I have come across three of these mighty swords, heard someone people want them. If you are interested in these swords please let myself know and I will be happy to sell them to you for a agreed price.

Lens Druid of the Forest Queen

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Lieutenant Belalad Feiwallyan

((Please take note if you PM me and you are ignored resend to me in 1-3days, it is likely due to not realizing I got mail))

The gigantic Half-Orc, clad in torn, makeshift armors and smelling of pestilence and disease spots the billboard denoting the word 'Greatsword'. Intrigued in the most belated sense, he eventually retrieves his kobold, stowed away in an inconspicuous bag somewhere on his person, whipping it out in front of him and pressing it's battered head against the notice.

'U rid!' He spits out, relentlessly pressing the kobold against the now torn parchment.

There is no response.

'U RID!' He exclaims firmly to the kobold who#s face is pressed hard up against the parchment.

Once again there is no response.

Gloin-Regan Warsinger, the mighty Half-Orc of Gruumsh clad in torn, makeshifts armors and who smelt of pestilence and disease raised effortlessly the kobold in front of him to his eye-level. Confuzed and in a state of disarray, torn between the very excitement of the potentially powerful Greatsword being his, and the idiocy of such communication barriers, he shakes the kobold to get a response.

'K'old?' He asks the lifeless reptile quietly, shaking it ever so gently. 'K'oldy-pot?' He attempted once again in vain to shake the Kobold to attention, but it would have nothing of it. It was a sad day for the mighty Half-Orc to lose a beloved, albeit abused translator of his - but even moreso to give up the intrigue of a powerful weapon due to the lack of a translator.

That day Gloin-Regan Warsinger, the mighty Half-Orc of Gruumsh clad in torn, makeshift armors and who smelt of pestilence and disease put on a puppet show.

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'Ze Cock! Ze Cock ist shtill aut der!! Kapitulation feiern - NEIN DANKE!'

I would like to negotiate for the potential purchase of all three of these greatswords. I'll offer, initially, two-hundred thousand for the whole lot. Please send a reply to Edward, in Cordor.

-Edward

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Andrew Fryar: Cordor's Folk Hero
Bobrin: Eccentric Avenging Executioner
Lyle Torrowfire: Retired badass
Marigold Cobcruncher: Perceptive Priestess

*A muscular hin with a large black hawk on his silver armor rips down all of the notices found in or near Bendir Dale*

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Thine taste in horrid footwear not withstanding, I did not say that thou were in fact an idiot, I merely implied that such things were self evident.

-Krrja

Another poster is placed up address to Edward

"Edward,
I have found another of the cursed swords I assume you would want this one as well, let me know when to arrange a transfer.
Lens Druid of the Forest Queen"

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Lieutenant Belalad Feiwallyan

((Please take note if you PM me and you are ignored resend to me in 1-3days, it is likely due to not realizing I got mail))

A halfling woman in patchwork clothing and a feathered beret can be seen reading one of the posters. Her displeased expression is plainly seen.

"Lens..." she said in an annoyed tone before spinning 180 degrees and darting off.

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"The householder's disdain for the vagabond hides a hint of jealousy."

~ A hin proverb

//sry this has nothing to do with the auction but id like to say that was one of the best things ive read in a while!

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Plays-
Maggot Bucktooth (Retired)
Giando Paladrious (Retired)

// agreed, sry, but it's very good. (also a clever idea)

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