Light to the damned

naflaa

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Beowulf and the remaining sons of Ramlyn prepare themselves, coming from all corners of nowhere upon the call of duty.
 

Yeeter54740

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"Strange you would ask that when your own nation wages war using the selfsame premise as this missive's." A passer by commented.
"We tried to do negotiations and make peace, you guys are the ones that refused peace deals. Also I dont care what you say cyrus I'm retired"
 

Yeeter54740

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An evil vampire was sitting in his lair contemplating his collection of skulls when one of his unpaid mandatory volunteers delivered yet another list of poorly-written threats. He grinned as he struggled to muddle through the pile of barely coherent word vomit- his excitement growing more palpable with every line.

"At long last, more inspiration! I was beginning to worry they had found a constructive hobby!"

The dastardly villain took the missive to his vile writing desk. He started by scribbling a few notes down, using the blood of orphans instead of ink, before finally resuming his fanfiction in earnest:

Syra, Avert Thine Eyes!
Chapter III

Gwyn had been complaining the whole ride back, and Xzavier's last nerve had long-since begun to fray.
As if the priest's constant bellyaching weren't enough, the rest of their party had filled the hours of travel
with loud arguments about the rules of a game called 'I Spy' and blowing spit bubbles.
"Nuh-UH!" One of them shouted, wiping the drool from his chin. "You have for am to go SEE'D it! You amn't
no see elf man! Elf'ms all icky girly girl!" This declaration was followed by a chorus of buffoonish laughter
and such intellectual concurrence as "Heheh elf gay," and "Me strong knight! Lookit helmnet!"

Xzavier heaved a weary sigh and urged his steed onward. The sooner they were back to Elyanor, the better.


~

"Rema have mercy," he muttered under his breath. They had arrived back at the Seerdom, yet Gwyn continued
even as he was helping Xzavier with the buckles of his cuirass.

"I TOLD you," the priest repeated for the umpteenth time. "I told you it was a waste of time! That stupid false
queen is such an evil liar, I knew she would never submit to our very reasonable demands!"

"Yes, I KNOW," Xzavier snapped as his breastplate clattered to the floor. "I've explained to you, the whole point
was to prove how malicious she is. Everyone knows good people immediately agree if you tell them to shut up
and die. Now all of Enarion will know her treachery because she didn't give us everything we wanted!"

The hamster inside Gwyn's skull awoke at last and got back on its wheel- his capacity for childlike cognition
temporarily returned to him. "Ooooohhhh... Hey, don't shout at me! I'll smite you if you keep being mean!"

Xzavier was about to continue his tirade when the augur's pitiful tone gave the paladin pause. This wasn't
him. He was better than this. Gauntlets fell to join the rest of his armor, and he reached up to cup Gwyn's
cheeks in his hands. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm just stressed from work. If we don't succeed in scapegoating those
leeches we'll have no-one else to blame for the state of things around here. If we don't kill everyone else...
How can we continue to live?"

Gwyn's features softened at the paladin's calloused touch- a shiver running through him. "You know I can't
stay mad when you talk about genocide."

A mischievous smirk touched upon Xzavier's lips. The augur was like putty in his hands. He leaned in and
whispered in Gwyn's ear. "Would you say that father Tyth has blessed me with his silver tongue?"

Despite his best efforts, the augur could not contain the giggle that bubbled out of him. "Scoundrel. You ignite
the flame of Mytra in my breast, and dare to call it a blessing? I already have a flaming mother... What use have
I for a flaming daddy?"

Xzavier chuckled in Gwyn's ear, his voice a low rumble of ultra holy thunder. "Prepare yourself, 'Cyrus'," he
playfully mocked. "For the blessings of Usyl. Even the queen of fire cannot save you from the fury of a bull!"

The wicked author set down his quill, satisfied with the progress he'd made. An ungodly cackle erupted from the fiend; his head thrown back as the iniquitous cacophony echoed through the blood-caked halls of his eldritch god.
"Yes... Perfect. My foul machinations are all falling into place."
*Regar thunderye nearly dies of fucking laughter omg that's great*
 

Snavier

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Kinal Urswick
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Kinal would be laying on his bed, the yeti pelt atop of his torso and covering the rest of his body. Kinal slowly awakened to a bird retrieving the missive and Kinal stumbled to catch it before reaching the ground, tripping over himself and the pelt whilst doing so. Kinal reached the bird and snatched the missive as he bird flew away in cowardice. Kinal began to read the missive and noticed it was nearly a few months old as he sighed, before setting it beside on the table beside the cozy bed back in it's envelope. Kinal recovered himself with the pelt and placed his hat back over his face, returning to his slumber.
 

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