The Dead seek the Unite Tribes of Refuge


Derlur hated the interruptions. He was trying to make a point and it was getting diluted.

“‘Erald, ya see, Olav come from far an’ brings liquor to share. Ye ‘ave cookies an’ ya didn’ share?? No wonder they weren’ impress’ an’ unfrien’ly. I wou’en be either.” Smith, the Earther, continued. “Who travels the entire continent, across the Earther colonies, and doesn’t share their cookies with their presumed host?!?!” Ferrou, the K’iou, chimes in, “Yeah?! What kind of diplomacy is that?”

Ferrou then walks over to Olav, and takes a swig of the flask. Unfortunately, much to his chagrin, he proves the stereotype that K’iou are messy drinkers and splashes it all over his face and beard in the process. In fact, one would question if any of it actually made it into his mouth. He then returns it back to Olav, “Thanks.” He winks and walks over back to his crew.


Olav frowned slightly as he turned the flask over, watching a few drops fall out. “No problem…” He closed it and returned it to his bag. He pulled out another, eyeing the K’iou. “If he didn’t come with food or drink, it changes nothing. He is here now, and maybe, if you’re kind, he will trade beverages and, erm, cookies to us along with whatever else he may decide to add to the table.”

Turning back to Lalder and the Herald he took a sip and closed the flask. “Across the colonies, eh? Quite a journey.”


Auf Lalder says to Derlur "Just as I asked the Herald to be polite, so I expect the same of anyone else. If that is not possible, please depart. "

(OOC Lalder doesn’t know Derlur at all. )

Lalder says to the Herald “Olav has a good question. And also what are your relations to the EEF, VoF and the Church of One?”


The Herald speaks to Derlur first “In your home do you demand gifts from visitors? Where I come from the host is obligated to provide for their guests, I of course do not demand such from you as it might not be your custom. I was going to make an offer to the council when I arrived at the meeting site, makes little sense to start handing things out in the middle of the street. I only offered you since you demanded it.” Then the Herald turned toward Olav, "It is fascinating to meet an Immutable, your kind are quite rare. When we arrive at the meeting I would love to discuss the possibility of trading for technological goods, not necessarily weapons. We could use many non violent technological items that could improve life. My journey across the Colonies wasn’t all that interesting. I booked passage on an Itashi passenger airship that dropped me off at the capital of Chooru, from there I bought a ticket for the train which dropped me off here in Brez. I tend not to go sight seeing as most in the colonies tend to be intolerant to my kind.

As to Wintermute’s relations with the EEF? We have an understanding with them, they do not bother us, we do not bother them. There is limited trade along boarder towns and villages, most of the time we ship goods to Itash and then from there the Itashi traders then trade with the Colonies. For the Valley of Vegalia, we have no relations with them, they tend to be isolationists if I am not mistaken, the only groups they have had diplomatic relations with are the Colonies and you if I am not mistaken. If they wish relations with us all they have to do is respect our rights and not treat us differently then any other nation, we would welcome them as trading partners if they desired it. As for the Church of One? We have had no contact with them nor do we wish to. I believe if you asked them about us their policy would to burn us. They would sooner declare that Olgogs were divine messengers then accept Wintermute.

We are reaching out to you for a reason, your kind understands intolerance and know what it feels like to be hunted. No other race but yours could even comprehend what we go through on a normal basis. However, Olgogs can travel into the colonies and speak to the people in charge there and not be run off or slaughtered by current law. The first time we reached out to the Colony General with a message of peace his response was akin to “look at us funny and we will drop a nuclear warhead on you”.


