Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'tinyriiiiick'.
Found 1 result
-
“That fat pen wielding coward in Felsen needs his guts spilt for the crows.” -Eirik “The Savage” Thorsson Edvard Thorsson sat on his throne in the Frostholm mead hall watching his warriors revel in a feast of ale, mead and roast. He rubs his muddy boots on the carpet of captured Orenian banners that adorn the foot of his throne the banner of the Brotherhood of Horen receiving particularly thorough attention. “Lads” shouted Edvard, “Shut the **** up for a minute and let me talk”. The hall quieted with all becoming still as the bearded man clad in Red Plate with a thick wolfskin pelt stood to address them. “I’m sure you’re all aware of the crushing defeat the filthy hordes of the empire have suffered on the field of battle”. He smiled his white teeth glistening through the tangled blackness of his beard “It is interesting that the supposed ‘leaders’ of this horde are nowhere to be seen. No doubt they cower behind the massive walls of Felsen, that cesspool of filth, cowardice and worst of all… weakness. Now you all know how we feel about weakness” The large man would chuckle motioning to the piled bodies of the dead raiders in the corner of the hall. “Let us take the fight to them, while our Dwarven allies hold off the hordes in the south, let us burn their precious city to the ground.” The hall erupted as both unbloodied initiate and hardened veteran went wild, hurling assorted cutlery and foodstuffs around the hall in a fit of passion. Chants of “ICE FROM IRON, IRON FROM ICE” could be heard echoing throughout the frozen wastes of Norland as the rugged Northmen flooded from their halls to their ships. Shortly after the revelry great black birds with stripes of red painted on their wings could be seen flying south bearing summons of the Southern Fleet to Avor. Additional birds could be seen flying south bearing the simple message “Now is the TIme”. The Great Fleet of the Southern Alliance would soon set out from Avor.. WARCLAIM DETAILS LOCATION: The inner coast of the Northern Continent TERMS OF VICTORY: RULES:
