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DENUNCIATION OF THE MURDERERS FROLICKING IN THE ELVENESSI PENINSULA


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REX Zhot'Rax sat in the capital of Krug's people. The absolute mountain of a blue uruk was getting his tusks polished by one of his slaves as another one read the missive out to Zhot.  One with a keen eye could notice a brand new elven ear necklace around his veiny neck, the orc did certaintly not forget the attack on his own life in The Elvenesse.

 

"Ah BARGAIN!" He simply giggled.

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"To steal a son from the Green Wizard.. what fools." -RdS

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Evar'tir Oranor of the line of Mithras, recently dubbed 'Tyrant' by the Usurper regards the missive with a deep sigh. With conviction, he utters forth a reminiscent phrase: "I hate the elves."

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A certain mousey-haired elfess sharpens her blade in the forge of Camlannen, grieving the loss of her partner. She bears freshly made markings of the Ithelanen; her set of dark plated armor laying at the ready nearby. - "His life was worth a thousand of theirs." Lylianth utters.

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Torok nods upon reading the missive, "An unjust murder... and the Old Man still wishes for peace, why do they not take it?" He'd lay on his back, the war incoming, "I hope my Haelun and her family heed my grandfather's words."

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Within the depths of their sodden crypt, a spirit seethed. No blood spilt would amass to undo what had been done — yet still, vengeance would be satisfied.

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Many years had passed since Rosalia had spoken to or even seen Vulen. The Aegrothond forge in Arcas was the last time she remembered. The memory of the man introducing himself to her and offering to teach her to forge was clear in her mind. The necklace they never got to finish was something she still had. This was the first she'd heard of the man's death, and she wept, the unfinished necklace laying on her bedside table, for the death of a man she had considered her friend.

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A hungry vampire rubs her hands together at the thought of an intraracial war.

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The thought of imminent warfare enthralled Andria. She was determined to make the Tahorran and their allies pay with their lives. First, however, she intended to embark upon an indimidation mission to the capital of the 'ame...

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Iratus reads the missive with a nod, taking some time before he quietly spoke to himself.  "When their city has burned and they are all dead I will rest."

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"This one has lived far too long." remarked Avius.

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An elder Ithelanen stirs in ancient forests, his spirit roused at the promise of warfare again.

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From within the Kingdom of Crows, an Elfess would find tears streaking down her cheeks at the text she read; not for the Mali of Elvenesse, nae, but for a man whom she once sought the hand of, who she regarded dearly as both friend and subject of her affections. Collapsing to the floor of her room as the missive fluttered off, she would pull her knees close to her chest and cry. Both for love long since gone, and a friend wrongfully slain by those she had grown to despise.

 

"Velulei y nae ilumeh, Vulen... You shouldn't have gone... not like this."

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