Jump to content

Recommended Posts

Spoiler

 

[!] A horrid poster sits nailed to the wooden board ahead of you. It covered an older flier of the same theme, but much less . . . Suspicious, and ugly.

 

zqRAl2lmDyuW9M1qEbgmAvYa0R0tXGHk1tVG59ipmW2TyBnsD9g5Te_xh3AIoUbyI9XauB2VJI-n0_0752ROqQDTMR_jo-i_LuWQZ6pKOEZxtUXOFEVFG98p1nTe2KZWGSj6FxLR

THERE'S A HOT SINGLE RICH AWESOME (LIVING) WOMAN IN YOUR AREA!

F8eo6c8beCRLm3-jZ2vS9xjTIaCMV3qyS-YVdnDM8eCIJpvgGEld3Kyn6U58jzxCQgsy2t0s1MBJBDv3YI1Tqe2Tdzx7Ylf-TF-lT40cU2sE0Vro8Y1ze7GuLQa0VZEL8zsSNdEC

Lady Dowager, DAME VIKTORIYA I, ‘the Silver Drake’

Founder of House Tsecsar,

Former Captain of the Imperial State Army,

Knight of the Most Noble & Most Ancient Order of the Lion,

Former Imperial Queen of Arms,

Coolest person alive,

Also the hottest person alive,

And the hottest person dead,

And the coolest person dead,

But also not dead,

‘Allmother’ of the Eight Precepts,

Úlfhéðnar of the Father,

Et Cetera

vMO6Yfrt2neASP0PKnL9lQwl6jl2Q0cUo_txMOD6wMWhGAVHAGfO_UiXYlAGknIRr3ubo7u_UM3NY1XJG1qHpQxkk2Edeoi1WtcBBGPOO9UWrZMsJhe3qWkArRWpdX3W53MT_m13

DAME VIKTORIYA I is in search of love. Again. If you have a heartbeat, please reply. I’m begging you.

 

NAME:

Viktoriya somethingsomething Forgot Last Name

 

AGE:

Middle-aged, maybe. I forgot.

 

OCCUPATION:

Illegal substances vendor  Alchemist

 

HOBBIES

include razing heathen (anti-GODAN!) villages, worshipping GODAN, potion-making, taking long walks on beaches, taking short walks in swamps, begging for people to court her through courier pigeons, sleeping, dissection, hanging out in the suspicious alleyways of Providence, sleeping, and potion-making. And dissection.

 

APPEARANCE:

[!] A single picture was attached . . . Drawn in some hideous ‘pixel-block’ fashion: 

body.png?id=9415926ca6ec6d91&model=slim&theta=30&phi=21&time=90&width=600&height=800

 

CRITERIA:

Must be a man. Preferably. 

Please don’t be a cultist. I’ve had enough cultist husbands, I think.

Preferably has a pulse [Optional]

Somewhat mentally stable [Optional]

That’s it. My standards are low. I’m desperate.


 

WHAT YOU WILL RECEIVE

An old young woman with lots to offer.

Possibly, a home. Dame Viktoriya tends to swing between homeless, not-homeless, and dwelling in the caves beneath Oren.

One free compliment a day.

Potions! 

Did I mention . . . Mina?


 

31nIBcEvGlKrlaCgdR42HLqoPM30R3ePag_j7KwvGCudCnoOOGV8PWL0gBNkVe1rVkGUo1XXPt3L0riDSPg37fp1qj_4bTfo5XExQm8YK5mPIxjLj2hTdUWgq9yKT4vZc8SrGeq-

 

Should you be interested, send a bird! Please.

 

please.

Dame Viktoriya. 

Link to post
Share on other sites

Varan cries

Link to post
Share on other sites

2 minutes ago, DrakeHaze. said:

"Who would you kill for love?" a query submitted by James Fisher

The query is returned, written in some red substance.

 

"god."

Link to post
Share on other sites

A old and decrepit man would be sitting in his house somewhere in the orenian countryside  when this  missive,  like  many others, made it's  way to his manor, a servant would begin to read it for him as his  eyesight wasn't what it was  when he was  younger  "interesting" 

Link to post
Share on other sites

"I don't want to think about it." States a foreign man when asked how old the woman in question really was, before going back to reading over the flyer.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Fishbref, always in the pursuit of FAIR MAIDENS, has one of his warboys scribe a letter:

 

"DEAR MADAM,

 

I IS VERY INTERESTED IN YOU.

