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DECLARATION OF WAR | Crimes of Urguan


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Relyk Grimgold reads the declaration silently within his home. Upon finishing he sighs and walks out the door towards the clan forge. He engages the bellows as he feeds the forge coal; the flames dance across his eyes and glint off his mask as he picks up his smithing hammer once again.

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"Fadda, da foak 'appened? Ye insane noaw or wat?" murmurs Khenarlum Doomforged "Ah 'ope t'ey dunnae 'ang yeh for dat..."

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Bakir Ireheat looked over the missive with a frown, his frown then turning into a face of anger, sending a message out to those in Urguan and to especially Draakopf "Despite all my help, the battles we fought together and the blood we both share. You declare war on not only Urguan but the Kin of Yavok? You are a fool, I will not take pleasure in taking my axe up against you. But I personally will lead the armies of Urguan against you if you wish to carry out such a plan, a plan that is made out of childish and dishonor. I formally abolish The Blackstone Pact with your clan and anyone who follows Draakopf. I extend my hand to those of Doomforge descent and Urir blood to choose honor and do not follow my mad cousin. Bakir then picked up his axe before striding to the legion hall to consult with his generals. 

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Clan Father Hekkaes Goldhand nods to the missive from his resort, saying to himself "Finalle' sum actiun." finishing by taking a sip from his piña colada.

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The Greybeard dwarf, Agnar Ireheart, hears of the news as he'd scoff at the idiots response to being banned from running for Grand King.

Ye' want to be Grand King yet ye' wish to kill ye' own dwed and commit the highest of crimes in our dwarven code like those of Ulrah to be King. T'is s'ows no strength but pure weakness. A Grand King doesn't commit the crime of murder towards fellow dwed, a Grand King stands by our dwarven law of being an elective monarchy not against it, and a Grand King stands by its fellow dwed. Ye' are nothing but a pathetic lonely dwed with no intelligence in 'em to comprehend the crime ye' wish to commit.  Draakopf 'The Fool'

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"Don't the Doomforge have a long history of supporting Iblees and all manners of evil beings?" Asked Father Basil.

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Bori Orckin gives a shout of exasperation, crumbling up the parchment before tearing it to pieces "Ye kiddin' meh!? One thing teh wan' teh kill orcs, another yer own kin!"

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Ferek sits in his office in Karosgrad, reading over the declaration. As he finishes, he looks back at the grand painting of the Battle of Jornheim Fields that hangs behind his chair. He chuckles slightly to himself, "Ah've seen 'tis storeh' behfore... ahn ah know 'ow 'et'll end"

 

The dwed would then go back to writing his next book.

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Levian'Tol Grandaxe frowns as he reads over the missives laid out infront of him. One of Vortice and the other of Draakopf. His frown slowly twists upwards in a malicious sort of way. "Seems t'ere es no place fer boredom an peace fer teh old Grand King yet." He would slide the armor made for his kingship on and move towards the door. "Toime ta go dragon 'untin."

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Upon a journey vast, a young dwed by the name of Porkpie Grandaxe began to read. His eyes darting from word to word. Brows furrowing at each letter. Whether it was confusion by literature, or by topic, was unknown. However a question soon brewed at the tip of his tounge. The words directed towards the woodland creatures around him. "W'os tuh fook is dis peep?" 

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      Abraham sweats, nervous about how the declaration of war is going to affect his tasks in the region, since he was assigned to aid Urguan in a single task of great effort. ".... Who do I report to for my signature?" He lofts a brow, wondering who the hell he has to go to. "I think it should go to the non-doomforge, wouldn't want to introduce dark elven blood.." The man chuckled to himself, crutching along the road as he spoke to himself about his knighthood trials.

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Bryldryn Grandaxe promptly goes to the lady's room after reading the missive to cleanse her eyes for good 15 minutes.

 

 

Stiorra Frostbeard takes good hour to regain her composure after going into a violent fit of laughter after reading the missive. 

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