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An Age of Rancor


femurlord
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13 minutes ago, sam33497 said:

Lanre Cerusil seethes at the Mio's actions before exploding the missive.

 

"He can't keep getting away with this. . . Gashadokurooo!!!!!"

 

Scrisa raises her fist, shaking it to the air! 

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Iudas could never have been more content, to know in whose hands his pages of the forbidden Grimoire hand landed, and what chaos had sprouted from it. 

 

In chasing stars, King Aleksander would only learn to run away from the consequences of his actions. Alas, even the stars are hardly ever safe. 

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11 minutes ago, DahStalker said:

Adela Taronitissa, seeing the beloved Queen mentioned, once more panics. “How do we censor this?!?”

Little baby Elliot cried out “CENSOR CENSOR” repeating after his beloved mother. 

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Isabella's smile was one of uncontained glee for the times ahead. So many exciting things. Alas, the farfolk was trapped in her chambers; her meditations came first. 

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[!] Somewhere in the frost-bitten north, an old venerable knight of the Cross rides along a frost-over road with his horse. He gazes towards what once was the city-line of Haense and stops, his jaw dropping agape. The fires of the Archangel rendered his saddness but a mute expression, but something within him wanted to scream out. Haense, the mighty Kingdom of Karl who he watched vanquish the Prince of Carrion to the Hells, was not in their very palm. Philip then fiercely yanked his reins, turning his horse around to go southward - back to Tuvia.

 

"Karl, Walter, the Weiss family," He said beneath his breath somberly as his horse galloped at lightning speed. "I have failed you."


In the divine domains of Rah'tuma, the Pharaoh sits in the inner chambers of the Temple of Purity awaiting word from his Haense stationed scouts. Rah'tuma had conducted a years-long investigation on the Haenseti and was planning to make a move to counter Isfetian influence.

 

Then the scout came in, and he said simply. "Pharaoh - Isfet has overtaken Haense."

 

The normally stoic countenance of the Pharaoh droops, and a look of terror overcomes it. His eyes widen as walks past his scout. "The Netjer must gather - now. Draft a missive - we will not allow Gashadokuro to take this victory easily."

 

He then runs off into the city to gather other priest-magicians of the Gods to strategize for next steps.

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Ioanna peered upwards, observing the moon that looked down upon that northern capital through a snowflake-filled sky. What she knew, she could never share, as she had sworn and promised to keep the confidence of both a matriarch and her child. But the Rhenyari pondered upon the intentions of a King who wished to conquer even the heavens above. Was it a sign of unbridled ambition, madness, or both?

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“The TSAR was a bad guy all along? Who could have possibly foreseen this!?”

 

-Marshal SIR RADMIR MONTALT

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In response, Tar-Caraneth Aryantë retrieved a particular Ruskan sabre of aurum, gifted to her in ages past, and had it melted down to be reforged.

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Barend De Ruyter, Holy Ser of the Order of Saint Jude brushes through his beard. Appearing entirely unsurprised at the heretical claims upon the Haensi Monarch. He drawing the Lorraine over his chest before speaking. "May GOD preserve the innocent souls under that heretics rule. And may his righteous wrath strike him into the hells."

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Tiber continued to urge John Aaun to truly set alight the Dragonflame of the White Tower of the Hand of Horen and finally claim his Horenic ancestry as a Dragonborn of Alstion, "WHERE IS THE AMULET!? WE NEED TO WARD AAUN! NO MORE DAEMONIC INVASIONS!" the Elf yelled in panic at the stirring news from the west. Tiber then snapped back to his regular pathing, and proceeded to continue on about his day unbothered.

 

 

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The Queen peers upon the horizon, golden rays spilling onto her sheets that morning, With prayer beads clutched tightly to her chest, she asked GOD for guidance.

 

Long had she fallen ill from some plague; now the sanctity or her own name had been dragged through soot and mud, all because she rode North that one fateful day to ensure her husband would be kept safe from the cold. A wife’s duty had damned her.

 

She rose weakly, and procured her qull to pen a few letters. The White Flame would not flicker so easily.

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"The weak are meat and the strong do eat"  Abyssal smog was coughed from the right-hand-man's empty withery jaw.

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A Planeswalking Undead cackled, as he dipped elsewhere beyond the fabric of reality...

 

Seems like there was a particularly desired prey out and about tonight.

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A Herald of sin stares down at shifting forces roaming across the Hexicanum.

"Haense, is like a stagnant beast which labors for breathe."

"May their strong rise from the fire the Lord created. May the weak die in the crossfire."

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The dastardly Delmar would find himself relaxing upon the seaside outpost, his gaze scanning over the missive, before a nod of his head was given.  A hefty slurp taken from his glass of mixed wine. "So that's where it went, how curious; Oh well, it seems the north is going to be a bit more intriguing." 

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