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Kristoff var Ruthern enjoys reading through the history of her majesty’s family, “My ancestors followed John into that desert, and we shall stand by you now and always.”

- VOLUME ∞: Penance in the Lore Purgatory - Fjarriagua Amendment: Of Tormented Treats and Cursed Tricks [Take Two] Part One: CURSED TRICKS OLD LORE: NEW LORE: Part Two: TORMENTED TREATS OLD LORE: NEW LORE: PURPOSE: Feedback given after the previous version’s denial have been implemented as best as I could manage. Full list of changes from the previous version shown here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1n-Ua9mVpl_DKFGPEXTBzy0mxhJkz9H9UGzRiCq6bXJ0/edit?usp=sharing CREDITS Writing by Agy (I also wrote this!) Editing and help from Diogen! Music by Studio Thumpy Puppy Art in order of appearance by: davidwyatt2013 and Gustaf Tenggren Mechanics borrowed by Diogen's Fjarriagua Rewrite CHANGELOG Nothing yet…!

- VOLUME TWO: Nostalgia of Foreign Memories - Fjarriagua Addition/Amendment: Gaze onto the Winter Weeping of the Stars Part One: The Old Growth The Forlorn Totems The fruit born of an Altar and the literal pillar of their worship, each one wholly unique in its physical appearance and reflecting a part of the Fjarriagua’s mind that created it, but all Totems share the purpose of further compounding the influence and the magic of the Fjarriagua as it seeps within the physical plain evermore, acting as metaphysical extensions of the Altars and their will, as well as a safe haven for any Witch to come and rest their tireless minds and bodies. To create one, a Frost Mother along with the help of [1] Fjarriagua must plant a “seed” born of cursed ice upon any chosen land and with the empowerment of the wicked powers the witches wield, they may awaken the seed from its dormant state, rapidly and aggressively beginning to take root within the land and quickly growing into a Forlorn Totem. The newly created Totem will find itself quickly fully maturing soon after its creation, although being limited into a rather timid size as opposed to their greater variant, nevertheless still all too capable of enacting boons and a sense of comfort and safety to any and all Fjarriagua that rest by its side, even if in a lesser degree. PURPOSE: The Forlorn Totems are a cheap and easily affordable alternative to the costly and risky creation of Witch Altars. Primarily in their lessened creation requirements, as well as their far smaller area of effect, allowing them to more easily be placed in discrete locations as opposed to a Tier 3 Witch Altar’s 50 meter radius of frostbite-inducing cold that would instantly expose their presence. Nevertheless, a totem's main niche is to act as a “mini-lair” of sorts, for a Fjarriagua to be able to lick her wounds and heal from any injuries she may have suffered without requiring the creation of massive and usually permanent lairs as are required with Witch Altars. Being only capable of healing Witches and acting as a less expensive backup base in the event of the loss of a Witch Altar. Part Two: The New Growth A Blossoming Beholder The phenomenon of a Totem Blossoming is a peculiar characteristic of these inorganic yet unmistakably living structures, for should one be allowed the rare privilege to bask in the flowing northern winds that permeate the surface, entirely lacking in any obstruction from the skies above; there from which the first snow of winter always arrives, then the Totem will begin to undergo a radiant metamorphosis, as it blossoms and ascends into a Beholder; a finely tuned instrument born of wicked ice magick. Unlike the dominating presence of the Witch Altars, a Beholder specializes as a radiant beacon for the Fjarriagua, dutifully listening in and relaying to the witches the melodic influence of the birthplace of their kind; Skjoldier. PURPOSE: The main star of today’s show; The Beholder, a mechanic that was infact fully thought out and developed all the way back since late February, that I was a bit too lazy to properly finish writing out until now..! They are in essence a ‘goal’ for well established witch covens to strive for, requiring you to maintain a weak little Totem for up to a week as it is fully exposed and visible to any travelers, hunters, Holy Mages or even rivals creatures of the dark perhaps! Thus hopefully resulting in an interesting way to create conflict and rewarding those that pursue such a path. The rewards of course being purely flavourful rituals in nature that offer no combative boons. This is not to be mistaken as adding new and interesting rituals only to lock them away behind risky mechanics, rather just making the Forlorn Totems themselves have more depth that is unique to them alone, the Witch Altars will have their time soon enough. Now as for each of the mentioned rituals: Mal Du Pays The simplest of all the three, for the costs and ever-present risks of creating a Beholder, the coven’s Mothers are rewarded with being able to peer into Prophecies, something that very much thematically fits them. Unshackled Esbat Non-Metagaming-Communication-based mechanics are everyone’s favorites! And with this ritual allowing for a safe and reliable method of communication between all covens, thus benefiting all Fjarriagua, I hoped that the creation and maintenance of a Beholder would act as something that would unite and promote cooperation with any future splintered covens instead of acting as causes for greedy infighting for who gets to “control it”. The Fjarrigua after all are one of the few (if not only) Dark CAs that despite being one of the most unambiguously evil in mentality, hold an interestingly strong thematic focus on teamwork and cooperation with their fellow coven members, doubly so in the case of Frost Mothers. This ritual wishes to further cement and develop this unique theme of theirs. Sisters of Blood In current lore, it is already allowed for a Frost Mother to commune with a Soft-PKed Fjarriagua and as well as there being no mention of naturally Hard-PKed Witches suffering any “obliteration of the soul” kind of things, thus I believe there is no such an issue here with the Beholders being able to achieve such a feat, including this rituals being a common one within various other Magicks, such as Necromancy and Shamanism. Part Three: Quality of Death OLD LORE: NEW LORE: PURPOSE: Just some pre-emptive clean up to avoid conflicting lore bits should the amendment be accepted and just to be further clear: For non-Soft-PKing deaths, a witch will be automatically revived in a Witch Altar, Forlorn Totem or Beholder of their respective coven. For Soft-PKing deaths only a Witch Altar can revive them with the usage of the “Sabbath of Resurrection”. A simple decision to give the Forlorn Totems more overall importance as easier to hide “backup altars”, all the while still making it clear that a Coven without a Witch Altar will still be in constant grave risk of being wiped out in its entirety should they be so unfortunate. CREDITS Writing by Agy (I also wrote this!) Editing and mental support from Diogen! Music by Studio Thumpy Puppy Art in order of appearance by: Jana Heidersdorf, Maéna Paillet and Stephanie Law CHANGELOG Nothing yet…!

