The shameful Daendroque vessel rolled over the midday tides. It was not shameful had it been utilized for it's purpose, that being for lazy sittings down rivers and lakes, but for the sake of sailing the seas of the archipelago, the vessel was bashed and beaten. Marks adorned its side, curiously looking as though arrows had pierced the wooden planks of the small boat. The waves crashed against it's sides as it docked on the shores of the Ithanian District. A figure in a rather obnoxious pink gown stepped out, their face veiled. They didn't bother to tie their boat, nor was there anyone else leaving the boat to secure it. No, the person in the pink gown was the only passenger and not a dainty one either, stumbling down the streets, hauling a luggage bag behind them. A thick accented voice, deeper in tone cursed as it hauled the bag, "F***n cunts, why are the bricks so f***n shittily laid, were squares too much to ask for? F***n bastards." In this a mixture of curses in various tongues as though the person in question wasn't sure what to be speaking anymore. And there the pink dress stumbled, down the streets of the capital.
Carthas is still alive my brothers and sisters, in the end the Bastion fell just as our Lord foresaw. Reply with Blessed be Carthas and he will assault your military junta in a drugged out state.