Derlur shrugged at Lalder’s comment. Thankfully, Ferrou took up the lead. “Wait, so let me get this straight,” said the K’iou. “You, the Herald of Wintermute, came to Brez to speak with the United Tribes. The hosts should have bowed down to you, thankful of your visit without any expectation of the same. You said to them something to the effect of, ‘we are brothers in arms, victims of intolerance, and vastly misunderstood species. Let us hold hands and fight the injustices of the world.’ But Shirley, being the rude ruffian that she is, couldn’t get over herself and unjustly kicked you out of Brez. She’s unreasonable and ignorant and refused to see the true meaning of what you were saying. It was her blatant misunderstanding of the words that you were emitting from the moment you began forming sounds upon greeting her that was the sole cause of this situation. Had these Brezans known your caring and compassionate nature that does not take well to threats because you would have massacred everyone who tried to stop you, they would have NEVER asked you to leave and never gotten offended when you said you’d do whatever you want because their perceptions of proper diplomacy are irrelevant. They should know, as gracious hosts, what matters to you and you alone. Their customs and expectations are rubbish and rife with ignorance. NOW it all makes sense.”

Ferrou and Derlur exaggeratedly threw their arms up, as if to say, “Oh, that’s right, how’d I not see that.” Smith smirked, Kokiyo the Olgog and Thrush the Bastard shook their heads disappointingly. Ferrou knew his words would annoy the councilman who was trying to make peace here, but his actions were more important than any supposed peace accord the one known as Lalder thought he’d be able to achieve. The Gangmembers were miffed, and if his crew were to help avoid bloodshed and/or long-term resentment, which could prove deadlier, the Herald would have to give them all a convincing reason to justify his behavior. If the Herald’s tone continued to be patronizing, the Herald and it’s guard deserved what was coming to them. However, he, Derlur, and the rest of his band of brothers would offer the Herald a chance to make it right. Even the undead deserve a chance. Otherwise, well, Wintermute would learn the hard way how diplomacy is handled in Brez.


(Derlur-By your own first post, you acknowledge that you weren’t around for the first exchange, so how would your character know what had happened in the first part of the conversation? As your character would not have been there I will ignore the second part of the first paragraph)

The Herald’s head tilted at Ferru and his friends “Pardon me but are you doing this on purpose? I already said that I did not expect you all to abide by Wintermute standard of Host/Guest relationship. Many cultures are different and it is not right for one to demand that every culture follow one’s own personal customs. Not sure what you would gain from listening to me say one thing and then declare I said the opposite. You seem quite intent on causing trouble though I am not sure why.”

The Herald turned back to Lalder and Olav, "Now if you could tell me about the United Tribes, I would be grateful.


((OOC - Please don’t post a response until I get to))


((OOC - Thanks everyone. I had issues posting this morning))

Urog heard the reports as they rushed in. The rumors were given in half-sentences. Messengers came flying at him as they each reported different things. He became really alarmed when he heard that the Herald of Wintermute pulled a dozen skeletons from a shadow cocoon. He made his way, with haste. He took his Sylvan comm crystal, deciding it was time to check-in with Shirley. When tried to communicate with her, the only thing he heard were screams of pain mixed with screams of agony. He knew what that meant… this Herald had pissed her off and she was taking it out on someone. Either he was one lucky gog… or not. He smirked in spite of himself. He summoned a tribal to bring him his Stalker as he gathered his things. His bracer, a gift from Protodoxa, was on. The gift from Nngao, an axe, hung from his side. He also bore a few useful artifacts, also gifts of sorts, and his armor, hard won from battle, completed his outfit. He called over to Vektor and told him to leave Nngao’s gift and instead bring the Warwalker Axe and buckler. Vektor brought with him the Op-U-Lints, Urog called over Jhoni, a few tribals, and few Ur Rhug. He called over to Monkeywrench, and told them to have Urog’s Raiders ready to deploy… just in case.

Jeb, on the other hand, was panicked. He knew he was mired in a pile of Malie dung piled higher than himself. In the amount of time it took to get some fruit, Shirley had created an foreign incident. And then he couldn’t find her. He had made it to the crowd when Auf Lalder appeared and tried to take over. He was in the kolgul pit now, he thought to himself. The Ur Rhug knew the only thing left was to talk into his comm crystal and relay the messages accordingly. He was most amused with Derlur’s antics, but the crazy olgog could barely be understood, which was saying something coming from a Brezan. Jeb waited for Urog’s instructions. He was the first to know that Urog was coming. His heart quickened, as his fears of death overtook him.

