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A Response to the Dwarven Declaration


BenevolentManacles

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"OREEEEEENNNNNN AUT MORTTTTTEEEEMMMMMM"

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The Duchess of Adria would let free a heavy sigh, "I pray this is over by Tuvmas, atleast. The hubris of Urguan will not spoil our holiday season!"

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The Grand King walks to meet with his Grand Marshal.

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Arthur Galbraith would stand on the bastion end of the providence wall sipping some good ol fashion Tea staring off towards the direction Urguan laughing in his very posh British accent " Just in time for winter, I wonder if dwarven beards will make a nice scarf" He would then continue his posh British Laughter. 

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he would read the emperor's reply well using the massive from Urguan as firewood "These Dwarfs March into our lands, Attack our citizens, Bandit our Bridges and think we are the evil ones" he would laugh "pathetic!" he would yell "after you tried to take my life on our lands the other day! you dare make demands of us!" he would stands and go to sharpen his swords well mumbling "just remember you asked for this"

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𝔍𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔞 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔅𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔯 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔫𝔳𝔬𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔯𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔩𝔞𝔫 ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔰 "𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆' 𝖜𝖔𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐. 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓 𝖙'𝖊𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖞 𝕶𝖏𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖘 𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕯𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖒'𝖘 𝖋𝖚𝖗𝖞"

 

"𝕹𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖆𝖐 𝖔𝖟 𝕶𝖏𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖘! 𝕹𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖆𝖐 𝖔𝖟 𝖀𝖗𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖓!"

"ᚾᚨᚱᚡᚨᚴ ᛟᛉ ᚴᛃᛖᛚᛚᛟᛋ ᚾᚨᚱᚡᚨᚴ ᛟᛉ ᚢᚱᚷᚢᚨᚾ"

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Captain Ezekiel Moores would stroke his beard calmly, a relaxed back pressed against a carved wooden dining chair. The officer's gaze would drift down the mess hall, carefully inspecting the face of each of his brigadiers. Burnt, scarred, tested by war. Each man had earned a place at Ezekiel's table through pain, grit, and sacrifice, and only death itself could separate the mighty men of the Fourth Brigade from their seats. 

 

The Captain raised his fist, and then brought it down onto the table, a resonating bang ridding the room of chatter. 
 

"Death and Glory!" He roars, thrusting his tankard into the air.

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Joseph d'Azor let out a long sigh as he looked around his now torn out home with tired eyes, more tired than they had been ever before, reading the missive seemed to resume the faintest glimmer in his eyes as he folded the missive tucking it away. "Another war....lets make this one...SHORT..."

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Commander Agnar Ireheart sharpens his blade.

Ah've killed t'ousands of Orenian soldiers in me life and possibly ye' own ancestors in d'ese past Urguan-Oren wars. D'is war will be d'e same. See ye' soon old man...

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The Lord Palatine of Hanseti Ruska smiles in his office, he thinks to himself this is the culmination of many years of tension finally giving in to a war, he begins penning a letter to his cousin, The Ambassador of Oren @Mady, recalling her for safety reasons.

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An Illatian is shocked at the swift response "Golly, that'a was fast! I can't comment belligerently on all of this news fast enough!" lamented he, as he returned home from a days work and began to forage through the cupboards and closets "Gracia!" He'd yell "Where do we keep our armour?"

 

@Monaaa

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The heat of the south sung down on Victoria's flesh as she dug her toes into the sand, the crystal blue waves of the ocean dancing before her eyes. It was a stressful week for the youth. However her mind was still in the past, back to the chess game.
 

16th of Horen's Calling. . .

The bishop had given up the chase. Its topaz figure retreated back behind the line of black pawns mounted across from the white phalanx. The rook took a sigh of relief yet it did not last for long as the turn shifted. From behind the lines came forth a sable rook to meet its white counterpart. Both of the courtiers eyes darted towards the east side of the board, a duel had begun.

 

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