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⤞The Arvellon Seed⤝

[Arvellon sigil drawn by ClassyNewt]

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“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people simply exist, and that is all. Spread laughter and chaos wherever you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier. Suddenly they will realize life wasn’t about surviving. It was about living.” -Carsul’il

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[The Firefly Grove by Mathias Zamęcki]

⤞The Autumnal Lore⤝

The Arvellon seed was one of the smaller and lesser-known tribes amongst the first migration of Mali’ame. While most adorned themselves in unique and colorful markings and apparel, the Autumnal watchers were identifiable by their shared physical traits and their name, yet even this left them confused with their seedless kin.

For many centuries, they did not mind this and even enjoyed the ease in which they could meld within the rest of tribal society, watching and listening as the Wildcats of Felixii do. Little is known concerning their worship of the Wildcat Princess, as is most things with the feline Mani. Similarly shrouded is the seed’s adoption of worshiping Kwakwani, the Trickster Raven. Though they adapted to the new ways and melded them with that of Felixii’s, creating a unique and unknown culture that they are in the modern age.

During the times of Malin and the nomadic Mali’ame, the Arvellon were led by a man called Carsul’il. Known amongst his kin as the Laughing Lynx for his hearty attitude and his peculiar style in hair. The Lynx was the first to take on the name of Arvellon, and was the founder of their ame’lie. A grove considered to only be a myth and named the Harvest Wood, for some said it was a place of perpetual Autumn that was always bathed in a copper and gold light from the rays of sun shining through the canopy. Trees soon to be called the Taliame’miruel, meaning Eternal Autumn. Many thought the grove was a legend, as very few knew of its name. Much less of its existence. These trees produce a dense fog that the Arvellon used to their advantage, living within it to hide themselves. Many believe this is where they received their moniker, the Autumnal Watchers.

While most of the tales sprung from this age, and of Carsul’il specifically, are considered myth and the true events that happened are lost to the winds of time, the more modern era of the Arvellon is easier to recollect if similarly unknown to anyone but the Arvellon. The Autumnal Chieftain eventually disappeared into the wilds as most ancient Mali’ame do, leaving behind his ways for his second child, Merriel Arvellon. Unlike her father, Merriel did not have many daring adventures, as she preferred the quiet and watchful side of their ways. Living her life upon a simple farmstead with her mate and listening to the breeze for all manner of news and secrets until the day she had her first and only child. Miklaeil. A boy that was bound to take after his grandfather from the day he began to walk; always grinning and dashing about from one adventure to the next with the clever wit of a cat. Only his mother could truly tame his lust for the thrill and unknown, until the day he came of age for manhood. 

Miklaeil gathered what few things he possessed and set off into the realm, leaving a supportive but deeply saddened mother behind. Years passed and the young Arvellon found himself in what was known to be the Dominion of Malin. It was in the Dominion that Miklaeil decided to first attempt at securing a steady life after thirty or so years of travel, though doing so cost him the identity of his ancestors within him. He donned bronze and silver platemail, shouted war cries in the name of various princes and princesses, and even took on the name and beliefs of another seed entirely in his patriotic vigor. He began to look less and less like that of Carsul’il, and the letters to his mother were more filled with his grim and dark experiences rather than with their usual joy and wonder. It was around this time that Merriel Arvellon passed, caught in an accident with farm equipment.

Years passed and Miklaeil gradually fell back into the old ways of his grandfather. His constant grin and cheeky quips became his trademark along with his vigilant and cat-like eyes that were always watching with a certain mischievous glint. Long after the Dominion collapsed, he became a Lord upon the council of Aegrothond, and it wasn’t long after that he met the lovely Empyreal Princess of Alderyn, Layla Le’Cai. It didn’t take him long to notice the same playful glint in her eyes and he fell in love and fully returned to the ways of Carsul’il. Between the two of them, the Arvellon seed’s history and culture were reborn into something new and old.

After several decades passed, the Arvellon grew and changed beyond what they were upon Miklaeil’s reclamation. It was around this time that the seed was begrudgingly convinced to join the fledgling Forest Realm of Irrinor. The reluctance of the seed’s chieftains to take such a step proved to be exact when the Aspectist nation fell to infighting, leaving the Arvellon to flee back to the Talus Grove. Disillusioned with the politics of greater elven nations following the fall of Irrinor, Miklaeil declared the rite of Maya’meracahe to prevent more misfortune befalling the Arvellon.

Several families were born and brought into the seed’s warm embrace following its departure from Irrinor, allowing the group to spread out and diversify amongst themselves as they chose according to the rite of Maya’meracahe. Despite this rebound, Layla and Miklaeil were left tired and in need of respite from the civilized places of the world. A moot of the seed was held in the Talus Grove where Eretria and Nerrin were chosen to be the next chieftains, allowing Layla and Miklaeil to delve into the realm’s deep wilds where they found solace.

After the departure of Miklaeil and Layla, things soon fell to ruin. The misfortunate acts of a handful of Arvellon led to their dismemberment from the seed and forced them to move away from their Autumnal kin. The seed fell stagnant not long after as Eretria followed in her brother’s footsteps, overwhelmed with the circumstances of her kin, and fled to the wilds to find solace for some time. Seeking hope and guidance during her absence.

When the Chieftess returned to their hall in Siramenor, she was one of the first to welcome a new Arvellon into the seed. A joyous occasion yet she still felt lost and needed answers; ones her people could not give her no matter how hard they tried. The Arvellon were small and despite their best efforts, they could not seem to restore the seed to its former prestige. She remained for some time, guiding others and trying to repair the state of their seed alongside Nerrin, even in Elvenesse, before she once more fled to the wilds. Nerrin would join her not long after, once more causing the seed to fall stagnant.

After time had passed, Eretria decided it was time to stop running and return to her people. She found herself amongst the small group of people of Nevaehlen during its early days of discovery and reclamation. Time was spent in the small mali’ame village before she decided this is where she wanted to establish a home for her Autumnal kin again. In recent days, this is where the Arvellon reside. Living in a village rich with the culture and ways of the mali’ame people, where they thrive together and live within their hall marked by the Taliame’miruel trees. Eretria is the sole Chieftess of the Arvellon, and she continues to welcome new members into the seed with a warm embrace.

⤞Overview⤝

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“Given a wink from the Wildcat and a grin from the Raven, Carsul’il set off into the woods.”

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The ways of the Autumnal Watchers are deeply rooted in Aspectism and the Mani Pantheon, their various styles and values based upon the old ‘ame teachings. Their patron Mani are Felixii the Elusive Wildcat, and Kwakwani the Trickster Raven. Most of their values are derived from each Mani and each one is an inspiration for their love for fun, and their ability to keep secrets.

The Arvellon are a close-knit group who are known to have a lust for life, often being the source of a harmless prank and the cause of a good laugh. They are a cheerful and chaotic bunch of people, making it their goal to keep things light-hearted in nature amongst the many evils and stress-bringers of the realm.

[The Smell of Dead Leaves by Anato Finnstark]

⤞Religion and Seed Values⤝

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"One life. That is all we get. Just one. Why aren't we running like we are on fire towards our wildest dreams? We need that chaos in our soul.” - Eretria Arvellon

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Religion

Aspectism and the Mani pantheon are both well-cherished parts of the Arvellon culture, most everything about them being derived from these practices. However, like most other Seeds, the Arvellon worship a select few Mani in particular. Those being Felixi the Elusive Wildcat, and Kwakwani the Trickster Raven. Both of which heavily influence the day-to-day lives of the Arvellon, making for Elves with an odd mixture of secretive yet colorful personalities, flitting back and forth with words and actions like a cat or bird at play. Oftentimes these Elves make offerings to both Mani in the form of tricks and pranks upon those deserving of it, or merely for the fun of it.

With regards to Felixii, the Wildcat is seen as the head of a lesser pantheon of her own that includes the other feline Mani gods. The Lion, Tiger, and Panther Mani all fall into this grouping though are not quite so revered as the Wildcat herself. Many decide to incorporate the teachings of these individual Mani princes into their worship of Felixii. Those Arvellon particularly devout to Felixii tend to tread through life with care put toward their own actions yet are not afraid of the spontaneous. Witty, clever, and watchful are the best descriptions for an Arvellon Wildcat follower. It is taught that a proper Wildcat follower should remain ever vigilant for what knowledge they can collect or what whispers they may hear. This is usually referred to in regards to one’s own pursuits or craft, meant to encourage learning and growth in the mind. 

The Trickster Raven teaches her Autumnal followers the ways of artistry, beauty, and fun-loving attitudes. Those devout to Kwakwani are often the most playful of the seed prone to pranking their family and friends when it is least expected, or developing skill with their hands in the way of arts and craft. Many Arvellon take up trades in things such as painting, jewelry, writing, or even blacksmithing and woodworking. Their work is done with the intention of creating beauty with their very own hands, worshiping the Raven in the act alone.

As per the teachings of their ancestors, Aspectism is a large part of the Arvellon Seed’s beliefs. They are taught to help uphold the balance and to protect nature. To not over hunt but to make sure there is not too much growth spreading about. Along with being Aspectists, the Arvellon are taught to involve themselves with the Wild Faith; a collection of their ancestral cultural ways of worshipping the Mani and the Aspects, as well as teaching and learning to keep their faith alive. 

Values

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“Live your life to the fullest, my child. Raise your boy, love your family, and see them flourish as I have.” - Carsul’il to his daughter, Merriel Arvellon

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When the Arvellon realized that the world is much too dangerous to face alone, they began to stick closer together to ensure safety and prosperity despite the hardships that the Descendant world is prone to endure. Thus, their ideology grew over time to incorporate values based upon the creation and protection of family.

