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BATTLE OF THE BELL, 1859


wolfdwg
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Ivan var Ruthern smiled the sun's smile. "Only victories- and nothing but until we claim back what we lost."

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Prince Gaspard swaps to his third set of gear as he strikes the Haenseti into the mud.

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Joseph d'Azor sighed watching from the distance with his spyglass, unable to participate due to sky daemon law.

 

"Its simply too easy...." 

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Dr. Primrose smiled upon this day, for there was no work to be done. "Well done." She then returned to research on anatomy and physiology. Now was the time to study and prepare.

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"Hugo, one of the greatest frontline strategists there is. Urguani will never learn of their mistakes again and again. Ave Blackvale!" Declared by a particular loyal levyman.

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Ser August Barclay had clutched the hilt of his longsword until the final ring of a  mace collided with the Ser's sallet; and with that he tumbled to the mud, defeated and struck down outside the Principality.

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Liam van Aert, who had bravely fought the entire battle without helm, charged through the masses when a Haenseti woman slashed at his belt buckle. "She-wench!" The mercenary yelled as his pants dropped below his knees.

 

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A ghastly figure cleared his throat before he spoke

"
Connection terminated.

I'm sorry to interrupt you Sedanians, if you still even remember that Nation. But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume. Although you have indeed been called.

You have all been called here. Into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach.

But you will never find them, none of you will. This is where your story ends.

And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you. Although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well, I am nearby.

This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors: Be still and give up your spirits, they don't belong to you.

For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend.

My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours. And then, what became of you.

I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now.

It's time to rest. For you, and for those you have carried in your arms.

This ends for all of us.

End communication."

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"They attacked me on the road, and I easily escaped what must of been twenty to thirty of 'em, only to arrive at Oren in time to see my comrades charge forth and obliterate my pursuers... And their morale! Irony is a funny thing," a drunk 'ker states, grinning.

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The red-robed dark elf, Drelyth Remnevani, brings the Baron of Arichsdorf news of this engagement, having returned to the Westergrenz from Providence along his usual route. He withdraws a parchment report from within one of the many pockets in his silk-and-chitin tunic. 
 

“Good news from Lower Petra once again, serah,” he offered to the Baron, voice thick with his clipped elvish accent. 
 

@Narthok

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