Qudlia Jusmia claims one of eight Primarch Positions. 

Our Kin, since the dawn of time have fought and struggled to secure their place in this world. The last Primarch has moved on, where their was once a council of eight, rest none. Such, I, Qudlia Jusmia, claim the mantel of Dark Elven Primarch. Tied to the ways of old, to our recent past, to the spirits. Which offered salvation when none other would.  

To the Mali'ker across the land, you and I are very different. I honor ways older than your grandfather, you? I do not know any of you, nor do I care. I am Qudlia Jusmia. Of an old clan, from Magara'lin like many others. Regardless of what you believe Ker, as long as you try not to venture Onyx from its ancient path, you are welcome. I know not of your faith, intent, of your past. Though it is not my fate to gather Mali'ker either. 

I am not a leader of the Mali'ker, but a fragment of a long forgotten past. I invite other able Mali'ker. Undertake the trails of your ancestors, find those in Stargush, and seek approval. Find your own ancestors, if you lack faith in the spirits and cling to them. It is all you can do.

To those that follow the ways of old, I seek but one thing. The reformation of the Primarch Council, of Dark elves. A total of eight seats, seven empty rest in place. Our kin await such finding moments. I am devotee of the spirits, for-ever shall. I do not seek to garner my people to an area of land. To those faithful to the Spirits and most devotee of Maehr, I rest in waiting for you to find me. My lands are east of Krugmar, orange walls mark my halls. 

To the faithful,  I offer this. 


"Seven seats empty, to be filled by Ker' blood. 

Eight seats in total, yet seven remain empty. 

Venture to the ancient lands of Maehr, from doubts of Vira'ker and Renelia. 

To be 'Ker, does not mean bound in one spot. Beyond length, time, and space do Mali'ker bounds stretch. 

To your most ancient and wise, undertake the rite of becoming Primarch. Live as those before did, and emerge with new-found strength. 

Answer my call, to-be Primarchs. Forget not our past, but move forward into our future, Mali'ker."



~ Primarch Qudlia Jusmia. 

• Each spirit shrine that is constructed. 

• Each offering that's given or burned at a shrine. 

• Teaching someone of a spirit they did not know. 

• Undertaking and completing a deed for a spirit. 

• Learning of the Jusmia Ancestral Pantheon. (Consult local elder). 

• Teaching Jusmia of the Ancestral Pantheon. 

The use of Maehr malz serves as a form of currency for Jusmia in their ancestral hall. This allows one to get better lodgings in the after-life and favors. Maehr Malz can be earned in the Stargush though most start early. 

Each Jusmia at the beginning of each year starts with 0 Maehr malz. Through the year, they may add more to their collective total. This will reset to zero at the beginning of each year.  Maehr malz is overseen by Agate himself in the lands beyond. Who keeps tally of each Jusmia. 

The Maehr malz reputation system was started before Agates death. Since its use, the Jusmia halls beyond once more operate smoothly with a stimulated economy based on favor. 

There are acts that will subtract total Maehr malz from a Jusmia. Such as

• Murder. (Does not include self-defense.)  

• Attempting to speak with one of the five first Jusmia, without an invitation to the realm. (Lutuamancers are generally not welcome. This hall is for the dead, not you.) 

Upon the arrival of a new Jusmia soul. Agate tallies the points to determine the Jusmia's place in the afterlife. He will judge their life first and reward or subtract Maehr malz.  Then he will add the total sum of collected points. Agate will place the new arrival somewhere in the hall based upon total sum of Maehr malz. 

Aztran had begun to make his journey downward  across the sky as the pair trekked their way up the snowy mountain. Perhaps not clear to most people, they followed the small trail that their kin had carefully trodden down to pass the rocky range. The wind blew in a soft lul against the two dark figures. One tall with a black cloak wrapped around him, one hand keeping it secure and the other clutching a staff tightly, both bloodied. The other, while slower, still snaked and weaved around the rocky outcroppings with a predatory movement that would never leave it’s soul, despite his age. The wolf stood nearly as tall as a horse, licking at what gore remained around it’s snout. Dak’ir stopped to lean against a boulder, looking back to watch and wait for his ever faithful companion. The ‘Ker wolf, Eclipse, was an alpha from a bygone age one who perhaps deserved his rest far sooner than this. But his soul was strong. Dak’ir knew this, staring into souls was something he did quite literally. Though these were usually ones that had already passed on they wisened him and helped to give him his sense of judgement. The old shaman knew for ages this wolf was special, his fire burned brightly at all times. From the ferocity in the way he hunted to his soft growls as one disturbed his slumber. Dak’ir ran his hand over Eclipse’s head as he finally caught up, picking a spot of deer skin from his ear with a soft chuckle. It had been a long time since they hunted together. He shook his head as he rumbled softly against Dak’ir’s hand. The dark elf pursed his lip, he knew this wasn’t something the old wolf tended to do. He seemed to beckon for Dak’ir’s touch more and more these days, it wasn’t something completely out of his realm but even to Dak’ir the alpha always tried to play it off as a begrudging love. Bearing his teeth at his companion or even snarling, but always accepting of the touch. Now it seemed like he was asking for it, asking for more, for help. After a scratch behind his ear they continued on until Luara rose to watch over them. Seeking a familiar peak near a glowing pale pillar bathed in moonlight the two finally came to a stop. The shaman sat slowly, his ankles and back popping as he settled in and folded his legs. Bringing a shaky hand to his robe he drew a long wooden pipe that was already prepared with a bowl of the family smokeleaf, their favorite. He sat quietly as he watched his companion circle the flat mountain peak and sniff edges here and there, taking a look up to the moon for a long moment. Finally after a small huff the hulking eldered wolf made his way to Dak’ir circling him before laying behind him, wrapping himself around the dark elf and resting his head in his lap. This was their way for as long as Dak’ir was a shaman, Eclipse had always watched over the ‘Ker’s body and even journeyed with him beyond sometimes when he took other dark elves or orcs into the Ancestral Plane. They were one. Always watching over one another. Dak’ir lit the pipe with a matchstick, tossing it to the side as he laid back against the onyx sea of Eclipse’s fur, breathing a soft grey cloud into the night sky. The old wolf raised his head for a moment to take in a deep breath of the sweet smelling smoke, afterwards his eyes turned to meet Dak’s staring into them for what seemed like an eternity before finally laying his head to rest on Dak’ir’s lap once more. The shaman bobbed his head slowly as he took another deep inhale from the pipe and settled against Eclipse once more. His voice was shaky as the words left his throat, the otherworldly speech of the Spirits, they slowly managed to leave him in a soft monotone as he seemed to try to sing them. The embers of his pipe glowed a golden hue as he took in the smoke and held it within, tears rolled down his cheeks as a thick black cloud poured from his lips. Washing the two in a cloud of ebony as the world melted around them. Traveling to the Ancestral Plane was something Dak’ir did daily, but this time he felt different. As if he was being hurdled through the darkness, like when he first became a shaman. Lost. He panicked, reaching for anything to take hold of within his grasp before taking a tight hold of a tuft of fur. Eclipse snarled as Dak’ir’s vision swam back into his mind, the realm of Stargush fading in around him as he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he breathed another one more somber as he realized that this was the end, their final journey was meeting its conclusion. They stood in a sea of tall golden grass bordering a great forest. Dak’ir could see a familiar tanned figure waiting at the edge, he raised his hand to his old friend, the one who would watch over his companion now. Dak’ir knelt before Eclipse, here in this realm the old wolf was in the prime of his age, a predator unmatched. Here he would know paradise, he would know the rest and honor he deserved. Though it still pained his heart to say goodbye, Eclipse moved forward to bump his head against Dak’ir’s before turning and zipping off though the grass towards Phaedrus. Dak’ir stood slowly as he watched him leave, he knew this was not to last forever, he knew that better than anyone. He knew a day would come soon when he too could join them. He’d lost many over the years. But there are rare times you will ever meet a descendant as faithful and loyal as that.