⤞ Family is treasured above all else to Arvellon. To protect and provide for one’s family is the highest priority and one that each Arvellon is expected to see done. Providing for the family also includes having children with which to fill it and continue the legacy. Due to the elven curse of infertility, adoption is not unheard of amongst the seed and is even considered honorable. With family comes Love. It is a sacred emotion connected to the very soul of a person that shapes them as it grows and evolves over time’s passage. An Arvellon couple is accepted as an eternal bond and a testament of passion and loyalty for such long-lived people as the elves. To break off that bond is a break of trust that many consider to be deserving of no less than a shun or, if the cause of division is so revolting, death. Love does not extend only to romance either. An Arvellon finds love in anything that they wish to look for it in. Some pursue trades and crafts to pour their passions into.

⤞ Trust is built through experience and time together. An Arvellon without the trust of their kin is an Arvellon surrounded by the hounds of darkness, bound for an early rise of elven madness. Along the same vein of thought, Unity within the seed is expected by all its members to uphold fervently. According to the rite of Maya’meracahe, the Arvellon should never allow the frivolous squabbles of greater elvenkind and the Descendent world as a whole to divide them.

⤞ Cheer and light-heartedness are seen as desirable traits among the Arvellon. Being a fun-loving people, they seek it out with a Lust for Life that goes unheard of among many other elven cultures and even in the mali’ame themselves. Adventure, pranks, good fun amongst their kin, all this and much more are the deep thoroughfare to an Arvellon’s heart.

⤞ Survival is often seen as the willingness to do what is necessary. Most Mali’ame are taught how to survive in the forests at a young age, though the Arvellon are also taught how to survive in many other ways such as hunting to provide for their kin, combat to protect them, and even something as simple as how to keep a secret. These traits are taught so each Arvellon can be fully equipped to help protect their kin in any way necessary.

⤞Appearance⤝

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“Touched by the season of Autumn in body as well as mind.”

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[Art of Eretria and a Karin by Mikki]

Arvellon born elves typically share the same set of physical traits, depending on the circumstances of their birth. A true born Arvellon would carry the traits of one, bronze or tan in skin tone, usually a warm hue of some sort. Their hair tends to be curly or unruly while varying in shades of red and brown. This, coupled with brown or green eyes, make them quite suitable for their favorite season - Autumn. Although not every Arvellon is born from the Autumnal bloodline. The modern generation of the seed is a wide variety of adopted members and members who married into the seed, with the proper rites taken. This means one could find most any elf with any mix of traits donning the Autumn paints of an Arvellon.
 

They are often seen dressed in apparel, dyed to mirror the warm shades of Autumn - red, gold, yellow, and orange in various hues. Said to acknowledge the natural cycle and symbolize the changing and colorful personalities of the Arvellon.

⤞Traditions⤝

Tradition in the Arvellon seed is developed over the course of time and experience, its members learning new ways to adapt to their environment and adding to their ways to fit.

[Tattoos designed and drawn by the wonderful Numirya]

⤞ Ilmyumier is an important rite to becoming an Arvellon, the marking itself thought up and designed by Layla. The ilmyumier implements three of the most prevalent parts of the unique culture of the Arvellon, headed by that of a Wildcat and donning the wings and feathers of a Raven, and the colors and symbols of their beloved Autumnal season.

Along with the primary ilmyumier that is found on the dominant arm, an Arvellon is known to wear a stripe of paint across their eyes to act as a sign of luck to attract good fortune for them and their kin, or during times of war and unrest in the world as a whole.

⤞ Miruel'ame, the Red Trees of the Arvellon forests that once served as the living, subtle guardians to their ancestral ame’lie known as the Harvest Wood. The cultivation of these trees, once a closely guarded secret held by the main bloodline of the Arvellon, has been passed down to the seed to reintroduce the tree into the world. The Miruel’ame releases an ever-present fog that surrounds its immediate vicinity and is considered to be the reason the Arvellon remained wrapped within a mystery in the early eras of the world.

⤞ Maya’meracahe was put in place in the ancient times of the Arvellon, when they lived in the depths of the Harvest Wood. Where their homes were safely hidden from the turmoil beyond. This ‘redeeming balance’ was put into motion by Carsul’il after a near disastrous confrontation within the seed between two brothers living in separate nations from one another. The Laughing Lynx decided that the Arvellon seed would not serve as a political entity among the rest of Elvenkind, though it would not limit its individual members from taking part in what nations they chose to reside in.

“To be an Arvellon is to have only half a heart and soul. Their partner has the rest.”

⤞ Mallir'hiylun - Love is a sacred and precious thing to the Autumnal elves. An emotion and act held dearly since the days of Carsul’il and the Harvest Wood. Making such a declaration toward another elf is a grand and life changing event for the Arvellon. To them, there is only one such person to be found in their lives and it is an irreversible and unbreakable bond through both body, mind, and spirit. 

While not used until later in the seed’s existence, there is a binding ritual performed to cement this connection between two elves. Before an altar of Felixii and Kwakwani, the two would arrive during the height of a Harvest Moon in secret. Both would wield a ceremonial aurum blade to slice the other’s palms. After the blood flows from both hands on either lover, the bloodied blades are laid crossed upon the altar before the two clasped hands to mix the blood of their palms and in doing so, intertwining the essence of their bodies and spirit. Once the ritual is complete, it is said that the mates develop a true and absolute bond. While it is not known whether this is merely firm belief, or if something truly binds the souls of the lovers, it works. These Arvellon lovers remain together until death, and even then, it is said that their spirits pass on as one.

⤞ Birth has always been celebrated within the elven culture; a precious and sacred event for all of elven kind to be taken seriously. When a new child is born, or when one comes of age, a ritual is held in the child’s honor by the Chieftain. During the ritual the babe will be bathed in the waters surrounding the Father Tree, or in fresh springwater. The child’s forehead will then be painted with an eye to resemble the Wildcat, and outstretched wings on either side to represent the Raven. A prayer will then be recited to both patron Mani. Asking each of them to bless the new elf with an observant gaze and a sly nature - just as Felixii, and requesting for them to be granted the creativity and playfulness of the Trickster Raven - Kwakwani.

⤞ Death is not something that is normally celebrated, however the Arvellon honor death in a rather unique way. The corpse of their loved one is carried out to the Taliame’miruel Forest to be buried, where their souls are said to become the eternal watchers of Autumn. In spirit, just as they were in body. A prayer is then said while a stone is constructed atop the gravesite, acting as a headstone. This marker is referred to as Lareh’puerith, or Stone of Memories. Their loved ones will gather around the stone with buckets of paint and carving tools to create an exquisite and intricate mural telling of the Arvellon’s life. Flowers are then planted around the burial site, so that they may be fertilized and the Arvellon may live on through nature.

⤞Trials of Initiation⤝

⤞ The Trial of Escapade: The prospective Arvellon is to show they are capable of joining the others in their Lust for Life. Their task during this trial is to conjure up a harmless trick on any one of their choosing, and to carry out the prank without getting caught. Additionally, they are to ask an Arvellon who has earned their markings to accompany them and to deem it worthy. 

⤞ The Trial of the Artisan: The creativity of the prospective Arvellon will be challenged during The Artisan’s Trial, as they are tasked to create in the name of their patron Mani. They will be shown examples of crafts they could make, crafted by the current members of the seed, to aid them in brainstorming. Their task at hand is to create either one piece in honor of both the Wildcat and the Raven, or alternatively create something to solely honor Kwakwani, as the Raven is known to be the one of fine arts. The crafted piece will then be placed in the Arvellon hall to be displayed with the others.

⤞ The Trial of the Observer: The observant eye and mind of the prospective Arvellon will be challenged during this trial shaped around their patron Felixii. The Autumnal Watchers are known to be protectors of secrets, just as the Wildcat themself. They listen, and observe, and gather what secrets they can to be offered to Felixii for protection. There are many ways the prospect could go about completing this trial, which will be explained by the Chieftain. The intent is to gather at least three secrets from whoever they can and record them on a piece of parchment - without a name being etched with it to protect the secret teller.

That piece of parchment will either be placed in the hidden library in the hall, dedicated to and blessed by the Observant Wildcat, where it will go unread and eternally protected. Alternatively, the piece of parchment will be offered to a shrine of Felixii and tossed into the flames, where it becomes nothing but a whisper in the wind guarded by the Wildcat.

⤞ The Harvest Moon Hunt is the final, unofficial trial for the budding Arvellon. Every year during the Harvest Moon, when the night is bathed strongly in amber hued light, the prospective member will be asked to dress in the colors of the Autumnal seed and tasked with leading the rest of their kin on a ceremonial hunt beneath the height of a harvest moon. Prior to the hunt, their face will be marked by the Chieftain to resemble the rest of their clan while treading through the realm to find their prey. 

[An adult, large sized karin drawn by Ben]

⤞ The Rite of the Karin is not recognized as a trial, but instead as a warm welcome into the clan. When an Arvellon comes of a certain age, or is adopted into the seed, they are allowed the gift of a feline companion. A twin-tailed, crystal antlered colorful Karin, that they will raise from a kitten to a full-grown adult. This companion will be their forever friend and will offer comfort and playfulness where they know it is needed.

