DAENGIE

@AtalanticbowYes, Hi. Feel free to send a friend request on discord at Daengie#9198 for any questions. As for recent events, we have an upcoming archery contest along with a multitude of other events being hosted every day. Oh, and some things have been happening with the red faith.

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.

I have the utmost sympathy for you guys...But im a bit surprised the policy of staff wanting to take smaller settlements out back and shoot them in the cranium isnt public knowledge, or at least more widely known.

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.

23 minutes ago, Sevastiel said:

Shut up and take my upvote. 

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 would read over the writ, lofting a brow and glancing up in thought. “Hm...Does nae specifically say whether we can or cannae go...Well, may be prudent tae send a letter.” He’d say before setting the parchment off to the side to continue his paperwork, keeping steady as the seahelm rocked from side to side.

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 complete shock and anguish, sofltly muttering. “By the All-Father No...Not you too...”

The letter is brought to the office of the king of Norland by a runner, who departed soon after.

Halvar Edvardsson would turn away from the fortification plans he’d been looking over, reading the letter. “Hm. Seems Krugmar calls fer our aid against teh Inferi...” He’d say, taking a moment to ponder on the state of things before grabbing a piece of parchment, intent on writing a quick response. “Ets a call we shall answer...”

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

Edward Would motion to the purifiers that had come with him to kill Skittaurus, the giant arachnid brood mother, to dismount and take a rest. After the deeds of that day, they had most certainly earned a drink. He’d make sure the harness that had secured the broodmother’s head was tight before reaching for the missive Ratatoskr the mail rat had delivered to him earlier. As he began to read, his expression would first turn solemn. Only after a moment would he look up with a new sense of determination. As he did so, he’d notice Vykk Walking towards him with a wave.

Edward would read the missive, a content smile on his face. “Hm. Suppose thats the best that can be asked. So long as teh faith isnt outlawed, This may be a rule ta look forward to.”

Edward Kursin would walk down to the Sole Norlandic missive table that morning. Thinking perhaps Warm drinks should be served at the often gathered spot. He’d pick up the latest delivered missive, and sigh. “All-Father damn et...I can hear all the crossgod kneelers Whinin and nippin at the bit ta march their inbred arses on over ere. I still cant believe they avent got teh message. We dont FOKIN CARE about your fokin land, or anyone’s outside our borders. Keep et. Shet on et. Shag your cousin on et, indulge in your child slayin tendencies on et for all we care. I aint even eard of Leuvon or livin whatever teh fok. Fokin hell, southern smooth brains i swear...”. After this tirade, he’d walk on over to the tavern, fully intending to drink off the headache he’d gotten from reading the imperial missive.

Edward Kursin would pick up the missive, meanwhile holding a small paper cup by the sole Norlandic water cooler and missive table. As he read, he would sigh. “Seem’s our king’s undead cousin pete is at it again. Och joy...another war between th' nations. Oh well. Dont ave nothin ta do with our ome so, could care less.” 

Edward would once again make his way to the sole Norlandic missive table, hoping to find someone to converse with close by the sole Norlandic water cooler. Sadly he’d find no one. Except for the high keeper who was napping in her usual spot underneath the ashwood-tree. He’d reach for the pile of missives, mentally preparing himself for more stupidity by the various kingdoms of Arcas. As he took the top missive, he’d arch his brows in a pleasantly surprised manner. “Huh. Suppose at least one of the monarchs of cour-...Marivesse is sane...”

Brother Purifier Edward Kursin would look up from his work, deciding it’d be best to take a moment to rest his brain from the long hours translating the book of the Justicar to common. He’d walk over to the sole norlandic water cooler in the town square and grab a few missives from the public papers table. After reading the missives for a moment, he’d decide he’d had just about enough of the world’s ****, and would immediately fast walk back into the library to continue his work, mumbling old norlanic curses about small brained southerners.