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A Letter | The Buckriders


Franczhiz
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[!] A horde of birds would be flying over the capital of each Canonist city or settlement, dropping letters on which human eyes are attached, which would suit the message of this letter. [!]

 

THE BUCKRIDERS

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You may not see us, but we see you, we watch every step you make into the forests of your Empire or Kingdom, as we ride through the nightsky with our commander Iblees. Your days have been counted. Keep an eye on the nightsky when you are outside, you may see us ride upon our goats gifted by the Daemons who carry these dead bodies back to where they belong, the Void.

 

We claim the murder of tons of people, our existance, is the reason why you do not see these people anymore. Only us know, where they are, and where they are captured. You may curse us, if that pleases you, but know if you do, we shall ride into your residence and kill anyone who is dear to you, and take their miserable souls back into the Void. Your God, can not protect you against us, we are the standing army of our Master, Iblees.

 

You all, shall be paying for the blood that has been spilled due to your pride. You either acknowledge our existance, or we shall burn your properties as we burn the uncountable bodies that we took from the graves and attached their eyes to each letter.

 

Keep an eye on the nightsky, as we are always present.

We are not recognized in the light, but surely recognized in the dark nightsky,

 

We are watching you.

 

 

Yours sincerly,

 

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Edited by sashimichopped
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Angr Ireheart would be dining at the tavern in Haense, worn out from his months of travels. After tearing into his fried rat stick, he'd grab at his napkins to wipe the grease and butter from his mouth. He'd wince a little, pulling back his hand to find he had accidently picked up this letter. "'Oleh fock, t'as ah lot ov edge..." He'd comment, wiping a bit of blood from the paper cut on his lip.

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Aghuid Ireheart sat in the tavern of Norland. Reading this letter he found pinned to a wall. He smacked his lips on the succulent, juicy, grease dripping duck he had ordered. Bits of duck and juice splashed onto the paper as he sloppily ate. Washing it down with a hillbilly shot of Ireheart Moonshine “Wow, ah can we read too well but even ah k ow dis is a load o’ bull Shiite. 10 mina dis guy swings a kehtana ‘roond and laughs when ‘es in pain.” The dwed cringes once at the pointless paper before crumbling it up and tossing it into the fire. It seemed it was only good for kindling

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Carlos Mendez rolled his eyes at the letter, travelling down a street in Osanora, he tossed it into an alleyway. Hoping no one would find the edgy piece again.

 

 

Luka Bishop bursts into hysterical laughter as he read over the letter, shortly slipping it into his pocket.

 

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Charles Walker picks up one such letter while patrolling, scoffs, and then throws it into a nearby trashbin

"flying goats, what will they come up with next I wonder, insane ramblings are easier to deal with than the 4 different serial killers around the city at least" he mutters

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Upon the nearest viable surface to that 'Black Captain,' a horrific missive would find itself engraved, carved by forces from beyond the veil 'twixt the living world, and that of the here-after. 

 

"False riders claiming false murders... Empty words and empty hearts, you cry for attention from the very Father you cast aside. 

 

Pray for forgiveness, for Exalted Owyn has none for thee."

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The High Keeper, who had managed to acquire a copy of the missive from a traveler, had a pleasant laugh before she then filed her copy into a folder labeled 'Comedically Edgy Letters'.

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Ursula Vasović chuckled as she hurled the letter into the fire. "One would think the great deceiver would choose someone who knew how to use proper punctuation."

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Lynette Stewart remarks, upon reading the flyer, "I would hope," she places it into her bedside drawer for future reference, "That whichever child wrote this, knows what they are referencing. However, I will keep this in mind and keep my eyes on the sky I suppose." 

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Thomas Talbot ponders the usage of the word “edgy” describing this piece of literature by those who artificially socialize, politic, and conduct lust in the mortal descendants plane.

 

He celebrates the Buckriders, much preferring conflict with Daemon Spawn to conflict with the local taxman. 

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