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To The "Brave"

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Mestvin

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Penned in ink as dark as night, stitched upon parchment of cured skin, this notice finds its way to the gates and hearths of Reinmar, carried by rats and voiceless crows. The script pulses faintly with a necrotic residue. The wax seal is shaped in a closed eye.


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You dare speak of righteousness.
You dare speak of purity.
You sing praises to your heralds and shout into the wind about your gods, your swords, your lineage, your soil.

And yet, not once have you answered for the rotting hollowness of your faith.
You scorn the black arts from atop walls built on the corpses of your own wars.
You speak of honor while your dead are buried nameless, untouched by flame, ripe for my communion.

You speak of bravery when you turn your heel the moment i draw my blade.

I have heard your bark. Now I challenge your meager bite.

 

Send forth your brave. Send your most proud. Face me not in sermon, not in slander, but in act. If your faith is more than the whimper of frightened sheep, then raise your blade and come.

 

But should you cower behind silence, should you tremble behind prayers and shut gates.

 

Your fields will be sown not with wheat, but with bone.
Your graves shall be undone, and the dead made to serve.
Your children’s names will be forgotten, buried beneath the curses.
Your entire bloodlines shall serve as puppets in the theater of undeath.

This is not a warning.
This is a promise.

I await your answer on your own soil on the The First Seed. 


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The Draugar of Guilt stared in bewilderment, completely confused of the Undead ramblings sat before him. He turned to his adoptive daughter, showing the paper.

You seeing this?

His child did not care, too busy throwing food around.

Yeahhh.. You saw it..

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Castien's brow furrows. This does not bode well.

 

He begins to draft a letter of his own.

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Theodemar quivered in his boots! Until he realized he was wearing sabatons and continued about his day.

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“Hey man,

 

While you’ve been wringing your hands in a swamp I actually achieved your goal of conquering the world. Perhaps if you got more sun you could use your eternal life to do something productive, eh? Someone gullible will take this duel, but it’s already known you prey on backline non-combatants, and when faced with a proper fighter you run.

 

Stay in wood league, the forests and swamps suit you.

 

Lector-Cardinal Enrique Pinieda”

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