The Importance of Having a Raven House. For most part, dear reader, we try to explore the most succulent topics on this our editorial section. Picking up the very best of the word on the street. Carefully filtering the chaff from the wheat, to thrust an extensive and thoroughly deep investigation on critical matters. If only to shove the undeniable pristine truth down your eyes. Tis not an easy task, the Cabbala Chronicle takes pride on delivering to you the best news in all of Sincadere. But after our offices got drowned by a flock of pesky ravens, rudely dropping their waste and feathers, as well as a mountain of your poorly scribbled letters. We are forced to reply in kind to you, our faithful readers, before these forsaken birds peck our eyes out. So instead of assessing the reasons behind Hellheim's short attention span. Which apparently has misplaced one of their high-ranking guards, found patrolling the caves close to the Cabbalan College of Obscure Arts. Most likely a genuine lost individual worthy to be the subject of further study, and thorough dissection. OR denouncing the atrocities of the vicious and corrupt Jade Empire. In a piece that would have included an in-depth piece about the empress mood swings and rabid outbursts, most likely worsened after the emperor's need to remain cuddled only by his precious katana. An ancient asian tradition to combat the declining proficiency of the flesh tanto that nests between his legs. We are now forced to deliver you this, our gift in the name of the Summer Festival. And expand our blooming new social section "Rumors Bloody Rumors", to focus solely on the much more dangerous, spiky, and quite spicy subject of… and I cannot believe I am writing this… loOove! Summer came upon us like a hurricane, rising the temperatures of the Cabbala, and moisturizing their inhabitants. Was it the ongoing war with the Jade Empire which rose tensions leaving the dwellers of the dark hard and stiff? Or has some of the less honest barkeeps been dumping love potions on the Bound Elf free booze nights? Some concerned dwellers point their fingers to our aquatic fiends, claiming they have entered a mating season and are jellying the waters we all bathe in. While the CCOA most notable scholars remain suspiciously silent. Was it an experiment gone terribly wrong? are we under a lust driven curse? Important questions that demand answers from our leadership... that is, whenever they are dry and not merrily humping… But whatever the reason, my dear reader, heat! is upon us. Take comfort that it has affected us all, from the most humble deviant, to our mighty Archon. https://discord.com/channels/633123431046709249/642817732248862728/1016490170196963438 It was during the marvelous summer festivities held in that magical land of Nascentia that love collected it's first casualty. It seemed that all of Sincadere has gathered together, dancing and prancing in a revolting display of peace and harmony. Amidst the ceremonies some folk would focus on commerce, others on emptying a drink, many would bury the axe and mend old wounds, but the bravest ones most would attempt to rip open new ones during the Bloodbowl tournament. And what a tournament it was, for not only we witness the combatants bled in the sacred brawl. You see dear reader, if you closely paid attention, you would have noticed that the very Archon of the Cabbala and the Great Gibbon sharing matching outfits. Both dancing between the goblins to the same exact rhythm as they shamelessly refereed the match. What a lewd brush of hands we all saw, when the orc let the faun touch the heavy girth of his mighty hammer. So disturbed was the Archon by the sheer size, that more than once she missed a stroke... i mean… a strike. A bless to some of the warriors, saving them from being utterly squashed. Oh! our heart goes to the fluffiest of fauns, after certain king's suspicious disappearance, we were worried her heart and loins may have fallen prey of winter and frost. But our fears were for naught, as cinders were certainly reignited by Great Forest Orc, kindled the embers into undeniable blazing love, we can only hope the Great Gibbon survives our beloved leader's horned touch. Love may have flourished amid the bloody combat, but like a pesky virus seems to have spread into the darkest shadows. If you live long enough in Sincadere, you surely have heard about certain runt. Askha her name, trouble her game. Those that have wits know to shiver in fear when she makes her appearance. The infamous brat was finally cornered by none other than the mighty Warlord of the Horde. Word on the street claims the shadow drake had finally stretched her clutches to catch the renown criminal. When all hope seemed lost with no way out but the noose, when it was Askha's time to pay her debt in tears and blood. The Drake produced a bouquet of flowers and bent her noble knee. The public stared dumbstruck, jaws dropped across the crowd, as we all heard the most honeyed words come out of the Warlord's mouth. Bedazzled the little crook, force to choose between the rolling of her head or the firm spanks of a mate. Askha's