Rest, my friend. Rest easy…

A notice is hung on the doors of dens in the Sanctum

(Using this information if you do not have a den in the Sanctum is meta gaming.)

”Attention Reader,

 One of our own, has been brutally attacked. This was done in accordance to an old . Of age Ker are called to come join in council to discuss the following topics. 

Full Lock Down: We will discuss if the Sanctum should enter a full lock down, with only a total of Four individuals being allowed exit until future notice.

Backing out of Firewatch: With our low population as is, and recent attack given. Do we need to remain in this? Un-likely so. Going on Full lock down would require the backing out of Firewatch. 

Relocation, instead of engaging in a full lock-down. 

Contact Qudlia Jusmia with written word of when you can gather. “

A post is nailed to each den door of the Sanctum. 

”Dear resident. It’s come to our attention that over all and daily spiritual devotion is lower than desired. Many look at the spirits and see only sacrifices. If you are struggling with your own creativity or simply are dull, have no fear. The following will contain standard ritual practice for every day. This is to help other spirits than Luara gaze their eyes upon you. To know only one spirit, is to shun the rest. Many can say they have faith, so let’s put that to the test. “

Overall worship concepts: 

Step one 1: Early Morning: Awaken and offer thanks to Dazkur and Deltrhok. Dazkur, the Greater Immortal spirit of loyalty and protection (For keeping you safe another day.) An offering to Dazkur can be simple. The act of protecting, or in a more simple case. Deltrhok, The Greater Immortal spirit of dreams and slumber. 

Step 2: Early Morning: The elementals. They help make life possible, and unlike Immortal Spirits. Elementals do not require mortal praise to be. Though they still enjoy praise. 

Step 3: Mid Day: Immortal Spirits:

There are many, many immortals. This time in the day should be used to give praise to an immortal or few. The more devote tend to do as much as they can, however, simply praising a different Immortal each day works fine. This example, will use Akezo.  

Step 4: Late day: Ancestors

The Ancestors are a stable of Maehr Culture. From the great and mighty Krug, to the Dalmakia trio. Many have their own ancestors, and we implore you to praise your direct own during this time. Ancestral offerings range from anywhere to personal things that the spirit enjoyed in life. To valuables. Ancestral spirits follow the same rules as other spirits with offerings. Many ancestors have their own prayers. 

If you’re looking for offering ideas to an ancestor, read above. Any of the rituals preformed can generally be applied to other spirits. 

Acolyte Qudlia Jusmia

  

Qudlia sat beside the Primarch. Her red gaze turned to his own, The Primarch looked only ahead. Whipping the leather reigns. Qudlias heart felt a sting of pain. She looked back at the gathered caravan. Horses and wagons pulled the group of ker far from the city they once called home. Apart of her wishes Ailmar to join them, instead she would reside herself to what ever fate he chose for himself. The ker gathered herself.  Silent as the group pushed onward. Down the road and across Arcas. 

Across the flats, hills. Through the murky dark swamp. The ker ventured through thick trees. Renelia had fallen. Their kin scattered once more. A promise was made, between the Onyx. Forget not their roots, from wince they came. Their kin would find their own path. Without them. 

Thus dawned the second age of Onyx Isolation. Free of the past, to pursue the will of the spirits. Walk the path of their ancestors. Find their peace within Stargush’Stroh. 

Across a war torn land strode the group. Back to a land of yore. Finding a place to dwell. As the world reigned down fire, as demonic forces invaded the south. 

These descendants prepare, for the next world. This world, and what ever may lie ahead. 

Atop steed and wolf the kin of the moon had set out under Luara’s guidance and with the cloak of night to protect them as they made their pilgrimage to the frozen north. The sky began to turn to a soft pink as they left the forests, facing only the barren mountains before them. Dak’ir’s breath rose into the air as they stared at their next journey.

“Somewhere in these far cliffs we shall find the peace we seek. A mount worthy of calling home and practicing our faith. Our dream in Vira’ker fell long ago… Vulnir and Avurak’s dream will never be realized in that port state. I’ve faith in Xavis but I believe our home too far gone. To void mages and druids, pale-skins and to those of darker persuasion. Perhaps those of faith will seek us out, to learn the secrets of their people and their heritage. But for now, I see no place for us in this lost city. May the Ancestors and Spirits watch over the ‘Ker who remain… If they even care anymore.”

