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Diomé Indoren clears his throat and imitates a very unique accent. "Agane"

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Upon reading over the missive, Iscesi chuckled to himself, the bloodshed of two Imperials drawn upon his blade  "A battle well fought... by us!" 

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A ‘ker gave a careless flick of his wrist as he counted up coins. “Shame; I wasn’t credited.” 

 

His own blade still had a light dent - and stench, from smashing it into the iron citizen doors, and one such Orenian hiding behind it.

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Officer Grudgebeard looks on from afar with a smile of approval. "Ata boy, lads."

 

Spoiler

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Bakir Ireheart rushed into the city alongside his ferrymen allies. Orcs and ISA fell as they breached the Orenian walls, slaughtering those that were fighting inside. After the battle he raised a cup of mead in toast to his kin “My brothers, my sisters. Victory has never tasted sweeter, the orenians are so desperate they rely on orcs to defend their city.” He then chuckled remembering the many times the Irehearts won against the orcs “and we all know they will just act as shields as the isa retreats.”

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"Nein, nein, nein!" cried out the Landgrave of Alstreim, in part frustrated by the massive roll disadvantages in urban combat. His Imperial State Army miniatures lay scattered across the wargame board, dispersed by the missive being haphazardly slammed on the table.

 

"They can't be wig-wearing if they're lobsters! The name derives from the bucket on their head!"

 

 

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"Orenia, fallen so low..." said Gallo, "Great are their iniquities!"

Edited by d0ntc4r3
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