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Bound by Blood and Honor


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"Even with this, I don't think I'll ever trust the people of Ceila' Nor." 

 

Emony states as she reads this missive over her current weapon schematic. 

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"Throughout mi dekade among the foreigners who arrived at mi tribesfolk'z shores, I ahm yet to peep a kreature more foul ag wicked than thiz Valyris of Zelia'nor." Said Kuvirr, Targoth of the Iron Horde with sheer genuinity to her voice. By the looks of it, given her words, she was some form of native to Almaris, unlike the other Orcs...

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The burnt remnants of the Swampgoth looked upon the missive with a dull, muted smile. What was taken from his form was not so easily returned by good will alone. Though, it was a start.

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The LAK berzerker begun sharpening his fine axe, refining it into good form to prepare the cleaving of LAKLUL's enemies, "LUP'LAKLUL"

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The Yargoth gave a slow nod in quiet approval, though his meditations were interrupted, this one was most welcome.  "Bot-izubu ashugû narnûl. Let diz bi ah lezzun tu all ob doze who du nub klomp de wagh wit'in. Lup'Zagbal. Lup'Ilzgul."  And with that, he returned to his work.

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"I warned them. I warned them all." Valindra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned to begin packing her things in Celia'nor. "I am only listened to when it is too late."

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Yahg lets out a grunt, eating the missive “Yahg nub abybul to reed.”

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"is t'eir plan tae destroy t'emselves before t'e Mori gets em?" A dwed wondered when he looked over the missive.

Edited by Wulfric
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A certain helmed fellow chortled at the missive, nodding with the collective.

"Heehee, Zeenor ztinki."

Edited by SlitheryC1
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The Dominus of the Iron Horde, would have the missive delivered to him by a goblin, as he sat deep within the tree drinking his guzzoline in peace, his eyes scanning the paper. "A hozh development mi grukz....Very interezting to peep whub happenz next in diz arc." He chuckles to himself, as he later goes to throw the missive onto the table continuing to drink guzzoline undisturbed.

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An aged Snow Elf sits silently upon the tundra, squinted eyes carefully scanning the document with some confusion. After a few moments a deep sigh escapes him, dissipating silently into the frigid air. 

"We gave them everything Vytrek, and they squander it. I suppose you can lead the horse, but you can never make him drink."

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Liam refuses to be confused by the writing of words "That's a neat little sketch, but I wonder what all the fuss is about..."

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With a grimace, Vanhart the Carrot remembered a shattered window in the Haense Basilica, and prisoners swindled away.

 

Celianor, it seemed, was running out of friends fast.

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