Damnit_Delmar

That wretched craftsman sat upon his throne of winged ivory, gems and aurum dangled from that throne, as that aurum clad Gravelord rested upon that cushioned satin seat. The wizened Craftsman; Reynard Pharamir Delmar, cackled with cruel glee. The eyes of Galbraths lover, rolling in his palm like a pair of dice. "What a grand gesture, a grand gesture indeed! We love ones first prominent Bounty, let us see how such proceeds."

A Seizing of Misused Power 9th of the Grand Harvest, 175 SA [!]This letter would be sent to all members of the Murkwater Merchant Company, Allies, in addition to the Duke of Brabant. Dear Members of Murkwater, Allies, and the Mortal Duke. It is with great pain that we come to tell you all, that the former student, the Vicar - Franz Kossuth, or Tallinn Tordove. Has failed us, his attempted plots have failed, he has wasted resources, aided our enemies through his own lack of foresight. In the result of his ire against the mortals, he has chosen to forgo the importance of our current goals. Our current aspirations, and expansion in domains that have long since been lost. Thus it is with, annoyance, that we take away the titles bestowed upon him. His titles of the council; revoked, his permissions to plan conflict; revoked, his ownership over his own grouping; revoked. Dissolved into the holdings of the Murkwater Merchant Company. Should those that held business with such an entity wish to discuss, so shall it be done in person. There is no honor, in a deal not upheld. To the Mortal Duke in particular; we will not revoke your plaything, for we believe you a worthy nemesis for the child known as the Vicar. You may keep your personal little battle, at the cost however, of a lessened interaction of our Company. The resources of Murkwater, departing from the Vicar, until he has proven himself worthy of holding such resources once more. Hazk al'durngo grael, narn thur ithurzu sethorek Hail the Black Sun, for its Light Guides Signed

A figure of the cold north would not know, but still in that dimly lit sanctuary of his, that place of respite. He pondered, upon the past, of the old mountain tops of that once fertile landscape. He remembered his time as Lord of the Adunic people, as King of the Harren'hil. Of his noble duty that he had long since forsaken. Aurelion Marsyr sat in silence, and though he knew not how, he knew that another had departed. Something within that Soulless being stirring. That the prodigal son of his, the one he had entrusted with who he considered a daughter, no longer lingered upon the realm. The one who he had entrusted that adunic task, long gone and forsaken. How many years had passed, decades frozen in that state of life and death, forced to languish forevermore while all those he had raised. . .slowly departed into realms far more peaceful. "This. . .is my curse. . .I'm sorry for failing you, my son." So did the Marsyr sit, silence befalling the old hunter, as he merely waited. How many years, how many more decades, perhaps even centuries would it be. . .until he once more joined them.

Only when everybody becomes a pearl clutching puritan

The Murkwater Merchant Company Robber Baron; Reynard Pharamir Delmar. Continues work upon his new company headquarters, unbeknownst to him, the company name gaining grand traction as a dark Mercantile company

So did that dastardly Delmar reside upon his throne of ebony stone, the man enjoying the tantalizing smoke of that blunt. Fueled by the flames of the fire, that had missed his undead. "Well well well, it seems we have much to prepare for." The merchant mused with twisted delight, his hands lifting as though to compose the beginnings of some dreaded orchestra. "Let us see how they fair in their first proper conflict"

Uncertain if you just missed out on it, would Darkstalkers be able to utilize these effects as well?

Blessed be the Mordring Metal

From within the depths of his lair, did the old Delmar come to look over the missive, his eyes widening as he brought his ivory clad fist up. "We are capitalists! Hardly agents of Iblees, my student must do better in marketing our allegiances" Thusly did the old decrepit one begin his work, the whining and screeching of an undead steed, coming to be worked upon.

Let the Musin be blind, magical mouse for the win

Don't see the reason lessening the amount, considering what tree said; though with that stated, I approve of the Paramoumt addition. Give Darkstalkers their Squires

The infamous and dastardly Delmar looks towards the note in hand, his gaze flicking over the blood stained missive, nodding his head as he examined that name. "So this is who they spoke of. . .how intriguing" The crimson stained pages would be tossed to the flames, his form slowly rising, arms stretching as his old bones cracked and popped. "If this god can bleed, then it means it lacks any power, any union, any strength. What have those who praised old lords, been doing to cause such an easy victory?" After a few moments, he offered a nod, an idea coming to mind. The hands of that still mortal, lofting upwards to summon forth his gilded lifeforce.

Of course, marriage is the ultimate tax write off, therefore marriage = capitalism