Greener

Odin wonders why they did this. It's pretty ******* obvious he thought to himself. "Haha"

10/10

A short fat dwed trudges through the snow in the moonlight towards the known Ironborn camp. He stands upon the ridge over looking the camp as he takes out his bow and attaching a crude piece of parchment to one of the arrows. He notches the arrow and releases it sending it soaring through the sky down into the centre of the camp. The note reads... You pathetic excuse for dwed. Come out of the shadows you worthless ******* weasels. You have attacked my kin once more and now we shall end you. We Irehearts of this age know all too well of the past, I've seen it with my own eyes. Don't think your merry band of Khorvad ball bag teasers can come back into Urguan threatening the safety of his people. First you slaughtered my kin and then forced my kin to fight for your worthless Khorvad loving fantasy just so we could live for nothing. I know what happened you killed every single last Dwarf, left with just yourselves to wither and rot away. A gush of wind will sweep you aside like dust within an ancient hall, you are ******* nothing. You messed with the bears now you mess with the ******* Dragons. Kavir oz Khrothrein, harath fraed oz da umgors othok gilthoks!

Odin would like to note that the Ironborn didn't drive the Irehearts anywhere we assisted you.

Odin walks past the statue catching the sight small probably weak ass punch dent even though it was punched by rune fist in the corner of his eye. "Wot fawkin **** did tis tu Urir!" He shakes his head going to find a Mason.

You hear an odd familiar chuckle from down the bridge within the city. A short dwed with a thick bushy beard, his belly plump and his arms ripped. A tune begins from a short figure beside him. Odin clicks his figures singing as he walks in "Alalalalaalalaaaaaa," he jumps brazier to brazier his belly flopping side to side. "Guud to beh home."

Heres the issue why your getting confused bunch of homebrew ****

Piers rolls about in his Gravenous place of graven things and says to himself "The whole family is a bunch of snakes."

That fact its the english dub...

Odin shakes his head "No fawk ov ye wee *****!". He laughs for a few seconds making the situation awkward then goes up and gives his kin a hearty warm hug, "Glad yer back."

(IC) Name: Dresril Do'Val Age: 67 Gender: Male Do you accept that in joining this order you may at times be tasked with taking the life of another mali’ker? Yes I agree Do you accept that under particular circumstances you may be removed from the order? And under serious enough terms, executed? Yes Do you accept that we are not fanatics? And that should a mali'ker refuse to accept the Ancestors (Provided what they believe is wholesome) that we shall do no harm to them? Yes

Name: Dresril Do'Val Age: 67 Race (If not mali'ker then an interview will be required): mali'ker Notable Skills: Excels in combat How many will be moving in with you? 1 my non identical brother Do you accept the laws of Ebonglade and by extension Laureh'lin? Yes Mc Name: greener161 Skype: greener161

Lucien tries to speak to his father but guess what he can't! He just mumbles with a soft groan.

GREEEEEEEEEEEEENER ON THE OTHER SIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. MUST OF CALLED A GREEEEEEEEENER TIMEEEEES.

******* love zirene

"**** off" Odin says.

Luciens sigh wondering why his father would marry his half sister off to a snake. "Hmmm."

A graven named Piers signs the charter

Moved to Denied Application Forum.