Urog, Vektor, Jhonhi, Teco, and Ya’na made their way on Stalkers through the crowd. Jhoni, Teco, and Yana carried Magi Cannons, made from the gifts of the Sylvan. The crowd hushed as the boss made his way to the group gathered in the middle of it. In his Armorfiend chest plate and Cloak of 817 completing his outfit, everything he wore reminded his gangmembers how far he’s come. It was a startling reminder to the Brezans gathered that he was not just a mere scavanger, but deemed worthy of receiving such gifts from outsiders.

Urog looked at Lalder and Olav and gave them a warm smile as he dismounted from the stalker. “Greetings, my brothers Lalder of Tla’loc’al and Olav of Unen. What an occasion!” He greeted each them honor, respect, and warmth. “We Brezans welcome you, for we have fought many battles together against the MagMagGor, Earthers, and all those who opposed us. We have travelled across Ol’der’al, and our bonds are tighter than ever.” He shouted a cheer, and the crowd uproariously cheered. “I am sorry that I was not here to ensure you were greeted properly.”

His warmth disappeared quickly as he looked away from his brethren and to the undead. “In case you were not aware, I am the Goblin King Urog, leader of the Great Northern Army, head of the Gang of the Uf Mag’og, and whose council seat on the United Tribes of Der’al you have come upon.” He glanced over to Lalder. Gone was his prior warmth, replaced with an intensity that warned Lalder of his intentions. He returned his gaze to the undead Herald and continued to speak. “I heard, through messengers and other means, what has been said to now. I am will make certain things perfectly clear Herald of Wintermute. Shirley was right, we are not a nation. Comparing us to how the other races live, gather, and rule is folly and your first mistake. We do not have a single head, and we prefer it that way. Do NOT mistake this lack of a single head as weakness, for our roots have grown very deep and our bonds have been forged in battle across Der’al against many foes. We have provided for each other, and we now sit together… we stand together, and we ARE ONE!” The crowd, on cue, cheered raucously. The farms of Brez, whose repute was growing daily, were a gift from the United Tribes, and one that would not be forgotten any time soon by those gathered.

Urog brought his arm up to silence the crowd, “You have come here, looking for the council of the United Tribes of Der’al. It is MY seat, and you were brought to me. My territory, my olgog, my rules.” He emphasized ‘my’ as he spoke. “So when you spoke to my councilgog, you were in turn speaking to me. And when you come to my home, I demand courtesy, respect, humility, and compassion. And as you made your entire way from the Northern Kingdoms, across the Earther colonies, on a train filled with Brezans, Earthers, and the other speaking races… to our train station here, it was unfortunate you did not take the time to learn more of Brezan custom. You managed to learn that we declared ourselves across Der’al, but did not bother to take in any information of Brez, whose way of life has remained unchanged in 2,000 years and whose reputation reaches farther than that of our council. To bring you up to date and clear any ignorance, you stand in the city built by the Earthers to destroy our people. It was destroyed by Der’na and since lived in by olgog. We were a lawless city, fighting for scraps, and ignored by the rest of Der’al for being uncouth,” he paused so the crowd could cheer, “mean,” cheer, “survivors,” cheer, “resourceful,” cheer, “and most importantly, filled with GREAT GREAT OG.” The crowd was whipped into a cheering frenzy. His tribals began to hum and stomp in agreement, focusing Troubadour Leyas on Urog, their leader who had taken them from scant, day to day existence, to the daily comforts of food, water, shelter, and protection.

“You say we treated you unkindly, and were rude. I will not refute you. We are an unkind sort of 'ol. But you came to us… to Brez, so do not bemoan the reception you got when it didn’t turn out like you wanted. We expected courtesy and respect.” He looked over to Gooberz, who had been there from the beginning. “Gooberz, repeat how we were greeted.”

