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Rich Woman in YOUR AREA Looking For Love!


TreeSmoothie
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Madron loaded a crossbow. “It’s time for a hunt.”

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“I hate this.” The spawn of the ancient woman, would say while cringing in shame.

 

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The Wanderer gazes his orbs across the missive shaking his heae "How many times has it been now..."as he shook his head knowing like always this wouldnt end well for his friend.

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Rosemary Gendik turns to Aleksi ( @CanadaMatt ) “isn’t this your biological mother? I guess you will have 2 stepdads now.” She cringes seeing the frankly desperate seeming advert.

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An elven woman wishes... actually, she doesn't wish she were human nor a man. She simply wishes she fit some of the criteria. "Maybe some other day."

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Aubergine rubs his hands eagerly at the thought of the dowager's wealth and titles. A letter is quickly dispatched from the D'Glaze Tavern in San Luciano City:

 

"Dear Viktoriya Tsecsar,

 

    I have read your poster, and I am writing this letter to express my interest in you. I am a human man of marriageable age, whole of mind and body, stably employed as a successful businessman, and Commissioner of the Savoy Wrestling Federation. Have you ever considered wrestling, as a woman of such powerful stature? You would make a huge impression in the ring. I'm talking thousands of minas in royalties and associated income. Of course you are already independently wealthy, but if you have never heard a crowd cheer as you pin another man to the ground and squeeze some of the life out of him - well, I would not dare to presume you haven't. If you have, you would know as well as I that it is an invigorating feeling. Enough to end a midlife crisis.

 

    If you were to come to the balmy southern shores of Savoy, I could promise you near-instant celebrity. The men of this GODforsaken island have a peculiar fascination with powerful women, and a love of all things martial and Canonist. Razing heathen villages, crucifying heathen women, and separating heathen enfants from their enfeebled lying-in heathen mothers are all beloved Savoyard pastimes. The Prince may even offer you a title. Have you ever wanted to call yourself a Duchess? I think it fits you. Fame and fortune aside, I believe you would enjoy life here, and I could provide accommodations and employment for anyone you decide to bring along; children, past or current husbands, et cetera. I eagerly wait a reply, and I thank you in advance for your consideration.

 

Yours in anticipation,

Aubergine de la Baltas"

 

 

 

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More than a decade had passed since The Burned Man had borne witness to the Dame's fall. In the wake of his Father's departure, he was left with many questions; among these was the fate of Viktoriya. Where did she go after that fateful day? How did she - no, how could she forsake Him like this?  What undermined all those faithful, painful years of dedication? But it meant naught; for along the streets of Providence and Karosgrad, she wasn't found. And so, the old man forgot about her, for a while. In passing, he'd occasionally glance up at the portrait he'd salvaged from the old house - one painted long before he was born, and one that would most likely outlive him.

Archimedes DeFont parted his bandages, taking another meaningless sip of Earl Grey tea. As he did, he lay his empty eyes upon the portrait of the old Lieutenant, the old Captain - the old Knight. "You... somehow, you knew from the start... How?" he asked aloud. But no one answered. He was only met with the coldness that permeated his room - scraped the doors of he and his daughter's bedrooms. "...Perhaps it is best to leave some questions unanswered, then." It was a step in the right direction - towards resolution or resolve, he did not know. Lazily did he stretch, letting some of the tea fall out and stain the floor below him. "Adrienne won't mind. Hopefully."

 

As was custom for him, he went about his nightly stroll. The moon was vibrant tonight, though he didn't notice. What he did notice was a flyer posted to the front of the sign down the path.

 

"Oh, you've got to be ******* kidding me!"

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"I really ******* hate this." A human with glasses and brown hair says.

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Garret Darkwood looks over the missive sighing shaking his head "What has Captain Viktoria doing?" The now single, lonely Baron of Darkwood returns to grieving the loss of his Grandfather. Realizing that maybe he indeed needs love in his life.

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1 hour ago, Treshure said:

An elf desperately sends letters to Crumena.

The author of the letter projectile vomits 'midst rereading her masterpiece. How peculiar.

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