Primalist Pack Territory Claim

"Uhuh, nah no. For one, Oldtown has been a free zone for all to hunt for ages now, and that will likely not be taken away so lightly. And two, I'm going to begin hunting there more often to just be petty and piss them off. This will likely last two weeks at best, placing down my bets now."
Commented a more or less very displeased Allar who had seen the notice on his early morning walk through the city. However overall, their displeasure seemed to die down some as they began to perhaps see the Primalists claims as... A joke with making their bet. Ripping the notice to shreds before walking on away again.

 

The Upyr took one look at the parchment, which was fetched for her, before swiftly tearing into two neat pieces, casting them to the fireplace adjacent. “No,” Uttered she, quite unbothered and rather unamused. As a pool of tar seeped and churned at her feet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that same fate was held in store for the future of Old Towne. “Not even state verified. Eh.” With that, she shrugged, pacing off.

 

A Darkwald sat within his home, crossbow at the ready with a bit of a whistle after he would have read the recent notice while sitting in a small rocking chair. "Let them come.. they'll learn to regret their choice."

 

Fansho reads over the paper he'd brought back to the Silverlight Den, fixing his glasses as they slide down his nose. Eventually, he puts it down with a relieved sigh. "Somehow. Through the grace of Shambala and the Ssepston. The Den is /just/ outside of their claim. We don't need to pay their 'taxes'."

 

funny oldritch post pog?

It was uncommon for the ex-Void Demon to even show his face within Regalia, as his subsiding decline from power had rendered him as naught more than a frail figure casted within his own former shadow of The Devourer of Dreams. Regardless, he was here, and despite his recent surge of apathetic, lackluster display of emotional capacity, there was would could very loosely be described as a twinge of disgust, and emotion which had since become foreign to Oldritch.

"If it may be as easy as a simple denomination of a sector or partition of city or land to claim it as the grounds of a gathering or an individual than I may has well simply claimed the whole city as my dominion. The obtuse notion that these... indigents may be capable of defending against riposting retaliation of such a bovine, dense claim is doltish and moronic. Nevertheless, such vocation of ownership of the city will be watched with... Intrigue."

Proceeding such the Kathar brought forth a feathered quill to the perpetually bleeding slit upon his left hand, running the end of the utensil's metal tip within the unnatural, ichor-filled striation to cast vital fluids as ink for the quill. He proceeded to scratch out much of the majority of the post with his own unending blood, leaving only "PROPERTY OF OLDRITCH, THE DREAMEATER" and the designated territory legible.

"To free the man one must cut the man, and while mineself may prove to contest little, I am well sure their "freedom" will come soon enough. It is this dawning epoch, this new age of idiocy that has spawned lesser, more degenerated men and women, and it will be this century of ignoramus halfwits that will carry the baton of un-civilization down to The Regalian Empire's ruination."

 

The Mechanical Monstrosity had spent a good amount of his time reading over the many plans he had created with the reformation he was to bring. While things have been beginning to grow ever since he gave his call, he knew well that there were bound to be bumps and gaps along the way to disturb his happiness. Hearing the news of the Primalist's declaration, The Mechanical Monstrosity would narrow his eyes to such. An irritation growing from within as he read it to himself, and spoke with utter disgust

"Imbeciles. They are ones to believe that they have the right to claim something that is made for the public. I'll be sure to be one of many to put these damned mutts in their place. They didn't even get the voice of the money chokers to assist them, how funny. Kin, read this notice well, for I believe a good hunt shall be made tonight."

The Cratos let out a maniacal laughter, the voice tinned and crackling as The sounds of Clicking metal and Mechanics would grow from the horrific hybrid of man and machine.

@Hye4Life2 @DogVibes @indyfan98

 

“Lovely how you two had to sit down and endure two hours of toddler-tier arguing only to find out it was this simple. Pfhah.”
​

@invitica @Ailethi

 

"Please. I left before they had the chance to drag me anywhere. Ana, is your head still pulsing since that fateful day?"

@Ailethi @mochalattes ​

 

"My head still hurts to this day, dearest Leuthien. I will genuinely retire if I have to sit through that one more time."

