satinkira

Taevas reads the missive, a saddened frown playing on his lips. He wheels over to a chest in the little shack. He rummages around, before taking out a small figurine of Braxus. He then spins around, wheeling towards the desk, writing a letter to Braxus. He attaches one of the dolls he received to the letter. Dear Braxus; When we first met, you were genuinely one of the kindest people I'd ever known. Despite what's followed of that time period (that whole slavery thing) I still have the dolls that you gave me. I've sent one back to you; a reminder of a calmer time for you, I hope. Under your rule, Haelun'or has flourished. Long may it do so. -ChildTea He sends off the letter, watching it go. "Good luck, Idendril."

That is true

Zachary Calding II raises an eyebrow. "Did.. Did the Irehearts just call Du Loc warmongering?"

My name is Inigo Montoya

Can't wait for self teaching altars, seeing as I've found four of them. What are you going to do to prevent these mechanics being weaponised, basically? I can't imagine a gang of peasants who'd all used the self teaching altar simultaneously beaning me with fireballs. There has to be a level of difficulty and danger beyond parkour.

Taevas slams his hands against the arm rests of his wheelchair, causing several people to glance over concernedly. "I'VE TOLD EVERYONE! EVERYONE WHO ASKS! I'M NOT A FUC- flipping SLAVE! HOW MANY TIMES!" He wheels out of the tavern in quite a state, resolving to listen to a music disc to calm him down.

Taevas squints. "Wait. So Ivarielle never actually contradicted Braxus.. what is this council doing? I'm not a bloody slave."

This is incredibly based, love it

A cynical cripple inspects the missive, mouth drawn into a saddened frown. "And then they wonder why Haelun'or dislikes outsiders."

A crippled child watches her leave, speaking. "It's almost like she has no respect for the traditions for the people that she claims right over."

ChildTea would definitely attend, if it wasn't for his newfound love for descendant flesh. Or perhaps that'll encourage him to go.

Taevas, a great fan of poetry, grins. "I'll ask around!"

I don't see why not A difficult thing to enforce though, not quite sure how'd you go around stopping people

ChildTea looks upon the missive, concerned for whoever this person is. He resolves to help if he can.

“This was the person who saved my arm. I’ll be sure to check it out!” says ChildTea.

I love this I need this We need this

ChildTea frowns. "Norland is a lot more interesting then I thought it was. I'll head back."

A thin, sallow looking man enters Zach's room. "Oisin's bastard son is dead." Zach glances up from his desk. Stacks upon stacks of papers line the table around him, and he doesn't even raise his head. "I was under the impression that no one was to enter the room without important reason." ". .Sir, this is quite important. Oisin was an extremely influential figure in the downfall of Rozania, and-" Zach cuts across, looking back at the figure.. "Rozania is long gone. Why should I care about it now?" "At least send your condolences. It's what your father would have done." Zach looks back to his desk . "Thanks to Peralien, I'll never know what my father would have wanted, because he's dead. Buffoon." "Zach. Just do it, please." Zach grumbles. "Fine. Just leave me be already." The man closes the door, chuckling. And so Zach pens a letter to the Roza estate, intending for Oisin to receive the letter. Dear Oisin O'Breathnach; Condolences to the death of your son. He was a good man, from what I have heard of him. I hope that he is in a better place. Sincerely; Zacharias Calding II

ChildTea snickers. "Religion."

ChildTea nods. "It is better to resolve this without further bloodshed."

ChildTea giggles.