An Introduction to your Tribe from Tla'loc'al

#1

This is where you should do a small introduction to who your tribe is, what they are called (if that name also has a special meaning), who is the character that leads the tribe and who is the tribes main diplomat (example: a Aufgog as leader and an Tor’og Assassin as diplomat).

#2

I am Ripi-Tu Lurur. I am a thinker and leader of my tribe. Our people have been blessed by the gracious Ur-Kings and we bring to our fellow Olgogs a hope of prosperity and safety. We are eager to cooperate with our own kind so that we may realize the world of Refuge that we are owed.

Through the honor of many tribes, we have become custodians of the ancient Sylvan artifact. It is a device touched by evil and we willingly carry the burden of keeping watch over it.

Amongst the Krato I am but a Olgog Soldier, but to my tribe I am a Lurur and their chieftain. My Diplomat is the esteemed Aufgog Nimus Yigran, a sand giver and stone priest. I must confess, she is of a much more even temperament them myself. Bring your messengers to where you can find us on the north face of Ka Rhug.

#3

Lalder, Chief Elder of the Auf Lal’ al, back from the Ruins of Briez and the mission that resulted in the capture of Alien ship that was parked why to close to his tribes home. But technology and Leyas tech from that ship should be watched over closely with all of those undead onboard.

As he scanned over the farms located in the caves by Lake Ruil he thought about how the work shaping and tunneling out the caves has been paying off. Only if we could make enough food for all of the tribes, maybe we would be able to form strong ties as a race. Be able to put a stronger front up against the Eathers.

As a diplomat himself, the mission to the ship won’t be his last, but its good that each of the other Aufgog’s can handle diplomatic missions. And with the use of the skimmers, we can travel quickly to places we are needed. But it will be good that Lalog’na will be back. Lalog’na is our best diplomat who can solve any mission, and with that ship here, I fear we will need her to keep the tribes together.

#4

Kilma Ur’ab’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon, dully lit by the sunest. As the Farseeing Eye of her tribe, her duty to her people was to guard them from the unseen threats of the spirit world. She also handled diplomatic meetings with other tribes, one of which seemed to be imminent. She was the only tribe member to ever have spoken with their guardians, the Krato, and had been sent to find other Forgotten tribes of the Ur-King. Now they had come so close…

The other two Eyes watched her closely. Mank’al, the Inner Eye, tended to keep to her duty as mediator and counsel on the tribe’s daily life. She distributed resources, matched apprentices with mentors, and oversaw the raising of the tribe’s children. If a fight broke out between two tribe members, which was rare, she was both judge and jury. But with the tribe so close to a sanctuary, the Inner Eye was keen for any news.

The Outer Eye leaned on his warstaff, eying Ur’ab speculatively. Few remembered his true name, on becoming an adult he called himself Mak’ab, Food Hunter, and aptly lived up to his name. The Outer Eye scouted the land, lead the hunters to food and the gatherers to resources, and decided where the tribe should travel. He rose to his rank by his unerring ability to find deep, comfortable caves during the Flame Winds.

For the most part, the triumvirate had worked well together, keeping to their respective spheres of influence. But on the verge of such a large change, the Inner Eye and Outer Eye were concerned about the youth of their Farseeing Eye. No one doubted her skills, but would she be able to command respect from other tribes? Her extreme height was a benefit, but she was rail thin, and so very dark green… her build and coloration were offputting. Well, there was nothing to do but hope for the best. The Inner Eye turned at the sound of a fussing infant, and the Outer Eye spotted a roaming herd, and immediately left to gather the hunters. Ur’ab was left, standing alone, lost in thought, as the last rays of light bathed the cliffs of Ka Rhug.

#5

The three foot tall Olgog, who had rarely spoken since the Goblin Genocide and was now only referred to as “The Auf”, rested his obsidian bladed pole axe against the wall of the chamber. The weapon, twice his height, that he had crafted so long ago had served him well in battle for many years. He had been the leader of the pleasant, nearly self-sustaining Lur’al tribe, a tribe that had been partly detached from the affairs of Refuge. It was a very peaceful life, and “The Auf” had spent countless hours meditating in the Leyas. But last week, everything had changed. The Kalokgog let out a heavy sigh, as he thought about the past week.

