you publicly, and for no longer than a Saint’s Minute, in the centre of Karosgrad. I shall journey there in nothing more than Prinzen Karl’s swimmers, on my hands and knees, from the gate of Karosgrad. Alongside this walk, blunt objects may be thrown at me. II. I shall publicly apologise at a date, time, and location determined by you, Mikhail var Ruthern, for any insinuations or insults made during the duration of our acquaintance. In this same time, I shall kneel before you, and kiss your rings to swear my loyalty. III. I shall take up steel for you, Mikhail var Ruthern, upon your request. I expect to see you defend your honour in the Arena. I expect to see you cry in defeat upon your loss. I once had the power to love my love. But I have lost that power. And you have taken it. I want it back. I will take it. SIGNED, His Lordship, Markus Nikolai Morovar
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Frenrir Ireheart, a new fresh 31 year old dwarf, with a lot of adventure, in just one irl day. Frenrir is a new dwarf. He was born into the Irehearts and finally decided to do his trials and start his journey. He begun with going to Du Loc, as he heard his fellow bretheren were there. But at his surprise, a dragon was there. Frenrir with the dragon slaying clan in his blood, began to get furious that the Du Loc Guard would not let him in. Instead, a large ugly Oolog stood in his way and kept the gate shut, while calling him gay. Frenrir began to be furious, and asked two people behind him to go on a plan, however they did not follow up on it, and he got even more enranged, to the point that he got ready, thumped the ground and rushed towards the gates with his baldspot first. He hit the gate, making a loud clang but the gate did not leave a dent, and he was sent backwards and landed on his back. This however did not stop Frenrir, he continued to harass the dragon with words and bang on the gate. Eventually the dragon left and this made Frenrir rage in anger and leave, cursing Du Loc for not letting him in. Frenrir rode into the sun, and towards his home Urguan. Upon arrival, he was greeted by Garrond 'Orcbane' Frostbeard. They had a little convo, and it led to the topic of Bravery. Garrond challenged Frenrir to a test of Bravery where Frenrir was stand onto a wall, and Garrond was to throw an axe over his head, you were not allowed to flinch or duck, or you would lose the game. Garrond threw the axe, and Frenrir swallowed fear whole, and did not flinch. The axe went right over his head and he was safe and sound. The game attracted some folk, including another Ireheart. They all had turns, and eventually it came to someone else throwing the axe. Frenrir volunteered, and as he threw the axe, it was starting to fly towards Garrond, which made him duck, losing the game. Garrond called for another try and as he did, Frenrir threw an axe, which cut into Garronds head a little, but Garrond did not duck, nor flinch during the throw. As Frenrir thought it was fair for him to go up next, because of him hurting Garrond, The other Ireheart volunteered to throw. The Ireheart stepped back and gave the axe a good throw, it would hurl towards Frenrir, and knowingly it would be to low, Frenrir called for the gods as it his into his ear, splitting it almost full in half. Frenrir gave a good laugh and put a cloth around it, allowing it to be healed overtime. After a while of chilling in Urguan, another Ireheart came by, they talked about each others trials, which gave Frenrir the idea to go for them, along with the other Ireheart beardling. Garrond came along as they decided to go towards Krugmar. However, no one would open the gate, and they left. After a lot of chilling around Urguan, Frenrir decided to pay a visit to Elysium. Upon arrival, he was greeted with a large gate, after a while of shouting for someone to get it, a woman in large white armor came by, she called for Frenrir and asked him a couple of questions, which Frenrir answered with no hesitation. Then she called upon him to leave his weapons in a nearby chest. Frenrir, hesitant and cautious tried to negotiate, however it went nowhere, to the point a drunkard was having fun of the conversation. As the conversation lead on, and the persuasion was going nowhere, 3 unusual people came by, they said they came from "Yong Pink" apparently the town was called something else, and there was an argument about it, but the group was in red unusual armor, they were let in and left their weapons in the chest. Frenrir had a lot of insults at them and they threw insults back, there was many arguments, but eventually they all decided to get a