The kinsmen of clans Des’Nox and Isilioleth shifted uneasily before moving forward. Their resolve strengthened by their hope and faith. And the promise of peace through isolation.
 

The few days of journey were practically paradise to the ashen kin. The time on the open sea refreshing their spirits as they sang and shared food with their new hitchhiking companions. Tales told upon the deck alongside orcish friends and adventures to hidden isle in search of new beasts and old memories to return home with.

Though as always the high seas bring higher dangers as the wrath of a great kraken began to rip it’s way through the flotilla of the descendants.The wrath of nature always posing the greatest threat that they were always ill prepared for. Others forced to flee to other ships or simply hope their lifebuoy of wreckage would wash them ashore.

They’d no choice but to resist in vain, striking against the colossal tentacle as it slapped and ripped their vessel asunder. The bow of the ship had already begun to take on water and the ship began her descent. But in her final moments, the new friends of the ‘Ker rose to action. As the tentacle made it’s final sundering strike to split the ship in twain, the large bat creatures that had taken refuge upon their deck sprang into action. Swarming around the failing vessel they began to strike out at the kraken, ripping chunks of flesh from it’s hide and tossing them to the sea below, all the while the others still surrounding the ship began plucking the ‘Ker one by one from the wreckage and ferried them off into the night sky.

Kin of the night, the dark elves and their new chiropteran allies soared overhead, watching the destruction that wrought it’s way through the fleet. Though not wanting to tarry they ventured onward into the tempestuous night, clearly the Spirit of storms on their side as well as the wind whipped and battered the night kin. What felt like only a moment had passed before they made the first sight of land. The old Uruk lands and Cloud Temple came into view through the torrents of rain that battered them. Soaring inland and over the dwemer mountains, the bats placed the ‘Ker upon the remnants of some great mountain beast’s nest, perhaps a gryphon or something, it mattered little now. 

Quickly setting up lodgings within the hollowed remains of an old building, they waited out the blizzard that now seemed to wrap their camp. Huddled within and recovering, they prepared themselves for the days to come. For the hallowed days of pilgrimage to journey into the home they had left behind over two centuries ago.

The Des’nox Matriarch was silent, taking in the sight of the familiar gates before the group.  The gates of Ker’nor. They hadn’t changed at all, almost as if they’d been frozen in time. It was a surreal feeling, standing before those gates once more. Over two hundred years had passed since they were last here.

Sapphire remained locked on the closed gates, until she felt a hand reach out to grab hers and give it a squeeze. A look to her left showed that Dak’ir had been the one to take her hand. Her fingers entwined with his, returning the squeeze. 

Even as the rest of the group conversed, mostly about how they would get inside, Lielle’s mind wandered. The memory of the first time she approached those gates, over two hundred and fifty years ago, came to mind. All because of a letter from her cousin.

She was pulled from her thoughts when her hand was let go, in favor of Dak’ir looking through his key ring, full of at least a hundred keys. It took him some time to sift through them all, but he eventually found the correct one. He really should color coordinate all of those. She told him to before. And with that, they were able to enter.

What greeted them was unexpected. Spider webs were all over, along the walls and across the ceiling of the cave. A frown tugged at her lips. This wasn’t the state they’d left their former home in. The deeper in they went, they found that the webbing was everywhere. Almost no place within had been spared. Even the temple, where the remnants from her and Dak'ir’s wedding remained, was covered in it.

They were all in agreement to clear out the taint that had overtaken their old home. It wasn’t just the webbing that now held the caves in its grasp. Cocoons also hung from the ceiling at various points in the caves, one of them being right outside of the temple. Despite them causing it to pop open and small spiders to rain down upon them, the arachnids were fended off. It was a tedious task, but a task that would be worth it.

In the end, it was their group that was victorious, though it was not without injury. Gusiam’s lung had been punctured, and Twilight ended up with cracked ribs. But the injuries would heal. There had been no loss of life that day. The start of an old beginning was now cleansed of taint.

[!] Parchments hand from the walls of the Sanctum. Pressed with a wax seal. 

The following statements are issued to the population of the Onyx Sanctum. 

The Onyx Sanctum enters a state of wartime officially. Gates are to remain closed. Any personnel not apart of the Seer order or Temple Guard are restricted from attempting to open these gates. 

If a temple guard adorned in any form of an Onyx dark mask, this personnel is not apart of the Sanctum. The sight of such should be reported to other guards, Seers, and the Primarch directly. Guard are asked to lift the or remove the mask of any that wish to enter the Sanctum to confirm their identity 

Attempt to open these gates is punishable by exile, redemption, or beating. A second attempt will result in being marked a traitor and banished from the Sanctum until further notice is issued. The third attempt is met with death, as the subject in question is clearly an Azulite by this point.  

Citizens are encouraged to join the Temple Guard or Seer order, as it stands the current standing population for this battle is great enough that forced conscription is not required. Foods such as hard meats or that preserve well are to be saved for the campaign trail and sparingly used. Demand for crop work is issued, hunters will be rewarded greatly. Any those import mineral resources such as iron or coal, pay will issue forth as a result of such. 

Temple Guard and the Seer order will start rigorous martial and aerobic training to improve battlefield efficiency. An order of morals is placed upon the Seer and Temple Guard. This is to ensure unit cohesion upon battle sights. 

In the case of this war-time, Daichia Jusmia acts as Vaotor.  During sieges, raids, field skirmishes, or military campaign relates ordeal.  The forces of the Onyx Sanctum are to act in accordance with the overall forces of the Concordat.    

Luara guides us all. 

Seer of the Maehr, Daichia Jusmia.

They had loved their home, fought hard against it’s creatures to secure their safety. But tragedy would befall the ashen kin in their attempts to hide from the eyes of the world from the stout men of stone this time oddly enough. But of course Onyx would endure and move on to greener pastures so to speak, homelier caves perhaps more apt. But they would huddle in their cool cavern’s freshly opened brewery this night to tell the tale of what came after. They sat at various tables and in smoking pits before the weary elder as he thumbed at the bowl his crystalline pipe. A few sat in a pit taking turns with their guitars, lutes, and drums, passing a hooka’s hose back and forth. Dak’ir let out a raspy half cough half laugh as he looked around the room.

