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A Response to the Dwarven Declaration


BenevolentManacles

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Wynanya again reviewed the declarations, now from a table in the safety of Ephesius's tavern. She might've sighed, and looked to friends and family alike; thought of her name, recently signed on the reserves' list with so many others, and of her cousin's own ears, threatened before this all got so far gone. 

 

"Well," she said, stirring a glass of suddenly too-weak tea. "This whole reception is starting to feel in rather poor taste."

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Caius Tiberius de Ravensburg would smile "Corrupts Canonist? That's funny, we aren't the ones who plow our own cousin, we don't allow knife-ears in positions of power, Nor do we ever think about letting a half-breed live. If anyone is a corrupt canonist it is those who are in that so called Empire." he'd state reading the missive" Now we shall have our Revenge, My Prince." he'd state to his cousin-in-law Prince Leopold @Dogged

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"War! Can I go to war, buba?" Anna Ulyssa illumed at the thought of open battle with the vocalizations of a thick Ulyssan accent, her training sword smacking the supporting pillars of the carriage which transported the returned Furnestock household across the expanse of the Savoyard sands. "I have never seen a dwarf, and I would like to see one, and talk to it. So maybe I shouldn't fight them. But, Ata did tell me fighting is the quickest way to learn about someone!" She'd pause briefly, "And Ata knows everything about everything. Let me tell you about how much he knows..." And like that, the Furnestock carriage was alit with the ramblings of an overactive little girl.

 

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On a distant yet eerily close road, Claude Élisabeth heard of the incoming conflict from the chatter of outside travellers. Her nose- crooked with enmity -wrinkled at the thought, her arms encasing her eldest within a matronly clutch. "May GOD lead his faithful to whatever path he deems necessary. Amen."

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"Needless bloodshed, all because some stupid clan does nae want tae give up their violent traditions! UGH! Why do they have tae ruin et for all of us?" laments a dwed paladin, tears welling in her eyes as she peered across the room at her loved ones. "I'll be damned if anyone, Urguanites or Orenians, will e'er try tae hurt us."

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Kristofer Vuiller reads the news from his family's study. He sighs, throwing the paper across the table and crossing his arms. He taps his leg repeatedly, "This is a shame. The Dwarves, in general, are a god lot. I can't believe it's come down to this over the actions of the Irehearts alone."

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Glod Reads the official declaration: "A' lon' as be civiliia's ge' harme'. I'll ki' any fecker, be he dwed or man if 'e spill' innocen' blood.

I 'ope Ter huma's get Ter justi' i' we reall' did commi' tose crimes.

 

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Sir Ledicort d'Azor would remain ill in his bed as he would cough into a silk rag. His lungs would remain weakened from his sickness as he looked towards his aid -- upon reading the parchment. "Shall the Empire arise to any threat. God willing -- the righteous shall prevail." 

 

 

Peter Augustus of House Novellen would remain seated  next to his sisters as he would place small soldiers before one another, the armies would stand before one another as he would slowly form a flank to the backside of his foe. "Never underestimate me. Never underestimate the EMPIRE!!!!" He would scream. 

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11 minutes ago, amyselia said:

"War! Can I go to war, baba?" Anna Ulyssa illumed at the thought of open battle with the vocalizations of a thick Ulyssan accent, her training sword smacking the supporting pillars of the carriage which transported the returned Furnestock household to the court of the Prince of Savoy. "I have never seen a dwarf, and I would like to see one, and talk to it. So maybe I shouldn't fight them. But, Ata did tell me fighting is the quickest way to learn about someone!" She'd pause briefly, "And Ata knows everything about everything. Let me tell you about how much he knows..." And like that, the Furnestock carriage was alit with the ramblings of an overactive little girl.

 

__________________

 

On a distant yet eerily close road, Claude Élisabeth heard of the incoming conflict from the chatter of outside travellers. Her nose- crooked with enmity -wrinkled at the thought, her arms encasing her eldest within a matronly clutch. "May GOD lead his faithful to whatever path he deems necessary. Amen."

 

Bro Ireheart picks up a sword, pointing it at the young Imperial's face - himself being a height similar to that of the girl.

"Dunnae underestimate us. . . Narvak oz Urguan!!!" 

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Upon receiving the letter from her cousin and Lord Palatine @HerodMargot Baruch would begrudgingly pack her belongings, as well as allocating any busts and items of importance from within the Haeseni embassy in Oren to the Ayrian servants which reside in the embassy along with her. “Time t’ go home.” She sighed as her escort of BSK soldiers arrived to return her to her home nation safely. 

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Father Markos would be sitting in his study in Savoy reading the missive, a feeling of dread falls upon him as he then falls to his knees in prayer "May God see a quick resolution to this conflict, may he guide all to a just end" Father Markos then looks out onto the streets of Savoy and looks to the church "I best make preperations to have the church host a hospital" 

 

Squire Victor Vuiller reads the missive and signs the Lorraine "They've chosen to threaten my Grandpapa, they've chosen to threaten my home, and my family. Tried to kill them, they shall be repaid ten fold!"

 

 

 

 

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27 minutes ago, Pompadour said:

“Sooooo… can I still have my feast?” 
The Baroness de Rosius asked her husband in a somewhat stoic tone.

 

The Baron de Rosius looked to his wife in awe then turned back to his wardrobe and continued to toss clothes into his briefcase. "You amaze me." He mumbled as he took a seat before his desk and began to draft a letter to the citizens of Redenford..

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Lukas Castile simply smiled. He counted on his fingers how rich he will be after handing in hundreds of Orenian heads for fifty mina a head, twenty more if it still had the wig on it!

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Alaric began to count the number of Azhl filled shells that could be lobbed over the walls of Providence. Tabulating the next one in a journal, he idly remarked. “No crimes like warcrimes.”

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Ricky the ageing O'Rourke would smudge out his Cigar with a sigh from the top of the tower he spent most of his time in retirement at standing up "Fuckin cave pricks" he would grumble from under his breath looking around slightly "Son of a ***** where is my armor" he says trudging off to find it

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"Honestly, Josie! I've never seen such a speedy 90 year old." A brief grin washed over Anne Caroline's features - though it did falter soon enough upon reading the contents of her imperial father's letter. A shaky sigh escaped her as she moved up a hand to sign the Lorraine 'pon herself. Again she turned to her older sister - the Archchancellor and added: "ORENIA AUT MORTEM." @VIROS

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