DAENGIE

Halvar Edvardsson Would lean back in his chair once he'd finish reading the letter, taking a swig of ale from his curved horn. Supremely satisfied of the outcome.

Halvar Edvardsson would blink upon reading the letter. "Wait...What happened to Jorvin?!?" He'd say aloud in slight panic, immediately going for his quill and parchment to find out just what was happening in Urguan.

Halvar Edvardsson would read over the missive, leaning back with a sigh as he read the last word, rubbing at his brow. "Damn. Teh onleh bearable imperial royal in recent historeh. Gone." He'd say quietly, deciding he'd had enough of the day and sat up, heading in the direction of his bedroom.

[!] A flock of ravens blackens the Northern sky, many copies of a letter to the Rex of Krugmar carried in their grasp as they fly south. A Letter to the Rex of Krugmar Year 4 of the Second Age To the Failed Rex of Krugmar, It has come to the attention of the people of Norland that, in spite of nearly a century of friendship between our peoples, you and yours have gone out of your way to place a man of the North in chains. Firstly, let our disappointment be known; your claim to your title is a hollow one. You have, in less than a year of l

Halvar would snicker lightly as he'd pace about the docks of Varhelm holding the recently delivered invitation, hearing his wife screaming from all the way up in the palace, all the while watching as the carpenters set to work on his planned gjft.

I did.

Ive seen no bandits.

Halvar would grab the invitation from a nearby pile marked "Important" and set down his comically large mug of ashwood spirits, inhaling some smoke from one of the few vintage new reza tax slip wrapped cactus green blunts in his possession. These were quite possibly aquired secretly from the stash of a certain keeper. "Ah, finalleh, an event tae look forward to. Donnae know what any of teh haenseni speak says but I can guess. Suppose I should arrange a transport." He'd say with an exhalation of smoke, setting the blunt off to the side and moving on to the next paper in the stack.

IGN: DAENGIE Category: Visual Arts Artwork:

Halvar Edvardsson’s expression would grow sullen as he read over the accounts of what had happened. “While im no proponent fer cross breedin...Tha seems a bet harsh...” He’d say as he read over the last of the report. He’d sigh before tossing the paper into a nearby pile, cursing in partial old norlandic. “Lowkey not vibing with that...”

Halvar Edvardsson’s smile would widen in amusement as he stood aboard the deck of seahelm, reading the paper over. “Seems size truleh does nae matter. Good on teh wee folk.” He’d say before thinking to himself. “Wonder how many heads will roll once whatever demon was in charge of thes lot finds ou they were foiled by halflins...”

“Get tae the boilers! Prep teh Stations an cannons! Teh Hoards of teh damned will soon be upon us! I want a constant watch on tha shoreline.” Halvar would bark out to the various assortment of Norlandic Marines and Army troops stationed onboard the Seahelm. Soon enough the entire vessel would be bustling with activity as preparations were made for battle against the infernal host.

Halvar Edvardsson would walk through the palace doors, exhausted from the preparations made for operations against the inferi. Intent on having at least a bit of relaxation before going to sleep, he’d make a quick visit to the library. On hearing the twang of a crossbow and gurgling however he’d draw his sword, looking around before he’d rush further into the palace toward where the sound seemingly came from. On spotting the chancellor’s open door, he’d rush in, only to find the crossbow contraption, and the still form of Mr. Muffins, The late Norlandic chancellor. He’d drop to his knees in co

The Young King of Norland would raise a brow. “Hm...Suppose we should add incentive to tha writ from teh treasury. Cant leave our vassals hangin.” He’d say grabbing a pen before he’d think further. “Then again Gold diggers and cougers are on teh prawl...Best we just see where this request goes...” He’d say, slowly putting the pen back down.

Halvar Ruric SIGNS THE PACT