Korth :-)

Stanimir wonders what the difference between a shadow and and a shade, truly is.

Korth make approve of post.

Stanimir receives an envelope, breaking the seal, reading the letter inside. He then throws it on the ground and steps on it. "Remove teuton!" he shouts with passion.

Stanimir Agnov sheds three tears of joy, wiping them from his rosy cheek with a happy sob.

Duncan was in Abresi, where he laid eyes on a pretty girl. He invited her to go away with him and ride into the sunset together. She refused, and the local sheriff threatened him. Duncan walked away, but he was angry. On the way home to Kralta, he saw a few dark elves. He mumbled "Worthless darkies!" but they still heard him twenty metres away. Not impressive, really, considering their pointed ears. They walked up to him, furious. They squabbled for a bit until fists clashed and steel danced. Duncan was overwhelmed by the two elves, and ultimately impaled on a sword. So many spectators, and nobody did anything. As to be expected, Duncan was not a nice man anyway. (( :'c ))

Duncan sees the poster and walks manly away, trying not to cry.

Duncan Lysander Nicknames: Duncan the Drowned, Dunc, Dun, Dun-Dun, Drowned Age: 24 Gender: Male Race: Human Status: Alive Description Height: 5'6" Weight: Body Type: Average/slender Eyes: Hazel Hair: Dark brown, thick, messy, fringe, was long but was crudely cut half-way down the head. Skin: Fair, abit sickly Markings/Tattoos: Scar over jaw from crossbow Health: Good Personality: Racist, sexist, vindictive, arrogant, sarcastic, calm yet prone to anger, arrogant yet insecure, wants to prove himself, ambitious Inventory: Brown breeches, a black or yellow-red-striped doublet, black leather boots, brown gloves and a leather belt, at all times. Sometimes he wears a dark iron hauberk, red and yellow tabard or teal gambeson, and either a leather gorget or a solid steel one, both with spaulders respectively. Further Details: Life Style Alignment*: Chaotic neutral Deity*: Godanistan Religion: The Church of the Creator Alliance/Nation/Home: The Holy Oren Empire, The March of Raev, Town of Kralta Job/Class: Man-at-arms, petty knight Title(s): None Profession(s): None Special Skill(s): Sarcasm, swordplay, calmness, arbalestier Flaw(s): Illiterate, short Weaponry Fighting Style: Dual-wielding shortsword and dagger/buckler, or just shooting from afar Trained Weapon: Sword, dagger, buckler, arbalest Favored Weapon: Arbalest Archery: Efficient with an arbalest Biography Parents: Siblings: Children: Extended Family: Pet(s): Damen History WIP

Duncan is sat by the river when he hears the news. He ponders for a bit, until he starts grinning and looking up at the Krelmstad. Step after step, he ascends the staircase of the looming castle, and as he reaches the keep, he looks up at the throne, before running up yet more stairs, to the very top of the castle. He looks past the small town of Kralta, past the march of Raev, into the horizon where he can see the distant silhuette of Aldersberg. Duncan grins, as the borders of Raev would finally expand.

Duncan prays that Damen will not assume the position of witcher.

In fact, don't bother having fun at all. Fun is boring and a definitive 0/10 wouldn't recommend.

Duncan sighs, shaking his head. "Hanged, rather. Eirik was not tapestry." he mutters.

((Burning and slashing at the parasites in the water, that sounds like a good idea.))