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Letters To The Flays.

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Proddy

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A man in a tattered red scarf and a bag slung over his shoulder reads the letter. "Who is this Darius person?"

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(( youlovesocks, the current leader of the Flays ))

((Your not a flay, nor the son of Gladius seeing my character was his eldest son. You would need OOC permission from me, jakesimonson, or Coastercam0 to make a Flay/Blackmont bloodline character, which you do not have. Socks is not a bloodline character, so you can not just out of the blue say you were someone's son when it never happened. I'm warning you right now to stop or I will make a Ban Report. Also, the actual bloodline has sailed off, so even if your fake character was real, he would not even be on Anthos soil.))

 

((I don't even know how to respond to this in rp, seeing this is the most confusing and illegitimate thing I've seen in a long time.)) 

 

*Ailred sleeps in the his bed in the Dreadfort, his breathing echoing through the halls.*

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((Your not a flay, nor the son of Gladius seeing my character was his eldest son. You would need OOC permission from me, jakesimonson, or Coastercam0 to make a Flay/Blackmont bloodline character, which you do not have. Socks is not a bloodline character, so you can not just out of the blue say you were someone's son when it never happened. I'm warning you right now to stop or I will make a Ban Report. Also, the actual bloodline has sailed off, so even if your fake character was real, he would not even be on Anthos soil.))

 

((I don't even know how to respond to this in rp, seeing this is the most confusing and illegitimate thing I've seen in a long time.)) 

 

*Ailred sleeps in the his bed in the Dreadfort, his breathing echoing through the halls.*

(Agreed, this was all a mistake on Han's and my part, we didn't have the permission to give you to make a Flay character at all. This shouldn't be happening at all you weren't granted permission by the ACTUAL Flay leaders.) 

*Writes a reply, written in some kind of red liquid*

"Dear, soon-to-be flayed pretender of the dreadfort

I don't know how you claim to be a Flay, I don't actually know how you're alive. I know not of any Flay who have even helped to procreate you. You're fourteen, Gladius left more then fourteen it doesn't make sense for you to be alive or be his son. You are lying, Gladius left more then fourteen years ago and you are fourteen years old. He left twenty ******* years ago he couldn't have made a woman pregnant for five years, kill yourself. You're a false Flay and you should kill yourself you Elf.

-Sincerely Tiberius Ireheart-Flay III 

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((I'll refrain from taking a side here but for anybody to be accepted as an actual Flay, they would have to have been accepted at any point in time by one of the leaders of the Flay bloodline.

 

This went:

 

Coaster -> Me -> Phoenixpro1 -> Jakesimonson -> Sirsnowman

 

If anybody hasn't been accepted by one of these five, they are not an actual blood related member of the Flays but instead a banner man or follower of some sort. I hope that clears some things up.))

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*Oslo hears about this and mutters to himself*  

"Isn't this kid, like 12 years old?"

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Strictly RP response.

 

Iosif reads the letter. His face turns into a scowl as he crumples it up and tosses it into his fireplace. "This kid am terrible impostor. He could at least have lies make sense.After saying this, Iosif picks up a piece of parchment and a pen and begins to write...

 

"Dear mister sodomite fake Blackmont,

 

You am disgrace. How dare you even make claim to be related to mighty holy Flay family. You am naughty heretic terrorist. Am give up Dreadfort and leave these lands forever or we will come and kick ass. This am last warning *****. We will am not have no multi-gender Elvish scum telling us what to do. You am dead.

 

Sincerely,

Iosif Ruthern-Flay"

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((Also, there is no way for Xtreme to have ownership of the Dreadfort. Make a non-fake character and warclaim it like a regular player instead of trying to OOCLY steal it.))

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ed strolls around dreadfort and says "who the **** is this ******?"

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The dead Blackmont footman Aeto Tsojenn rolls in his mass grave.

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((Don't forget about Shambo, Brutus Flay, he is alive.))

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Ghost of ol' John Woods, Flay Man-At-Arms snickers at the reemergence of "da crew", and is happy to see that the sense of brotherhood is not forgotten. A whisper is heard in the old halls of the Dreadfort.

 

"Blood fer Coin corpse **ckers"

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Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.

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