conversations: human
conversations:  The tribe is currently living in the badlands of the south. They have no notable technology, magic, or anything other than size and strength.
  
  They number 2,000 strong.
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grelgok stared deep into the heart of the small fire, chanting the name of Lakash over and over as he called upon the spirit's power. The smoke rose up from the dry tinder, and in its dancing form the messages from Lakash were conveyed.
  
     Black coal holds my heart imprisoned.  Silver stones my bones and blood.  Find them.  From them forge a new life for me.   
  
  Coal and hematite.  Stone, if nothing else, was abundant in the badlands.  Surely coal and hematite could be found.  Grelgok raised himself up from his seat by the small fire, his legs aching from age and hardship.  He looked at the expectant tribesmen, and conveyed Lakash's will.
conversations: Elricaltovilla:
conversations: human
conversations:  The orcs, following Lakash's will, begin to spread amongst the badlands, searching for coal and hematite. Using crude stone tools, they dig into the earth, breaking open boulders and beginning the start of underground mining.
  
   
   Spoiler: OOC 
   (30d2000b1)[ 1917 ]  Orcs are out searching for resources.
   
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zongli whispers into the Orc Shaman's head.
  
   There are ripe fruits in the forests. Gather some, but not more than you need. Keep the seeds of the fruit so you may plant the. 
conversations: Zmeoaice:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zongli's will, now known, is followed. That night, while the treasures from the earth are taken back to the home, Zongli's shaman preaches to the masses, but Grelgok raises his voice against her.
  
  "We have no need for gathering food! We will rain iron and blood upon the lands, and take what we need!"
  
  Grelgok gathers  (10d1500b1)[ 1500 ]  from the orcs assembled, and leads them away.
  
   
   Spoiler: Zongli's Tribe 
  Now numbers 500 Orcs
   
  
   
   Spoiler: Lakash's Tribe 
  Now numbers 1500 Orcs
   
  
  
  The quarter of the orcs that remain with Zongli begin at first light, gathering fruits and seeds.
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  Uragol demanded a strong first follower. The tribe starves - the poorest, suffering kind turn to their darker wit. In flashes, Uragol, her naked body red boned from the waist down, whispers the secret to their survival. Chew the hand to the bone, and use it to point at the lazy. Sacrifice them. Drain their blood to me, their essence yours to command, and fill yourself on the weakness of others.
conversations: Elbeyon:
conversations: human
conversations:  A few days later, when the tribe of Lakash has gathered a large stockpile of coal and hematite, Uragol speaks to Grelgork.
  
  "My brothers!" he shouts to the tribe, raising his skeletal hand high "I know what our next step is! We will descend upon the old, weak-minded fruit-farmers, and slaughter them! Then raise their bodies as slaves to our conquest!"
  
  A resounding cheer goes up, with one particularly excited orc rushing forward to raise Grelgork high upon his shoulders.
  
   
   Spoiler: Lakash's Tribe 
  Is currently equipped with crude stone weapons. Coal and hematite don't do anything by themselves. They will soon go to war with the Zonglites.
   
  
   
   Spoiler: Zonglites 
  Are blissfully unaware.
   
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  War was coming, and with war came the need for weapons.  Lakash would accept nothing less than the use of iron to slaughter the peaceful fools that turned from his will.  In whispers of crackling flame, he spoke the secrets to coax iron from the hematite, using coal and clay to smelt the blooms which could be hammered into his tools.  War would come, and Iron would lead the way.
conversations: Elricaltovilla:
conversations: human
conversations:  The followers of Lakash and Uragol began to construct furnaces and smelteries, hewing iron from hematite and coal.
  
  Visible for miles around are the vast plumes of acrid black smoke rising from the forges, an ill-omen to the Zonglites.
  
   
   Spoiler: Lakash's Tribe 
  Iron weaponry, and a small amount of armor.
   
  
   
   Spoiler: Zonglites 
  Can see their doom approaching.
   
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zongli speak to their tribe.
  
   Those who are violent wish to attach us. We must remain vigilant and strong. Although we are outnumbered we have the advantage in knowing the area and are well fed. We should build areas in the trees to get the high ground when they show up. You can use sinew and wood to create bows and arrows and train them.
  
  Meanwhile, I shall teach you Nature Magic, which will allow you to manipulate your surroundings. You will be able to use vines to entrap your enemies, armor yourself in tree bark and control the animals around you among other things 
conversations: Zmeoaice:
conversations: human
conversations:  The Zonglites begin their preparations, laying traps, learning the lay of the land as best they can, practicing their magic and archery.
conversations: JNAProductions:
conversations: human
conversations:  Giffi is not a wise orc nor even a strong his redemption is in how his words carry on the blasted dead wasteland he and his tribe live on. As he stared up at the sky the amber glow of the freshly constructed furnaces still very much ablaze at this hour and the stones falling on after another beating the metal  he heard a voice in the rhythm. Then a hundred as one
  the sounds of havoc and the beat swelling before it receded the melody passing from his mind. He realized his place was of imitation.
conversations: bross:
conversations: human
conversations:  From the west comes an old orc, a driftwood staff in his hand. He breathes deeply, the scent of this land so much different than that from which he had come. He had been born in this place, but had followed the winds to commune with Harnak.
  
