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Warmonger

A MESSAGE TO URGUAN

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A soft wind was cast through the streets of Ruswicks, the cries and quips of playing children lingering in the mudded alleys. “Tag! No tag backs!” A boy said, pushing his friend before sprinting out of the alley, stomping into the courtyard looking over his shoulder. “My boy.” A man clad in steel spoke, grabbing the boys shoulder as he nearly collided into him. “Stop your games, these are times of war, arm yourself.” he rasped, detaching the sheath of his short-blade and offering it to the boy “W-Wah?” the boy muttered, looking up in awe “If you see any men, ugly and your height, remove their head from their shoulders.” the boy stumbled back, nodding shortly before hoisting up a strict salute.

 

 

 

A town crier hoisted himself upon a pion over the underground city of Ruswick, screaming out for all to hear. “BY BLADE AND BLOOD, BY BLADE AND BLOOD!” he paused, wispy brown eyes scrutinizing over the now growing crowd “WE ARE ONE, RUSWICK! THE DWARVES OF URGUAN HAVE BRUTALIZED OUR PEOPLES, STOMPED UPON THE SOULS OF OUR YOUTH AND ELDERY WITH STEEL TOES, WAR IS IMMINENT, GATHER FRIEND AND FOLK!” he stopped once more, arms raised over the crowd to emphasize the importance “WE SHALL KILL THEM ALL DARE THEY STEP FOOT INTO OUR CITY!” The crowd hoorahed and dispersed back through the city, day continuing on as usual.

 

 

 

A letter was sent to the council of Urguan, an ashen hued stamp sealing the message which a courier dropped in front of Uruguans gate, it read “FORFEIT YOUR AGGRESSIONS WITH THE UNITED STATE OF RUSWICK, OUR BLADES AND ENERGY SELDOM GRACE THE THROATS OF YOUR KIN, THOUGH YOUR RECENT DECISIONS MAY ENTAIL FURTHER AGGRESIONS! WE ARE WILLING TO NEGOTIATE THOUGH, WE SHALL NOT BEND OUR KNEE OR FORSAKE OUR SELF-INTERESTS.” The letter was signed in a sprawled cursive ‘-The councilship of Ruswick’

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Edited by NurpleDurp

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"Te'h will doie wit' throats full of blood. Onleh way for t'ese fohk'ers te'h stop spewin' fohk'en dribble." Kothak would state after hearing of the Ruswick proclamation.

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After the news came, Agnar would move to stand watch besides the gates of Ruswick, looking out across the waters, “I sure hope Urguan can show some common sense, for we too live underground and are at the far reaches of civilization. Men like us should settle disputes logically, drinking ale across a table.”

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Smiles as he signs the letter and puts down his pen "An unexpected party, but a welcome one to be sure. We will see how it works out!"

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Alifer Amice would burst into horrendous laughter at the bold proclamation before penning a response to what he was reading. “Men of Ruswick, for sanity’s sake I must beg that you make reparations and cease. This is madness, you cannot possibly win when they have the high ground!”

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Thorrak grins as he gets his war after all. “I jus’ ‘ope ah can get in on t’e action befur t’ey’re all dead!"

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Marc of White listened to this proclamation, very unhappy with this announcement. He did not want war with the Dwarves. He liked the Dwarves, in all honesty. 

 

”I wonder if that idiot was responsible for this. Why is it up to the innocent people of Ruswick to pay the price for his mistakes.” He grumbled, hoping that cooler heads would prevail in the long run. ”Bounty hunting is put on hold for the meantime, I guess. Time to sharpen my knives now. They want blood? They can gaze upon their own.” He twirled a silver throwing knife between his fingers, leaning up against a wooden post that supported the Under-City of Ruswick. 

 

Meanwhile, Captain Flynt sat above the city in his ship’s map room. A flurry of swears and curses to the leadership of Ruswick were echoed throughout the wooden hull of the Meliora. He fixed his coat and smoothed his facial hair, before turning and looking back out of the large panel windows of his ship. 

 

”I hope dis doesn’t affect me ability t’ trade wit’ d’ Dwarves now. Time t’ move me ship, and arm her up. Den punt dem short feckers ‘cross d’ ocean. Hail Ruswick!” 

Edited by KunLunKungFu

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Garrond smiles as he reads the letter “Oh how the mighty Ruswick has fallen, now led by lesser men. I once had respect for Ruswick and her people under the leadership of Bron, now it is led by a pack of fools holding onto a dream that has been failing ever since Brons disappearance”, he then proceeds to grab the letter and tosses it into the fire, placing his hands near the fire for warmth.

Edited by Garrond

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A slim, tall, hooded figure leans against a post outside of a a shop in the under city – foul smelling smoke billows from the windows as the figure takes a hit from his pipe, “Interesting.... No – foolish” he’d say in an elegant tone, his loose gaze drifting off wards into space.

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As Stealthy Skeptic acknowledges the task brought upon him as war has been declared. With no clue how he got in this position or as to why. A chance to fight puts a smile on his face. Win or lose.

 

“About freaking time something interesting happens around here. This outta be fun” saids he as he grabs gear and packing as much arrows as he can carry to battle.

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*remembers the three day war in which we single handedly bent the humans backwards and spanked with with a plank.*

*Remembers Icarnus*

 

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Oi 'ope ye loike treebranches... cuz that will be shoved up yer arse!

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A dark figure, deep down underground, hidden from the face of any descendant, hears the new about his kin going to war. A small sigh is let you by the dark figure, with one hand gripping upon his waraxe and one upon his shield. A crimosn rune would rest on his right arm, glowing beneath the clothes of the dwarf, giving him the power needed "A'...by nae means Oi s'all remain dormant 'nd nae aid me' kin."

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Gimgrimmor prepares his bagpipes with malicious intent.

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Ser Debbie Sugarfoot slowly stemmed into the stables of the Under-Realm of Urguan. As the halfling walked towards the main-gate, one of the regular guards would greet him and inform the halfling of the barbaric war deceleration from the petty fief of Ruswick. The sugarfoot would burst out into laughter with the guard, smacking his palm against the pauldron of the guard. ”Ja, mon. Don kno the tingz, init? Mon’gotcha, bruv. Dey sum jestuhs, don tink ja serous ting. Dem need to remumbah who kil’ja leaduh in Urguan.”, releasing a faint sigh. 

 

”Ja’mon will restore Bron’s legacy, mon.”

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