drink. Finding no bartender and no one to pass them drinks, they just talked at the tavern, until more guards came along. After Frenrir shouted towards them, they came to Frenrir and the group of strange people. They called upon 2 of them. However, the two did not want to go and it turned into an argument. Frenrir was watching from the sidelines, when a woman came in and started giving out drinks. Frenrir won a bet against one of the strange men and got a free drink, which he slowly drank and slowly begun to get somewhat drunk. Frenrir flirted with a dark elf, which eventually slapped his face, and continued to flirt with him after. Everything eventually died down, and the strange group of people left, after dabbing Frenrir up. Frenrir followed and they left the gates of Elysium before, Frenrir noticed an Orc at the gates. He was a large Orc with red skin. And Frenrir challenged him to a duel. Frenrir and the Orc had a negotiation, and an argument about what happens when the other loses. It went from giving each other their balls, to giving each other their tusk, beard, skin, and eventually the Orc asked Frenrir to follow him. They went to the side of the walls and the Orc asked the elf for a knife. The elf passed him a knife and Frenrir knew what was coming. The Orc would give him the skin he wished for. Frenrir called him out and asked him not to but the Orc had lifted a middle finger at him, and then sliced it off. The finger would fall onto the ground and Frenrir, expecting this to happen, slice off his ear that was injured previously. As it fell, he held it, and the 2 complimented each other for being so tough. The Orc healed the dwarf with shaman magic, and then begun the duel. Both sides fought bravely and full of strength, but the Orc was the one who fell at the end. The Orc called it a good fight and so did the dwarf as he picked him up. They both dabbed up, and gave each other their 'sacrifices.' The Orc kept the ear and Frenrir kept the finger for his trials. Frenrir left Elysium happy that day, he met new friends, flirted and won a duel. just something fun to write about, im bored idk lol
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To (@Lomiei)Erwin Bishop (who has seemingly lost the titles he valued so highly), I am not a vengeful person, nor do I wish your family to be hurt by such a challenge as this. Alas, you have seemingly hurt your family enough yourself so I find myself in the position where I am no longer conflicted on this matter. You are guilty of kidnapping, ruining lives, ruining relationships, manipulation, and leaving a trail of pain and misery wherever you go. At first I thought I was your only victim and with that I was willing to remain silent, but now that I hear what you have done to those around you and those unfortunate enough to share blood with you or bear your children I have had enough. I challenge you to a duel to the final breath to be fought with the weapons of your choice at a neutral location. The time and jurisdiction will remain your choice and other terms will be set beforehand between seconds. This is both a challenge against you and the tolerance of your actions. As custom dictates you must appoint a second to send your response to the challenge in a timely manner. -Stephanie @Based1Salmon
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.Formal declaration of a challenge. I, Aleksey Luka Ludovar, hereby challenge the Amador Dog Ramdir, to a duel of which tests our mettle and our honour, you have disrupted my families livelihood, and escaped punishment though I will remind you as Haense has appeared to have forgotten, Ludovar’s never forget. When you sat by idly like the mouse of a man you are, you left us to die in the Godan forsaken cave, had you have any inclination of being truly worthy of a noble title you would have stood and protected our right to exist and yet, you stood there and watched as they buried us under the mountain. Due to this insult you caused my family great harm, my Aunt now must use forged legs as her own were destroyed by the sheer cold, so in kind, I will be taking your life in avengement, I promised you in the tavern moments after I was released that I would end your bloodline, I intend to keep my word, unlike yourself whom broke it at the first sign of any resistance you cowardly dog. So in this open letter I leave it to you, Ramdir Amador, face me in single combat, blades only or forever be known as a cowardly worm, and bring shame upon your noble name for eternity, I shall give you three saints days to answer the call. -Signed Aleksey Luka Ludovar
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