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THE FINAL STRIKE


Elite Snipes
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A stout dwarf would sit inside the Lighthouse at Tagar Tazarak, and would look over the letter he had recived. "Yeh 'ave teh beh joking meh. Frem moi toime in Urguan, Ire'earts have caused half teh shoite." Rubbing the bridge of his nose and letting out a loud laugh " 'lease tell me you are joking, or on someting dat Yazmorra gave yeh." Still shaking his head and would say  "We just won ah battle in 'ren, woy mus' weh foight now. a Whole notheh pissin internal cry babeh shoite. Were starting to act loike teh Wiggehs. Get yer shoite tegetheh and wait till were done wif dis war."

Edited by TheWaffleEater2
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Olog Tyrant, Gillriik Ungri, would wonder where the 10 Barrels of Salt was that the Irehearts owed Lord Quentin Brae of Du Loc.

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"Oh, t'is is embarrassing. Yer beefin' with t'e people who started a war all 'cause ye wanted tae cut the ears of elves? Pathetic, ungrateful shites ye are. I was right tae no sell thanhium tae yer ilk," rants Solheim, a forest dwed. "All 'cause ye wanted tae attack innocent people fer yer stupid, archaic clan trials, now ye've got us in a war and threatenin' further turmoil! Yer the reason we're in all this shite, and this is how ye repay us Urguanians?"

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Hefjhor wonders how all these people from outside Urguan know about a grudge that was presented to the king and not the entire populace of Almaris. 

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Lhoris eats some porridge from a spoon made by her friend, frowning as the Irehearts ruined her cat maid night at the Du Locian tavern.

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Glod Grimgold sighs disappointed: "Ope I ne'er ha' Tae turn a blade aginst meh own kin." He returns to his prayers to Anbella

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“Why was this sent to me!!?” Sion looking up from the paper, asking the empty room that stood as her hidden office “we are just farmers!”

 

Mica likely having better things to do, is off somewhere, likely doing better things

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"Long may they splinter." Says Alderman Aubergine, dipping a cracker in whipped smoked trout and washing the salty snack down with a draught of fine Red Auvergnat.

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