“How lucky we are, perhaps favored even…” 

The weary shaman shifted in his seat before the the great wall mural of the tavern. The image of a great, weaving pitch black lurker risen in a defiant rear against a carved image of Arganos the Festive as he faced the great monstrosity in elder times. A great blue crystal in one hand and a bow in the other as he faced Magarah’lin’s menace and brought it low. In his and Votar’s names the sons and daughters of Onyx strived to honor them in a similar matter within their previous high hollows of the north. Dak’ir would light his refreshed pipe with the candle at his table, watching it glow as he seemed to soak the moment in before looking back to his audience and began to paint his picture. 

“As many of you were already aware, far below our old hollow there was an infestation of lurkers in an abandoned mineshaft. We’d had several incursions to their den previously to hunt the larger ones that would skitter their way up our cliff face that led into our Sanctum. We’d planned on asking the dwed for aid, before the time they had discovered us. After.. Well. We’re all already tired of talking about the dwed, hm?” The old ‘Ker chuckled to himself a moment. “But I knew that day we’d have to cover our tracks properly, make a ruckus that would distract anyone who came to our now abandoned home. While all of you back in our home gathered up your belongings for the caravan we had went for one final hunt to the mineshaft.” As the old shaman said this he’d turned his gaze to Daichia and his clan who’d gathered around the bar. The young patriarch smiled back to Dak’ir and he raised his pipe back in salute. “We knew taking out the brood mother was next to impossible without very heavy ordinance. No this night was meant purely to kick the hornet’s nest so to speak. The Lurkers had covered the entrance with more gravel, digging deeper nests no doubt, but with enough Jusmia firework powder stuffed into the entrance of the shaft we knew we’d make our mark. Admittedly the aim was to slay the brood mother for our own prize and hope that the result would cause a spread of new nests. And while I’m sure the latter has happened, the former far less so. With a little too much powder packed and perhaps some gas from within the mine itself we watched the entrance blow open from nearby cover in a kaleidoscope display of colors… Before the horrors came screeching forth aflame. The mother ploughing her way through the remains of the entrance with her full brood in tow. They blanketed the cavern’s great walls to run and hide for new cover, trying to escape the colored flame stuck to their backs. We turned tail as soon as she broke through, we knew something was wrong. The walls began to split and crack and the swarm began to turn their wrath upon us as great stones fell, threatening to bring the whole under realm upon us. But as we swung and fled these very stones fell and crushed that which opposed us. Avalanches of gravel and massive boulders falling all around us. As if Bregthar himself had heard our calls for protection and had been watching over our small hunting band. How blessed we may not even realize we are… After we gained some breathing room we’d flee straight home to the Sanctum to get upon our own mounts and meet you all within Ghroza’s Respite, our first sanctuary when we left the madness of Vira’ker.”

“Once we regrouped we set out southward to the shores of the wildlands. Daichia and his clansmen had gone there in the previous weeks to assemble our escape. Beautiful longships carved from the towering pines of the northern forests, truly nothing beyond the Jusmia craft, turned over and covered by the boughs of the trees that were used to form them until the time came. We came to the shores and quickly uncovered our transports before turning them over and assembling their sails. Pushing us into the chilling sea we climbed aboard and loaded our disassembling caravan. Soon our sails were dropped and the night’s wind carried them into the open seas. We of course made sure to pass the hollow city of Vira’ker, to pay homage to our first home in this land and to Prince Avurak... After letting the currents take us far enough away they soon set a course eastward towards the warm breeze. Beyond the decaying Hou-zi village our ships split the golden sands of the southern jungles and Luara’s children began to move inland. Her vigil had finally come to it’s end and Aztran’s crown began to pierce the opposite horizon. Myself, Daichia, and Inara led our people to a great hollow we’d found in their previous hunts. We knew it would be a refuge even all that time ago, as history follows for our people.”
 

”We’d turned our little hollow into the Onyx Vault and soon made it our home. As always shrines and totems came and reverence spread. A lost fortress claimed for Onyx veneration. We’d saved souls from Sutica, Asimu'lei, even feral kin and anyone else our priests could find. All were taken in to learn the Old Ways and the enlightening path of the Spirits and our Ancestors. Our people were rising once again. Within the shadows and within the light as well. North of the Vault the nation of Renalia had strived to bring our kin to light and form a strong nation after the fall of Vira’ker, they had formed alliances with our cousins and were on the way to securing an ashen domain and embracing the eldered lost ways of the Maehr. We struck an easy friendship with these ‘Ker of their new Golden Way. Together in unity we crowned a King, one sworn under the Ancestors and Spirits alike. In unity we gather once again for the first time since our arrival to this world and our breaking at the hands of the humans. Now, in unity, we lash back at those that sought to oppress and diminish us. Within this hollow we begin anew, but shall remember our trials and take pilgrimage to the Vault as well as our other holy sites. Lûp Luara, lûp Kor! Let the Lunar Dawn rise!” The Primarch rose from his seat, his staff his high over his head as he let a yell loose and his fellow ‘Ker jumped from this seats to roar in return. They’d all toast and continue the merriment of the night and the Primarch made his way outside to the balcony, a trail of smoke seeming to follow him. Letting a relieved sigh loose before he took in a deep breath of the hot air coming from the molten lake. “Home… I hope we have made you all proud.” He would say to himself.

For too long as too kind a hand been given to the Azulite, the heretic. Which would see the Mali’ker turn from Luara’s light. Lurking in the shadows of every corner of this realm. There is one place above all, that drives the Azulite. Dark magi. The so called trade city of Suctia. You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.  

The ties of dark magic grow strong, fear creates resentment. Upon a day of Prayer, Azulites had fled the scene. In an attempt to escape the eyes of their Ancestors. Such an insult to the blood they willingly throw away. One such Azulite, who had spoken of coming to the light, never  acting upon such. The Ancestors have no time to wait for silly Mali’ker that dance around the Azulites. Giving promise to make them see a light, yet none is given. It is the soul purpose of the Mali’ker to fulfill the immortal will of the Ivory wolf. 