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The Foxhole

Home to the Orphaned, Widowed, and Outcast

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Vuln’miruel was officially formed in the Deep Cold, Year 1 of the Second Age after founder Sonna had a conversation with High Prince Feanor Sylvaeri. It was during this talk that the Royarch and High Priestess decided that a Wood Elven Seed would be formed for elves like herself; orphaned, unfit, and rejected. The seed was named Vuln’miruel after the founder’s totem and Sonnos is their patron. Their colors are red, gold, and green and their mark is of a golden fox wearing a crown of twisted branches.

Philosophy

“The fox is witty and clever, and following the fox’s tail will lead to fortune. That is the path we will follow, our strength in our wit and grace as we weave through the obstacles of life.”

The religion of the seed is elnarnsae’ame, The Wild Faith, however, members of the seed are free to practice whatever religion they wish as long as it is not a dark religion, or involve dark and voidal magic. As long as the members respect the seed's official religion and honor what the patron stands for, they can do as they wish.

[The Wild Faith]

The patron of the seed is the Fox Mani Sonnos, Prince of Vulpine. He represents cleverness and wit, traits valued by the Vuln’miruel. Members of the seed may pray in front of the Sonnos shrine for these traits as well as advice on how to face a certain situation with tact. The fox is their symbol, as their family tattoo is a golden fox wearing a crown of twisted branches, meant to signify the Prince of Vulpine.

[Sonnos Lore]

The founder often refers to these beliefs as “The Way of the Fox”, and believes that good luck comes to those who randomly encounter a fox. She also believes that following after a fleeting vulpine tail will lead to good fortune, and has stories of doing such herself.

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Rites

“After the fleeting tail.”

To become a member of Vuln’miruel, Vuln’ii must complete three rites.

Facing Your Obstacles

When a mali first wishes to join the seed, they must first face the tragedy they have endured in the past, whether internalized or not. They do this by forming a relationship with the Chieftain or Vuln'sae, until they trust them enough to open up to them and share their past experiences. The Chieftain or Vuln'sae will then comfort them, in their own way, and give them advice on how to move past it.

Befriending the Vulpine

The founder of Vuln’miruel found their lifelong companion in a red fox named Suna, gifted to her by Feanor when she first came to the village of Siramenor in Arcas. Thus, she believes that every member of her seed deserves a loyal companion like she has. After their first task, the Vuln’ii will be sent into the forest to find a lone fox or orphaned kit to befriend. They are not allowed to capture the animal, as they must gain its trust naturally until the fox follows them willingly.

Following the Red Tail

Once they have finished their other trials, the Vuln’ii complete a final trial that is common in many wood elven seeds and even in the Priesthood. The Cheiftain or Vuln'sae has the Vuln’ii smoke herbal substances and then leads them deep into the forest with their fox companion. Once there, the Chieftain or Vuln'sae will leave and the Vuln’ii must follow the quick vulpine back home while facing whatever they see along the way. Once they return, the Vuln’ii will tell their mentor what they encountered and reunited with their vulpine. They will then be named Vuln’miruel and receive their ilmyumier.

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Ranks

“Come, malii vulmiruel’onn”

Chieftain of  Vuln’miruel

Chieftain of the House and Leader of the name. They take in and teach Vuln’ii and watch as they do their rites to become Vuln’miruel, and nominate Vuln'sae to do such in their absence. They also hold a wooden fox mask passed down to each leader of the house.

Vuln’sae

A Vuln'miruel who has proven devotion to the seed through either time and/or tribulation, and has thus been given permission from the Chieftain to take in new Vuln'miruel and conduct their trials.

Vuln’miruel

A fully fledged member of the seed who has completed their rites and has received their ilmyumier.

Vuln’ii

Meaning “little fox”, Vuln’ii are those officially undergoing their rites to join the seed. They will gain the name Vuln’miruel from the Chieftain or Vuln'sae after completing their trials and receiving their ilmyumier.

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Practices

“Gather round”

New Birth

When a mother in Vuln’miruel welcomes a new child, matching crowns of pine leaves, holly, and white rose buds will be made and put on the mother and child’s head. The leader of the family will then say a prayer to Cerridwen to watch over the two followed by a house wide feast.

A Dark Scavenger Hunt

Foxes are quick, clever creatures that are also scavengers and most active at night. To mimic such, a competition that entails a scavenger hunt in the woods at night will occasionally take place. The winner of such competition will get a prize.

Story Telling

Occasionally, the seed may get together around the hearth and share stories with each other. This is a warm family event where everyone can catch up with each other, share some laughs, and enjoy tea by the fire. Non-members of the seed may be invited, but they must share a story of their own if they come.

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If you’d like to join this seed, find Sonna in game!

"The deed is done. The Tahorran's are dead."

The paper is not signed, one can only assume what this means.

With the departure of the former House Lord and a new generation of Elves, by decree of the Sea Prince, House Patriarch of the Sylvaeri and Her Ladyship, House Matron of the Sylvaeri, the following laws shall take effect for the Sylvaeri.

Currently, the House Lord and Patriarch is Fëanor Sylvaeri.
The current House Lady and Matron is Idril Sylvaeri.

The following shall take effect upon the bloodline:
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I. The ‘reset point’ of the bloodline is Eleron Sylvaeri, High Prince of Malinor. For a claim to be legitimized, it must take place after this point, as earlier claims cannot be reasonably proved for legitimacy.
 

II. Adoptions carry neither the name nor bloodline. As such, no adopted child may claim to be a legitimate Sylvaeri.
 

III. Bastards are illegitimate and carry neither the name nor bloodline, unless granted legitimacy by their father and the House Patriarch and Matron. Legitimization grants the name, but not the bloodline.
 

IV. The Sylvaeri name operates on patrilineality. Thus, the name of the Sylvaeri bloodline is passed down only by males of the family. Females do not pass the name to their children. A child may petition both the House Patriarch and Matron to carry the name.
 

V. Spouses may not carry the name Sylvaeri nor do they carry the bloodline of the family. Spouses may petition the House Patriarch and Matron through their partner. However, a spouse which marries the Sylvaeri and later remarries will not transfer the name nor bloodline to their children. Upon separation from the family through divorce, the spouse may not keep the Sylvaeri name, unless otherwise permitted by the House Patriarch and Matron.
 

VI. The following living bloodline Sylvaeri are as follows: Feanor Sylvaeri, Idril Sylvaeri, Cyndaer Sylvaeri, Maerwen Sylvaeri, Edrahil Sylvaeri, Cullas Sylvaeri, Laeren Sylvaeri, Finwe Sylvaeri, Vallei’sae Sylvaeri, Visenya Sylvaeri, Annatar Sylvaeri, Illynora Sylvaeri, Iorhael Sylvaeri, Istimar Sylvaeri, Isilme Sylvaeri

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Aboard Malinic Ship GOLDEN WIND, in North Harbor, Amaethea

To all to whom this may come, greetings:

Desiring a clear account be made of the objections against the right honorable Lord Exarch Evar'tir Oranor, Adjudicator of Malchediael, etc., which lead to the withdrawal of his nomination for High Prince of the Crown of Elvenesse, I have set them here.

The said honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues, being anxious to assure the Ithelanen Seed of their esteem despite that family's well-known enmity towards the Crown, subjected Laetranis ap Tahorran, Coyote Druid, my father and predecessor in the captaincy of my Seed, to three punishments of increasing damage and indignity for the same supposed offense against the Ithelanen: first flogged on the orders of the honorable Lord Exarch; then surrendered to the Ithelanen that they might strike off a hand and an ear, put out his eyes, and draw his teeth; and finally banished from the lands of the Crown.  Before and during the intervals between each of these acts, the honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues provided us with assurances that Laetranis would not suffer, or would not suffer further; these were of little value in the fact.

While these indignities were under contemplation and with Orkish or Ithelanen action an immediate threat, I desired the Council provide some guarantees of the safety of my seed, as is the customary duty of overlords, and received no reply to my very modest proposals to that end.

The failure of the policy of the honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues as it concerns my seed undoubtedly contributed to the death of one of my relatives, of which we had news only when his skin was discovered to have been worn as a coat by an Orc.

Considering these actions, and the manner in which they were carried out, I am obliged to perceive a cavalier attitude among the honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues towards my relatives and accordingly I, when given the chance, did not support the nomination of either sitting Councilor for High Prince.

I desire this letter be considered but an elaboration of my statement in the recent court of the Council, and to reassure my readers, particularly those who may sit upon the Council, of my sustained loyalty to the Crown of Elvenesse and that of my relatives; the manner with which we are habitually treated has only deepened my belief in the necessity for unity among all our people. I have only the best hopes for the amicable elevation of a worthy successor to his Grace the High Prince and I will work united with my brother- and sister-chiefs to this end and for the maintenance of our city in service of our people. 

Rylleah ap Tahorran

LEADER OF THE PEOPLE OF NEMGLAN

Spinners of Stories

The Puerokars are a seed centered around the worship of the Rabbit Mani Bilobooz, and the celebration of the individual legacies of its members. Formally a matriarchal society on the fringes of other larger wood elven groups, The Puerokars have recently been reintroduced to society by the new generation of Puerokars. Whether through murals, totems, journals, or through their Ilmyumier itself, the Puerokars celebrate the events that make an individual who they are.

