Magister214

A dwarf stands while next to a large anvil which bears various symbols upon its face and sides. A crossbow is drawn back, arrow notched, then the occasional thunk could be heard as yet another was pierced at a plushie of Hadrian I from across the room. Target practice. Arrows fill the stomach of the plushie as cotton spills from it's sides and onto the wooden floors. Whatever dwarven lands this missive was posted; Galmor is nowhere near to notice it.

To The Dishonorable Shugonate. I smashed down your doors expecting that same grandeur that is commonly found in the capital. Instead your home is a more cluttered cave than any dwelling of an Unguhite! Do you need help? I think you should speak with someone in therapy given the current living conditions of their Shugo. There is torn cute wallpaper everywhere and enough dust to make a snobbish elf choke from the stale air. However, there is also the newest addition of a masked individual on the floor. You are welcome. He could have robbed you. I did not want to kill him, but he did not wish to split the loot. Do I get a reward for my honorable deed? I want mina or a new enchanted weapon as payment. Lastly, I wish the citizens of Junmura luck with window repair. I lost count how many I smashed and I frankly was not keeping track. My partner certainly was not counting either. While I did not find anything of use there, I will enjoy the free food left near the entrance. The soup was left behind. I do not like that particular soup. I did hear you liked monkbread, so that too was untouched by my Red Hands. As a last parting gift in someone’s home. I lifted my helm and spat upon a katana that was pristine in its weapon holder. You’re welcome. Signed, The Red Hand, Galmor

Boneless better. My favorite is parmesian garlic or lemon pepper from wingstop.

A dwarf is standing over the many barrels in his home. Sorting through the various stolen horse whistles, crank crossbows, aurum blades, falchions, schimitars, warhammers, halberds, pikes, swords, and precious valuables. He pulls out a Oyashi Tanegashima crank crossbow, studying its features before aiming it at the wall of his home as if he was preparing to shoot at a bumbling guard. Galmor gives a subtle nod and simply sets it out along with some of the other weapons intended for an upcoming heist. Alongside this, he had a grand warhammer from the Host of Idunia wrought from pure refined Kingstone. A cluster of arrows and lockpicks linger on a workbench. A shame he had already sold the many enchanted rings to those who fence off his goods. The only thing missing to complete his arsenal was various potions which would only compliment and assist in his robberies or heists. A few thumps are heard across the wood floors. Parchment is drawn and the dull ping of an ink well is the only sign of a message being formed. A test if his dealings would be fruitful.

To 'The Emperor of Azuras', Marcus I, Many of your doors lay broken, windows shattered, yielded to our war hammers and lockpicks yet again. Our Red Hands scatter across your lands; upon the faces of statues, paintings, and walls which bear our mark. From the emperor's office to the shores of Alba. The reaches of Aelwen to the Azdrazi. Many belongings snatched to be repurposed or sold. Some individuals ransomed and positioned into bad trades for sentimental items to be returned. Cattle across all nations lay slain by our blades. Some individuals wasting away in the wilds. But none of it could compare to the weapons that were found many moons ago. Our new blighted weapons shall plague all those who may stand in our path or as we see fit. Many of which will never be given the mercy of death. Damned to roam across the land with sunken eyes and blackened veins as the blight spreads across them. Perhaps we will stumble across you. Our Red Hands have infiltrated your palace many times before. We could have a long civilized chat, but it is obvious how that would end. Afterall, the actions of the father is passed down to his sons and daughters. Those of Hadrian's blood shall suffer for his heinous actions. Marcus I, you will perish of a slow and agonizing death, alone. Sickly and gaunt similarly to that of a ghoul. You will not be the first to die, but the last. Signed, A Red Hand

In regards to Viru. Viru's citizens have the same naivety of those in Norland, Aelwen, and The Empire. Many of who will find their doors hanging from its hinges or smashed across the floor in a dozen pieces. I have acquired your rings, voidal artifacts, potions, weapons, armors, and herbs to my growing collection. You are rather naive for leaving all of your chests unlocked. I enjoyed reading each and every one of your citizens letters regarding the inferi and other 'well kept' secrets. Your shrines and altars have been spat upon, and some of your cattle have been slain in their cages. Perhaps a mercy after being crammed in a cage for all their life. Your citizen's could not spot an individual in blackened plate armor against a colorful home. I did not have to sneak on your lands. I also borrowed someone's Depression B' Gone. I truly hope you did not need it anymore, but I did leave you some steak so your not hungry. It was definitely not stolen from another home in Viru, surely not. Thank you to those who are naive in this world. Your possessions will fill my pockets with mina. While I was making myself at home in Viru, I saw a familiar name from the dwelling that I was breaking into. Gutlug Lur Khan. If I am not mistaken, I am very certain many Uruk are hunting that one down and are demanding his death. Unless the home is abandoned, I never knew a Idunian city would house someone who is wanted and only brings trouble to their land. It makes sense as to why their gates are always shut and their people roam the streets for anyone that does not fit in. Strange that they do not hold the same ideology in regards to the security of their possessions and residences. Signed, Galmor