Some of you I know myself, I have given lessons. I thought I made it clear enough that the Mali’ker seeing Luara’s light is above all else. To the Azulites of the Trade City. I give you an elven week to repent before the ancestors and Luara. To give her the proper praise she deserves. If you are proud of your faith, why do you not share it my kin? Such is the tactic of Azulites.  

It is the will of Luara, her council, and the Ancestors that the taint cause by the Azulites. Temper was indeed raised, but as such is the devotion of the faithful, many of these Mali’ker having made promise to Luara herself in person. There comes a time when the will of Luara rises above all others. 

One elven week, to have a proper re-birth, to honor your ancestors and Luara. To let pity things as pride slide from your mind. It is the will of Luara to return to the eyes of the Mali’ker to her light. It is with the highest priority that the Azulite taint not be spread. Be you timid, selfishly wanting to throw your own life away. The Ashwood family of Suctia, and the ‘Wir that accompanied them are given an elven week to fully convert. To do so proper this time, as the first of your blood desires. 

One week, or the trade city will burn. And all mentions of you shall be burned from history in accordance to the will of Luara. 

No Mali’ker can not trace their roots to The Maehr, devote scholars to Velulaei. It is through Velulaei’s actions that the Mali’ker were saved from the insanity that once drove them to slaughter the elves of Malins domain. Blessed by Luara’s divine grace, the Mali’ker are forever indebted to her Immortal Will. 

But, there is Mali’ker that would turn ker from The White Wolf’s light. These are the paladin Mali’ker. Druidic Mali’ker. These Mali’ker forsake their salvation for the chase of magics and deities that have not once looked to the Mali’ker in their time of need. It was only Luara, that would save the Mali’ker. Was it not for Velulaei and The Maehr accpecting the blessings of the White Wolf, the Mali’ker would never have turned of ashen skin. The Maehr would have killed one another in their magically driven insanity until none were left to stand. 

Such acts the Concordat. Devote Mali’ker to the rebuilding of Magarah’in. To ensure that the Mali’ker see the calming light of Luara, to remember their debt to her, to The Maehr that suffered horrors greater than any Mali’ker alive could ever face. Those that would throw away their blessed blood are the Azulite. Such Mali’ker once killed their kin in their sleep. Azulites are cowards, these Mali’ker that worship beings aside from Luara and the lesser spirits aside her are born of Azulite blood. Traitors that crept upon their sleeping kin to start a civil war long ago. 

Trend not the Azulite, the heretical, traitor to their ancestors and Luara. That would see a return to the ways of pillage and torment. A return to Luara’s light drives more and more Mali’ker to the blessed city of New Magarah’in. Who shall put down any that try to turn the eyes of the Mali’ker forever from Mother Moons light. It is by the Goddess’s Immortal Will the Mali’ker walk this stretch of rock. 

Even with the most vile of places, are the sparks of hope. Mali’ker willingly joining for prayer with their kin. To help guide them back to Luara’s light. Another visit to the trade city of Suctia, to help guide their lost kin from their Azulite ways. 

Such is the mortal will of Luara to seek aid to even the most far Mali’ker, children neglected and forced to a life of white washing, abuse and trauma’s beyond reason. Such is the fate of one Mali’ker within the forest of parasites. A dark manor sits upon a rocky cliff, left to its own accord and whims. Vile beast sleep within, paranoia drives the Shade forward. 

But even within the darkest of places, is there light for the Mali’ker. Shown kindness never known, one Mali’ker of the forest manor came forth upon the demand of prayer to Luara. Seeking interest in their origins, of the Maehr, Luara and Velulaei. The blood of the Maehr boils within the Mali’ker. Calling them back to the loving light of Luara.  


 

The Faithful Mali’ker gathered within the halls of their great city. A sect of religious followers returned soon to dark hollows to prepare themselves for the day to come. A caravan was sent forth, reaching the city of Suctia. These faithful Mali’ker dismounted. Heading within the city. 

Once within the coastal city, one Mali’ker called out, for all Mali’ker within the city to join in prayer. The faithful showed themselves with pride. One Azulite stood out among the rest. Brought to pray with his kin. A step in the correct direction. 

Such is the will of Luara. Devotion to the Ivory Wolf that saved the blessed Mali. These faithful prepare further, to return the eyes of the Mali’ker to Luara. 

The Primarch sat alone in Velunor at edge of the docks, a perpetual haze of smoke seemed to permeate from his being. The waters of the harbor were still that night as they shined softly under the moon’s tender glow. Dak’ir closed his eye and smiled softly, seeming to bask in the light as well, soaking up it’s silver warmth. His pilgrimage had come to an end, and his training finally complete beneath the Ancestors. Everything had finally fallen into line and his dedication had brought him to the very beginning and ending of it all. A sense of pride and peace came to the humble ‘Ker and so he closed his eyes and fell once again into the world beyond.

Dak’ir felt more at home within Stargûsh’stroh than in the mortal coil. It was where he truly felt free, where he felt he belonged but he knew better than that. Than to fall to that temptation. He sat at the top of the mountain that housed the souls of the long forgotten ‘Ker of old and those of renewed faith, in the shadow of a city they once knew. 

Night had fallen on the Ancestral Realm and all was quiet. The Mother Moon’s soft touch felt this lone peak in this realm as well and under her gaze, they met once again. A tall ‘Ker woman clad in a brilliant, simple, white dress. Her hair the same snowy white and her eyes a pale silver, a perfect image of primordial dark elven beauty. “You come once again, shaman? Do you not tired of this old soul’s tales?” Truth be told, he could listen to her for ages, as vague as she could be sometimes. The woman before him could inspire armies or move the hearts of a people. Which had in fact been her duty in life. Veluleai the Prophet stood before Dak’ir in all her grace. The sleepy shaman turned from the cliff’s edge to face her fully, his ebon mane falling around his face as he bowed before her. The Ancestor gave a tired smile, as if the gesture had been wasted. She never seemed to care much for formality or praise, Dak’ir had noticed, and after an awkward greeting he spoke what was on his mind. Seeking guidance once more. “Do you think they are prepared? Do you think some will care to know? Or even accept?” The elfess did not hesitate. “Gather your faithful, your strong, your kin. You cannot force that which is a constant motion. We are a wayward people, and the Old Ways are not for all in this modern time they should not be your concern. Our true people, the Ancestors and the Spirits should.” Dak’ir nodded at her wise words. He’d learned long ago that he could no longer waste time on those not wishing to learn. This was a game of preservation, not influence.