History

The Puerokar’s were once a group of eight households that lived in a village called Tsisduwi. Each worshiped Bilobooz, the Rabbit Mani, but many of the other houses also worshiped other mani along with her. The Clans of Molimo, Dyanitir, Tala, Larigne, Vallei’ahern, Mongwau, and Dyami eventually all fell under the leadership of the Peurokar house. This task was achieved through the hard work of Aenwyn Puerokar, the founder of the Clan. Aenwyn won the respect of all of the clans with her leadership after years of unrest both within the settlement and outside of it. She maintained a positive relationship with several caravans, as well as other settlements, and established a clan culture that, despite being lost for ages, still lives on through the surviving clan members. Through the clan’s infancy, unrest between each branch of the newly formed clan dissipated. Traditions that celebrated the individual branch’s unique attributes were formed and a strong sense of pride was formed among them. This pride however separated the Puerokars from the rest of the world; their elitism being one of their downfalls. Their growing hostility towards outsiders, poor leadership from the last Winema, Deu’lara Dyami Puerokar, and a bandit raid on the settlement of Tsisduwi, caused what remained of the clan branches to scatter to the winds. Now, those that remain alive are the new generation of Puerokar that wish to integrate into Elvenesse.While they all wish to continue to honor the old ways of their branches and clans, changes have been made to operate more like a seed. The Seed name will be Puerokar, as that is what every branch had in common, and the individual cultures will be honored but no longer necessary. For most, being a Puerokar will be enough, but for those that are interested in learning about the nearly forgotten sub cultures it is highly suggested that one should subscribe to that particular subculture.

Clans

As stated, the Puerokars are a group of several clans that joined into one house. Below is a summary of each of the clans, their worship, and their role in the settlement of Tsisduwi.

Culture

In what could be considered ‘Puerokar Culture’, worship of the Rabbit Mani has always been the cornerstone. Over time, Bilobooz's defense of bloodlines became the clan's fixation on legacy and personal life stories. As the idea of sharing personal legacies became more popular among the clan branches, a library was constructed to house the diaries of every individual in the settlement, showcasing years of legacy. The Mongwau branch was its caretaker, and ensured that basic information on the clan branches was recorded. Things like births, deaths, coming of age ceremonies and the like.  All was lost upon the raid that destroyed Tsisduwi. The following will be examples of the overall clan’s culture, but each branch has their own subculture and traditions that are unique to them. 

Totem Tales

Written word wasn’t the only form of story telling the Puerokars became known for. They developed a form of mural known as Totem Tales. These murals were elaborate depictions of the artist's story. In the example to the left, the subject was love. Each addition to the piece symbolizes a part of the artist's love life or overall story. These totems can be done for any subject, but for it to be considered a Totem Tale, it must be a vertical mural with the story starting at the bottom of the medium and read up. These storytelling methods inspired the seed’s Ilmyumier. 

Festivals 

The Puerokar’s celebrated several events throughout the year while they were their own settlement. These events have become a strong part of the modern seed’s culture. There was the Night of Spinners, a small event where members of each branch of the clan would ‘spin’ a tale in an attempt to outdo the other branches. The Winema  would listen to each story over the night’s feast, and would choose her favorite by the night’s end. Though a small event, it was done several times throughout the year, and often used as a way to settle petty disputes, making the jobs of the Dyanitir a bit easier. Another smaller event that took place in the spring was the Festival of Flowers, a matchmaking festival. It was the best way to ensure the bloodline was secure. In the years girls from the main branch came of age, the event was massive. The festival of flowers was a showcase for young adults to demonstrate not only to the other branches what they were capable of, but also show their own branch how far they had come. Most of the youth are free to choose who they wish, but it is the main branch women who have their partner chosen for them by the Winema. Another example of the clan protecting their legacy. Not every youngling would agree with the decision, but for the branches as a whole, having a member chosen to marry into the main house was the greatest honor. Finally there was the Festival of Rabbits, an event held in the highest regard by the Puerokar house. It was the one day of the year where the branches competed against each other in various events to see which of the families have improved the most. Events included physical activities, as well as challenges of creativity and mental capability. The winners would be decided, again, by the Winema. The prize was usually bragging rites, and a special creation from the Chieftess herself. 

Trials and Ilmyumier

The trial for the Puerokar seed is simple: without explicitly stating it, those who wished to join would have to tell the story of their legacy. Prospective Puerokars are given three elven days to think it through and present it to the Winema. If the individual displays an understanding of the Puerokar way of storytelling, then they will be allowed into the seed, and the story they have presented becomes the story of their Ilmyumier. Though easy upon first glance, the general lack of guidance in the instructions can be a bit daunting for those that don’t know what they are getting into. 

The Puerokar Ilmyumier is a unique one. The top and the bottom of the tattoo is always the same for every member. It always begins with the rabbit mani framed by two bands, representing their addition to the seed. The last bands represent the future actions the barrer will take, and how the legacy will thrive within the seed. It is one thick band followed by a band shaped into a triangle or an arrow. Between the first and last bands is different for each individual. It depicts the wearer's legacy as displayed in their trial. The design will be done by another member of the seed if the individual is lacking in artistic prowess. 

Leadership

The Puerokar’s have always been matriarchal. The Chieftess, or Winema (wi-nay-mah),  always being passed down from mother to daughter throughout the decades. If there were more than one daughter in a family, the current Winema chooses from them who she feels is most deserving of the position. If no daughter is born to the acting Chieftess, she may choose another female within the seed that honors their values. Oftentimes this would be a priestess, or Meda, from the Molimo or a council woman from the Dyanitir. If there is no blood-related woman in the family at all, then a male can take the position, but is extremely unlikely due to the size of the clan. Though the original reason for Winema’s position was due to women being in charge of domestic matters, it became a way to honor the work of Aenwyn. 

Though decisions pertaining to the outside world were reserved to the Winema, smaller decisions were made by the council. Often filled out with members of the Dyanitir branch, they took care of general governing, such as collecting taxes and solving small disputes that aren’t worth the Winema’s time. There were seven seats on the council, and each member was chosen by the Winema herself. 

Another tradition passed down from one Matriarch to another is the ceremonial staff. The Winema’s staff is a symbol of the family’s legacy and blessings from Bilobooz. It is a carved, 4ft long staff made of stained pine. The length is carved with tribal depictions of Rabbits, and initials of former Cheftesses that have come before. Records have shown that the staff was a gift to Aenwyn Puerokar by another clan leader shortly before their disbandment. When it is time for a new Winema to be appointed, a short ceremony is conducted where the staff is passed onto the new leader by the former. The former Matriarch then adds her initials to the staff in honor of her service. The successor is chosen and the ceremony is done while the Winema is still of a right mind, typically once she has turned 500. 

Genetic Mutations 

When the former clans inhabiting slowly began to interbreed with the Puerokars, it led to bizarre-looking relations among them. There are a few rare genetic mutations that the family passes down that show up sporadically, giving their claims of being the ancestors of the rabbit mani some ground. The most common of the mutations found within the line come in the form of strange eye colors. Eye colors such as blue and red are common within Puerokar’s, at least more common than the rest on this list. These traits suggest that at some point in the history of the family, there was an introduction of high elven and dark elven genes into the family line, though the family would be considered mostly wood elf now. Another mutation of the family are large, down angled ears. These ears are similar to those found on Oar Lop-Eared Rabbits. It is uncertain how this mutation actually came about, but the legends suggest that the ears come from Bilobooz taking pity on a childless family. The rabbit mani was said to have transformed one of her leverets into a baby elf with the ears of a rabbit. Unfortunately, there is no answer as to what caused the “Oar Lop” ears (or oar ears) among the family, but it is a rare trait that only around 10% of the Puerokar’s possess. 

Conclusion

The Puerokar seed is one steeped in tradition. It takes the worship of Bilobooz and her ideas of protecting legacy very seriously through their stories. The seed is welcoming and open to all storytellers, artists, and interested parties alike. 

Art and words by Twsister2361

C L A N  S E R A D I S

Home to those ‘ker without a home.

PHILOSOPHY & RELIGION

The Seradis believe in the veneration of ancestors and believe that how they carry themselves is a direct look onto their ancestors, and if one were to break this, they’d rest within the Orc’s spirit realm after death. It is prohibited to practice dark magic, and often voidal magic unless one has permission from the Crown of Elvenesse. Additionally, it should be noted that, while they do wear a bit more revealing clothing, they should not look like a harlot, the clothes they wear should be tasteful, not trashy.

[The Ancestors]

The Seradian do not worship a single ancestor, but rather, whichever one seems fit to them. For example, Chieftess Isara may worship the Mother, Delilah. However, another might worship Koltira or Jiub.

RITES

To become a member of the Seradis Clan, one must complete three rituals.

Seradian Throat Singing

An ancient tradition that lies within the Seradis family, Seradian throat singing is the art of making a song with your throat. Usually, these songs are to protect people in dire situations- such as war or a trial. Other times, these songs are purely just for fun. However, it should be noted that this is not something easy to learn- and would take 4 years [1 Month/4 Weeks OOC.]

Carving the Flute

While carving the flute is not unique to the Seradis Clan, it is a rite of passage. These flutes must be crafted by hand, and should be modeled after nature or an ancestor. This flute must also be playable, and said member should learn the flute if they wish to do so.

Gifts to the Ancestors

Finally, to complete their trial, they must create a shrine specific to an ancestor they had, such as their Grandparents. Additionally, it can be towards the Chieftain of the Clan. In this ritual, they will apologize for any wrong-doings they have committed in the past, and be rebirthed as a Seradis. If they wish, they may choose to take a new name.

RANKS

Tahu’Haelun

The Chieftess of the Clan, currently Isara Seradis. Meaning ‘High Mother’.

Celia’ibar

A full-fledged member of the clan. Meaning ‘Star Owl’.

Aetah

A new member of the clan- yet to complete their trials. Meaning ‘Age’.