To Kurai Kuni, I had arrived upon your shores many moons ago as part of a two-stage robbery. First, your dull temples and dwellings in the countryside have been made more empty. Many of which already contained nothing of value, except shrines and cattle. But I did discover the occasional weapon to add to my growing collection. Specifically inside the Kato residences whose homes stretched far underneath the ground. I have spat upon your gleaming armor that gathers dust while on display, muddied your temple’s floors with my horse, and left black smudges from coal on your prized katanas that lay in their dedicated display chambers. While I was discovered by someone wearing a mask in the hills. I do believe their horse never had a liking to them. That individual is now somewhere amongst the jagged shoreline of your land. My daemon-steel longsword could have ended their life if needed, but I was hoping to perhaps end it in a more peaceful manner than that fate. Second, the inner city and residences were targeted. If the countryside was kept secure from those called ‘gaijin’, then the center was left similarly to Norland. Your crank crossbows, katanas, and strange bat-like weapons will be repurposed rather than being gawked on occasion. Your metals will supply our blacksmiths, and your sentimental items will be sold for someone else to gaze upon. The land you stand upon will serve to profit the dwarves that you had slain with the Empire. Not that your capital ever once held the same luster that Urguan once held. Your roads are a bleak mixture of gloom and melancholy which parallels an aspiration corrupted by fanaticism. My kin whose heads were left to weather upon crude spikes at the capital gate will be avenged in due time with your deaths. Signed, Galmor

Waves crash into the jagged shore of Kurai Kuni. The rain whipping in the wind as it slammed into the buildings and statues. A gaijin in blackened plate armor rides inside the capital, hooves clacking against the pavement. His eyes focused on the lift ahead and once taken, he rode into the forbidden section. A deep breath is taken as a moment of peace blankets over the dwarf. Exhaustion creeps over his face beneath his helm. But he is soon shaken awake as the first structure draws near. He bids his horse to stop and his armor clanks as he slides off to the ground. Galmor walks toward the building and takes out his warhammer. Fresh out of lockpicks after slaughtering Petra’s cows until only three remained. He aims his warhammer back before swinging it at the door. The door buckles and crescent shapes are indented into the door. Soon some hinges snap and the door is forced open, allowing the dwarf to walk inside. Despite it being a home, he finds no treasure. Many of the chests remain locked, with most rooms appearing dull and cramped. The next structure is hit and the result is the same. Hours blur between the smashing of doors and riding in the rain. His horse remained nearby as he stared off at the storm clashing amongst the jagged shoreline. Soon a voice not his is shouted from behind. “Gaijin!” Galmor snaps out of his daydream and twists toward the voice. There was an Oyashi monk wearing a Tengu mask on its face that's ever scowling while atop his armored storm rider. “Fock…” Galmor whispers as his hand lingers near the hilt of his longsword, but perhaps he could talk instead of spilling blood. “Why you roam?” The monk calls out again. To steal the possessions of those who besieged Urguan, but why should he say the truth aloud? “Oi am lost.” He lies. It's the best excuse he can make up at the moment. “Very lost - I watched you climb our compound.” The monk replies. The dwarf did his best to not travel on the roads of the island to avoid unwanted attention, but it is still difficult to hide due to the lack of vegetation. “I will speak plainly - what is your intent? I do not care to fight. I just simply want - truth.” The monk adds on. Galmor could explain he was here to steal whatever treasures the Kuni held in their homes. But he too did not wish to fight when he remained empty handed. However before the dwarf could reply, as if Yemekar himself was gazing upon the interaction before intervening. A flash of lightning struck close on the island and startled the Oyashi monk’s horse. With a kick and a buck, the man is unfortunately sent flying over the cliff and toward the jagged rocks below. The sound of distant thunder finalizes the monk’s tragic demise. Galmor takes a moment to process what had occurred before peering over the cliff for the man in hopes he had actually survived. Soon he climbs down carefully in search, but the monk is not found except for a few items worth taking and a metal ‘bat’ with studs at the end as if it was a mace. The dwarf afterwards decides to take what he has gained, grab his horse, and head home once more. Another day of profit even if it was strange.

