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Duncan's Journal- The Sheep War


HIGH_FIRE

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THIS IS AN ENTRY IN DUNCAN'S JOURNAL, NOBODY ASIDES DUNCAN KNOWS IT IRP, SO REMEMBER SILLY, NOT METAGAMING

 

To whom may read this-

 

It is 19th of Owyn's Flame, and I am writing in my journal for the first time in many years. The reason I am choosing to write here is because, somehow, and I'm not quite sure how, but I've started a war...

 

This Ireheart Clan has attacked people, they have killed innocents and even threatened my child. You'd think that them doing that was likely to cause a war, but it was not. To my utter shock, when I attempted to stab a ram one of them were on to arrest them for their crimes, they escaped and a war was begun.

 

They eventually came to Oren to talk peace, only to threaten my life and scream for my head. They even refused to admit the crimes they have commited against Oren! This is perhaps the stupidest war I have heard of- a war over a sheep.

 

It seems to me that my previous conception of dwarves, as intelligent master-crafters and technological geniuses, was in fact wrong. They are seemingly nothing more than overly hubristic hairballs, with what I'm told is little man syndrome. I find it hilarious that they have such stupidity to start a war over a sheep that was almost stabbed.

 

Regardless, a war has begun and their sole goal is to capture me, a strange goal, but the one they have sought after anyways. I imagine, it is solely because they want a war against Oren, and I was the excuse they needed.

 

Life is weird currently, however I shall survive, Oren has my back and with luck on our side, we shall win this war.

-Duncan

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Thanks a lot Duncan

 

 

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Thanks Duncan

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Ooc:

i will steal the journal myself

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13 minutes ago, Legoboy7984 said:

 

...nor do we t'reaten a child unless d'ey are bein' annoying makin' insults.

Sir Erik Othaman would be seen in the courtyard of the Bastion at the grinding wheel. He had been accustomed to spending long hours hunched over sharpening his comrade's blades.

 

As he stood up, he'd suddenly grab his head as he heard a voice. It was the shrill voice of a young boy that talked to him so many years ago. A blundering buffoon who hadn't hit his growth spurt. "Godan only knows that voice will never leave my head." He'd grumble, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

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