If you’re interested in joining, seek out Isara Seradis (cat__farts) or message me on discord, luxanna#6765

HOUSE TELEMNAR

A Comprehensive Guide, by Olórin Telemnar.

 Seed. 12th of the Deep Cold, 02 SA

~Introduction~

The House of Telemnar is a noble family of sea elves whose roots trace back to the firstborn son of Malin, Sylvaen Everflame.  They claim their elder descent through the bloodline of Telemnar Sylvaeri, an esteemed mariner of the ancient world and custodian of the high seas.  In the present age, they have established their home within the Princedom of Elvenesse.

~Ancient History~

In years of yore, in the wake of the Aegisian wars, upon the rattled Almenodrim was imposed exile, their society setting out across the vast oceans, departing Old Malinor.  The subsequent centuries of voyaging and chartering culminated in an almighty seaborne civilisation, with great citadels of solid stone being raised upon even the most distant of shorelines.  Through these bustling ports did both resources and wealth flow, enriching the lives of the indulging elven mariners for generations.  

Yet, so too with wealth did greed foster, and in its wake was born an age of piracy.  Beyond the sheltered citadels, no merchant could ever hope to find refuge from plundering seadogs, and there were none more feared than the Dread Pirate Kaer.  A silver-maned elf, infamously skilled at the mast and honed with a brutal instinct of cunning.  His black ships, like the tentacles of a merciless kraken, crushed any unfortunate vessel caught within their grip, thus seizing mass hauls of bullion and spices.  

Said stolen fortune was enough to secure any one elf a luxurious life, but a vast deposit of gold could also fund greater ambitions.  Kaer’s treasury was vast, but he lacked a sustainable port at which to dock, where he could unload his cargo and resupply without fear, nor bounty.  None were more capable of providing such a prize than the Almenodrim.

Intoxicated by craving desires, the Dread Pirate emptied his coffers, mustered an armada of over a hundred ships and like a tidal wave descended upon the trade colony of Ellerina, now present-day Amathea.  At his back stood an army of ruthless mercenaries, hell-bent on breaching the outer walls and taking the Almenorean harbours for their own.  They bombarded the coast and set the blockade, sealing in the garrison whom they sought to starve out.

Word swiftly travelled to every corner of the established realm, with no more than two weeks having passed before ravens reached the citadel of Aegrothond itself.  Ellerina, an established territory of the Crown, was under siege by a sizable seaborne opponent.  At this revelation, Sea Prince Aegnor I sought the counsel of his most trusted advisors for three days and nights.  Ultimately, a retaliation was in order, and so the Prince called upon his most valiant nephew, Telemnar Sylvaeri.  Aegnor set him the task of assembling a fleet and breaking the siege upon the colony, for none amongst the Almenodrim were more adept at the helm. 

 Telemnar, with fervent loyalty, obeyed his liege’s command.  The fleet of warships, hastily assembled, numbered no more than forty, but what it lacked in size it compensated for in speed.  Kaer had banked on securing the colony before his opponents could muster a relief force, but the starved garrison stood with the strength of a tower, for another month repelling every wave that dared crash against the shore.  The corsairs, impatient and restless, grew so fixated with their objective that they had turned their eyes away from their perimeter.

On the eve of the new moon, Sylvaeri’s fleet arrived, finding the stricken harbour battered and smouldering.  Although the foe was ignorant to their arrival, Kaer still outnumbered the Almenodrin host near three to one.  An attack in broad daylight would spell disaster and defeat.  But Telemnar was cunning as a tactician and so he ordered the crews of two ships to disembark, the wooden hulks now to serve a separate purpose in his campaign.  They waited until nightfall whenever the corsairs had retired and gloom clouded their vision.

Within the darkness, crews awoke to the frantic tolling of bells, paving the way to a blood-curdling realisation.  Two fireships steered straight into the heart of the armada, unleashing terror among the ranks of the immobile mercenaries.  In the spur of the moment, many prematurely cut anchor, rendering their ill-prepared vessels vulnerable to the treacherous tides.  Telemnar’s decisiveness had forged an opportunity and his warships subsequently tore into the chaos at full sail. 

Awoken to disarray, Kaer found himself trapped between impregnable cliffs and waters ablaze.  In gracious formation, the swan prows of the Almenodrin host fell upon the flagship, timber hulls colliding in a shower of splinters.  At the bow of the foremost vessel stood the black-maned Sylvaeri, clad in a silver habergeon wrought like fishes’ mail. 

The marines of Aegrothond disembarked, pouring onto the deck of the corsair ship.  Blades rang in a brutal battle of blood and steel, and amidst it clashed Kaer and Telemnar.  The Dread Pirate and Sea Lord exchanged blows and equal ire, both cutlass and falchion notched and horridly streaked with crimson.  Yet, as the morning sun rose over the red bay, it was Telemnar who seized victory, lashing Kaer from navel to collarbone and sending him sprawling into the churning waves below.  Broken and scarred, he was soundly hauled from the dark abyss by his sons, with what remained of their forces retreating beyond the horizon.

With the foe’s ambitions thwarted and the armada either routed or ran aground, a triumphant horn sounded from the distant harbour, signalling the long-awaited end to the siege.  As a reward for his exceptional service, Sea Prince Aegnor I installed upon Telemnar the right to bear his own standard - one that, alongside his name, would be passed down for generations to come.   

~Customs~

The House of Telemnar take great pride in their traditional customs, many of which stem from the common practises of their people, the Almenodrim.  They are largely mariners by trade, remarkably skilled before the mast and often found at the helm of a vessel.  Indeed, it is nigh impossible to come across one who lacks the knowledge to crew a seaworthy ship.  The family is also known to have fostered remarkable artisans and smiths, often contributing to the rigging of ships and fashioning of armaments.  

So beloved is the sea that they have adopted a sentimental practice in accordance with their lifestyle.  On the eve of a lengthy seaward expedition, it is expected of a spouse to present a wreath woven of coniferous branches to their better half, which is then fastened to the prow of the boat as a charm of good fortune.  Blessed are those who bear such an offering, for it is believed they shall ultimately return home unscathed. 

Peculiarly, the Telemnars are also regarded as one of few branches of Almenodrim who still pay homage to an old animistic deity, the mystical Goddess of the Sea.  Adherence to this ancient creed is typically conveyed via prayers uttered upon voyages or depictions of an oceanic lady in crafted icons, murals and tapestries.

However, their most revered tradition, in taking after their cousins in the House of Sylvaeri, would be the custom known as the Oath of the Seven.  A sacred vow sworn by all members to come of age in commemoration of the Seven Sons of Sylvaen.  It is then accompanied by the application of rings crafted from Bloodsilver, set upon the prospect’s finger still fiery from the forge.  Over the centuries, the Oath has instilled values of integrity and honour within the family.  To violate it is to disgrace yourself and to turn your back on the bloodline.  

~Characteristics~

Historically, the House of Telemnar has carried distinctive traits, largely those tied to direct scions of Sylvaen.  Elves of this bloodline are universally tall in stature, usually bearing skin of a fair and ageless complexion, though occasionally tanned due to working within the sea trade.  Their ears are also relatively modest, often more refined and smaller proportioned. 

In elder days, the family were known to bear long weaves of raven-black hair.  Yet, in recent centuries, this has been largely phased out by fairer shades of both blond and copper, the former more common in the present age.   However, their most distinctive features would be the colours of their eyes; either neutral grey - commonly attributed to Sylvaen himself.  Or alternatively, luminous teal - uniquely reserved to descendants of the main line. 

“I’ve burned and cut away blights for a century, this new truth changes nothing. But know this; no darkness will escape us, ever again.” - Avius Csarathaire

Csarathaire. It is blazing wrath, barely tempered to burn away the frost, and an inevitable fate of sharpened steel hunting the world’s taint. Centuries of war, death and struggle have gradually warped the scions of this warrior clan into firestorms of passion and unvented, righteous fury. Creatures of extremes almost to a man, at their best the sons and daughters of the fallen phoenix are ferocious, but noble warriors without peer in all existence, possessing an unbreakable sense of honour and a sense of justice envied by all who witness it. At his or her very worst, however, a Csarathaire unbound from any chains of restraint or discipline is intolerably arrogant, nightmarishly callous and capable of phenomenal evil, all in the name of the often dogmatic beliefs espoused by these heartfelt crusaders. Yet not even the most balanced Csarathaire is entirely free of the curse of their clan, nor is the most malevolent bereft of its inherent boons.

I  ORIGINS.  

Ancient ‘ame forest-tribes such as Caerme’onn first graced the pages of history at the very dawn times of our race. Old dynasties such as that which birthed the Almenodrim ocean folk have existed for millenia or perhaps far longer. The enflamed soul of Csarathaire possesses no such prestigious and primordial record, having coalesced into being approximately three and a half centuries ago, a mere scrap of time in the grand scale of Elven history. 

During the early 1400s, the First Orenian Empire under Horen V sat at the very height of its Anthosian power, although it was soon to end in fire and blood also. That imperial collapse did not, however, come soon enough to save the children of Malin from humanity’s ironically inhuman cruelty and malice. What occured then was and perhaps still is the greatest atrocity that has ever been perpetrated on the Elven race, but the cataclysm provided new beginnings as well as dire endings. Greatest among the assorted vassals of Horen V was House Chivay of Kaedrin - warrior-kings of an ever triumphant military order known as the Order of the White Rose. These paragon soldier-sovereigns of the human race were not only capable of raising vast war hosts in the emperor’s name during those halcyon days of old, but legions of black-iron discipline, armed with the finest weaponry humanity’s imperial forgemasters could produce. More relevantly, the soldiers within these inexorable armies were infused with a bitter, violent hatred of almost everything Elven. For reasons that have been lost to most histories, this White Rose led humanity in a genocidal frenzy against the Elves of Malinor to their west, as well as many others besides. Arrayed against such a military machine, the Elven people stood little chance of resistance, and so were forced to tolerate whatever nightmares were perpetrated against them. 