In a week alone, he had become a Tla’loc’al Council Member, participated in a raid on a Red Bishop forward base near Port Unen, and agreed to go to war along with the other Tribal Leaders. This last memory would haunt him for years to come.

The Aufgog could, at least, take comfort with the thought that the war will, hopefully, unite the Olgog tribes and their land, into an independent territory, free of the Church of One’s oppressive slaughter. But another thought also lingered; That the more aggressive and bloodthirsty Olgogs will go to lengths far beyond the original plan of driving the border of the Goblin Lands past Dunesphere.

All-in-all, the Auf had acquired many responsibilities, but his primary concern was uniting the Olgog tribes. In fact, he had re-named his original tribe. They were now the Ol’Lur Tribe, meaning “Soul-Weaver” in the thought that they would work to intertwine the souls of every Olgog in the Goblin Lands. He considered himself lucky to have on his side the energetic and intuitive Tor’og Assassin, Glog, the leader of the brother Or’Lur tribe. He would prove useful in preparing defensive strategies for the inevitable retaliation of the Church of One.
Shaking himself out of his mesmerized state, the Auf’s thoughts shifted to the tavern he had recently aquired near Port Unen, and who was going to manage it…

#6

Glog of the Or’Lur, Thought Weaver, tribe stood in the shadows, watching, stalking. His Steed pitched on the other side of the wall. He stood at about seven foot flat in bone and hide armor and thought of the union of the Ol’Lur and Or’Lur tribes for the betterment of the people and his placement as diplomat from Or’ to Ol’. He thought of the strange boxes the Earthers use to travil and shivered. That EEF Olgog soldier seemed familer yet the information was just out of reach. He felt pride in his slaying of the “Warmonger” walker, and how the rage of his people let him burn a hole right through it. All these thing and many more pased through his mind, all bringing one thought. 'The Tribe MUST not fall." Each new thing simply brought new threats.

Glog thought as he hunted the nightmare that had dared to show its face near his home. Each thought brought the same end. The tribes must unite agenst the threat of the outsiders. The Earther Church of One, the cloaked warrior and his strange avian nightmare minions. Just more threats.

As he returned to his Steed, the nightmares head stored in the bag he had gotten as part of the payment for his help when the EEF fought the battle with the nightmare army, he wished deep within his heart that “The Auf” was right and they could find a peaceful way to unite the tribes. But if not, well thats why he was sent to be part of the Union Counsil.

#7

Urrgh sat quietly as he listened to the young Ur Tor practice combat, he did this with closed eyes trying to picture each weapon strike, each placement of footing, and each heart that fought so hard to become better in his eyes. From behind a hand grasped his shoulder, an action that would normally cause the owner of said hand to lose it, but not here.

The hand belonged to the Auf of his tribe, the one who could get away with walking up behind him without eating his own fingers. “You seem troubled again Gol’ur, the memories again?”
“Why must you call me that? It is not what my father named me my Auf.” Urrgh kept his eyes closed, still listening to the conversation but focusing on the practice just a ways away.
“Because I like it better, besides it makes more sense than being named after an errant blow to ones groin.” The Auf smiled, he had known this warrior since he was but a pup and could always get under his fur “And don’t change the subject. Tell me what troubles you.”
Knowing that this conversation would not be going away Urrgh closed out the sparring that kept him focused and turned his eyes to his mentor and friend. “Though I am still haunted by the Paladin’s memories Ol’yi that is not what currently troubles me. I have trained and tested our warriors I am unsure that they will ever truly be ready. I am unsure if they will ever be more than just angry young ones like…”
“Like you believe you are.” Ol’yi sat down next to the Tor’og in emotional crisis without fear. Such a warrior would not lash out at family. Meanwhile Urrgh sat is shamed silence as once again Ol’yi cut straight to the bone.
“Gol’ur you are Tor’og not just for your prowess in battle but because of why you fight, you were made a chieftain because of why you fight, and if you ever truly commit you may even be become Auf for why you fight. You fight not out of anger that the Earthers placed in your heart, you fight for the tribes, all the tribes! Yes we will never know peace while the Church of one constantly invades our lands, we may never know peace long after that, but with gog like you we will never fade! Our peoples will live long and our deeds, your deeds, told in story and song!”
Urrgh still sat in silence. Even if Ol’yi believed such, and things he believed were typically right, it did not mean that it was enough to convince Urrgh otherwise. “I was there at the council, I supported the call to war.”
“Not the wisest of choices, however you will one day find wisdom again. But for now are you simply going to sit in the dark and listen to the fighting of the young when you can be teaching them? You may be wallowing in your own mistakes but you can teach the young from them! Granted in my own case few ever listened!” The sarcastic eyes of the Auf burned with pointed wisdom “But the Ur’tor look up to you Gol’ur, even the Auf look up to one who is still not so old! And who knows you may yet listen to me and choose a new name for yourself, or let someone who cares for you do it for you.”
Urrgh laughed, it was short and maybe even a little painful, but it was enough to break him from the meloncholy. “And when that day happens I may kiss one of those damnable worm-skins on the rump!” Lifting his axe from off of his back he nodded in respect to Ol’yi and stood. Filled with enough focus and a better perspective it was now time to teach some of the pups who thought themselves warriors. Not to fight against the church of one, but fight for themselves, for eachother, and most importantly for the tribes!

