AfroJoeTheOlogBro

Either removed all signed items included herbs and st ores, or full removal entirely. This is the way to encourage trade rp and merchants Honestly...not even that bad an idea

A large mechanical Lord gets word of the event, merely passing it on to his daughter. She was the artistic sort.

A mechanical lord somewhere in a lofty and dour light house lets out a booming laugh as he shakes his head. "Lies? In your house of God?" And then another round of laughter is heard, breaking the sorrow for a moment...

Why are younfucking cringe and also smelly and also lame and also cringr and also

A titanic stone lord lets out a hellish cry from it's dual heads of wrath and sorrow, lamenting the discrimination against his long since dead brother's people, the Raevs

An automatonic lord far off hummed at the drifting news of khazad engaging in the age old tradition of drake slaying and dragon hunting. If his mask like face could smile, it might have.

"Another easy solution. Kill all high elves. The Krug's folk and the Daelandic people are already engaged in the righteous conquest."

The metal man looks back at the elgus with a snort, smoke and steam fuming out of his nose "Simple, just dont be a homosexual around elves. I think it's rather self explainatory."

Damn, the righteous ratios on this one are staggering and delicious, gg werewolf and st and soul, im wheezing

Thankfully my robot child has posted them in my ineptitude, please refer to le comment added by antiopa, thank

Come One and Come All! Welcome to the Freeport of Akueli! It has been a long time coming, and without further wait I am pleased to say that we of Akueli have finally settled in full! This is a momentous occasion as our folk unload their belongings from our grand ship and settle in what once was a corpse. Now it is prosperity incarnate, and we invite all of Almaris to see our new home! Special invitations go out to our allies in the Southern Powers, those that have graciously accepted us and our ideals, and have supported us as we have supported them! Come within the coming months, and be ready for festivities and joyous feasting! Signed, His Honorable and Mighty Principal Keyholder Of the Freeport of Akeuli, Lord Cagliostro, Keeper of Things, by the will of the Trade Prince

The mechanical wonder of a being lets out a low hum as he stops before the grand husk that is Kivdrona, having just recently settled his land in the farthest corners of the south and taking the time to explore the new lands of desert...seems hes found something interesting.

An elder shaman sheds a tear in the face of the legendary Barbog'Yar's glory and magnificence

An elder goblin, Shaman and Once Rex, heard the call of kin. The spirits grew restless in his mind, as they too felt the shifting of the realm. Gnarled and scarred knuckle clenched tight a worn and elden staff, as the goblin made his way home. The time for watching the world for enemies was over, for the enemy had made itself known.

The real reason this needs to be passed

Name: The Great Lord Keeper of Things Place of Residence: Ill find you, dont worry Bid: 810 mina

A mechanical lord lets out a prideful hum at his grandfather's accomplishment. Making preparations, he set out with his daughters to see the new village for himself.

But can a robot be infested with the parasite, thats the real question. Living shifting metal anyone?

The Scion sat, and waited. Deep in the dark pools beneath the earth, where the chill brought peace, he waited. Stone still, listening to the trembles of the land, vision cast far beyond the mortal scope. The creature waited, to see what there truly was to be seen. It would come.

A lord of gold sits deep below, embraced within Grimdugan's shadow...one could swear they heard a harmony rising up from the far depths...barely above an echoed whisper.

The lord of the Aurokanar sat in his throne, his ever present and valued Clan Elder Torsun standing at his side as they both brooded upon what exactly had happened. He had not been there when Gildroc took his own life, but fury stoked in his heart when Torsun told of what exactly happened. "There are no innocents amongst the umri filth...not any more" With such words spoken, he moved on, beginning the process of laying his kinsmen to rest in riches untold.

An Immortal Lord's Grudge A veritable army of ticking, screeching, golden colored mechanical crackadonks roughly the size of a hawk can be seen in the skies across the verdant lands of Nevaehlen. As they fly by, a missive of sorts is dropped, copies upon copies of black parchment lettered with golden leaf land upon the ground, offering any passerby or denizen of The Vale easy access to such a dramatic and petty display. Let it be firstly said that my intention is to bring no harm or retribution upon The Vale as a whole. My ire is targeted with precision, and I have thus ensured that no wrath of mine shall be fall those that have not earned it. Upon this page you, the reader, shall find my grudge written against two of those whom live amongst The Vale. You shall find the reason I levy it, what it is I want, and that shall be all there is to see. The Assailant: Gilliaen of The Vale The Wrong On two occasions did the red inked fool come into my land, enter my tavern, and make hellacious, rude, and nigh racist comments to my kind, that being automatons. Amongst his carousing and trouble making, he made demands and thoroughly disrupted the peace within my tavern, thus being the source of many damages inflicted upon said tavern during his second visit of demand making when I went about attempting to remove him by force after the multiple demands levied unto him to leave the premises and cease his disruption. Overall, he has been a cantankerous thorn in my gears, and I will not stand for such to go unreprimanded. Terms of Settlement: Firstly, I demand the left hand of the Assailant, to be casted in gold and hung upon the walls of the Aurokanar Clan Hall, as is tradition for all grudges settled within the Book of Debts. Secondly, I demand the staff of which I broke with my blade, to be added to my ever growing collection of curio and rarity. Such will stand as further trophy to my triumph over the Assailant, and forever mark the event for my remembering. Thirdly, I demand a sum of five thousand mina, to be paid in increments of at least one hundred mina every Stone's Week, until such a sum is paid in full. Said sum can be circumvented in part or entirely, should the trade of personal items of importance, sentiment, or rarity be offered by the Assailant to be added to my ever growing collection. The Assailant: The Man that Stabbed me in the Back and Knee with a Frigid Spear. The Wrong As the title suggests, for I know not the Assailant's name, the Assailant stepped in to intervene on my path of justice during my attempt to remove the first Assailant from my land when said Assailant had continuously denied my authority and persisted in their defiance. This Assailant proceeded to attack me while the other fled my fury, thus wounding me, costing me precious time in which I had to be repaired. Time that I could have spent manning my tavern, and making money. The Assailant also assisted the first in escaping my land, thus avoiding further justice being enacted. Terms of Settlement For the crime of obstructing my right to enact justice as I wish upon my land, and thus becoming entangled in an event that held no business to him, I demand the spear that was used to harm my form. It is rare that I am ever dealt a blow that causes me pain, and as such, I will have the weapon that wounded me, to be added to my ever growing collection as a memory of the happening. Failure to meet the terms laid here will result in grander form of settlement as I see fit. NARVOK OZ AUROKANAR Stamped at the bottom of the missive alongside the crimson signature of the writer sits a mark. A pair of mechanical hands, reaching for a burning spark of light.

