[ ... ]
(Exhibit B in my "Kobolds are behind/control everything and use other races as a distraction" theory *GET* )
And to think that they called you MAD! HOW could they? but this will SHOW THEM! AHAHA! AHAHAHAHA!!!
THEY'LL RUE THE DAY THEY SCORNED KERO42! BLOOD TO ARMOK! SOCKS TO ARMOK!Dear Were-Coyote,
GET A NEW JOB AND A PROPER BEARD-STYLE, ELF. YOU ONLY KILLED
ONE ANIMAL. ONE. AN ANGRY CHILD FLAILING HIS FISTS AT AN INFANT DID THRICE THAT MUCH DAMAGE TO THIS FORTRESS. YOU WERE OUTDONE BY A SEVEN YEAR OLD THAT COULDN'T STAND HAVING HIS DINGLE SPOTTED. YOU ARE -NOTHING-, AND IF I SEE YOU AROUND THIS TOWN AGAIN I WILL SELL YOU TO YOUR COWARDLY ELVEN BRETHREN WITH A SHIPMENT OF IRON CHAINS AND SILK THONGS.
...*Clears throat,*
Dear Vampire,
I've got you now. Your hand's all busted up from my hammerer beating you and you'll have to wait for the doctor to help you before you decide to get up. This can go two ways and two ways only. You submit to my will and go to the eternal prison I have assigned and devised for you, or you will suffer an unfortunate accident involving a cage and elves and the purchase of something trivial, like socks.
Dear Urist,
Would you like to explain to me what is taking so long for you to build the road and carve the wall fortifications? I have stone stockpiles on the surface, plenty of perfectly sturdy rock salt mined from the earth for your use. Yet you deign to run down six stories to my other stockpiles to grab blocks I've intended for use in my other projects.
You're inefficient, Urist. So were the goblins, and they're at the bottom of the river now. I am told that there are socks under those waves. You may be sent to investigate personally if you don't shape up.
To all with great sincerity, your Overseer, Master and Malific Force controlling the world-renowned adventurer Indrick Boreale.