#8

Kolgol smiled, looking into the large blackened cave that was Ka’Rhug. It had scarcely changed since he left for the negotiations. Some of the Olgogs looked up as he entered, nodding at him. He inhaled deeply, smelling the rich, volcanic smell that came from the heat vents near the back of the cave. The cave itself lay in the shadow of ancient mountains and hills, and the forces which had wrought those mighty behemoths were still at work here, forming the black rock which some called “obsidian”. He looked up as he heard “welcome home Kolgol”! It was Tur’ol, his Tor’og assassin. He stood about the same height as Kolgol, which would have made him seem less intimidating, were it not for the impressive array of obsidian weapons he wore on his belt. “How are things?” Kolgol asked, glancing at the far end of the cave where several olgogs labored at the wall, breaking off shards of rock and obsidian to expand the cave. “It is practically the same as when you left it, save for a few wanderers that have passed through” Tur’ol replied, glancing curiously towards the entrance, from which a metallic clanking sound was coming. Kolgol chuckled, “I too have picked up some wanderers”, as the squire entered, his plate mail glistening with the heat. Kolgol had thought ahead however, and had artificed the armor to reduce the effects of the oppressive heat. Despite that, the squire’s face was bright red and sweaty. “Some things will never change” Kolgol mused as he entered the small side cave which he called home.

#9

It was a quiet night as Yyan Kol strode the battlements of the keep. He contemplated the troubles of his tribe as he walked. Food, Water, Allies all these thing he would have to gather if he hoped his tribe to flourish. As he rested he let his bone poleax rest on his shoulder. At light he would set out in search of all of these. Leaving his tribe in the hands of the elder Ur Kol.

As he set off in the morning he wondered the next time he would see the Army of Kol Gol

#10

Somewhere in the area of Tla’loc’al and Lake Ruil, they say, is a hidden fortress… a healing home… a family in formation. From there, the emissaries come. From a place they call Auflok.

They take the unwanted, the invisible, the abominations – those empty shells that breathe, and move, and cry as we do, but never really came into the world – those dark clouds that rumble thunder with the sleepy mutterings of gods, but never drop rain.

They raise them from the refuse-heaps, lift them from the empty peaks and the thicket-twisted groves. They argue, demand, and beg for infant lives, in voices familiar and yet not quite right… They, too, are invisible. And yet they stand, and speak, and appeal to our selves, our powers, our good, our gods.

“We grew up. We survived. And what we lack in power, we make up for in might. We are not abominations. We too bleed red against our green fur. We too love and sacrifice. We too feel the rumble of the thunder above and the rumble of the earth below.”

So they speak before us. And they take our shame, our horror, our mystery – swaddling them with care, embracing that which we shuddered to approach – and then they go. The invisible astonishing ones. They seek out their own kind, our kin, and they gather them in – the children who, through fear, through shock, or through despair, had never been given names.

And they leave two names behind them.

One is “Auflok”.

The other is “Doctor Hodge”.