A familiar dwarf is lounging in his home after reading the letter. The scent of green apples and fresh pears with hints of honeysuckle hit him as a bottle of stolen moonwine is uncorked. It is tilted near his mouth before he guzzles the contents down. Soon letting out a hideous belch. A moment passes before he mutters to himself. "Who t' fock eh Galmour? T'ey so upset Oi stole their possessions that t'ey now make up fiction 'bout me dyin' without spellin' me name correctly? T'ey eh more pathetic than Oi thought!" With a chuckle, he stands with a stretch. Thumps heard across the floor as he reaches for another bottle of that wine which was stolen mere months ago from some imperial winery. "Crazy t'is one eh." He mutters in regards to Maeve.

To Aelwen, The citizens of your home have little to nothing of value. However, your druids certainly hoarded many items of significance, many of which are now stolen from their homes. You all left chests unlocked, and it was likely the thought that no one would be truly foolish enough to commit such grand acts of larceny and trespassing. Those in the Imperial Palace were the same. Thanks to your naivety, I have gained many new voidal weapons. Some of which will be tested on fortunate Idunian soldiers or its citizens. The rest will be given to those I trust to wield, but the most powerful is mine. As I have mentioned in a previous letter to the now deceased Emperor of Man, I have a grudge upon those who assisted in the siege of Urguan. All of Idunia, The Empire, Kurai-Kuni, and Norland will have their doors hanging from its hinges, chests emptied, barrels smashed, and valuables stripped. My greed for your valuables is insatiable. I have broken into the imperial palace twice. Your compliance with the empire is disgusting and has been noted. Perhaps in due time you will heed the error of your ways. But for now, dwell on the fact that your lack of guards and self-procured naivety led to your treasures being seized. The cycle will repeat. Signed, Galmor

IGN: Magister214 Name: ALZ AZ LIS Age: DEATH Gender: DAMNATION The team you're playing for: IBLEES Interests: TORMENT AND DESPAIR Extra Info: I ALSO LIKE CATS

O' Broken Hinges The dwarf simply could not help himself. Doors across Idunia and the Empire lay smashed or hanging from its hinges. The contents of chests and barrels lay scattered across the floor of whatever dwelling it was in. First it was the Qali Estate whose residences fell to become the target of his greedy hands. Coal was taken from the furnaces, rooms were cleared, and the populations of cattle were halved by his blade. The dwarf did anything within his strength to harm the conquerors of Urguan even if it were the innocents who became the victim. Altwegg became the second target, and soon the many vassals of the Empire followed shortly after. Some days of rest pass before the dwarf stood upon the bridge to the golden hills of Idunia. There the tall white chalky walls of Angrenost and the structures surrounding it fell victim to his pilfering. How unfortunate the gates were left open. With the guards either not paying attention or simply taking a nap. The short individual in blackened plate armor continued his acts of larceny. Not a single room or door was left untouched. Alduun was next in broad daylight. The shining and populated city would soon have its wealth stripped. The dwarf scouted a residence with a goat inside it. He reads the sign, 'Zora Euler'. With a shrug, he took out his war hammer, raised it back a bit and began slamming his swings into the wooden doors. SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! The war hammer left splinters and dull crescents indented in the wood. Soon the doors groan and yield with a crash. The idle yet muffled conversation from nearby residences continue along with the occasional bird whistle as the dwarf steps inside. The barrels, drawers, and chests were all rummaged. Even the food that had been left in the oven had been stolen. Broken glass, and muddied boot prints dirtied the floor and rugs. Many of the residences across Alduun fell victim to a similar fate. Somewhere in the forest, the dwarf sat once more. Counting through his treasures, the occasional imperial schilling, and some new weapons to provide the other dwarves with. After a moment an opportunity arose. A sheet of parchment is drawn, a message scribbled, and soon sent by bird. A potential target, a potential heist to be had, but he would need more numbers. The original group who had broken into that imperial palace.

To Hadrian I, The 'Emperor of Azuras'. Lad, you need a better throne. I sat upon your royal high chair and it was the most stiff and cramping piece of furniture I have ever had the pleasure to lounge in. There is a crook in my back from its abysmal craftsmanship! Is this the finest that the sons of Horen can offer to you? It is pathetic. As a dwarf who lived amongst the many master-crafters that your kind has slain, they could effortlessly forge and carve out a grand throne. Do not fret Hadrian for we have carved into your throne and left some choice words for you to read. I have some suggestions for renovations. Your chambers are too bright and agonizing for my eyes to gaze upon. Remove the crosses, your god does not exist and there is no need for every surface to bear its symbol. There is too much around your throne which adds to its cramped posture and rigidness. The decorations hanging amongst your walls bear the same color as my vomit. An embarrassing display for the so-called 'Emperor of Azuras'. I expected better and I am thoroughly disappointed. It all must be torn down and reduced to rubble. We ‘borrowed’ some possessions that belong to your eyesore of a palace. Smashed the doors of your citizens' homes just as your soldiers did to ours. Claimed the very prizes that your people gawk upon. I am a dwarf with a grudge upon those who raided Urguan. Caurost’s people should have realized some belongings were missing many days ago. The same goes for Norland’s many homes recently made empty. My spree of thievery upon the conquerors of Urguan will not cease for I have nothing left to lose. Every chest shall be emptied, barrels smashed, and doors left barely hanging upon its hinges. No stone will be left unturned. Lastly, shorten your self bestowed titles. Signed, Galmor

