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10th of The Grand Harvest, 1461.

 

Beware, men and women of the Fringe!

 

Plague has struck the streets of the Fringe, causing death and dismay wherever it strikes. Dozens of men crawl for their lives, requesting aid only to (accidentally) plague their own brethren! Hide your maids, hide your babes! Do not aid plagued!

 

KNOWN SYMPTOMS:

  • Coughing
  • Sneezing
  • Drowsiness
  • Fatigue
  • Slugging
  • Inability to run

 

Save yourselves, dear men and women! God's punishment is upon us!

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Lorik III wonders around Vekaro, seeming extremely sickly.

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Oslo wipes his running nose with his spare crimson bandana.

 

"No.................."

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Lorik III wonders around Vekaro, seeming extremely sickly.

And thus Lorik III died

 

 

 

onto Lorik IIII 

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​Arthal Lowedge receives word of the plague, and immediately orders soldiers to dawn plague masks, to avoid getting infected.

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A battle-weary Ellir gazes out over the plains from her city of Tahn'siol. Nearby Vekaro seems to be in disarray. She shakes her head woefully. "Power brings only misery, you ignorant warlords. This truly is the price for your impudence"

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Not moments later, two men stand in a forest, a forest that exists between planes, one that might actually just be a dream... nonetheless, they stand.
One looks to the other, gilded orange and grey  robes flapping in the wind as he speaks, "So its happened?" he questions, stuffing his hands into the folds of his belt before looking off into the foggy distance... shame this realm did not support the far setting.

"Seems so." the other speaks, "Its finally become sentient, the damn plane below has become sentient and is starting to kill off the inhabitance..." he pauses for a moment, "Again."

 

Both let out a heavy sigh, the second figure taking up a small note, scribbling decisively upon it before clamping it between his hands, a sort of helmet in its place within a blink of an eye. "Here" he muttered,  extending the helm to the first, "Perhaps this'll keep them safe." With that statement the other took the helm in his hands, nodding momentarily before setting off into the woods, "Oh, and don't get sick!" the aforementioned figure shouted behind him.

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Ehieth appears uneasy. Lin'ame is dangerously close to Vekaro.

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Yulnii looks out to the city of Vekaro. It seemed the valah were having a tough time with this new sickness. However, the mali of Tahn'siol were quite the opposite.

 

"This will not end too well," she sighs, "All those valah and bortu and valah'mali will come seeking refuge. The gates must remain secure. We must remain safe. We cannot catch this... plague."

 

The Sillumir stands guard, denying those who come up to the gates.

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A request for the corpses of those strucken with plague be carefully delivered to Alras.

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A request for the corpses of those strucken with plague be carefully delivered to Alras.

 

Vsevolod will gladly deliver any plague victims to any land beyond that of Dungrim's Mouth

 

"Remember basic safety tips: Wear nyet mask, throw bodies in river when done, and any flesh that rots off body is safe to eat."

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Buubztik hastily dances through Vekaro laughing and singing as his glorious Orcish constitution makes him much more resistant to the plague than the human.

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"As may be seen on picture here, In Kaldonia the doctors don't appear."

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