Renata Alba had her daily letters all delivered, flipping through each with some boredom before noting one with the Amador sigil. The Infanta perked up considerably, then! "What sort of gift? Hm,"

Lesha had not spoken to him in many years. She deemed him a lost cause at the time. Too pious, to patriotic. It would come as a shock if she knew he was married after all. She feels no sorrow that he is gone. But it is a shame. It really is a shame. He was fun, in his own way. He had initiative. Potential. He accomplished things. He seemed like a decent enough person. Lesha has a new plaything now. Still. She does wonder if Radmir ever learned how to dance.

Llora reads the missive and then glances at the vineyard with utter disbelief. "Is this real life?" she asks to herself. "Two nations that have been rivals for how many years, now on a truce?" Llora grabs her glasses to read the missive all over again. With no more words to spare she'd place down the missive to take a moment, she enters her kitchen to prepare herself a cup of tea. ". . Alright. ."

Prince Paul Alexander Temesch of the Petra, the Duke of Valfleur, would fall to the ground in tears as news of his eldest brothers untimely yet heroic demise broke. The Duke would lower the flags and ring the chapel bells at Courties Hale then; as he calls for the announcement of a period of mourning. To his children the Lords and Ladies of Valfleur, he’d take to an intimate setting in a centered drawing room to speak with them cautiously about their Uncle Albèric’s death. And to their dear Matrère, he visited and shared tears greater than the River Petra with, a gesture the two were familiar and comfortable in doing. The family had mourned together the loss of many sons and daughters of Queen Renilde I — but this one, would do a number on the spry Prince of the Petra. The agony and defeat he would feel, would be similar to the same depression he felt with the tradegy of his twin sister Archduchess Winifred Adalia. @Nectorist@thisuserisok@DISCOLIQUID@tilly @AndrewTech [OOC Note: I don’t know about this ICly yet, but having Albert around to shape and guide my character as a sibling was an experience I’ll never forget. You and your characters have an impact on people, for real!]

Councillor Mathi Lensul'em reads and smiles "Although we should not forget our pasts, let all us mali be together on this shared path of opportunity and growth. That it may guide us to a future of harmony and shared prosperity for all our peoples. IlMaehr'sae Ilkun'ehya!"