reply made the executioner weep, dropping the axe and lifting his arms in defeat. Are her intentions pure, or just another ruse? I encourage you all to keep an eye on the brat's arse as she walks the path into the gallows of marriage. I am forced to remain on this swampy subject, and yes dear reader, like you I feel sticky, moist, and rather stiff. It seems the poison of love had laid siege to our caves. No one is safe, no humanoid, devil, or beast; even good Doctor Robin has fallen ill to the summer heat, trading her club "anesthesia" to hold hands with, not one but two intriguing suitors. What a pest love has become, if you doubt my words and demand proof, seek no further than Korranu and some bouncy butt named Ella. The corrupted mutt that brought terror to the surface dwellers, has yielded to the force of love. He now roams the caves in a detestable merry mood in the company of his brand-new squeaky toy. Who is this mysterious Ella? where does she came from? was she bound, brought, or bought? Who is to know! Regardless, it seems our dear mangy mutt is happy sinking his fangs on her twitchy curves. His tail brooming the path he takes, swinging left and right with such playful force, that he alone has left the cleaning imps out of their usual line of work. https://discord.com/channels/633123431046709249/642817732248862728/1016490335309942894 Some people love hearts, others apparently love lace. Whispers had come to our ears about prince Dinnin, succulent gossip of one of the members of the highest class in the underworld society. While our warriors give their life to keep the Jade Empire at bay on the ongoing war, Prince Dinnin has been using his influence on the caves to divert war funds and resources in developing his private wide network of professional panty snatchers. And not just any panties, worry not ladies... and gentleman (The Cabbala Chronicle do not judge) your undergarments are safe, for the prince private collection is proudly comprised solely Gaboon's laced breeches. According to the whistleblower, the overflowing stash of silky skid mark lingerie is stored under the very throne room of the Cabbala Keep. Has Gaboon's might captured the prince's heart as well? Is the noble Dinnin just a sickening orc stalker? Or is there some sort of messy love triangle between our faun, the prince and green bulky orc? Time will tell, we wish the very best to this royal entrepreneur, and sincerely hope he does not succumb to a poisonous needle any time soon. After reception of an anonymous letter with an odd fragrant fennec scent, we must shed some light in the financial aspect of the festivities. You may think we are diverting from the subject, but that is not quite the case. Such lavish display of goods during the festival surely emptied someone’s trousers, and not quite in a kinky way, for you see some folks just love to clutch their hands around some coin. Word in the streets signals to a conspiracy to inflate market prices on certain stalls. The letter claims that the most noble of wine houses in Sincadere, Gladiators Wine, ruthlessly rigged the price of their Summerfest Wine. Declaring it to be a limited, one-of-a-kind, edition bottle stash as a marketing ruse while selling diluted common table wine instead. Troubling as this news may seem, our secret informant continues raging on his hastily scribbled letter, stating that even the sanctity of the slave auction was soiled by unscrupulous grabby folks. It may come as a surprise to you dear reader, but love can most certainly drain your balls as well as your pouch. So it happens that during the slave auction, Lily the cheerful bouncy elf slave of the caves, was rent out for a staggering sum of 8 silver pieces. And while the letter provides so called “ample evidence” of the auction being rigged, we praise the sale as proof of the Cabbalan slaves’ undeniable quality. Clearly fostered under the watchful eye of the Cabbala’s Warden. Nonetheless, the Cabbala Chronicles will always pursue the truth to the bitter end, and to shut any voices that claim we are a biased source of information, our editor has already sent the informant letter to alert the Cabbalan authorities. Rest assured troubled citizen, the truth will be squeezed out one way or another. https://discord.com/channels/633123431046709249/642817732248862728/1016490484568444968 Of course, we cannot close this edition on love without peeking into the lives of some of the oldest couples in the Cabbala. Our reporters had finally managed to corner Runeh and Eclipse Fang, not an easy task as our journalists kept disappearing into thin air once they entered the Hound's Den. Apparently after their mating ritual the couple has been enjoying their honeymoon period in the only way a Cabbalan couple can, raiding the empire lands, getting entwined in chains and ropes, taking strolls in the corrupt Yokai forest, enjoying regular breeding rumps in public, and ripping innocent creatures together. Has love struck true with them? Well when the bravest of our investigators inquire about Runeh's apparent involvement with a mundane human in matching pink outfits, he suddenly