Of the scant records kept by progenitors of the Csarathaire clan through this dark time, graphic accounts of human barbarism during the early fifteenth century massacres are by far the most common... Row upon row of debased Elven men, women and children crudely nailed to crosses, their skin carved from their bones by grinning gaolers. Horror-pyres dedicated to humanity’s devil god, fed by the decaying corpses of dozens or even hundreds of ‘knife-eared’ beings, rendered indistinguishable from the blackened, desecrated earth on which they rested. It was the hardened, scarred survivors of this veritable apocalypse who came together in the shaded hollows and hidden enclaves of northern Anthos and sparked the first flame of what would become Csarathaire. Forced to take up the sword, axe and bow, not for defence, but for fiery vengeance, these Elves from all across Anthos started launching guerilla raids which killed a human soldier here or there, or dragged him off to meet an even worse fate. But this brutal retaliatory violence was not only limited to the perpetrators. With the sole aim of inflicting suffering the likes of which they had suffered, these ‘proto-Csarathaires’ descended on helpless human villages, burning homes, slaying infirm old men and spiriting off women and children to an uncertain fate in hostile woodlands far away. In their maddened fury, the revanchist Elves even perpetrated nightmarish crimes upon those among their own kind whom they considered traitors. Women of their kind who saw fit to couple with human soldiers and quislings who worked with the tormentors and aided their martial effort were common victims, but so were blameless ‘ame, ‘ker and ‘aheral who simply wanted to get away. To these righteous creatures reforged by war and death, flight was cowardice, and cowardice treachery. In the end, when the fires of genocide burned themselves out and the first empire of humanity tore itself to pieces, the enigmatic Elves of resistance realised the extreme horror to which many of them had descended, and repented of it. Still flushed with pain, rage, hate and a desire for retribution, they departed as one from Anthos in guilt, leaving those cursed lands behind forevermore.

Bonds of martial kinship and draconian custom that would eventually form Csarathaire slowly came together throughout months and years of nomadic existence, through mock combat and survivalist hunting. This previously mongrel breed of Elves eventually came upon a desolate frozen wasteland, a terrible obstacle which they had to cross in order to progress on their exodus. Undaunted and scorning any peril, the band of renegades set out to do just that, but to embark on such a hubris-induced venture proved to be incredibly unwise. A days’ worth of ponderous trudging through ankle deep snow drifts compounded by the presence of deadly, concealed chasms and thinly iced-over lakes was bad enough, but the conditions just got worse. Above distant mountain pinnacles bearing crowns of shimmering white crept a cloud equally pure in its hue, but far more woeful to look upon. Because it swore, like the truest sentinel pledging a solemn oath of fealty at his sovereigns feet, to thrust upon the hapless travellers an imminent catastrophe, a final nightmare to punish their arrogance, and their sins from the harrowing time before. Barely an hour later it was on them, only a few flakes at first, but then, suddenly, a biting gale of bleached shards howling across the landscape. Mothers slowed to a snail’s pace, each more intent on shielding the babe cradled in their arms than advancing anywhere. Striplings capable of walking unaided were practically forced to swim through the ever-deepening snow. Some of the less resilient young never resurfaced, drowned by the storm, those who would’ve come to their aid too lost in the blinding morass to do so. Legends sing that the preserved, open-eyed corpses of those children remain still in that icebound netherplace, frozen until reality’s end in the moment of their death, staring at nothing in a monument to false ego. Still though, the uncoiled serpent of walking Elves slithered onwards, growing shorter and shorter with each fall into a snow-blinded crevice, each soul which simply surrendered to the devouring cold and shut down, never to feel life’s flame again. Slowly, but with creeping inevitability, all realised that this was not just a tragedy, but the end. They had escaped the bloodied steel jaw of humanity for the promise of a new future just to come to an even more ignoble fate at the icy frontier of the world. None of the wanderers would survive. 

It was not to be. Although the tempest of ice, sleet and snow had obscured the wider world to those ensnared within it, things beyond imagination could see the tormented Elves all too clearly. Their war-reaped souls, plagued by grief and sorrow, damned by guilt and wrath, envenomed by bitterness and spite, their war-reaped souls shone a baleful light out into the world and beyond it. As all seemed lost and the last vestiges of treasured life faded away, something found them, drawn to the malignant beacon. Their savior came screaming, twisting existence around itself into a swirling inferno of majesty and power. But those trapped thence could not discern whether it were the flames that came before the form to which they were enslaved, nor the form before the flames, such was the being's might. Nevertheless, the Elves saw it, and they felt it. Killing cold fell away, replaced by embracing warmth. Buffeting wind disappeared, the void filled by relieving stillness. At the creature’s-.. No, at the God's whim, storm and snow both were flicked away, leaving a white calm backdrop fronted by blazing avian wings which exuded fire. Yet, there was something blacker beyond the visible, something of higher horror which beasts of mere flesh and blood could not see. So it was that the great deception unfurled under the guise of a singular mercy upon doomed folk. Mercy of this magnitude could, however, never come without a price paid. Fortunately for the redeemed, they possessed a most potent form of coin in bounteous quantities which the great phoenician demi-deity sought beyond any other, oath and fealty. For this avian pyre was once beloved by all Malin’s children; a caring protector whose fires eagerly served as a bulwark of hope against ever enclosing darkness, but no longer. Through sorcerous arts practiced during ages long gone, that same darkness had joyously bent the benevolent fledgling of fire into a demonic deathbringer, utterly anathema to its previous form. This bending of purpose did not preclude the sundered phoenix’s ability to appear in such a noble and majestic form, at least to those lesser, mortal beings of the world without deeper sight. And so in their desperation and strife, the thrice-cursed Elves were duped by hollow facade into swearing sword and spear to the creature’s terrible whims. Even then though, amidst the damning inferno there were purer embers of doubt yet to burst forth, loyal servants of the Forest Gods who saw an echo of the truth of their ‘savior’.

What deeds these newly bound Csarathaire performed in the phoenix’s name have been obscured over the centuries since, by chance of history or purposeful obfuscation, but evidence of malevolent deeds perpetrated in the name of an enigmatic, screeching evil nevertheless bled through time’s impenetrable shadow in fits and starts. The most prominent ‘proof’ of these atrocities came from but a single human villager who, through means unknown, escaped to Descendant lands after Anthos’ destruction. Coming dishevelled to one of the fractured kingdoms in that age after empire’s fall, this man cried of slaughterers entirely clad in dark armour both grey and cloaked red. Deranged ramblings of ironclad wraiths and multitudes sacrificed to an all-consuming beast of fire in the sky did not make any impression on humanity’s divided kingdoms, set against themselves as they were. More reports of a similar nature might’ve turned the descendants’ gaze, but Csarathaire’s wrath in those days rarely allowed any who experienced the flame to survive and tell their story. After decades or even centuries following the ice march and tenfold flame had passed, the pure embers safely nestled unseen said no. Kinstrife erupted amongst those Elves who had been reforged into the Phoenician warrior clan, one side championing the dark god of flame they’d pledged themselves to, and the other reaching further into the past, to the Aspects whom they had forsaken, and the firebird before its corruption. What exactly happened and how long it took can never be told for sure, but at the end of this calamitous civil war, the Phoenix’s darkwreathed servants were gone, and their savior along with them. This was only a pyrrhic victory though, for it had taken much blood and effort to purge the nightmare that had infected them, and few remained. One who did sired a son, and he a son after that, and he a son also until one day, Khaine Csarathaire appeared for the first time in the twilight of Axios, ignorant of the events which had shaped his soul. More of the truth is known now than it was then, but more still is yet to be discovered. 

II  PERSONALITY AND BELIEF

Long shadows of a blood-saturated history are cast over each and every Csarathaire, as well as the customs to which they adhere. However, the two most recent clan lords’ proximity to less severe traditions in wider ‘ame civilisation has mellowed the fiery warriors to a near enough acceptable degree. To believe that this mellowing has rendered the phoenix’s former servants soft, however, is to court extermination of the direst sort. For although the Csarathaires’ inferno-soul now burns just a little less potently than it did in the years of their birth, it is still a thing capable of searing anyone who gets too close. Subconsciously atoning for the great betrayal of his predecessors, it is the greatest honour for a Csarathaire to kill, purge or scour an enemy of the aspects in their name. Such relish is only made sweeter if the victim is an accursed creature of darkness, unnatural beast or corrupting menace, but they will equally happily and without hesitation make utter mincemeat of fellow descendants should the offending party prove a threat to hearth and home, kith or kin. Perhaps the most iconic marker of Csarathaire religious practice is the lack of any patron Mani to speak of. Caerme’onns revere Amaethon, Arvellons give thanks to Kwakwani and Ithelanen take their martial cue from Moccus and Morea, but Csarathaire faith is near dogmatic in its guilt-laden purity, worshipping the Aspects and only the Aspects. 