Dak’ir nodded to the wise elder’s words and the two spoke just a little longer into the night. The shaman sat and listened like an attentive child as she spoke of the times before conflict. Of peace and worship under the mountain and moon. Oh how he yearned for even a fraction of that. And as the crescent moon began to slip and they sky turned to the soft pink of the morning, Dak’ir bid his farewell to this most honored Ancestor, knowing their precious meetings were all too rare
 

Day One

A gathering of Mali’ker stood within the caverns of the sanctum. Adorning their armor, and weapons. They headed up above, knowing there task was to search the ruins above their home. To their horror, something awaited them in the ancient keep. Undead, restless, soundless, tireless. Of bone and aged metal, the dead covered the fort. Which soon rose around them, given life once more. 

Strife broke out between the Ker and the restless dead. Fighting in tight corridors, shattering apart the ancient bones. Their task became far more complex now, as they would have to clear the fortress of these horrors. Eyes were upon them as they moved to the higher levels, spotting a towering figure, a skeleton far younger than what had been seen. Holding a bow, the size of an Uruk. 

The brave Ker pushed onward, after the towering figure. Coming to another skirmish of the undead. The living combated the aged and slow skeletons with ease, the target, the towering skeleton had fled to the tower of the keep. These Ker pushed forward, disposing of the last of the undead before heading after their prey. At the top of the tower, close combat broke, but the undead fell in the end. A boot crushing its skull inward. The bones were cremated later that night, the tired Ker turned to their dens. A job, most well done. 

Thank you for all that showed! Special thanks to the ST for letting me play da skellies, and extra props to Korvic for the disguise and other useful tools for the event!

~~The Ruins above~~

My kin, as we have settled in our new lands, and stand back to our feet once more, our work is not done! Ruins lay atop of our home, of what intent or use, is currently unaware. For these next three elven days, I must ask for your aid in exploration of these ruins. Passage ways are blocked from crumbling rock formations, requiring excavation. The ruins stand tall, as to what may await us within, is unknown. Caution is advised, in addition to a form of weaponry, and excavation tools. 

• Groups shall be sent into the ruins over the course of three elven days. 
• The First day will  comprise of  the exploration of the upper levels of the ruins. 
• The Second day will be comprise of the excavation and exploration of blocked off passages. 
• The Third day will comprise of repair of the ruins, for our re-purposing, in addition to fixing broken structures or other devices within. 

You may keep what you find within these ruins. 

:OOC INFORMATION:

Events will take place Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. 

Together, we spread the word of the Maehr to their lost kin. 

The Maehr once moved in droves with Veluleai. Coming to settle within the caverns she led them too. Civilization rose around her, our ancestors. Those that passed on as spirits. Towards Stargûsh’Stroh, we strode. Now, all this time later. We remain, those that remember the Maehr and what they sacrificed for us. 

To ensure that the Mali'ker know, understand, and return to the ways of their ancestors. We call these Mali'ker the Seers. 

Onyx Seers

Onyx Seers remain within the Onyx Sanctum. Spreading their faith to their ability and help residents get closer to the spirits.  Onyx Seers report directly to the Primarch. 

Onyx Seers are expected to uphold religious and racial purity, devotion to the Spirits and spreading proper reverence of their Ancestors. 

Onyx Seers are comprised of three inner rankings. 

These Seers are categorized as High Seers, Acolyte Seers, and Initiate Seers. 

High Seers: Are tasked with the training of lower-ranking Seers. High Seers are expected to enforce martial training, avid study, and the protection of their kin. Only High Seers may write official religious scriptures without the approval of the Seer order. The prayer book of Seer Maladem Uuthlini being a fine example of an approved religious scripture. As well, they recruit new ‘Ker into the order, watching over and judging them until determining when best to raise them from Initiate to Acolyte. The High Seers are also tasked with the discovery of ancient Mali'ker ruins and relics, to document and organize them accordingly before sending it to the Primarch for safekeeping. 

Acolyte Seers: Are tasked with a dedication to the spirits and understanding of the ancestors and the nature of the spirit plain. These Seers make up the bulk of the order, tasked with bringing enlightenment to the general dark elven populace. Acolyte Seers must have the approval of a higher ranking Seer to publish official religious documents or scriptures. 

Initiate Seers: Are fledgling Seers, learning their ways. Many Initiates are given a task, to prove their dedication. This task should not normally put the Seer at risk, but instead, challenge their mind and understanding of their past. Cleaning shrines, reading scrolls, and making offerings are part of their day to day lives. They are required to be willing to learn of their people's past and of the Spirits. 

Becoming an Onyx Seer

• Seers are appointed by the Primarch Dak’ir Des’nox, or by a High Seer, during this time they are known as Initiate Seers. Initiate Seers are taught the ways of faith and told of their peoples history. Upon completion of a test and trial, in addition to the creation of a shrine, the Initiate Seer becomes an Acolyte Seer.

• Acolyte Seers are appointed to High Seer by the Primarch Dak’ir Des’nox. They are tasked with a ritual or trail that they must undertake, this task is given by the Primarch Dak’ir Des’Nox. These task, most times , are trial of great danger.

