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Gambit

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  1. oh damn what happened here

    1. Apotolofo

      Apotolofo

      ...nevermind. found out

  2. Your honor, he did that shit

  3. "Sympathy for the Skavik Devils." The young raider muttered to himself, huddled into a Skavik long boat, brandishing his blooded woodsmen's axe
  4. GODS HOOD MOURNS. ________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________ ☨ "Today we lost a real one." High Pontiff Tylos III Goderyc, he Don Father paced back and forth, distracted, this wasn't his usual self... One of his fellow Priest passed him, of the Hood, of course, throwing up the Cross, he was slow to respond, unusual for the Father, he was contemplating; 'What was he to do once Vienne was raised to the ground?' a city he'd always know, running the streets since he was young, he was 23 now, but will he live to see 24? The way things is goin', he didn’t know... He was caught in thought, thinking of the Hoods future, his pupils, his followers, his homies- "Don Goderyc!" one of his streetmen suddenly cried out, running towards him, Goderyc turned to him, his sharp nose pointing down towards him, perking a brow, "Ops, they're here...!" Goderyc paused, being sucked out of thought, out of his future plans, he turned towards to face the only obvious direction anyone could enter on foot, drawing his crossbow, pointing it sideways, his mind raced... 'Petrans? Feds? Acrenans...? 'Bless ops from South-Side? Worst of all; Deaf people?' only the Don Lord GOD knew what ops awaited these hands once they came into sight, as more of the Don Fathers loyalist bolstered the front of their defense, civilians in carriages and on horseback fled the area, beads of sweat trickled down his face, he thought he heard something- No, he didn't, he turned to take a drag from his cigar, inhaling- "This one's for 'Blees!" Suddenly several passing carriage's doors opened up, bolts flying out from the doors and windows, a drive-by, as Goderycs men went to take cover, a bolt struck the Don Father himself in the shoulder, then in the leg, he screaming in both pain and anger, pulling the lever on his 'Bolt'Throwa,' his crossbow, firing a bolt into the direction of his ops, moving into cover, huffing some premium Haenser crystal to regain his strength, as he reloads and prepared to return bolts to these fools on his street, though as he did, he was struck once more in his thigh, bucking to the ground once more, he turned left, all his men, his homies... Dead... He hastily turned right, it was no better. He prayed, before opening a crate titled 'Exposyves,' shoving whatever he could grab underneath the garment he wore, looking to the remaining crack and other drugs he'd been peddling on these streets, muttering something only the Don Lord will ever know he huffed, he snorted, he took every drug that he could see near him as he lit a cigar, dragging from it before clamping it between his jaws, standing up he began to walk towards the ops who'd now had dismounted or exited their carriages, as they began to fire upon the Don Father, though he was struck, again and again, he kept walking. "I never met a man like him." Holy Ser David A bolt to the arm, another to his knee, he trudged forwards to these heretical ops, before another bolt struck his chest, as he fell unto his knees, the 'Blees ops approached what they believed to be his now corpses, as he struggled to move, he looked up to the approaching fools. "He was certainly, uh, a person." Cardinal Katerina "He cannot be divided nor made again, and His mysteries are the holy mysteries..." he coughed, blood spitting from his mouth, "No art is alike to His boundless ability.." he took the cigar from his mouth, still alit, he dropped it unto his chest, and in his last few moments of life, he gave on last sermon, "Lo and attend, for I am the Lord GOD, and I am in the foremost part of heaven... Though the spring flower withers and the fruit of the tree fall to the ground, My Word lasts into the eve of the world, and the fruit of virtue cannot rot..." He looked not to the sinners flanking all his sides, but to the blinding brightness of the sun, seeing what was only one thing, the Seven Skies... Reflecting on his life, he remembers only one moment, one defining moment... "A Father all the homies want to be like.." Unknown spectator The copious amount of explosive he had stuffed into his undergarment ignited, going off, taking these ops with the Don Father, in one last commitment to the Don Lord GOD.
  5. ST review my fa I'll pay you in Costa Rican Colón

  6. why'd you copy my outfit 

    1. Funny Clock Man

      Funny Clock Man

      Convergent Evolution

  7. [!] Æthwulf of Acre, 'Robynn,' thought back to legendary sketch way-back-when...
  8. "They speak of their ineffectiveness, and how they will matter no in battle, yet then celebrated when they will not be in battle, as if it is a victory? Perplexing..." Robynn of Acre commented, already fed up with war. "I suppose, in the word of the half-men, 'this changes nothing."
  9. "Big if true." Commented Robynn of Acre.
  10. Robynn of Acre would wonder if this meant that the dwarven raiders would finally stop running away every time more than ten Orenians stepped out of the gate. Probably not.
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