Talaran's Ossum Tales

[Synyster Spirit]

Does anyone know what the Druids are up to these days? Well let me fill you in on the dark of it.

I was taking a casual stroll through the Viridale in search of inspiration when I encountered a trio: an Elven spellsword named Altherion, a midget of an Elf named Fade, and a petite, yet somewhat attractive Halfling named Jen.

I stumbled upon this trio just in time to watch them charge down a helpless little doe. But this was no ordinary deer hunt! No! The spellsword stabbed the creature TEN times! And then the corpse ten more for good measure. The midget elf, Fade, proceeded to molest the butchered doe. Perhaps indulging herself in her festishes of bestiality and necrophilia at once? She was rather fond of the teeth, so she more than likely bites or enjoys being bitten.

I imagine the innocent doe was prancing around the 'Dale when it must have stumbled upon the corpse of an Orc. Curiosity likely got the best of the poor creature as it stayed to nuzzle the corpse and that's when the adventurers slaughtered the unfortunate doe!

I then accompanied them to the Druid's Grove with the mangled corpse of aforementioned doe. We were promptly warned that if we crossed the bridge we would be subject to molestation by Treants and shapeshifted Druids which would result in tortuous death.

I thought the doe was just dirty, but all that dirt turned out to be Transmutation symbols. Can you believe that? Are the Druids trying to make war machines out of the creatures of the wild now? Apparently a pack of wild dogs destroyed a caravan out by the Gate of the Sunderer. So are the Druids finally taking an offensive against the city folk threatening Nature?

Keeps your eyes and ears open for the next Tale, cutters.

Side Note: Fade has a spider fetish as well.

[Synyster Spirit]

In recent news, we have three dead berks who were found floating in the waters of Port Avanthyr. Now you ask, well what happened?

A trustworthy informant has lead me to create this scenario:

It's a bright, sunny day in Port Avanthyr. The sky is clear, the rain has passed, and the Legion is scarce. Off goes three strapping young lads, strolling along, innocent as can be after their latest venture of fantastical sailing. As they walk, they spot an elegant, graceful maiden of unequivocal beauty. They stroll down the street, hand in hand, skipping ever-so merrily to greet her.

Into a dark alley.

It is then, that things take a turn for the worse!
As the maiden reached into her blouse, the young lads let out a squeals of delight! They had been anticipating a 'bout of filthy debauchery from their new dear friend. Something long overdue for the lads who had spent many a lonely night on the seas. Sadly, such was not the case, as they watched in surprised horror as the maiden brandished her mighty, and impromptu weapon. A goblins severed leg. With this filthy appendage, she beat the poor lads into a stupor.

What happened from that point on is unknown, my informant regrettably, passed out from the shock of reliving the tale.

What is known! Is that the Legion is finally taking preemptive measures against the Banites who threaten the safety and security of the people of Sundren. Indeed, it is apparent that the Legion has lead a semi-successful raid on Mirakus post and freed some of their comrades. Many celebratory fist-pounding, headbutting, and other masculine forms of celebration were had.

But what about our surly Dwarven friends? Something seems to have them in an extra pissy mood these days. So let me give you the dark of things going on in Sestra.

All was good and fine in the peaceful fishing village. Goods were sold, patrons were satisfied, stags were exchanged..
The dwarf bears many titles, some may know his as the bearer of the Clanbeard, others dub him Jinkbeard, and many claim him as the sole bearer of the Beard of Beards of the Beardom of Beardland, land of Manbeards and Beardfolk. With his magnificent bit of man-plumage, the dwarf commanded the respect and admiration of many. But alas, he was a lonely beard! The Red Blades were too occupied with their training and preparations for war along with the Corps De Grace goon squad. I suppose getting to touch someone's greatsword was just too much to ask. Nevertheless, the beard has sought solace with his beardmates to engage in the whimsical dallying of the braiding of beard hair, back hair, and ass hair.

So if you see a group of Dwarves marching off together into an inn room, you know what's really going on behind closed doors.

Keep your eyes and ears open, ye cutters!

(Disclaimer: All sources and informants are anonymous and tell nothing but the truth, whole and absolute without any doubt what-so-ever. These Tales are completely and thoroughly objective, and in no way biased one way or another.)