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A Dream of Pax Humanis


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Endyn Jindle prepares his blade, for a bloody conflict.

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"Pax Humanis? What about Norland then?" Frey asked to himself.

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The Abbess of Saint Jude lights a candle on that night, within her hands clutched an aurum chaplet, engaging in her evening prayer looking upon the vast ocean, shining and twinkling in its orange haze. And that candle flickers on as she remembers all those whose lives had been lost in a conflict gone on for far too long, and so she prayed upon this peace, and for the cries of humanity to be heard and amended.

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Kor'garr chuckles mirthlessly as he reads the announcement, taking a large swig of Meathead Melon Mash. The fuscia drink glimmers with flecks of gold, small bits of the glittery mixture sticking to his mustache. Finally a bellow is roared to some goblins erasing a distant board marked with various scribbles of colored powder.

"Oi, gobboz! Change Kor'garr'z bet vor dah next Orenian Empiyur ztartyng tu azhty yeerz urlier dehn wi grukk'd! Dah Kanoniztz ahr akzhulli werkyng tudgeddah vor azht..."


 

Spoiler

TRANSLATION: "Oi, goblins! Change Kor'garr's bet for the next Orenian Empire rising to 10 years earlier then we thought! The Canonists are actually working together for once..."

[!] This may be mentioned in the next Kaktuz Weekli...

 

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Leopold had found himself within the chambers of the palace as this was drafted, and later found himself guarding the borders of Aaun when the news of its publication was released. "The business of important men deciding the fate of many," he muttered to himself whilst looking about to his fellow guardsman. 

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A disgruntled samurai grumbles as he watches the animii medic bot treat the wounds on his injured grandson, assaulted and robbed by the aforementioned Canons Regular.

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Sanjuro the Ronin reads upon the missive with a rather disappointed, yet uninterested, gaze. He crumples the paper up, and tosses it into the mud. 

 

"Typical human nation hug-box politics." He says, to no one in particular, and in a lingo yet unheard of. "Next, they'll pin something on the orks, and war them. Or maybe the elves. Or maybe the dwarves." He chuckles, then taking a swig of sake. 

 

"It's all cyclical." 

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Oksana exhaled a long-awaited sigh of relief, as if the weight of her prayers had finally been lifted after a decade of longing for this exact offer. 

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"And now...we wait." The Amiratus of Balian murmured as he looked beyond the ocean horizon of Portoregne from the docks. 

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A young wizarding woman lifted the brim of her large, feathered hat to peruse the missive from where it hung. She regarded it with caution, murmuring to herself.
             "Well, ea suppose it may be solved sooner than ea had thought. The timing am .. convenient. Incredibly so."
Skepticism tainted the hope for peace that she held, unlikely to be dissuaded from such a notion until all was finalized and she might travel the lands safely once more. And yet at the same moment, her steps away were lighter than when she arrived. 

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Morgan of Angren prayed that night, his sword hung on the wall. It was his most fervent wish that peace could at last be found.

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