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Reconquest

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Sultan

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*Balian Guivret reads over the letters on his desk when his eyes catch the notice of conquest*

 

"Mon Seigneur.. How very bold a move. It seems we march to battle once more! I did so miss it."

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The untold mass of the arming men echoed as an eternal wave of sound throughout the nearby hinterland; those sounds of eager, crunching feet and the rearing of horses dominated the region of woad, and the cadences of many thoughtless, but all rightfully fiery souls singing in their merry, morale-spiking tones.  Che sang along an Oren footman's tune with the ranks in his Liege's order of the massive host's base camp, sitting beside the Rose armsroom with many a packed keg and crate stacked surrounding the tent, some even used in support of the awkward, red and white-gilded structures, which were consistently flooded with the chanting of the proud cohort of armsmen.  Swordmasters struck wooden blows into the groins of humiliated peasant-recruits; riders carrying messages and battle orders frequented the camps at a steady trot, men thrusting aside to avoid their noble beasts.  Nobles and other Imperial officers offered warm salutes to the cheering men garrisoned there.  There was no waking strike of a second in which no shout nor song shook the vibrant place.
 
The armsroom was awkwardly positioned beside the main gravel road on which lord from hither and east answered the almighty Emperor's voice by the thousands upon thousands every hour - new tents were constantly being raised along the hills for the newly arrived.  It was a force, a cry of war yet unheard in mankind for a thousand years.  Che, an ensign, but never a red knight disciplined in court to understand all the mechanisms behind this, he only stared beyond into the foundationless arrogance of the other races.  Always ever one to associate with and prove a great standard and icon for the direct levies.  His spine tingled, and a tear of joy formed in his eye; the tear flung off the edge of his cheek as he smiled and stamped his foot in song.
 
The singing was fair to drown out the immense sound of columns of the Orenian legions; but the histories are sure to lie of the occasion, and the soldiers too upon their hopeful return.  Che sang, ever delightful to maintain his group's chant whilst letting off an eye, quickly scanning about the endless faces from that great, forthcoming column of shield and pike, beleaguered under kettle and nasal helms and uniforms of mailed tabards.  The aquilifers' banners changed from one section of the column to another; a total combined force of a dozen or more noblemen's holdings, but followed at the vanguard was the colossal Imperial levy itself.  The leaders - he swore he spotted Sarkozy beside the stern, resilient Emperor Himself on horseback - were all the calculating of any wargleamed nobleman, and yet with the masses of men laid a strange... uncertainty, but with all the vigor of a bird of prey swooping down before a hare.  Indeed, Che swore, three harriers began to circle the camp from about the shining sun.  They swooped down, nimbling into the pit of the first dead of disease.
 
"Over the hills, and far away!  For the Oren fatherland!"
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Henry Horen II, brother to Horen blinks "Eh.... I didn't think he had the balls...."

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*Mandru is in a state of shock from The Emporer's declaration of war on the world; when one of his researchers brings him his meal, he snaps out of it.*

"No...no...no no no NO NO NO!!!!" He yells across the Northlands.

*He packs a suitcase, and plans to leave Oren for a "Vacation" later to get phycological therapy from one of his colleagues; he certainly needs it...*

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Kahn asks the priestess what she is laughing about. After hearing what she has to say, he just sits. "Kahn ees nu sl'aev tu enegh huemin." He gets up and leaves the Tavern, on his way to pray to Metztli for guidance.

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*Ivan sits at his desk before receiving word of the claims*

"This new Emperor is very overly ambitious isn't he... he will be our downfall. But I do not worry. The people will take care of him."

 

 

*Talibar stands on top of a mountain looking over Oren after receiving news of Horen's plans*

"Such tyranny. I cannot even begin to describe how

psychotic of a move this is."

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Ser Arhadir is assiting the settting up of the New Chapter of the Black Eagle when he when he gets the news of the he then says out lound "****"

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*Nienna shuts the doors on her newly finished plague ward, and refuses to come out until either Oren loses, or people forget what an elf looks like, by reason of slobbering headbangers killing all the others.*

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Some random peasant dances and screams at the top of his lungs


"KNOIFE EARS GONNA GET PLOUGHED"

 

The peasant then runs off to Malinor, pitchfork in hand.

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A bunch of french accented Peasants throw their pickforks on the ground, instantly yelling, "WE SURRENDER!"

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As the whole commotion passes through Anthos, Pertinax lays in his bed resting to recover from his recent injury from Lion.

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Luke reads the decree

"I didn't know my race was so greedy for land they don't even need. 

Greedy bastards."

Luke throws the decree into a fire.

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