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The Bloodhowl Clan


A) "Gather the others and let us search the buildings. Let none say we were afraid of some empty houses. If there is a threat to the clan we will bring it to the elders. Better bring Mukdrak and Runda as well, at worst they will make fools of themselves, but if there is anything.. beyond our world hiding here they may fare better than us in finding it." Grimtak told his companion, practically ordering him.

Gathered on the lakeside the orcs took their first real break in ages, most among them had spent their entire lives running and fighting, the only exception being those born in chains. They had always pushed on, driven by anger and desperation, leaving no time for doubts or reflection. Finally they had what they desired, peace and a land to call their own, with neither the whips of elves or war on their backs. Yet it left them restless and without direction. Their new lives however could not wait and their restlessness soon boiled over into a burst of activity as they set to making temporarily shelter in the woods and spread out around the lake, fishing and scouring the land in disorganised groups to fill their bellies.

F) Rokar in turn gathered a group to start working the forest, felling trees out of which to make fishing spears and the basis of other tools, materials for more permanent shelter as well as clear room for common spaces and future buildings.
@Reia Sorry I didn't see your message. That is absolutely cool with me.
The Bloodhowl Clan


Grimtak looked out over this kin, strewn around the shore, exhausted and bruised, some among them still coming ashore, their boats and rafts now little more than wreckage. He felt a tinge of sadness and shame that they had been reduced to this, he wished that they could turn back and aid those they had abandoned in their battle against the elves. But the truth was that they were lost the moment the waves and the winds carried them out of sight of the coasts. Is this what the spirits had intended for them? Does that mean they are not dishonored?

All that remained was an elven ship, too large to approach the shallow bay it still sat out in deeper waters. A final testament to their origins, and perhaps a beacon to their presence. Soon dusk fell on them and an agreement was quietly reached the spend the night on there to recuperate and gather themselves for the days to come. Grimtak made other plans, he was born in war and he saw action he wanted taken. Together with two of his old comrades, he rowed out to the boat on little more than a big piece of wood. Then they did what needed to be done; they set fire to the vessel that had been built with the blood of Orcish slaves.

When they came back, their people had gathered on the shore to watch the fire. Some smiled, some stared, some cried Why?, Mukdrak and Runda, the would-be shamans, danced a wild dance around their own fire. Grimtak met the gaze of the elders, those who had been born as slaves, those who had been born with elven names, those who had been the first to raise weapons against the elves. Rokar, as he had named himself, looked at him with scorn "One day your rash actions will bring you dishonor, Grimtak". But they left it at that, apparently more offended by Grimtak's own decision-making than the action itself. Grimtak and his comrades did not hide their actions and walked proudly among their people, long wet black hair clinging to their green skin.

At dawn, they cleaned away their presence on the beach as best they could and marched in-land with what they had left, following the river to find safer lands than the exposed coast. It was a long march, but they soon found fine grasslands and a great forest expanding before them, finally coming upon the great lake that the river flowed from. The blossoming spring made it look all the more like a dream land. Is this what the spirits had meant for them? Nestled between the forest and the lake, they began to make their home.
The Bloodhowl Clan

Represented Color: Green
Race: Orcs
Breed: Greenskins
Capital: Taregar, named in honor of the Prophet.

Ruler: X
Type of Government: A primitive elder council - presently the exiles look to their elders, both male and female, for guidance and decision making.

Religion: The suppression of their beliefs by the elves and the chaotic period of rebellion have left the Orcs with a confused idea of their religion. They believe nature to possess sentience through the spirits as well in the existence of a pantheon of Orcish gods, among them Akrosh and Ghom, their names handed to them by the Prophet. The exact relationship between the spirits of the world and the gods remains elusive to them.

Geographical Location:

History:

The Greenskins were at their inception created by the Elves as slaves, forged from dirt to serve and toil for them. In fields and mines and any manner of undesirable drudgery they were made to work as little more than gifted beasts of burden. Such was their natural place, for what would they do without their creators and their intelligent guidance? Just as the Elves served and worshipped their own gods, the Greenskins would do the same for them. And just as the gods of the Elves brought great vengeance upon them when they strayed, so would the Elves do upon the Greenskins when they rejected their duties.