"Maybe we should sell some wine down south, maln. Just make sure you take some pine scent to repel the mosquitos!" Uriella would suggest to her father Raziel upon hearing him talk for the same topic she was reading on the missive, a flask of wine sipped by her after. @Laeonathan

"A sudden change, but I suppose, mending old wounds is a good idea, ne?" Raziel commented, scratching his head. "I suppose it is for the better. BUT... technically we never signed a formal peace agreement."

A tall High Elf in her armor walks down a path, for she was young, and yet understood the opening of the heavens and the falling of a star into sapphire hues, a Vessel, stolen. Despite this sadness of knowing, she never found reason to look down anymore. Being near rock bottom once before, nearly consumed by the darkness and stolen from the warmth of the light. She stops to look up to the sky, a somber expression in her sapphire blue eyes, "I wish I got the chance to meet you, whoever you were." She closes her eyes, "I can not believe this is what it took for me to finally act and accept this calling deep in my heart and soul. Perhaps not to redeem myself, as what is redemption but acts of virtue from one point onward?" Her eyes open once more, still looking to the sky, "Whatever you have done, it will not be in vain. We will halt ruin, for this I believe." She looks forward, and continues to walk. Heading into the wilderness to seek the beginnings of the trials for Ordainment. "May you find rest and rest well, Bringer of Virtue..."

Foul Tarnished Zahkrii lit a candle within the temple of Tor'praeth in the name of the Knight of the Lake. Whether this was sin or sacrilege he would bear it willingly. A mantle to carry for a fallen foe who had perished at the hands of kin and ilk. Surrounded and encroached upon. Yet never subdued in the path he he chose. So was the face and tale of Albéric cemented within the punished dragon's mind. "A dream of victory turned harrowing nightmare, for he will haunt our nights forevermore."

All night, it was quiet in their little hole in the wall. All nights were mostly, but this night was, and for the first in the decade past his supposed expiration, the one-eyed Southeron gnawed at a cigar’s end. Gruff, smoke-laden rasps rattle the solemnity, “war ready,” he told those who brood with him. “I’m ready to see them bleed.”

The Mourn of a Cerusil A hallowed gaze would befall the passage left unto her withered door... Tempest breeze passed through the very scape of the stricken Cerusil's abode through any crevice it might find... Thus, setting the somber stage that was to unfold whenst the former Mordu'lar would come to face the travesty that steadied in weight within the limp paper that resided in the scape of her grasp. As her gaze would come to travel the page, Senna's eyes would subtly tremble just as it had for the numerous letters that had come before it, entailing a similar fate that had befell an insurmountable sum of her cherished talonnii. Be it her sibling, cousin, or her own child, no soul would seemingly be spared of this heinous treachery... Hues of purple then forth would trickle from the flickering Cerusil's stare with a revolving cloudlike haze soon to follow that's tinge reflected the flickered embellishment of her gaze... Its existence sought suffocate the humble dormitory from where the Cerusil remained, similarly to the pained agony that ensued upon her very being.. When shall the death cease towards those she holds dear? Do the stars truly spite her? What God might truly relish in this undeserving damnation she couldn't help but fathom in question... And just as she had the former... The missive would be lit ablaze... Only ashes would remain upon her silent departure... A word not dared to be spoken in the trail of her midst

The former Ibarellan Royarch would humbly spare a kindred smile upon the notice of this declaration, may the future continue in prosperity she'd ever so pray

Celius Cerusil cries hard for several nights

Irelia Py'lrie sat with heavy grief as the news reached the Py'lrie Estate regarding the sudden tragic death of Aleran.. Irelia saw Aleran as a son of her own, as with many who come into her life in seek of wisdom. She cared for Aleran like she would with any of her own children.. the news filled the elderly woman with remorse and sorrowfulness. "May the stars give you a peaceful and well deserved rest.. my dearest Aleran"

A young 'thill and poet was out and about tending to business. He had been busy, keeping to himself, and attempting to find inspiration within the muted and dismal realms. Though the news of that lliran of his, though distant, still impacts him all the same. Though he had changed much since his youth, a look of remorse still filled that weary visage of Len'ii Acal'turii "Rest well, my friend"

"Azdrazi and Paladins are two sides of the same weird GODless coin." Brother Ninnias states wisely "Paladins also eat newborns"