III  MARKINGS AND SYMBOLISM

Rather than daubing their forms in garish tattoos representing each and every crevice of their custom, Csarathaires usually make do with just a single one. Imprinted on the upper chest of males and the back of females sits the representation of a phoenix, a tribute to the fallen creature to which their clan were once thralls. This marking was initially a symbol of just that slavery, a brand of everlasting subjugation at the hands of a darkling star, but the beast’s unknown destroyers appropriated the symbol upon their victory, keeping it as a warning of the past, and a threat to the future. Moreover, the revanchist worshippers of the Wild Gods wished to pay defiant tribute to the dark phoenix before its forced fall to darkness, a memorial to a noble creature whom they would have served willingly.

Other, less important tattoos are sometimes given and received, but the most prestigious secondary marking that a Csarathaire can ever gain are not granted by the clan lord, or even any kindred Elf, but foes with whom they come to blows in honourable combat and death struggles against malignant beasts alike. Should a woman possess a beasts’ claw marks down her face which would otherwise render her less aesthetically pleasing than before, such an injury would be seen as far more beautiful by a Csarathaire of either sex, the mark of a battle fought to its painful end, victory or defeat. Battle-gained scars are also frequently used as conversation topics when in the company of brother warriors - Tales of brave exploits are shared, along with the valuable methods of combat used in the process.  

IV  APPEARANCE AND STYLE

In contrast to the undignified semi-nudist tendencies exercised by the average Wood Elven population, Csarathaires are most comfortable clad firmly in iron whilst in public, ready for combat with any enemy, at any time. To that end, weaponry is always carried at their side or on their back, depending on the armament in question, and sometimes multiple kinds at once. Eschewing most forms of ranged combat except in special circumstances, Csarathaires fight best when it close quarters, viciously slashing their enemies with the honed edge of a sword or cleaving them in two with a brutally heavy axe. Use of spears is usually frowned upon due to the extended nature of the weapon, and therefore its ingrown preference of engagements of some distance, but Csarathaires will generally acquiesce to their utilisation if required to do so in a formation of less brave Elves. It is fair to say, however, that these lovers of face-to-face battle may complain vociferously if forced to fight in a manner other than that to which they have become accustomed, such connoisseurs of violence are they. 

”I remember their coming like it was yesterday. The first thing I noticed was a familiar tang in the air, the smell of burning timber, followed soon after by a vision of houses aflame. Then I saw it; one of the unfamiliar interlopers engaged in a fight to the death with Karlus, our village’s greatest housecarl. The man was the best with a waraxe I’d ever seen, but this unknown metalclad slayer made Karlus look like a greenhorn. 

Our man levelled his own strike first. It was a downward arcing swing aimed directly at the invaders’ bulk, perfect in my eyes. Karlus put the entirety of his momentum behind the attack, but his enemy simply drew its armoured form back with surprising agility, pulling itself and its slightly curving sword out of range without breaking poise. Karlus’ next attempt fell just a moment later, helped along by momentum, but it was slightly weaker and slower than the one before. That was all the flaw the red-cloaked being needed.

Pivoting exactly half a turn left and allowing the axe to graze against chest armour as it passed with a grinding noise, the ironclad stranger laid both hands on the hilt of his weapon, inclined it towards Karlus with a single fluid motion and elegantly rammed the swordpoint through our boy’s right eye socket while momentum was still carrying him forth. That was the last straw for me. I ran, Karlus’ death screams in my ears.

I do not know who or what these warlike beings are and why they came but they are masters of bloodshed, kings of steel and champions of fire. You must listen to me, because if they come here, you will stand no chance! They, and their pyre-god will make kindling of us all!” 

Unnamed survivor, late fifteenth century

The Silma
 

Foundation and Ancient History
 

The Silma are an ancient house of Elves who were founded by Siol, the Second Son of Malin. Many of them were originally a tightly bound company of warriors called the Silmarion, who were organized by Siol to protect the children of Malin as they escaped from the Demonic Hordes of Iblees. Many died working towards this task. They stood before the demons, their swords, bows, and spears held at the ready and their formations tight, though they were often outnumbered twenty or more to one by the Undead. Overtime, Siol began to see his companions not as simple brothers and sisters in arms, but as family. Hence held them to high standards of honor and humility throughout the war, the same standards to which he would hold himself or his own kin. He adopted many of them over the course of the war, with them taking on his surname of Silma. With the end of the War and the Fall of Iblees, Malin promptly disappeared into his exile, and Siol disappeared soon after. Why he left the people he cared so much for is unknown, but it is thought that he felt some sort of guilt for his father’s self exile and for the many elves that died despite his efforts.
 
After the departure of Siol, the Silma were left in the hands of Siol’s two sons, Skale and Loriens. They held the unit together as best they could, staying in the city of old Malinor while watching over the elves who resided there and trying to mediate some form of order. The Ichorian departure came very soon after Malin’s self-imposed exile, and due to this early abandonment of Malinor and the Ichorian’s quest for power and to pursue traditions that the Silma saw as savage, few or no Silma joined them. A few decades later, when the Irrinites departed, some Silma did accompany them, led by Skale. They admired the Seeds and were largely Aspectist, and hence wished to leave the walls of the city and rejoin nature as the Irrinites did. They left on good terms with the rest of the house who, led by Loriens, stayed in Malinor as its population dwindled.

Eventually, when the population of Malinor was sparse and few besides the Silma and remained, Edrahil Sylvaeri and his company returned from their adventures and the famous dragonslaying. At this point the Silma met him at the gates with some degree of hostility due to Sylvaen’s Kinslaying. However, after some form of atonement from Edrahil, the details of which have been lost to time (at least to my knowledge), and taken with the honor of Edrahil and the oath he and his brothers swore to avoid the sins of their father, the Silma and remaining elves joined him in his quest across the sea. The Siolian culture slowly blended with the Almenodrim’s as the years went on, the two houses residing together in Old Aegrothond off the coast of Atlas until it was abandoned and the Almenodrim rejoined the other Elven splinter groups in the reformed Malinor.
 

- Loriens Silma, son of Siol -
 

The Silma then lived in Malinor through its existence, though they started to slowly grow apart as the years went on. This is due to the Silma being less necessary when Malin’s children were at their strongest with no great enemy to fight. Loriens, however, kept what traditions he could and passed them to his three daughters, Lûthil, Hâdhel, and Esgalneth in Anthos. Loriens believed all three, along with his wife, were lost in the flood. This was, however, not entirely the case, and led to a further fragmentation of the House. Then next section will follow the happenings among the branches of Loriens’ children before returning to the Siolian line which persists today, through Keeper Elros's honoury membership. Large portions of the account of Arben’s line are taken verbatim from the histories of Haston Silma, which were given a relative by Haust when he rejoined the main line of Silma many decades ago.

 

The Quenching of the Hearths
 

The Ârbenian Line

The Siolian Line & Modern History
 

Loriens persisted on after Anthos, thinking the whole of his Bloodline was dead, not knowing of Ârben or of the Quenching. He would go look for his families over the descendants' time in Athera and Vailor before coming to the Dominion of Malin in Axios and joining their guard force, trying to reconnect with his past and his old reason for being. In Atlas, Loriens met with Skale again and the two decided to reform the Silma, for a brief time as a banner house of the Sylvaeri and then as their own house as they were in the past.

The two brothers blended the old 'Ame idea of a Seed with the traditions of Malinor and the original Silma in this new iteration of the house, which made it grow quite quickly. Loriens then succeeded Belestram Sylvaeri as the Third High Prince of the Dominion of Malin after it’s reformation, and he led the nation for a brief time, trying his best to further improve things for Malin’s Children, though internal and external turmoil hindered his efforts. The stress of the position slowly got to him, eventually leading him to step down and go back to simply being the Keeper of Malin’s Flame. Eventually he left even that position, appointing Skale as the new Keeper and going forth to wander and clear his head, occasionally coming back to check on the family he had formed. Skale then left after a relatively short and uneventful term as Keeper leaving Miklaeil as his successor. 

Miklaeil led the Silma well in his time, with his term stretching over the fall of the Dominion and the migration of the Silma to Aegrothond, to rejoin the Sylvaeri there as they had in ancient times. In his term, though the family grew and flourished in several family units that had been adopted since the reformation of the House, the strong sense of duty and the purpose of the family were somewhat put by the wayside in favor of being a standard but inviting Almenodrim house. When Miklaeil stepped down and, after a tight election, Elros was chosen to succeed him. It was his goal to rebuild the Silma with the sense of purpose they had lost over the years, aided by the last notes of Loriens and the history of the Arbenian line. These codes are a compilation of the codes of Siol and Arben’s ancient codes with modifications to better suit modern times. Unfortunately, time passed as the House grew into stagnancy, with Elros persisting as Keeper until the returning Haust, a member of the Arben line. But, history repeated as Haust departed the Silma, carving the way for Ali’ere to claim the title momentarily, stepping on as the family fell to its lowest point in half a centaury. Though, due to unexpected occurrences the Mali' took a step back and returned the title to Elros Silma.

Traditions of the Silma

Hierarchy

- Ali'ere Silma, of Ârben's line -

The hierarchy is fairly simple, with the Keeper of Malin’s Flame as the leader of the house, the Elders as leaders of House simply being senior and respected members of the family, and the members being brethren in name and in purpose. All in the house can voice their disputes, but the Keeper and Elders will always have the final say, unless they directly break the Codes. When a Keeper steps down, he is to choose his successor from among the Elders. The Elders can overturn the appointment only if they can demonstrate that the candidate directly broke the codes, in which case a new successor will be chosen. If the Keeper dies before naming a successor, then the Elders and family will decide on the new Keeper in an election. The Current Keeper of Malin’s Flame is Elros Silma (SmartScout), and while the current Elders are Ali’ere Silma (Evonpire).