was burst into flames under the White Hound's touch. Catch by surprise, we have come to swiftly learn that their love had ignited something, besides passionate loins, in the famous White Hound. But what about Runeh, has anyone actually knows anything about this black beast? Sadly, our interview was cut short by their growling roar, forcing the surviving journalist to run away as these two creatures begun a wrestling match above the brothel's orgy bed. But rest assured dear readers, once we refill our ranks, we shall find time to make a proper piece on them. In the meantime, the Cabbala Chronicles will pay good copper for any viable and true information on this couple. Speaking of secluded and private shady couples. When words from the forest claimed there had been snow during the summer heatwave. Our reporters rushed to location, pushing the goblins and fae aside as they opened their mouths to take a taste of the miraculous white flakes that poured down around the Tusk encampment. Our brave journalists were committed to find the truth. And after careful meteorological assessment and licking of the salty slush. They discovered that in the skies above the forest canopy, two dragons have been seen performing some nasty lewd dirty dance. Yes dear reader, if you have not seen Kaiaa and Davros as of late, fear not. One of the sweetest couples on the caves has been flying around completely smitten by that horrible disease of love. To those that dwell on the surface, we advise caution and suggest you wear a heavy raincoat, especially when the forecast says its sunny and yet! It drizzles. There you have it my dear readers, Love… what a wicked little thing… it sticks to all of us one way or another, creeping on the shadows like brute ready to strike. Waiting until you turn your back, only to pounce and thrust its massive tentacle up your ass. Summer has come and go like a storm, flooding the caves with it's pesky glitter. If you wish to stay true, and avoid this curse, do not try to find others nor join a support group. For the exclusive price of one single silver coin the Cabbala Chronicles may send you a loveless package with notes on how to avoid it's curse and a stuffed raven for you to brood over. Of Weddings Bells and Torture Tolls. Just when we were ready to print this lovely tabloid a somewhat loony dove crashed into our offices. Who sends a dove to do a raven’s work? On it’s little eyes mischief, on it’s beak a red lace, on its talons a short message. Such horror when we read it out loud. The editor himself leap over the desk and scream loudly to the imps “STOP THE PRESS” We simply cannot let this article break free without adding this last-minute Breaking News [Cabbala Love Edition]. Prince Dinnin, orc panty thief entrepreneur, has been cornered on the Keep with his hands on the precious silky loot. His mischief has been publicly exposed by the Archon herself. The amateur conspirator crimes run deeper than just a mere diversion of war funds. This panty sniffing junkie, had tried to lewdly hold hands with the Headmistress of the CCOA, even attacking the mighty scholar and trying to kill her if she did not comply. After his failed attempt, the raunchy prince run into the Jade Empire exposing arcane summoning secrets of the caves, endangering us all, in exchange for safe harbor and a thorough polish of the emperor’s katana. We have learned from good sources that this sickening nekoyami lover is even wanted by the Crimson Fang for releasing war prisoners and their private chew toys back into the wild. His crimes publicly exposed, his betraying ass bare for us to witness. But my dear gentlefolk, before you go sharpening your pitchforks and lifting your torches tonight; Love!... yes, that wretched epidemic that had befallen us all… had claimed the Archon’s heart yet again. In the most succulent twist of this passionate love polygon, the fluffiest of fauns stomped on the prince royal jewels, stretching her hand with a delicate wave she demanded one thing, and one thing only… Marriage!... and big fucking ring… The self-proclaimed demon prince wriggle and scream, his face contorted as if he had swallowed a fish, oh how he wished for certain big bulky orc to come into his aid. How would Gaboon take this news? Is he still breathing and in good mog? In the meantime, dear dwellers of the dark, stay vigilant. If someone comes asking for a dagger or mentions interest on summoning or the arcane, politely throw their suspicious arses into the cells. Remember, you read it first and read it hard on the Cabbala Chronicles. If you doubted about our veracity, doubt no more! To the Archon, our best wishes. To Gaboon, good mog. To prince Dinnin, haste and expedience. May he dash in search for the biggest diamond, and dart fast… Averting the roasting flames that surely the Archon’s father will lit behind.
And as always, dear reader, sleep with one eye open… maybe two on these heated nights, unless you wish to be tuck and humped. - R. Hangfire Comments are closed.
|
EditorM. Noteworthy prefers to remain anonymous. You, dear reader, will never meet them. Categories
All
Archives
May 2024
|