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The Great Tavern Raid of '89 (Gladewynn Gang goes to Caras Eldar)

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The day was an average one, however bleak it can be in the barren capital of the Dominion of Malin. There were few people in sight and the doors were pushed open. It was a roving warband sent from Gladewynn that had arrived that day in search of merrymaking and good fortunes. They attempted to steal a boat but a mystical force had intervened and left them stranded amidst the sea. So they made it back to the city astride canoes and clambered up over the stone walls to reenter the city from the harbor and they reached the tavern. Inside the pots and pans were rusted, a half-full goblet sat on the table rotting from disuse. An Avchirran grasped the goblet and poured out the murky contents with disdain, contemplating why there was no bartender to be found.

 

There was no short amount of action and befuddlement. In horror, the homunculus Quavinir stared at the Prince of the Alders and his merry band. He ran off and fled shortly thereafter as the band filled the tavern and stole every single bottle of lager they could find. In joy they passed out free drinks to the few denizens of the Woodlands that yet remained at that hour, the elves looked on at the “barbarous and unfathomable raiders” as they passed out mead to all. Bored, the band began to leave and then the homunculus came close – an opportunity too good to pass up. Kairn swung his hammer and sent the homunculus’ nonexistent spirit back to hell, though it could be assumed he likely woke up later with the assistance of temple monks.

 

Needless to say, the citizens would see that the clinic’s windows were shattered from a drunk night out on the town. The alcoholic contents of the tavern would be missing and meat patties from the freezer would be strewn all along the ground. It must have been quite the sight to bear witness to when the guards found Quavinir’s skull nailed to the noticeboard outside the tavern with a letter hastily scrawled and attached to it.

 

”Get rid of the homunculus steward or we will be back. The guilty of this city remained seated within... It must be purged. The good men and women of this city, or formerly of this city, will not stand for such cretin bearing council seats and authority any longer. With the pace of a beating heart, we bid you adieu.”

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The incident and note was given to the resigned Mortal Queen; her absence interrupted as she returned from a small vacation of some sort.

 

“Dark magi and failed thieves trying to make demands of the state. Aspects.” She muttered in response before moving to assist with the repairs. (Edit) Though just as she began to move, Evar’tir reported the stone boat was stolen. “Cerridwen’s ****.” She cussed under her breath. “That was a good boat.”

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Quigo Torena is still waiting for that dominionite kiss to his ring

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Heavy squints were had that day, by good ‘ol Quavinir

he had nearly lost his life, his death had felt quite near.

 

From the cloud temple, he had time to hear it.

He felt confusion in his soul, and well existant spirit.

 

He read the note, and saw the boat, that Gladewyn had tried to steal.

He saw the clinic, and felt a cynic, that there might be too much to heal.

 

But brigands be, as one may see, forsight is that they lack.

For Quavinir knew, that it was true. ‘King’ Kairn, was just a hack.

 

As all could see, that it may be, Quav was an afterthought

They bore no reason, just acts of treason, and a useless battle was fought.

 

For when they worked, no qualms had lurked, and no complaints had Kairn raised.

But now requiring a blame, they sought a source to defame, yet Quavinir was rather unfazed.

 

For this trap he would not fall, he would not answer this stupid call, Quavinir would be no sucker.

Retribution would come, not as quick as for some, but someday for Kairn, that motherf!@#er

 

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Dwyn listens to the shouts of the Gladewynn men, grimacing slightly in his personal grove and waiting for the violent drunks to leave.

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Miklaeil Silma strode into town some time after the supposed ‘merry band’ had come through. The Keeper’s constant smile faltered immediately upon hearing of what had happened, even further upon hearing who had done it. Later, he would return home to fall  upon his couch with his rear and lean forward upon his knees to stare into the flames of his fireplace, “So far we have fallen.”

Edited by ThumperJack

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Cyrene would make a sour face as she’d look to her juice box, kicking her feet up onto the table nearby, before taking a sip. “Poor Quavinir. Why can’t the world just have peace? That’d be much better.” 

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