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Crisis of the Second Age


Terry
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THE DOOMFORGED, grinned a might large one as he drunk down his mug of ale. "Oi' da'! The fockeh's tha' were harassin' ya are getting fecked up roight now!" finally finishing his cup he would slam it down before wiping the foam off of his beard. Grabbing his hammer he would head out of the cave for a fresh breath of air, before setting off towards the city.

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Merida reads the missive among her new kinsmen in the Grandaxe hall. She shovels food at an obscene pace the further she reads, like watching a juicy joust that was bound to get ugly.

"Ah picked th' roight time t' 'ead home!"

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Thumbrindal would sit among his beardlings and friends in his clan hall yet feels empty inside once the post was released"it pains me 'eart, but oi will still t'reat t'e Oire'earts as me kin, no matte' if t'ey no longe' in Urguan..."he'd say looking at his signature he felt shame somehow that he didn't manage to do better to benefit all in the end.

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Bishop Markos looks at the crisis brewing in Urgan, "I believe in our lust for the destruction of the anathema Emperor, we created a monster" He then turns to his Acolytes "Pay close attention, this will be one moment for the History Books" 

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Winchester, the Goat Farmer of Du Loc, not having kept up with the ongoing crisis, would be in shock upon hearing that the Irehearts, of all Dwarves, attempted to collaborate with the OreniansBefore immediately going to bother his wife with the news.

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Within a keep in the barony of Trabezon, Primrose Gendik-Komnenos glanced over to her husband as she read over the missive. She giggled as she scooted over to show him the missive. "I told you so! Bakir and Ragrin Ireheart finally get what they deserve for breaking their winter truce. Good things come to those who wait!" 

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Levian'Tol Grandaxe reads the missive, a quiet hum escaping him as his looks to the silver quill on his desk. 

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"Two wrongs wont make a right. We are seeing history once again repeat itself with the same clans as before..." Hefjhor would exclaim to himself before shaking his head. "It wont be long before Urguan is once again split."

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Octavium listened as the announcement was read aloud in public. His eyes shifted around the cavern suspectedly, and he grunted, "De Ire'earts need to get demselfs in line. Dis is dis'onorable! Long live de King!" The stout dwarf gave a firm nod so that his goggles fell back over his face as he got back to work.

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Father Paco traces the Lorraine on himself as squatted in the trench he dug himself with a loaded arbalest in hand, fearing war would come to the Southern Eastfleet from Yong Ping to the voidal hallow.

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Hieden the Fat would wobble. “Next thing yeh know, the Grand King will be lying with the Emperor of Oren, eating his table scraps as he loses control of his own kin one by one. A Grand King who cannot rule all, should rule none. A Grand King who would deny taxation of thine enemy after successful war, is not a dwarf at all but a human without shins.” Hieden would spit at the floor at the politics.

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14 hours ago, Harold said:

Hieden the Fat would wobble. “Next thing yeh know, the Grand King will be lying with the Emperor of Oren, eating his table scraps as he loses control of his own kin one by one. A Grand King who cannot rule all, should rule none. A Grand King who would deny taxation of thine enemy after successful war, is not a dwarf at all but a human without shins.” Hieden would spit at the floor at the politics.


"The Ireheart Clan Father already was seen with the Emperor of Oren, making blood oathes with 'em." A dwed would state

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