@mochalattes @invitica ​

 

The open letter- announcement, rather-was discovered in near no time by the nosy Azra as she wandered the backroads of Old Town. Her hand lifted, calloused fingers dragging the paper up some so she could better view it, although its nail stayed firmly in place against the board. There was a long moment of consideration..

And then a laugh escaped her, hand drawing back so the flyer could flutter back to there it was. The Qadir leaned backwards on her heels, that hearty laughter spilling free from her until she nearly fell onto her ass from all her leaning. With an abrupt wave of her arms to steady herself, Azra finally calmed enough to make a simple comment of: “Wow, they think I can afford a tax? You got me fucked up.”

 

(( Couldn't decide which character to reply with, so I'm doing both. ))

A Von Kërle would be traveling around Regalia, searching for a meal at the time. Her dark cloak covering her plate armor would be trailing behind her, laying loosely on her shoulders as she emerged from the shadows. She'd loom over the notice, her figure almost appearing to be a dark shadow in the night of Regalia. After reading it, a laughter could be heard rising from the Ailor.
"They think they can control the territory when the guards have been trying for years? I'd like to see them /try/! We will stomp these weaklings into the ground."
Sivo would rip off the notice, crumbling it up. The dark figure would then turn to walk away, her footsteps as silent as the wind as she disappeared once more into the shadows of Regalia, gone with the night breeze.

--
Meanwhile, in the dawn of Regalia, as the sun was rising over the horizon, the sky bled red with blood. The more distinct sound of gears cranking and metal clanking against itself would be heard from a young man. The Cratos brood would be following his father at the time, and as the Mechanical Monstrosity pointed out the notice, Rizu would approach it to read. Upon a quick second of reading over the notice, he'd shake his head.
"We don't... Have anything to worry about, right?"
He'd fur his brow, looking over it again, worry in his eyes. The brood would flip his visor back over his eye, projecting a large, 3D map of Regalia out of his visor. All that he had explored, yet anyways. The projection would then flick off, and back on, changing to a smaller portion of the map included on the notice, except instead the portion of the map would be a light shade of red, as to signify the area in his head. The visor would stop projecting once more as soon as he had the area memorized.
Finally, the Cratos would take a deep breath, he was already getting stressed out from the constant cold war between the Void, Primalists, and Exist. He would turn to walk away from the notice, searching for the nearest sewer entrance. The gears shifting and metal creaking would fade as he disappeared into the murky sewers beneath.

 

Valarosta sat back in her seat with her cup of kaffee in one hand and a copy of the notice in the other. Her head tilted one way, then another, and back again, before she finally spoke up, "You know. This is outside of our jurisdiction."

Even still, the notice was placed off to the side of her desk. "This is the Violet Order's territory, it is fine. I am certain Baron Sorenvik and the other guards will be all too excited to have something to fight against."​

 

Abelhard eyed the piece of paper on the wall of an alley in his morning patrol, still groggily rubbing the eyes out as he stewed in what many could assume to be a barely tempered tantrum which was soon to rise from the gargant of an Elf. "Why, these bloody, mangy dogs- They've laid claim on a Unionist temple" he'd mutter to himself, jaw tensing as he wrung his hands together. "Why, I ought to bloody start a beast hunting organization, these filthy fucking animals are getting out of control." The man then began to compile a list of charges, before stepping back to Greygate.

 

A reply would be left stamped on the bottom of this claim with the sigil of wolf's head with the skull revealed on the left side. This one, however, had a well-aged crumpled piece of parchment attached to it.
"Old news, rats beat you to it."

 

The Mercenary Keep has noticed its inclusion in these territorial claims and hereby secedes from the declared realm of the Primalist Pack. The Keep is in Mercenary territory and State territory and will be nothing but. The Mercenary Commissioner will not tolerate attacks on mercenaries in the area and urges any citizen believing a mercenary to be acting unfairly to write to the Commissioner and civilly explain the situation. Lastly, the Mercenary Keep refuses to pay any tax to the Primalist Pack.
​

Hail the Empire,
Lord Theopold Kreiburg
Baron of Langthal
Regalian Field General
Regalian Mercenary Commissioner
Laird of the Gallovian Court​