 

PLEASE COME TO MY LAIR (A CAVE) OUTSIDE DU LOC.

 

WE WILL HAVE A ROMANTIC MEAL IN MY OFFICE.

 

LOVE AND KISSES,

FISHBREF, ESTEEMED PROTECTOR ANS SAVIOUR OF DU LOC, WARBOSS, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, CAPTAIN, TARGOTH ETC.

 

P.S. BRING A SHOVEL.

 

Directions were attached below.

 

[[ cords: 767, 325 bEHIND DU LOC COME QUICK]]

Edited by herculean_wud
Link to post
Share on other sites

Consigned to spinning tall tales and weaving ballads in the low altitudes of a mountain somewhere, Ptolemy of Thoth made haste to bring the notice to the attention of Crumena of Kamees.

 

@Heero

Link to post
Share on other sites

Adan squints at the note. "... This is the second time I've seen this ad. Isn't there some kind of vetting for the notice boards?"

 

Adean writes a letter back.

 

Aedan, Castellan of the Purifiers. Norlandic alchemist. Half of me is made of rock and metal. Write back.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Agnar Ireheart would see the ad as he was just looking through some papers or what not.
"S'e isn't a dwarf so..."

Link to post
Share on other sites

Richard Harver laughed as he read the poster "An option I never considered! Likely for the best, but who knows. Good to see Vik out and about again"

 

Link to post
Share on other sites

The Silver Lubba sweats.

Link to post
Share on other sites

59 minutes ago, mika1278 said:

The Silver Lubba sweats.

The Silver Drake thought The Silver Lubba was married. She squints.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Stirring away in that long-since forgotten sitting room did the Burned Man fester before the flames of a fire, dancing about a mantle no one had lit for years. Nearby on the couch did his relatives sit and chat, occasionally casting an off-color comment towards the Man. Scowling did he rebuke them. "Can't you see I'm busy over here?"

 

It was not long (nothing was, anymore) before this momentary bliss was yet again interrupted. Down the dark hallway, illuminated by naught even the stars above, came the growing sound of some mechanical whirring. And, soon enough, it broke through the shadows surrounding the sitting room, landing on the dust-skin carpet the Man sat on. It let out a scratchy "CRAH-CAW", upon which two things fell from the clutch of its beak: the legs and bloodied torso of what used to be a bird, and the letter attached to them, miraculously untouched.

 

It was a miraculous thing for someone to try to reach him out here. Luckily, he had his toy to alert him to its presence - surely, if someone knew he was here, then there had to be others. They found him. And they would be here soon.

 

"...No more running. This is my Last Stand," he'd huff, motioning for the two on the couch to follow suit. But when he turned his head over, they were somehow gone. "Bah," he spat, "it was never like them to stay around for two long. I don't blame them - cursed, cursed is what we are. Now, let's see the damage..."

Spoiler

F8eo6c8beCRLm3-jZ2vS9xjTIaCMV3qyS-YVdnDM

 

Archimedes couldn't do anything but stare. He couldn't force himself to pretend to be surprised at this point. It wasn't shock that made him drop the missive, but disgust. The old man began stomping around the charred floor of the sitting room, nearly ripping the drawer out of the end-table he kept his stationary in. It was the one thing about the room that had to be kept neat, and he cursed himself for almost destroying it.

 

"...Every... Every waking moment," he'd grunt as he hastily scribbled a letter, "I have to live with what you did to me and my fa- ****!" The man only now realized that he started writing down what he was saying out loud, instead of what he was thinking to put in the letter, so now the entire thing was just one convoluted run-on sentence, and that he had to rewrite the entire thing. So, carefully this time, he drew a piece of stationary from the drawer - making sure no ash fell upon the copy of his manuscript beside it - and got to writing a letter

 

And as that automatic bird slowly ticked off unto a horizon being slowly breached by the sun, Archimedes shook his head, wondering only one thing:

 

"...Why is she like this? And how does she keep finding where I live?"

Link to post
Share on other sites

 Share

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.



×
×
  • Create New...