A brave dwarf in blackened plate armor counts through his newly ill-gotten goods. But he seems rather dissatisfied. Nothing seems to compare over breaking into that castle under the lack of cover with allies. He recounts the events of that day. Sneaking past blind guards, and hiding in the shrubbery of the imperial royal gardens. The sun casted down its light upon the blackened shine of his armor. Catching the reflection before finally moving forth. There he stood in that wretched glittering throne room as a mere petitioner. Crimson ornate carpet with flakes of gold along its edges before being crested with blackened stone. Hadrian I’s throne that had stood as a pinnacle over all others. Where all the eyes of Azuras stared upon the man who now held the lands in his bloodstained hands. The son of Horen who ordered the death of his many dwarven brothers through the waging of war and turmoil. Urguan crumbles in its ruins, a dying beacon of dwarven achievement as he slowly climbs the steps to that throne. With a turn, he faces the gilded Cross of Lorraine across the room before lowering down upon the throne. The dwarf’s face twists into one of disgust. “Tis shoite eh uncomfortable!” The dwarf comments in regards to the throne. “Na’e wonder de laddie eh a piece o’ shoite!” Finally he stands with a stretch before sketching a hastily written post for Hadrian to see. ‘Dwarf was here’ it had said. “We ne’ t’leave so na’e imperial coward foinds us!” The dwarf smiles in the forest with that great feat. To see Hadrian's angry fit would be a sight to enjoy.

A wandering dwed warrior that bears the dents and scratches of battle upon his plate armor carefully reads the missive. "BAH!" The dwarf boisterously laughs. "Na'e dwarf Oi know wou' do any o' dat! Imperial cowards. The lot o' 'em!" He huffs beneath his masked helm before walking off.

Somewhere, an individual in blackened plate armor sits in a quiet dark forest just outside of Norland sorting the spoils of his thievery. A night of ale was to be had after much success. Along with a fence to rid of these ill-gotten goods. Perhaps they both could target someone of a higher profile such as a duke or a wealthy baron in due time.

(Voided the PK as per rule 6 of Character Deaths and Permakills) (Sorry)

A familiar goblin stares at the last painting of Urguan. Painted by himself mere days before the siege. The wooden fortifications at the mouth of the mountain. The Urguani banners that rose and flapped in the chilled wind towards the corners of the painting. The cannons and numbering ballista that eerily waited for their claims. Yet, the flowers, ferns, and trees swayed in peace as if war was a ever distant memory. Reminiscence... Finally the goblin glanced around from his bed. His home. Quiet except for the muffled celebrations of victory from some Idunian soldiers and the creak of wood from the subtle shifts. Despite the 'victory', he remained frowning. His long blue ears drooping down in sadness. He promised he would try to fight for Urguan. But he could not find himself to hurt and betray his friends from Idunia. He could only imagine the grave numbers lost to this pointless war. His friends laying dead under that mountain. The goblin taps at a bracelet before a bushy looking cloak, soft and emerald, forms around him. He gently slides the collection of paintings in his pack. Finally he leaves his home in search of a dwarf.

Mu'd'Ox would wander upon the missive. He reads it before frogblinking once. Then again for a second time. He blahs what is on his mind. "Wha iz... an atrahnach? Wha iz dat? Me nub undahstand!"

UNGA BUNGA!

The rustle of leaves could be heard. A couple of long blue ears shoot up from a bush that is abnormally placed nearby. Soon a pair of eyes scan all over the strange parchment. The bush goblin frogblinks once before scampering off. The loud shake of leaves are heard. "Dum skribbles.. Me need ta.. Learn how ta.. Read."

A certain goblin would view the letter with curious eyes. Despite being not too smart, the goblin notices something fishy about the letter. Something was very off and he could not figure it out at that moment. "Fod does not think this sounds like Lord friend at all." The goblin would pronounce the name. "Llwy.." The goblin thinks very long and hard. Minutes seem to pass by as he ponders. "Fod thought it was Llyw?"