THE SONS OF YAVOK

[Nooblius 5794]

High Prophet Norli, having known the ferocity of an Ireheart voting block, fears what terrors lie in wait for the Emperor who shall face an Ireheart Raiding Party. He foresees many Imperials shall mourn a great loss on the 12th of the Malin's Welcome, 55 of the Second Age.

[Macaroniminx 295]

Dawn Aphelion would look at the missive. First, she’d view it with one eye closed then the other. Finally, she’d use both.

 

“I still can’t read.”

[D3F4LT 607]

Thumbrindal looked at Ulfar through the cells as he'd ask the guard to borrow him, times international unrest made him force the Starbreaker to repair his clan's armors, sharpen the axe-heads, and repaint the shields. He himself would head towards his close relatives better known as Metalfists as he opened the gate by force with aid of his fellow Grandaxes, upon entering Thumbrindal would grab his golem limb once more that once was given to his nephew."sorre' Gimleh', Dain... dute' calls an' oi will need it mo' t'en ye will eve' will."he'd say as he would leave as soon as he came. Grandaxe banners would be hung outside their clan! 

[Rhewen 348]

Volden Frostbeard reads the letter in his office. He grins wide as he lays it neatly on his desk. He looks across to the room, his armor standing tall and spotless. 
 

He begins a full count of all available warriors within the Grand  Kingdom of Urguan, preparing for the coming storm.

[Franczhiz 4053]

Holy Sir Philip would laugh as loud as he possibly could. "The dwarves will be crushed to death as soon as the Third Brigade charges at them with their horses. What leader sends his own clan members into death? It just proves how less you could care about the lives of your own men, a common thing for heathens."

 

The Holy Sir then  yawned - marching to the Apostolic-General and his fellow Equestor-Imperators. "It seems like they do not know when to stop - Let us get the rivers render red with dwarf blood." @iFractal@Mykei@Guzr

[mika1278 2674]

An old cave dwarf with blue eyes peers over the mountainside with a grin as he sits on his darkened bedroll, his lantern shimmering in the darkest of nights before looking back to his trusty axe and shield. This axe and shield once more get a use, but against who is the question

[AnonymousAlexa 3877]

“The ‘Ceru clan stands with the Irehearts and our dwarven brethren,” proclaimed Elsil’Ceru as she meticulously sharpened her blade. “Down with the wigged men!”

[Javert 5498]

The Baron of Arenisca grins upon seeing the missive from within the walls of his city. He then turned to his two daughters and looked upon them with pride in his eyes "Mis hijas, it is time you began your collection of wigs." @Rattussmackus @ohbother1

[XOCO 502]

"What the f-" Mutters a bewildered Ezekiel Moores as a missive catches onto his leg.

 

"These damned midgets..."

[TeawithFrisket 2614]

*Frisket Monet-Vanari shakes her head, however prays for arensicas well being and victory*

 

 

*Nicole would however tilt her head and throw the stubby legs missive into the fire to increase its warmth while she sharpens her maces*

[Tide1 1592]

Liam of Blackvale sips from his flagon of ale, all the pay he could ever want. "To think we fought for these folk one time. The days of an honour-bound empire o' man lays deeply trodden in soil, and powdered wigs." 

[HIGH_FIRE 4106]

Reads the missive and shrugs, he simply cares not anymore

[MrTurtleGod 89]

Father Tarathiel would chuckle as he sat in his office, reading over the missive, and say to nobody "Ha, these funny little men. They threatened my family yet they can't even reach our door handles. How they make me laugh."  The missive was then soon tossed in the fire, watching the words burn away as the turned to nothing but ash and dust.

[Robin01_boy 269]

As Kane Redfist received the missive, he simply nodded and put the paper on his desk with a content smile. After doing so, he walked to his armory and stared at the different kinds of weapons stored in there "Looks loike ah am goin' to need some o' those" he stated, a slight smile forming on his face as he browsed through the weapons. "No imperial should tell 'em whot traditions they can follo' an' which ones they can't." he paused "We should teach 'em some respect" the man declared as he took one of his swords off the wall

[Norman Osborn 247]

Philippe Hakon van der Sainte-Blandine lay sitting on a rigid, uncomfortable cedar chair in the study of Caer der Hoden. He was well informed of the rising tensions between the nations of men and dwarves, and aptly knew that an armed confrontation was nigh certain - after all, Dwarves always fulfill their grudges, be it against a swindling merchant or a brash Emperor. Thousands were to die over a dispute between ten hot-headed skirmishers, a dispute that could have been settled with a conversation rather than a war. But was it truly about a pack of half-men being denied elven ears, or was it something more ingrained, something that could not be settled in a single meeting? The truth, Philippe knew, was that Urguan simply practiced a way of life that was diametrically opposed to that of the Empire's. And where there is disparity, there is turmoil.

 

The Baron of Caer der Hodenn was not idle during the prologue to war, he was writing letters for numerous requisitions. Food, horses, pack animals, camp supplies and other provisions needed to transport and keep his men fed. The clicking of leather shoes against the stone brick floor of the castle resounded as one of his bannermen barged into the study bearing parchment. The Footman performed a crisp salute;

 

"News from Urguan, my liege. The Irehearts have sworn revenge on the Emperor."

 

"Dismissed."

 

Even in spite of his giddiness, Philippe kept a stoic composure. His man saluted once more and exited the room. Reading the contents of the letter, Philippe smiled the sun's smile at the prospect of another feast for crows.

 

"So it begins."