order finbar out the subject.
#3762

Actually as it happens bad language is punishable and wether you consider it in role or not doesn't matter.


Recently in a conversation with Finbar I called threap a F**cker and whis mother a ... less than savoury dutches of the bed chamber. (I used a much smaller word). Sadly the cur has a bug rune on me. Your prince, he who is evil and the elite of the thakrian fighters.


Told on me.


As funny as I found Threaps thin skin to be, the message from the deity in question left NO doubt of what language should be used, so MY days of fleeinging around my potty mouth sadly are numbered.


I just have ONE question, so you and lord Damocles were laughing at abydos using march. so, what about the time you ran from me in orctown straight to the great orcs chamber and I ended up dying to a combination of you and the CCCs, surely, you see your hypocricy?


I swear, ever since Lancelot left the guildmastership of the cavaliers it really has gone down hill.


You ARE dogs, the little class that you may get from associating yourself in a post with a deity is besmirched by the fact that there isn't A follower of chaos that couldn't hand you your buttocks. I jumped you in thakria, alone, you ran, to a stockroom. \"I'm lagging\" you said, what is this lagging?


You are a craven, cowardly curr, and the only Cavalier worth a spit is maleki, well lancelot is a good one too, The others are useless cowardly teaming . what was it you called yourself a gutter snipe from the slums of Thakria?


Hardly the backround of a noble and supposedly peerless Guildmaster of the Cavalier's guild, truly the city of miracles is lacking in its quality.


So what is it gona be? Threap? Are you going to hold your citizens to the same standards you hold everybody else in avalon, or were you just whining to a god to get me in trouble?


Child.


Enough of this debacle however, you laugh at my \"hypocricy\" because I slay you, the minions of evil, without mercy, question, or pause. When you shout from the highest towers your prowess your greatness yet in the end you are all, thakrian... gutter..... snipes.


Written by my hand on the 24th of Mournsend, in the year 1127.