But these things would change and they say it began when one day the moon shattered and for the first time the Greenskins saw fear in the hearts of the Elves. Soon after an Orc arose among them, he spoke as though he was one with their soul and he told them that the Elves had lied to them. They were not created by Elven hands, but forged from the strength of the earth and the ferocity of fire. Their heritage was that of explorers and warriors, their spirit the freest among mortals, their connection to the elements and their gods stronger than any Elven magic, they were even conquerors. They were roused from their slumber and descended upon their masters with great violence to reclaim the freedom that was theirs by right and reap revenge for centuries of cruelty and deception. Orcish pickaxes soon split Elven skulls instead of rocks, their butchers' knives, their hammers, their pitchforks, all the tools granted to the 'beasts' were soon wielded against their masters.

Wherever the prophet's words spread, rebellion followed and as the situation deteriorated the Elves took to ever more drastic actions to quell them. Neither side was willing to settle for anything less than victory or death and the Elves forged great firestorms and floods to destroy the land rather than surrender it to the Orcs. The slaughter reached apocalyptic proportions and victory became ever more illusory and meaningless.

When the flames reached the coast, there was no escape except out to sea. The orcs trapped there scrambled whatever rafts and boats they could and drifted out to sea. With little knowledge of seamanship, they struggled helplessly against the oceans and beseeched the spirits for relief. Finally they crashed upon the shores of Helaeth, utterly lost. Some felt shame that they had abandoned their kin in the war against the Elves, but many more saw the helplessness of their situation and felt little more than joy than they had found a measure of peace.

Though the younger generation had known nothing but the war, while the elders had grown into adulthood in Elven chains, they both shared an insatiable desire to find out more about themselves. The words that had spread to them from the prophet created as many questions as they answered and in this strange land they finally had the opportunity to create a life outside the domination of the Elves. They now had to find the answer to their questions; What was their way of life? The true Orcish path?
The Southern Expedition

Other/Explore

Vas-Ramman smiled as a kneeling young follower delivered the news. To hunt slaves and beasts was a fine passtime, to hunt the exotic was an opportunity that could not be passed up. He was a rough, broad and powerful elf, come on the expedition to bring honor and glory to his family and himself through feat of arms. Let Mondros and his lessers handle the dull work in the outpost. "Shamesh, gather the men. We're going on a hunt!". The follower rose and left without a word and the camp soon came to life with slaves and retainers hurrying to fulfil their master's wishes. They were headed to discover the source of the tracks that had been found and intent on bringing back game. Perhaps they'd get a better understanding of their surroundings in the process.



Name: The Southern Expedition
Represented Color: Dark Grey
Race: Elves
Breed: Dark Elves
Capital: Landfall
Ruler: Arakhu-Mondros

Type of Government: Currently unstable oligarchic government, headed by the expedition leader

Religion: WIP

History: Nabonassar is a land of many different peoples, but they are all slaves to the same power. The great families, prideful in their noble and pure elven lineage, dominate the land with violence, blood magic and deeply enshrined economic, social and political power. Free foreigners seldom venture beyond the mighty coastal cities, for the people of the dark elven heartlands may easily, if not wilfully, mistake them for runaway slaves. The common elf, themselves utterly subservient to the great families, at least enjoys a status above that of slaves and foreign people, to them one and the same. From its coasts sail many great fleets, for the families have a never-ending appetite for extravagance and new slaves, not just for use as workers and servants but also as fuel for their magics. The Nabonites are not savages however and will just as willingly trade for slaves as they would capture them alone.

One such fleet headed out months ago. It was a joint venture, with several different families investing their resources, seeking to share risks as well as profits. Each family sent a representative of their own along with a retinue of bodyguards. The leader for their expedition was chosen to be Arakhu-Mondros, for the Arakhu had provided the brunt of the ships and organisation and were thus deemed to have the greater share. Among others, the Vas had provided many soldiers and the Balasi several of their specialists, including illusionists and "biologists". Along with them were commoner sailors and a number of slaves, brought along both as servants and as trade goods. This expedition headed south, travelling to a long-known but ill-explored continent hoping to trade and perhaps raid for slaves and other goods, as well catalogue its populations and what work they were suited for.