Hail, King of Dwed and fellow councilmen. These past few nights of deliberation between my kin, my fellow shaman, and even the Spirits have been draining upon both my mind and soul. We are a nomadic people, though not by choice. Strife is common among our kin and my goal within this hollow was ever pure to their safety and reverence to their Ancestors and the Spirits. I had surveyed this land, north of the border colonies and the eyes of those I’d feared may try to use us. Though I did not expect it would be from your kind, so far south that I had assumed we’d be free from even your reach, would threaten us in our barren tube of stone that we’d slowly bloomed into a den of life. Even upon greater heights than the Under-Realm. I look down even now to the small pits of lava as they churn, I hear the skitter of the things of the deep as they gather and writhe, and I hear the worried whispers of my people from the home they’d spend these last elven months making. We had offered to try and sate your greed and give you our word to never encroach south or into the lower depths to where your ruins lay. But it is dominion you seek, to remove our sites of worship to the Spirits from our halls, and They only know what other greedy terms your hearts will. But as I try to preach to my kin I shall so preach to you now. We may have greed in our mortal hearts but Theirs is always greater. The will of the Spirits can be dangerous when meddled with. But I digress. If still truly seek to root us from this hollow you are welcome to. Behind our gates your will find our halls free of my kin but something more terrifying than I would wish upon few people. The tread of your war efforts are too easily known to our kind and we’ve acquainted ourselves with this mountain enough to ensure our safety no matter the outcome. I apologize for this not being the outcome you sought, but I will ensure my people’s safety and freedom of worship. I do so hope that after tonight your kin may reconsider leaving us alone in our little realm now that the ceiling falls horrid things that swarm the lower halls. The Spirit of Earth and the Spirit of the Wilds watch over us. Our hearts are Onyx, not our home.

Ufur Ilzgul Lup Ilzgul, Dak’ir Des’Nox, Primarch of the Onyx Sanctum and Motsham of the Dark Elves.

Their intentions were simple that night as far as the others were aware. Despite the overhanging frustration felt among the ashen kin they picked up at the idea of a hunt to let the frustrations free. Tonight they would work together as they always did. Freeing their minds of the outside. They steeled their hearts as they embarked on their hunt. The rise of the hungering swarms were beginning to worry Dak’ir. He’d known of his kins previous attempts to cull their numbers. But every night it seemed as though the dancing blue lights grew in greater number each and every night. At the very least they would root out what was closest to them and buy themselves a little breathing room. Upon a lengthy trek south through the hollow they rediscovered the abandoned mine shaft. It had seemed as though the insects had moved their discarded gravel closer to the old entrance.

Clan Jusima had worked quickly to create a small blast, though underestimated the potency of Hou-zi explosives and whether by miracle or chance it seemed to ignite the entire inner chamber at once. Turning the nest into a screaming, writhing mass of pain and chitin. Thousands of  the awful, different sized things exploded forth in anger and fear, trying to both save themselves and lash out at the ashen kin as they passed. Engaged in a defensive fallback, they ‘Ker struck at the Lurkers closest and that dared approach. Though oddly enough the very earth would rumble around them. Great boulders and stones falling from the roof that threatened to split the ceiling wide and spill the light of Aztran into the Under-Realm. They fell in great avalanches, sweeping the swarming tides from the walls and driving south from the dark elves’ path. Truly his calls had been heard… As they rallied once more and pushed free from the swarm the cavern would churn and rise behind them. The great avenue now sealed off under layers of stone, chitin, and fury. Dak’ir and his kin would head home in a hurry. Knowing full well that what was unleashed was far greater than what a handful of ‘Ker could achieve. The prayers to Freygoth and Bregthar  were answered with a catastrophic symphony...

The Firebelly Gecko.||Found||

A small reptilian species. Lives primarily in deep caverns and caves. Sharing their size with the domesticated house cat. 

The scales bare a dark hue and good natural strength. Making it tricky for blades or points to penetrate their scales. Along the back, upon fingertips, the bottom of limbs and underbelly. The lizards body becomes hard almost like a chitin. Holding a clear hue. As the blood circulates it gives these growths a faint glow looking akin to molten rock. 

These growths give off a spray of chemicals when the lizards are startled or want to defend themselves. The spray is produced from a reaction between two chemical compounds, hydroquinone and hydrogen peroxide, which are stored in two reservoirs in the lizards abdomen. When the aqueous solution of hydroquinones and hydrogen peroxide reaches the vestibules in the growths, catalysts facilitate the decomposition of hydrogen peroxide and the oxidation of hydroquinone. Heat from the reaction brings the mixture to near the boiling point of water and produces gas that drives the ejection. The damage caused can be fatal to small attacking creatures. Upon skin or flesh, the mixture is irritating. Leaving burns akin to boiling water. Some Firebelly Geckos can direct the spray in a wide range of directions. 

The Geckos fat, muscle mass, and all organs but the reservoirs of chemicals and outer body growths, are safely edible. Eating the organic reservoirs or outer growth will make one sick. The fat, and muscle matter hold 500,000 SHU. Making its flavor to hot for many mouths. 

The Magma Crab.||Found||

Made of a hard fully sealed shell with dark stone like hues. This shell is able to withstand the molten temperature of magma pools, where these creatures dwell. 

 The mouth features a plate that slides up and down for feeding. The eyes are hidden beneath clear sections of the hard shell. 

These creatures range anywhere from the size of an apple to the size of a domestic dog. If given room to grow, these creatures will do just that.  

These Crabs have eight long legs, that can reach up to a meter in length. Equip with two pincers. The average Magma Crab will have a small and large claw. These smaller claws are used to grab hold of rock ledges when navigating their cave homes and for picking up small objects. The larger claw is used to crush prey and defend the crab. Though these Crabs can do little to leather, chain, or armor. These Crabs are able to crush weak sections of rocks to find food. Against smaller limbs covered in flesh or hide, these Crabs are able to break thin sections of bone. Such as the wrist, ankles. Joints.

These creatures are hard to cook normally as most Crabs. As the shell must be removed for heat to effect the insides of the Crab. 

The Molten Hound. ||Found||

This strange molten breed of canine dwell deep beneath the surface. Their size is similar to that of Norlandic shepherd dogs. With near similar running speeds, and jaw strength. What sets these canines apart are their diet and appearance.  

The canines hide is smooth, and lacks any fur. What makes them noticeable is their blood, and sections of the body that show blood flow. These sections of clear hide are hot to the touch, as the blood of a Molten Hound is constantly boiling. The hounds do not have normal veins, but instead large areas where blood pools and flows evenly through the body. The blood seeps into the muscle through small narrow pathways. The dark flesh of the Hound is toxic to most creatures, as when alive it produces the heat to boil it's bright blood. 

