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"To the Brave, to the Dastard,"

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M1919

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Sir Hannibal puffs from his pipe.

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Luther von Draco sits in his room, reading over the entirety of the missive with an occasional slow nod. 

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In meek reverence, Mother Oksana humbly knelt before the altar within the Cathedral of Winburgh. "Saint Arpad, pray for us, for the lives of the Canon's flock. In our unrest, grant us the grace to forgive one another."

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Otto Gant would call out to his son from the Valwyck Outhouse. "Lad, do ye know what the shitter and Veletz 'ave in common? They're both rancid and filled to their innards with shite." He proceeded to laugh till he was red in the face before finishing up his business and heading back to bed.

Edited by Drew2_dude
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The Silver Lubba raised a brow to the missive on his desk, simply commenting "Almost as if the politics of nations are becoming involved in faith- again and again"

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Renilde gasps, and moves to discuss this development with her council immediately. 

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Lucas Olivier de Reyne looked up to those planting the tobacco fields of Reyne with a smile, and so he continued his work oncemore within the fields of outer Veletz.

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"Wasn't there a whole argument about the bandit Mareno's residing in Veletz, to which they denied, and yet they included their signature in this very missive." remarked Andrik var Ruthern

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23 minutes ago, ReveredOwl said:

"Wasn't there a whole argument about the bandit Mareno's residing in Veletz, to which they denied, and yet they included their signature in this very missive." remarked Andrik var Ruthern

"As far as ea recall, the argument was that nie bandit could reside in the Mareno's home, for the Marenos were absent from all matters of realm in Veletz. Perhaps time has worn mea memory. Et was niet about what was factual in the end, regardless. Only about posturing, and damaging negotiations with poor faith and insults. There es little point to picking at nonsense."

Viktor var Ruthern gave a slight dismissive wave after he spoke aside to his kin, and occupied himself with other matters. It seemed he suggested Andrik do the same.

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Tar-Caraneth stood overlooking the headwaters of the River Foroduin from the precipitous east face of fair Númenost. With an unsurprised air about her, she turned to one of the attendants around her. "I cannot, at all, claim to be shocked – this sort of outcome is precisely the reason my father never signed with that alliance. It was never going to last. How it plays out from here, it is in the Lord's hands." With that, she spoke no further on the topic, the politicking of the recent days having darkened her mood enough for one evening.

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