But a great storm struck them out at sea and the whole expedition was thrown off-course and into disarray. When the clouds parted and the waters calmed, they found themselves at the edge of a new land. But their navigators could not make any sense of it, how this land could exist or how they got there, for it agreed with nothing of what they knew about the world or sea travel. It was as though the sea had swallowed them up and spat them out on the other side of the world. The one thing they did know is that they could not sail the sea blindly and so they made the decision to land to gather new provisions, repair their ships and recuperate. However it soon became clear that they no inkling of how to get back on course.

In a sense, they are stranded. Perhaps the best way to deal with it is to try and fulfil their original purpose on this new land. But their path forward was not so obvious. Arakhu-Mondros had been selected as the leader of what was essentially a merchant expedition and now he tried to take charge of what may become a permanent outpost. Far removed from his family his power over the others was not so obvious and news of whatever happens here may never reach home.
Albic intended neither to run like prey nor to foolhardily try and fight a bear head on without preparation. He raised his arms high in the air, extending his cloak like wings, making his form massive and let out a great roar, belonging neither to man nor orc but more to a beast.
The halfbreed stood above most humans and positively towered over the gnome. Under his cloak his body mostly resembled that of a broad built human, but his lightly tanned skin had a tinge of green in it and his heritage became obvious when looking at his face, which had a frankly ugly mix of human and orcish features, with pointed ears and small tusks. He wore thick and protective clothing, a natural mix of brown and green in color.

"A traveller does best not to bring attention to himself." he replied curtly to the gnome "What are you doing sitting here anyway?" he lightly kicked the gnome's oversized backpack "That a burglar's bag?" his tone was not one of judgement. Albic's ears listened keenly to his surroundings, but his eyes remained firmly on the gnome. He didn't intend to let her nimble fingers anywhere near his knives or other possessions.
Albic the Wanderer

In life the beast had harvested many lives, small and great, in death it served Albic, its hide shielding him from the blows and eyes of others. He thought back on his contest with the Devilwolf with a slight smile on his face. With guile, strength and patience he had brought the creature down and he now wore its trophy with pride.

His mind came back as a passer-by bumped against his shoulder. His senses were assaulted on all fronts, hardly a sound could be made out in the busy noise of the settlement, little could be seen beyond the heads of those in front of him or the nearest shack, there was barely any space to run or move and his nostrils were beset by all the foul smells of crowded urban life. He wanted nothing to do with this place for as long as he could help it. He considered the wisdom in seeking a travelling partner, but those truly worthy would strike out on their own anyhow! It was decided, he had to see this new world for himself. He made for the fastest way out of Portsmouth, whichever direction that may be..
The Children of Artemon


C) Arronax brought the mineral before the council. He described its properties and made his suggestions for its use - for tools, weapons or idols. The matter concerned everyone and was put to a vote, which split the council. Those dwelling outside the safety of the walls as well as Halwen the Black were strongly in favour of making weapons out of it, the various guild leaders of Duinmelamar advocated for it to be turned into tools, while Craftspriest Aleon was the main proponent of further investigating the mineral's mysterious properties and turning it into objects of worship. As neither side dominated, they turned to Aleon for compromise, which finally caused Halwen to protest.

"You would have us waste this precious resource on yet more idols, priest? We are not living under the protection of Horith, we are alone in this strange land and we would be fools to squander this gift. Let us turn it into arms, that we may find safety again."

"Do not insult the gods, Halwen. Their powers are far beyond our own and they are our greatest hope."

"We will not find salvation in old tomes. The gods have given us the strength to save ourselves and we must use it. They will not send thunderbolts to save us from invaders, nor do we know if your hopes of reviving old sorceries will result in anything more than a charred corpse. Duinmelamar demonstrated well enough that we are on our own."

"At Duinmelamar we were lost and alone. Now we have the opportunity to once more join with the divine. The path you argue for is a dark one, by making our people into warriors you risk putting them into his service. Magic guarded us before and it will do so again. Do not make people reinterpret your epithet in pursuit of your ambitions. You're no king, your authority stems only from our support."

Halwen looked as if he were about to burst from the implied threat, but saw that the room was siding with Aleon and kept his silence as the vote passed for the silversteel to be dedicated to the gods. They held hopes of being able to find out more about the properties of the mineral and perhaps how to extract it more efficiently, but most of it would go into the temple.

-------

The white oak was eagerly accepted and plans were made for large parts of the temple, especially the exterior, to be made out of it. Blue and white were the colours of their homeland and they wished for nothing more than to recreate it as best they could.


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