Left at the threshold of the Keep of Sunbreak, those that frequent such a place would find an immaculate stone tablet, wrought of bizarrely heavy navy stone tablet. Upon it's surface lie words carved in the common tongue, but an esoteric gleam of might wavered over it's crystaline form, causing the words to shift to a darker tongue for mere moments. Holding such a tablet, one could feel the burden of sorrow of which it's scriber had hewn into each and every word of the text. "To the one known as The Shrike. I hope this reaches you. Ive no real clue where you reside, but I have left this in the only place I know where your kind gather. If those that find this are not The Shrike, then heed the text all the same, for I scribe this as an attempt to educate the ignorant. To contemplate The Enemy. In my Brother's name, do I take up the mantle of Hierophant, Educator, Elucidator. I seek to bring light to the unlearned, though no doubt those that feel the fell handed truth of my cleaving axe see naught what it is I truly wish to teach. I consider myself a savior of the World itself, and all that rest within it. I have taken up, as many before me, and as many will after me, the most burdensome of mantle. The crown of tireless warden to the Umbrage of which I strive weighs heavy, and in times such as this, my dual minds wander to distant, strained memory. A story offered to me, your enemy. Now, you would hardly recognize me Shrike, but I remember you. Amongst the fragments in the ocean, you burn for mere moments before fading, as all things do under the crushing hand of Will. I am one that takes comfort in the sunless hope, the crushing waves of the Shore offer frigid, soothing comfort. An embrace the likes of which I wish all to understand. The Dark devours, but in such teeth there is freedom, safety, and comfort. There is hope for true freedom. And yet, you and your ilk would consider such comforts to be anathema to your ways of life. You find only harrowing fear, for you are unwilling to embrace the truth......the same could be said for me and my ilk. We, who so find your light callous, cold, and unfeeling. You find strength and warmth in such incandescent brightness, just as we find solace and reprieve in the all devouring ebon sea. Yet do we not both seek to save the world? From each other, perhaps...but if only the universal truth of things could be found, perhaps...perhaps. That is what it always comes to. Perhaps. Such infuriating worthlessness is the what if. But even as the over bearing, zealous dogma of my education seeks to grind all hope down, the bleeding wound that I no longer have still spurs me to flights of hope. I would hope we all could join in Truth, yet I know you will never see mine, nor I yours. Thus it is we shall always be seeking to save the world from each other, instead of facing The Enemy. The greater things that spur us all to fight. The lies woven deep in your hearts, and the blinding light that keeps your eyes closed. Thus, with heavy heart do I raise my axe each time, to bring about blessed Truth. Perhaps I am merely feeling sentimental in my stagnation, or perhaps this is a true attempt at saving my enemy from The Enemy...or perhaps the night is merely long, and my long since dead heart stirs against it's own fading. Always the perhaps." Upon the back of the tablet, one could find scripture written within a fell tongue, hurting the eyes of mortal folk to bear witness to, along with a symbol beneath it. The skull of a Goat, horns curled back in noble might, with eyes of swirling black pits that stare back into the viewers own.

The automaton business owner and Clan Lord let out a hum as he enjoyed a spot of tea and deviled eggs, watching the stone scorch black and timbers crumble under the heat. "Im just glad the eyesore is off my lands"

I, Rylanor Goldhand, pledge my weapon of craft to be used within the tournament of Almaris. I represent the nation of Urguan. My blood is that of an automaton, but my spirit and upbrgining are that of a dwed, and my weapon shall represent as such. I will not issue any punishment or harm to Sir Reginald Persepolis Montgomery the Fourth if such an incident arises at the tournament. I bequeath my tournament weapon to be under his jurisdiction if dismantled or broken during the processions. If any bodily harm comes to my form, or happens in response to my weapon. I shall ignore such incidents and allow for this tournament to continue. I shall promise to not use the devious acts of the arcane to influence my weapon or the tournament myself, for doing so shall have myself removed from the contest or recycled into different bodily fluids. Signed, Rylanor Goldhand