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THE WICKEDNESS OF THE IMPERIAL "ELVES"


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Maeyrn looked over this missive with a small smile upon her features, "Finally.. Another shows themselves. I hope to find this Mali." She then took a step away as she moved out of the city she found herself in, and returned with in the forests, the wild winds filling her lungs as she thought to herself the possibilities that could unfold, to show all children of Mali the ways of yore succeeded with reason, her kin remains divided, attempting to emulate Valah kind, fighting over petty matters, no care for others outside their own dogma or family, all one had to do was look upon most of the Elven Nations that once stood, fell into stagnation and crumbled under the weight of their own fatty greed. "We need to display the power of our kin united, and soon, all will be perfectly balanced once more."

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6 minutes ago, Goon said:

An Illatian man concurred, nodding his head, "This elf has been brave enough to say what everyone has thought. Perhaps he is one of the good ones." Content, the man smiled the man's smile- awaiting the results of the impending elven inquisition.

 

An Illatian woman peered over her kin's shoulder as he sat, too chuckling alongside the man. "Surely this Malin-ite is one of the good ones."

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"Guess there ain't any problems with Nord Elves, eh?" Ellenore Eiriksson glances about.

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Sparticus Tundrak, scion of an old Fennic Prince, readies his arms and banners to resolve this abhorrent radicalization of Elven culture!

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A figure in a skeletal helmet, the remains of a bygone era, took time to consider the words of each statement.

 

"Fools all. Death creeps, widows weep, and the trees sing their soft lullabies. Of death, emancipation, decay. Portentous, ebbing decadence."

 

With a laugh that sounded like the rattling of a metal cage, the tall figure bounded along the beaten path. A path trodden for centuries from nation to nation, from slavery to emancipation.

 

"The trees do sing to me. Goodbye, Elf-kin. Kill one another as always. An Eleventh Empire, another Interstice; where irregular meets the mundane, where men and women die and their souls move on and their bodies become mulch. Such is the way for all who play this trifling game."

 

With his mad monologue at an end,

 

Kairn sat beneath a great bough and smoked his cactus green cigar.

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Amdrac Livarai de Melphestaus would look upon the massive with disdain, "Fools all of them, thinking they can so easily walk into Imperial territory and hurt Imperial citizens." he would then smile slightly, "Well, if they do try, I will enjoy seeing them be crushed one after another by the empire, what fools." he would then throw the massive away and walk off back into his room to continue his studies.

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"Mm." Began he, adjusting that hat which sat idly upon his head. "Kind folk, they seemed." - "Naive, if anything." Alas, he would continue on, making a note of those names listed.

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"Oh! A most scathing piece!" Lieutenant Ezekiel Moores chortles heartily, before tossing it into his hearth, letting its roaring flames swallow the missive up. "God Bless the Imperial Elves, nonetheless."

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Adeline de Sarkozy frowns as the missive comes to her attention. Her heart would start racing as one of the names appear very familiar. Immediately, she gathers her means of defense and hastens out of her home and sets on the road, determination and worry written all over her features.

Edited by Otakuu
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Father Fiodor frowned at the missive as it found its way to him by means of an acolyte bringing such to his attention. "All bark and no bite." He convinced himself, dismissing him.

 

Spoiler

Lovely post ngl

 

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4 hours ago, XOCO said:

"Oh! A most scathing piece!" Lieutenant Ezekiel Moores chortles heartily, before tossing it into his hearth, letting its roaring flames swallow the missive up. "God Bless the Imperial Elves, nonetheless."

Captain Erik Othaman snickered as he raised a tankard of Carrion Black to lips, letting out a sigh. Leaning back in his chair, he'd simply nod at his Lieutenant's words before clearing his throat.

"These fools haven't the foggiest idea of what they're doing aside from rattling their sabres... or rather magic branches... as loud as possible. When push comes to shove, I have doubts on their willingness to act out their cruelest fantasies."

"Though should they stop putting on that damned silly face paint and attempt to harm our citizens, they will find themselves caught between the never-ending ranks of the Imperial State Army. I shall personally lead the 4th Brigade on an ear-collection campaign should these radicals grow a pair."

 

"The ball is in their court... and I think they will drop it."

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Garret Darkwood polishes his mace bloodied from the enemies of the Empire "Another kill will be a fine addition to my collection" Garret Darkwood states, ready to go after those who wrote the missive against Imperial Elves on Imperial Orders "Send me in" Garret then states

 

 

 

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"DE WHITE ROSE DEED NOTING WRONG!" shouts dementia ridden Father Paco in a room he thought was full of elves, only to actually be by himself with the Holy Word.

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6 hours ago, grnappa said:

Captain Erik Othaman snickered as he raised a tankard of Carrion Black to lips, letting out a sigh. Leaning back in his chair, he'd simply nod at his Lieutenant's words before clearing his throat.

"These fools haven't the foggiest idea of what they're doing aside from rattling their sabres... or rather magic branches... as loud as possible. When push comes to shove, I have doubts on their willingness to act out their cruelest fantasies."

"Though should they stop putting on that damned silly face paint and attempt to harm our citizens, they will find themselves caught between the never-ending ranks of the Imperial State Army. I shall personally lead the 4th Brigade on an ear-collection campaign should these radicals grow a pair."

 

"The ball is in their court... and I think they will drop it."

 

The Lieutenant would laugh harder yet at the notion of lopping off their ears, picking up a dagger from his office desk and inspecting its sharpness,

 

"Dare I say it, but I do believe Mrs Othaman deserves a new necklace, eh Captain?"

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"Mm. They don't make imperial elves like they used to. Then again, no one can compare to the original." Says Mithius 'The OG Imperial Elf' Dalma, smugly, with his hands busy with ledgers.

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