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From the Sons and Daughters of Urguan


Terry
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The Archchancellor receives the ultimatum while taking her morning tea. She addresses her Vice-Chancellor, "Ulfric's beard will make fine material for my brother's coronation wig, don't you think?" @Minuvas

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The sound of shrieking metal produced a morbid melody as the head of the tyrant elfess bobbed along feverishly in its hymn, hands working away at small metallic gears as she screwed together pieces of scrap metal, lips fastened in a grin. The Architect seemed to have taken a break from the chaos of designing and co-supervision the reconstruction of Oren, allowing all the pent energy to drain into her craft, foot tapping. "I feel a storm brewing." 

Edited by DahStalker
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The Lord Chancellor frowns talking to his colleague Darek, "It saddens me that the it has come to this, I guess I'll get you an Orenian wig for your birthday."

Edited by gandalfo
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A shrouded 'ker sits in his forge. Ruminating. Brandishing his blade. Turning his head towards the crackadonk bodyparts piled up beside him. 

 

"I finally have a use for this. Horen's children shall pay."


There yonder a noise could be heard from Elysium. Biconical crystals amounted glowing upon the steps into the chancery. Hammer striking anvil as the 'ker set to work.

 

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The Grand Architect Darek Irongrinder stands beside his cousin Atandt, covered in dust from recent events.

 

"Aye i wish for ah throne of wigs for moi birthday!"

 

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Volden Frostbeard sings a low dirge as he sharpens his axe, remembering the many Grudges left from ages past. Left unanswered by forgotten warriors of old. He eyes the blade, then peering to the missive delivered by a courier. 

 

"T'at's focken roight" he exclaims, then hones his axe even sharper.

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Iscesi scans down the missive, a grin growing wide across his face. "Fools, the Empire - challenging the Kingdom of Urguan will be soon proven their fatal mistake" He'd comment to the last few of the Velulaeionn clan, laying the scroll down atop his White Sun Company crafted table.

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A young Mali sat at his desk, reading the missive with a smile. As he read the last sentence, he began to chuckle.

 

"Tis almost midnight Llirs!" 

 

As he bellows, a small group surrounding him cheers, ready for the possible conflict, and possible revenge.

Edited by Pancho
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Philip Aurelian currently undergoing shock from the sudden return of his son, Philip Amadeus would look at hte missive of war from the Dwarves, only to pause for a moment... "**** the dwarves." would say Philip Aurelian to his wife Charlotte Augusta. @MunaZaldrizoti

Edited by ErikAzog
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"They will comply," proclaimed the head of 'Ceru from the confines of her tower situated upon the beautiful mountains of the Grand Kingdom. "Or they will face my blade." She fell silent for a long moment as she recalled the glorious victories she had won against the Imperials throughout the years. 

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Henry Penton yawns as he examines the document. He spoke to an aide near him, “we won’t have to spend nearly as much on this conflict as the Nordling War. The walls will only need to be three feet tall and it’ll make it impossible for the half-men to see over!” Then the old man cackled at his own joke, bumbling into a rumbling cough not soon after.

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The Silver Lubba stands atop the Urguani mountains with his banner in hand looking out over the valleys below, behind him a group of mercenaries can be found enjoying a campfire as they ate together, he looked back towards them as he receives the missive "Raise yer banners lads, break time's over."

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The Greybeard dwarf, Agnar Ireheart, Commander of the Legion smiles upon the Grand King's response

D'e Orenians think d'at we are push overs by attackin' me own kin wit' one being me own great-nep'ew. D'ey s'all pay for d'is and Urguan, as always, will come out victorious.

Edited by Legoboy7984
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