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TO THE TEMPLE OF KHAMER'PARBAT


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TO THE OWYNISTS OF THE TEMPLE OF KHAMER'PARBAT AND OUR HOLY MOTHER SAINT JUL'IEL

 

Upon wandering the great hills of the country, on U'mei (Sacred Journey) to one of our shrines, I came upon what had been the shrine of the Alemdrom. To my utmost surprise, I found that it had been taken over by the Owynists, dare I say, the Lectorate. This news was not strange to me - the temple remained largely unused, and I should be content that its halls should be polished and taken care of and the dust beaten out of its rugs. We made reverence to fire - and so do you too, so I find no issue there, only watch out for scales growing on your bosom. 

 

HOWEVER, 

I find that ours were never consulted for this sudden take-over. Hence the place must still, to my people, be considered a shrine of ours as it still carries the latent power of our race. Of course to you this will not do. So as to have no ill-will regarding this, Tor-Azdroth demands a recompense of some kind;

 

- Some secret of some kind, judged valuable enough. 

- A portrait of the latter Saint Jul'iel, whom we much adore. 

- The t*sticules of a X*nnist. 

 

Walk the golden thread, 

- The An-Gho

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skimmed through the missive as per usual nodding, and agreeing with what was said - though something, though no distinct answer crossed his mind, at reading "The t*sticles of a Xannite" Nonetheless it matter not! He thought.

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A cryogenically frozen Lector wakes from his slumber for but a moment, filled with an insatiable desire to click many a dragon man to death for daring to insinuate that they are owed any lewd Juli'el icon from his personal collection. He concluded that, for a moment, the greatest secret of all was that X*nnites do not have t*sticles to impart. He then returns to sleep.

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Alucard sat upon the top of Tor-Azdroth, snickering as he gets to the demands of the missive “The t*sticles of a xannite… by the titan, I might fall off from laughter.” He cackled, kicking his feet that were dangling off the edge of the structure.

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A fiery zealot patrols in a smog producing mechanical boar to cannon blast any lizard man demanding taxes.

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