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Impurity Amongst You


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6 hours ago, Arkelos said:

"Or, you can take your ideas of purity, stuff them in a boot, put spikes on the boot, and shove it up your nose." spoke a now retired Archdruid, sipping cheap rum.

"Or t'eir ass uptoight basturds," Dwifar Goldhand added to the Archdruid.

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The Runelord sits back within his large chair, his feet stretch up onto the edge of the finely hand carved golden gem encrusted table. He sighs to himself as he mostly skims over various parchments his servants collect for him to read. Throwing them over his shoulder as they're deemed unimportant. Coming across this particular parchment he'd pause as he spotted the symbol, his lips began forming into a smirk, slowly widening as his eyes dashed across the letter.

 

"Knife ears"

He'd chuckle to himself as he began unbuckling his belt. Ripping his finely made pants down he'd wipe his ass with the parchment and reseal it, calling for a servant as he did his pants up once more.

 

"Do return this to the elves with great haste"

He'd joke to the servant who could clearly see the **** stained folded parchment via the backlighting of a large fireplace

 

"Right away my lord"

The young servant would chuckle in reply as he took the parchment from his lords thick ring wearing sausage like fingers. Passing by him he'd drop the parchment into the fire, the lovely aroma of **** filling the room for the remainder of the night.

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“Lat skahin clowns.” Mutters Leydluk. 

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