Gooberz cleared his throat, doing a terrible impersonation of the Herald that was unintentionally funny. “The United Tribes of Refuge shall heed the words of the Herald of Wintermute! You declare yourselves to be a nation, we wish to see your nation with our own eyes and see your quality! Is there anyone to speak on your behalf and show the Herald that you are an a nation worthy of respect?” The crowd, in their frenzy, booed.

Urog resisted the urge to smirk. He had not known how this whole mess had begun. He still could not find Jeb, who was assigned to Shirley today to act as a ‘translator’. At least Gooberz kept his post, though Urog wondered if Gooberz considered it a job like the rest of the gang. He also wasn’t there to translate. Urog looked over to the Herald, “Let us confirm your impressions of us Brezans, we are not worthy of your respect. The Great Northern Army does not request your respect, does not want your respect, and does not need your respect. We have our olgog brothers, and that is enough for us.” A cheer goes up, though short. “And I do not believe that you wished to come in friendship. If you had, then you would have started by stating it. If you wanted to stand with us due to the injustices we have endured, then you should have said so at the get go.” Murmurs rumbled through the crowd, agreeing with Urog. “But you didn’t. So, I stand by Shirley’s decisions and her actions. Having failed to meet her expectations means you have failed to meet mine, ignorant as we may be! And when she asked you to leave, and set forth my gang members to escort you out, I do not care if you felt threatened. By my law you were trespassing, but unlike in other parts of Brez, we do not kill all those who displease us. We escort you out… for our protection, your protection, and to make sure you don’t stay.”

He looked over at Skoolz, and nodded, as if to say that he knew Skoolz had done his job. Skoolz felt uneasy. It was weird that Urog knew what was going on even when he wasn’t there. “It remains my decree, Herald of Wintermute, your overtures are rejected until such a time when you approach us with humility, respect, and compassion. You will hereby be escorted out of my lands. If you wish to speak with other councilgog, it will not be on my territory. This little conversation is over. You can take a train to Tla’loc’al, and talk to those gathered here over there, who will do so against my will but I will not interfere in, or we can walk you to the edge of the city where you can get on Olav’s ship and he can take you wherever he pleases. Until you come at us with the respect, humility, and compassion we demand, your presence in Brez will be punishable by your destruction. You will now be escorted out of my land… unless, of course, you want to learn how we earn respect in Brez.” Unlike Shirley, who said her comments dismissively, there was no doubt as to the tone of Urog’s voice. The crowd let Urog’s words linger, resisting the urge to shout in agreement, knowing the climax of Urog’s speech had been reached, and let the tension remain in the air. The sounds of a handful of tribals humming and stomping were the only sounds made by the Brezan locals, as they waited for the Herald’s response.


Olav returned the smile until just about halfway through the speech. At that point Olav turned his head away from the others, pushing the brim of his hat down to hide his face as he thought. If there was anything that the United Tribes needed at this point, it was at least a sort of ally, even one that was so unsure of the cultures of Brez or any other culture in the southern hemisphere. He thought again for a moment, then tilted the hat back up and returning to a straight face. Urog was right, in a way of course, but he could not help but resent his choice of words to the Herald. Not many Earthers to the north know what it was like in Brez, or anywhere else in the other lands surrounding it, so how could this Herald from even further away have found the information Urog spoke of? He sighed, re-lighting the cigar and sticking it in his mouth. These were more Urog’s lands than Olav’s, he wouldn’t interfere in their ways. He nodded slowly to the statement about him providing transport, he had not trouble with that.

Then came the… challenge? Olav himself very rarely visited Brez, but he remembered his first meeting with several tribes, and fighting that pirate in the honorful old way. He surmised that it would be similar, but at the same time, by the words of both, neither would surrender to the other. A fight to the death then; this… northerner versus the Goblin King. Or would the Herald walk away with him or Lalder to a more suitable location for negotiations? He exhaled a cloud of smoke, tapping his finger on the cigar. Unlikely, judging from what Olav had heard from Urog about the Herald’s arrival and what followed. He listened to the humming for a moment, then waited for whatever was to happen. They were both stubborn as Cyclos or a charging Brezen.


(OOC Sorry for the delayed response. At first I was waiting for the Herald to respond first, and then work, kids, etc. )

Auf Lalder thought about what his friend said and to the way this started. The Brezian was right on multiple parts. This conversation wasn’t started among equals. If this diplomat started his speech with seeing if we are worthy of being called a nation.

Auf Lalder says "I agree with Urog on multiple counts and some of what he said I didn’t know as I came here in response to a fight Brewing. This is Urogs Lands and you will have to leave Herald of Wintermute.

There are places you can go, there is even the trading center and outpost near Tla’loc’al that I recommend. In the Trading post that my tribe created, we have a learning center. Earthers would call part of this learning center a museum. A place where one could learn about Olgogs in general and of each area of these lands. You can stay there as my guest. And i hope you take this opportunity to learn about us.

With that said, I also agree with Urog. While we do wish to have more allies, the current talks cannot continue until matters are resolved. So no formal discussions can continue with myself without meeting Urog’s requirements of respect. When we continue, it will be as equals, and not where one side has to prove their right to exist to the other. But a warning, If you come into my lands to help our gor, or enemies, we will do the same as the Brez and escort you from our lands or into neutral territory.

I do hope relations do continue and get better after these issues are resolved. There could be value to both our lands in a friendship, but we need to have a good foundation.


(Whew, talk about being gone for a long time, damn, sorry about that. Been very very hectic then just kinda forgot about this thread, my apologies)

The Herald listened to Goblin King Urog, anyone watching in Leyas sight would have seen the his shadow aura begin to pulsate as the speech progressed. The shadow would grow and grow, the local shadow wards beginning to become overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shadow which seemed to eclipse everything in the general area. Bo’shassu, one of the Vampire guards considered the situation. He knew the Herald was getting angry, and he knew that a focused Chill Life blast from the Herald would both end Urog’s speech and any good will that could ever be earned very quickly. He placed his right hand upon the Herald’s shoulder and whispered “Lord Hassan would be very saddened to hear that you started a war with these Olgogs. Even if we overcome every Olgog here and manage to return north we would be punished for such rash actions. I beg of you my Lord, please think of the consequences of what you are planning on doing.” The Herald turned his head and for a moment Bo’Shassu thought that he himself would feel the Herald’s rage. Thankfully the shadow began to retreat and by the time the Goblin King’s speech was over the Herald’s aura had returned to normal and the Shadow Wards once again provided the illusion of protection. Such weak wards were almost insulting.

The Herald turned back to The Goblin King “I do find it amusing that you demand respect while fully acknowledging and having pride in the fact that your people have no intention of earning it. You want me to be kind and polite while not giving any in return. You are proud of your hypocrisy which I find humorous. Your United Tribes are in their infancy, you rely on the Earther Colonies to the east for protection, perhaps you should consider a different perspective, rather then acting like a child who wants the adults to treat him like one of them.”

Turning to Olav “It was a pleasure to meet you. If possible in the future I would be delighted to continue our conversation, I would love to learn more about your tribe and perhaps build friendship amongst our people.”

Finally turning to Auf Lalder “Respect is a two way street. Without both sides willing to give it there can be none. The Goblin King said that I must give it to him without him showing any, thus there is no way for him to gain my respect. If he cannot get my respect how can I gain his? As long as he believes that he deserves respect without any effort to earn it then this is useless. I shall go south, perhaps there are other organization that would be willing to show that the Olgogs are ready to join the international community rather then act like petulant children.”

The Herald of Wintermute would open his bag and the Vampire Guard would leap back in. Then the Herald would bow respectfully to Olav who was the only one truly worthy of respect. He would nod at Auf Lalder who earned being civil and polite. He would then fall into his shadow and leap from shadow to shadow until he was south of the city.

Once he was outside the city the Herald would sigh and say to himself “Perhaps I should have let Sardone do this instead. Sardone is better with these fleshbags, she actually likes them for some reason.” On to the next group it seemed, perhaps the Armies of Eloga might be more interested in allies.