The eyes of this predator are adept  at navigating dark areas. Which see clearly about 13 meters from the head. 

These animals spend long periods of time in pacts. Roaming the bottom caves for their primary source of food. Metallic ores and gemstones. These creatures break and chip metallic ores and gems to feed themselves. Swallowing the materials whole. To melt them down in a strange wide stomach, which will convert the metallic ores and gems stones into their rich boiling blood. 

Soft ores and gems stones are a favorite. As these Molten Hounds would have to heat up the iron ore to make it easier to bite into. Through a slow process of licking the ore and salivating boiling liquids onto the hard ores. These hounds are able to walk or swim through pools of Magma, making often trips to pause and drink the molten pool of rocks. 

A document has been pinned upon the wall of a tavern. Tucked away in most hallow hollows, for the eyes of those that may pass it by on a walk through the tavern. 

Travel Notice: Warning: North Eastern Arcas. 

Far to the north, above any settlement, and tucked away lays yet another plague upon Arcas. Brothers and sisters of these hallows. The voidal issue to the east appears to have taken root in the far north. Or something of a most similar nature no doubt. Within hundred and fifteenish meters of the initial infection, rocks are seen floating above a river bed. 

Nature is visibly disturbed, infected and wrong. spots of decaying patches and odd molds. As one draws closer, there is visible signs of Eldritch or Daemonic invasion into the realm. Or something very similar. The air within fifty meters of the origin point holds signs of visible corruption. As seen around voidal tears. 

Within twenty meters of the origin point, fortifications have been set up. With a burning cross facing out towards a body of water. The fort appears recent, as a small encampment of tents lays to the west of the fort. The fort appears to be built around the origin point, making myself suspect it was built to withstand a small scale siege from the origin point. As to the fate of these Valah, I am unsure if they still watch or if their lives have been claimed. 

Ten meters from the Origin point, the source of Voidal or Demonic contact is clear. A large gate way to another realm rest at the center of a body of water. With a large carved rock formation floating above itself. A pathway extends out across the water. Made of levitating rocks. A sign has been marked, stating ”Begone Demons. GOD protects these lands”. This signs faces the gate. Around where the pathway reaches the shore, a large wooden gate fortification has been set up around the pathway and the gate. 

The gate itself is a towering object. Reaching well over six meters in height. The gate levitates over the water. Emitting ghastly sounds and leaving a horrid feeling in the stomach. Within the inky black rock formation  is the flickering ethereal substance which can only lead to the planes of another world. Far more hellish than our own. 

Travel safely brothers and sisters. 

~Daichia Jusmia

((More actions shot of this place because it is NOICE)) 

The Onyx Sanctum

‘Ker of the Old Ways

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Founded in faith and reverence. The ‘Ker Onyx Sanctum find themselves here to be free in their spiritual worship, free from the yoke of their pale skin cousins and the wars they would seek to use them in, free from the prying eyes of humanity. To forsake the outside world as their Ancestors did. Some clans as old as the times of Malinor and some as young as the strifes of Vira’ker. Some united in their will to purge heretics and their unclean kin, others simply staying to learn their lost history and wander once more, all together in faith under the Moon’s vigil and the Spirit’s will.

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Locations

The Common Hollow

 The epicenter of the Sanctum, this is where ‘Ker congregate most for the general day. Moving to and from their dens or shrines, to the craftsmen hut or forge, to the ever famous Uuthlini tavern, you’ll find most of the spiritual kin here living their day to day lives.

Luara’s Rise

Atop the Onyx Sanctum is the great Totem of Luara, built in blessed reverence to symbolize Veluleai’s hallowed prayer that was first recognized by Luara, it features a plateau with a great crescent shrine for various rituals and celebrations in the Moon Mother’s and Primess’ names. The stone pond around the totem bleached white by Her glow shines bright with the silvered offerings that sit at it’s bed.

The Lower Sanctum

Home to the Temple of the Ancestors as well as a host of fungal growth. The Lower Sanctum is both a place of harvest and tranquility. An untouched bio-luminescent oasis in the darkened void created by the ashen kin.

Clans of the Sanctum

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Des’Nox

Elder and deepened within the Spiritual Plane and history of their kin, the elder clan continues its work to its people. Uncovering the lost knowledge of the ashen folk’s Ancestors to return to their people though tales for guidance. Or to in turn lead the mortal ‘Ker to their Ancestors for open reverence or. Their patron Spirits are Luara and Kor and their current clan elder is Dak’ir Des’Nox.

Uuthlini

As jovial as they are timeless, the old Uuthlini clan continue to brew their famous ales and spin their songs alongside their people. The clan is quite famous for their fixation upon the color blue to the point they almost seem to revere it. Some wearing it upon themselves or even dying their hair the deep blue of a midnight sky. Whatever the cause, it has affectionately given rise to the nickname blueberries, not only for their clan colors but their delightful brews as well. Their patron Spirit is Betharuz and the current Blue Father is Maladem Uuthlini.

Isilioleth

Wayward and Spiritual. The ‘Ker of the Isilioleth clan keep elder ways alive and well. Steeped in centuries of honored clan traditions used to pay homage to both the Spirits and their Ancestors through every aspect of their lives. Through the colors they wear and the makings they place upon themselves the Isilioeth ever display their faith. Swaying between their kin to the uruks over the years, they have amassed much knowledge of the Spirits as a whole and work to diligently to spread these beliefs and ideals to their Onyx kin. Their patron Spirits are Kor and Jevex and their current clan head is Tedyn Isilioeth.

Jusima

Few traces of the pure Mali'ker blood of Jusmia linger onward. With the biggest of the gatherings coming forth. Daichia Jusmia takes the mantle of Clan Leader. Determined to place the name Jusmia down within the eternal halls of the ancestral cities. This clan places great value on familial ties as well as the bonds of the forge. It’s clan Patriarch leading the way for reviving elder dark elven smithing techniques. Their patron Spirits are Gentharuz and Trokorl and their current clan head is Daichia Jusima.