  The voice on the wind speaks to him again.   Continue on. Your voice will be thunder, and your staff lightning.   
  
  Igrot, the speaker of Harnak, comes to the tribe of Lakash.  "The storm will march with you, for peace is not our way." 
conversations: Space Lawyer:
conversations: human
conversations:  Zongli speaks with Alyssa concerning oncoming army.
  
   Look at all these orcs preparing for war... Do you not think that the metal and fire could be put to some greater use? Instead of weapons of destruction they could be used for tools of creation? Instead of ending lives, we could enhance them in some way? 
conversations: Zmeoaice:
conversations: human
conversations:  Grelgok greeted his fellow shaman, "Fire, lightning and hunger.  Iron, death and storm.  No force will stand against us brother.  We will take what we wish and burn the rest to ash."
  
  Lakash whispered secrets of fire and smoke to the ears of any orc who would hear him, imparting knowledge of how to name and control fire and smoke, bending them to the will of their caller.
conversations: Elricaltovilla:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alyssa acknowledges Zongli.
  
   They will learn to work wood and "Bone" before their time is finished that much is certain. However the mason without tools starves. Blood will flow, if I were you I'd be more focused on finding another target so an accord might be struck.  
conversations: bross:
conversations: human
conversations:  Certain among the tribe feel Hanark's influence upon them.
  
  Some feel the fury of the storm in their veins, growing large and strong. They seek out blue woad and paint their bodies with it, covering themselves in Hanark's holy color. Some claim the heaviest of weapons, to tear down their enemies as a great wind does. Others seek out lighter blades, with which to wear away at their foes or come upon them silently.
  
  Others hear the pounding of the surf and the roar of the wind. They find what wood and hide they can, and craft drums of all sizes. Some are small enough to held by a single child, while others require four strong warriors to support them.
  
  Igrot says to Grelgok  "I will speak to those who with for peace. Docility is not in our nature, but this is not a reason to turn against each other. If we stand as one, we will be stronger. We will sweep across this world, and take from it what we should. Our realm will extend across land ans sea, to encompass all under the sky." 
  
  --------------------------
  
  Igrot comes to the Zonglites. He is preceeded by the sound of great drums, echoing across the plains. At his side are blue-painted warriors, their hair crackling with static and their bodies taut with barely-contained power.
  
   "Hear me! Your ways of docility cannot be our way, but we may still be one! Join us, and form a strong base from which we may strike out. We will be neither ravening horde nor peaceful builders, but something greater. We will create cities, and take what we wish from those who surround us. We will extend our dominance by both iron and wood." 
conversations: Space Lawyer:
conversations: human
conversations:  When the sky is moonless and the stars are in their prime a unknown scrawny (relative to orcs) shaman wearing a cloak made from some sort of humanoid skin kneels down upon a tall hill and speaks the words :  "Nezerith, I seek your wisdom. Nezerith, I seek your protection. Nezerith, I seek your command. Under the holy shadow do I beseech you." 
  
  A chill almost immediately runs up the orc's back after he spoke the words. A faint whisper comes to the orc's ear with the moist feeling of someone speaking to them:    "You, my child, have called me down? You have done well. As a reward, my child, I grant you the ability to see and speak to the dreams of those around you..."   
  
  There was a... tingling feeling in the orc's eyes, if they could see themselves they'd have known their eyes were like mirrors now with no pupils. As the orc looks over to where the others were they could see little shining lights like stars, a glorious sight. The shaman just stood there gazing out in awe. After what seemed like forever Nezerith whispered:    "Oh, child, you do not have a true appreciation to what I have given you yet. One day, you shall know. For now child I have need for you to gather more to my cause. Do not separate them like the fool Zongli. Just... gather a few to watch for now. Go with my blessing child, till the night is mine alone once more..."    The voice trails off.
  
  The shaman gathers themselves, shivering even under the heavy cloak, gazing at the lights in front of it. These must be dreams, the shaman thinks, but how they are to "see and speak" to them is unknown to them yet. But the Night Father has made a command and it shall be followed. Giving one last look at the shining lights only they saw the shaman began to walk back down the hill.
conversations: CosmicMage:
conversations: human
conversations:  A shaman wearing a fur cloak and holding a spear with a bone head approaches the Zonglites, requesting to see their head shaman. He requests an alliance and promises that his spirit, Thurkkon, can help them defend themselves.
conversations: lukitux:
conversations: human
conversations:  Gesh appeared to a shaman laying down to die.  The shaman had fallen down a cliff and a rock had cut his water skin.  The shaman was far into that badlands and he would die of the sun before he could drink again.  Gesh spat upon the shamans cheek and his spit was venom "you shame your people.  I am death, the god of orcs, and to meet me listlessly is abhorrent in my eyes.  Rise up and live.  Your ruined face is but the first hardship I will inflict upon you."
conversations: Mabn: