“Ambition is something no lesser man should carry in their hearts. After all, it is what makes great empires fall to the actions of the foolish few” -The black book. Chapter 1. Internal hierarchy and balanced division of power. In the reclusive territory of the blackland, a fortress stood, carved from the black stone of a mountainside. Inside, the aged leader of the orc tribes held court. Tulida Blackclaw was reminiscing about his life. The adventuring, the conquest, the defeats... and the eventual discovery of this untamed paradise of an island. Yes, he had achieved quite a lot in his life... But now, the ever present shadow of old age was finally starting to take its toll. He had first noticed it in the small things. Forgetfulness, a higher suspectibility to diseases, finding it that much harder to get out of bed every morning. It wouldn't be that much longer. He could deny this or start preparing his fellow orcs for the end of his reign and the hopefully peaceful ascension of whoever fate decreed would be his succesor... well, fate and the vote of the various lesser orcish leaders in the realm. He had made his black book required reading for all orckind. The written word was a far more reliable means of teaching what was important to the next generation than the easily misinterpreted spoken word. Surely none would be as foolish as taking the wisdoms of the black book out of context. “Khagn, the scribe has arrived.” Tulida heard the voice of his aide, a quick-witted goblin by the name of Ambaghai. “Yes... he can come in... This was for the letter to the golden horde was it? I think we also needed to write a letter to Great chieftain Olar about the flow of lumber from the ogre's forests.” “Sir... that was yesterday.” Ambaghai said in his distinct patient tone. Tulida had saved the goblin's life once, and they had been good friends ever since. “Oh... well call the scribe inside then!” The kobold scribe came in, parchment and inkwell at the ready and accompanied by a gnoll messenger ready to set out and deliver the letter as soon as it was sealed. “This letter is hereby aimed at whoever the current Khagn of the golen horde is. I send this letter with no obligation for response and purely aim to inquire with it.” It might sound paranoid, but Tulida hadn't been keeping up with golden horde politics lately. For all he knew, some old clan bearing a grudge against his own had come into power in the interim. So it was better to be safe than sorry. The orc took a deep breath and started dictating “Hail, Khagn of the golden horde. To you speaks the scion of your dominion, Tulida of the blackclaw clan. I send this letter to inform you that the adventure I set out on so many years ago has ended with me creating a realm of my own. The black island of the northeastern coast of your territory is where we are. The land is not cursed contrary to what the people of the coasts there would tell you. It is in fact an untamed land abound with resources and, as far as we have determined at this point in time, no native peoples that lay claim to the land. As you may have guessed, age has been catching up to me recently. This old dog of an Uruk would very much like to live out the last of his days in his ancestral homeland. I have found my ability to maintain my current office lacking and have decided I will abdicate as soon as a succesor for my position has been selected. Enclosed in this message is a gift to show my goodwill, a blade of the black iron in the mountains here, crafted by our finest smiths.” “With sincere regards, Tulida Blackclaw, Khagn of the blackland Uruks.” The scribe laborously wrote down every word, the gnoll was already readying his pack for the long trip to the distant port town of Tulida's landing. One of the few parts of the island's coast not made impassable by the jagged cliffs that gave the island its infamously uninviting appearance. The scribe inspected hhis work, nodded, and rolled the parchment up. Now all that remained was for the letter to be sealed and sent off. “Will that be all my khagn?” The kobold asked as she offered the parchment to Tulida for the application of the reqesuite seal. The orc started heating an amount of wax as he thought. “I think it is... Ambhagai, do we have any other letters for today?” The goblin sighed. “Yes, we have to write a letter to all the Khagns to call them together for your official annoucement of abdication.” The orc furrowed his brow. “Yes... yes that sounds about right.” Tulida sighed... He really was getting too old for this. [hr] Sometimes it is for the best to leave the wounded behind to save those still capable. -The black blook. Chapter 3. On the subject of warfare. In the port of Tulida's landing, a ship was finishing the last preperations for a voyage. Its crew a ragtag bunch of various races in stark contrast to the lizardfolk-dominated crews of the other ships in port. There were many on the ship, smiths, hunters, artisan, warriors. Of all races and connected by just one thing. A curse that affected not the flesh, not the mind, but the soul. It had been obvious what they were when death came from them... and then rejected them from their rest. The phenomenom of hallows was somewhat known in the blacklands. Those affected often banded together to travel to the mystical lost kingdom in group. One such group was departing today. They were informally led and represented by a weathered lizardman hunter named t'chak. He had discovered his hallowing after a particularly terrifying encounter with a swamp alligator... It had been quite confusing to find himself wake up on a funeral boat. Both for himself and for his family. Still, they had been a great support, yet he couldn't stay amongst them. He had talked about the matter at length with his tribe's shaman. He was told the curse would claim his mind sooner or later. He did not want to put his loved ones trough such a harrowing descent into madness, so he had said his goodbyes. All that remained of them now were the memories of past times and a hand-carved wooden figurine, depicting himself in his prime. He had found a kinship amongst the other hallows, and a newfound sense of purpose besides. Having always been somewhat of a planner and leader it wasn't long before a group had formed around him. Together, they had rented an old boat with the intent of sailing to that fabled place that called to all of them... Mystrost. A battle scarred orc walked up and gave a salute to the pondering lizardman. “Captain, the ship is fully loaded and ready. The crew is all there. We are ready to embark upon our voyage.” The lizardman simply nodded. “Good... We are off then.” He was a man of few words, still, half of these hallows wouldn't even have gotten to this port without his guidance, and most of them held quite a bit of respect for the lizardman. Quickly, they unfurled the dusty sails of the old trader vessel. A favorable wind catched into the sailcloth, and soon, the vessel cleared the mouth of the bayou. Into open sea, and on towards more dangerous lands; [hider=TL;DR] Summary for reference 1. Blackclaw expresses his desire to return to the golden horde to live out the rest of his days. 2. Hallowed tribesmen sail off to mystrost [/hider]