The Codes of the Silma

• The Children of Malin are to be regarded as a precious resource in the realm, and are to be guarded accordingly. 

  • Traitors to the race (e.g, murderers, tyrants), are to be detained if possible and brought before either the court of the nation whom they attacked or to the Keeper for judgement. If found guilty, these individuals are deemed to have abandoned Malin, and thus no longer fall beneath the protection of the Silma. Kinslayers and Slavers are especially looked down upon.

• The Family and its goals must take precedence before one’s personal pursuits. 

• Elven customs of all cultures are to be tolerated, lest such customs interfere with the greater safety of Malin’s Children.

• Our ancestors are to be held in reverence. Fallen Silma are to be laid within a canoe and set to sea, then to be cremated.

• Interbreeding or engaging in intimate relationships with other Descendants is not to be tolerated in the Silma. Elven blood may mingle, but the race is to be kept free of halfbreeds, for it is a great curse and leads to much grief for the parents and children in the end. 

  • Born half breeds are to be treated with pity. These individuals are victims enough already to the two curses that afflict them.

• Silma are expected to maintain dignity and poise in their public life. Being a representative of Siol’s will is no task to be taken lightly. Discipline or expulsion will follow any act deemed disgraceful to the family by the Keeper.

• The practice of magic is permitted, so long as it does not endanger the greater safety of Malin’s Children or the world at large. Though local laws and traditions on certain sects of magics take priority, such is the case for Voidial Magics in the Irrinite society.

• Any Keeper or Elder within the Silma who gives an order that directly violates these codes is to be disciplined as found necessary by the Keeper and/or Elders (depending on whom gave such an order)

• The Silma are to obey local laws and traditions when they are afield unless they directly violate one of these codes, in which they are to voice their opinion and act on it, though with discretion.

 Malin’s Flame

Malin’s Flame is, in literal terms, the hearth kept by the Keeper or Elders of the Silma house. There can be multiple physical hearths that hold the flame, as any Silma manor or safehouse will hold a hearth, and even the hearths commonly found in the rooms or homes of the Silma could be considered to be lit with the Flame. However, it is much more than a simple ordinary fire found in a Silma-owned hearth, but a concept central to the Silma ideology. The Flame represents the will of Malin and his children itself, and by extension represents the traditions, knowledge, wisdom, justice, morality, and strength of them. A Silma may often bid someone farewell by saying “May Malin’s Flame Guide You.” or some variation of such, as a form of blessing upon a traveler, hoping that they find wisdom and safety in their journey. The concept of the Flame is central to the Silma ideology, so it should never be doused if at all possible. Even within Aegrothond and the Almenodrim culture at large, Malin’s Flame and the Silma’s adherence to it is well known, with Silma generally being respected as wise and as being the moral compass of the Almenodrim. As is said in a stanza of traditional Almenodrim verse: “Kaeronins keep the sails strung high, until the break of day. The Crown of Storms will steer the ship, and Silma lights the way.”

The Burning of the Mark

If a Silma departs the house for reasons of differing ideology, or if they are determined by the Keeper to have betrayed the goals and traditions of the Silma through their actions, then a Silma is to have their tattoo burned off their back with either conventional fire or with the fire of a pyromancer. This is to forever be a mark of shame on them, and to show that what they are giving up or what they have betrayed is something that they will likely never attain again. It is meant to be a deterrent, a warning, and a sign to any seeking to join the Silma of the severity of such an infraction and the high standards the house holds themselves too. Those leaving due to marriage or a similar situation where the ideologies of the Silma will still be adhered to and only the name itself is dropped do not have the mark burnt off, but in any case of betrayed or disputed ideology where a member leaves or is kicked out, the mark must be burnt.

Rites of Hospitality

The Silma are protectors, guardians, and friends to all Mali’, so hence the doors of their safehouses and manors to be kept open to any who seek refuge, food, shelter, or even simple conversation. If in times of peace, the doors of the main manor are to be kept unlocked. In times of war, or where there is an open threat to a Silma, they are to be kept locked, but are to be open if any with peaceful intent come to them. To violate the hospitality of the Silma, whether by committing a crime or causing disorder, such mischief is not acceptable, and is to be punished to a level fitting of the crime, with being thrown out for a time being a common punishment for smaller infractions, while the one’s rights to the protection of the Silma being punishments for serious crimes.
 

Trials for Entry
The Silma require anyone who seeks to join the House to complete four trials to prove their dedication to the Children of Malin and the ideals of the Silma.

• Trial of Knowledge: The goal of the Silma is to aid and protect other Elves, so hence they are to learn of the different Children of Malin, and their customs. For this trial a Silma initiate should ask a member of each race and culture of Malin’s children to speak of their people and traditions, and the initiate should then report of what they learned to an Elder or the Keeper in either writing or speech to show they know the state of Elvenesse in their time.

• Trial of Craft: A Silma must use their talents to help Malin’s people, hence they should create something with their talents to glorify the legacy and home of the elves. It can be food, music, literature, poetry, woodwork, smithwork, scholarly work, or any other craft, so long as it is tied into the history and heritage of the Mali’ or to their present cultures, homes, or lifestyles.

• Trial of Family: An initiate must know of the Silma and their history and meaning, so for this trial they must speak with the Keeper or an Elder about the history of the Silma and about events in one’s life that display what it is to be a Silma.
  The first three may be done in any order the initiate chooses, with many opting to complete their trial of Family upon becoming an initiation. In contrast, the fourth must be completed after the previous three are.
  
  Though, it should be noted that the Trial of Honor can be completed retroactively for example, my own trial being completed retroactively by being an Oathblade of Aegrothond - Ali’ere Silma
   

• Trial of Honor: A Silma must help their kin with honor, and in this trial the Silma must demonstrate they are willing to do this. Here, an initiate must do some service for Mali’ as a whole, whether it be freeing Mali slaves, defending a Mali nation, healing wounded, brokering peace, or otherwise working for the betterment of Malin’s Children. Once this trial is complete one has proven themself to be a worthy Silma and may receive the mark. 

“...for what left is there for us but ash and devastation if we do not stand? Nay, do not stand my kin, but charge! Charge forth as strong as the stormy seas, and as proud as the eagle’s scream! Chase away the night’s final curtain!”

Faorarr Tahorran’len of the First Rochirran at an ancient battle against the Ibleesian Insurrection

The Esteemed House of Andaeren

       The House of Andaeran consists of the collective children sired by their founder by the same name, the fourth son of Malin. In the ancient tongue the house is known by Tahorran’len, celebrating their gifts in beast mastery and joyous musical accomplishments. As many centuries have passed and the common tongue became the ultimate culmination of  peace between the descendants, their common name of Hawksong is much more widely known in and outside of Elvenesse and her kin-nations. The Twilit Folk have endured even into modern history as Princes, High Princess, Lords and Ladies of the elven population. Their mark upon the more recent memory of Elvenesse has largely been in support of the Crown and their friendly relations with their kin in Sylvaeri and Silma. 

The Hawksong Bloodline

The Lady Titania Hawksong, Matriarch of the Twilight Folk and former High Princess of Malinor carrying the house relic lance and banner into battle.

       The folk of Hawksong are very consistent in their appearance: silver-gold hair that glitters like waving grain, kind eyes that range from the common twilit gold to the occasional blue and the rare jade, and fair ivory skin that almost never strays towards the complexion of their wood elven cousins. The deep dusk-touched color of their gaze is always a sure sign of a direct line to Andaeren, and seems to be a dominant trait among them. Long, kempt hair with or without braids is preferred especially in the older kin of both the elves and elfesses of the House, for it is seen as a mark of wisdom and beauty.

       The demeanor of the Hawksong line is that of pride, joy, and an intense dedication to their duty within the forest halls of the Elven nations, past and present. Patience comes naturally to them, as it is a required trait of any Hawksong who has come of age and mastered both beast and music. A tremendous amount of zeal for the elven gods also runs through the blood of this House. They are generally a kind and gentle folk, lovers of song and dance and stewards to the horse and other creatures of the realm. If their gentle ways are taken advantage of, their kin threatened, or the Crown endangered, they however will show no hesitation in ensuring a swift and passionate retribution. Early history of demonic wars and magical blight has soured the family’s stance against any foul sorcery or evil temptations; they abhor and actively seek their destruction. These elves strive for purity in spirit, and to be a light in dark times.

       Hawksong garb is a dichotomous example of regality and utility. They take careful consideration into their outward appearance yet must be free enough to ride, dance, play music, or present themselves to the Crown. Often a combination of light leather armor over fine clothes of reddish burnt umber, pale gold, or sunset oranges are seen. They may opt to adorn light or heavy plate during times of conflict or anticipation of a battle in which they will ride. In times of peace, festivals, or special occasions traditional dresses with long wings and robes of fine embroidering are displayed in colors of white, gold, umber and reds. Some of the Twilit Folk may wear fine circlets, floral wreaths or braided-leather decorations upon their head and within their beloved long locks.

The Rochirran

       Between Ancient Malinor’s forests and the pillared sanctum of Almenor, these elves thrived in the plains and valleys of the first world where beasts would roam freely. The children of Andaeren are rumored to have been blessed by Machana, the Wild God herself, with uncontested mastery of the horse and cavalry within the known world. Elves born into the house are trained in the husbandry of the stock of the family and the Crown from a very young age. They will eventually join the house mounted warriors known as the Rochirran, and they themselves earn the title of Rochir. To assume that this would be an exclusive mercenary group or freelance cavalry would be entirely misguided, for the Rochirran are oathed in their final trial to the Elven Crown and to the chief military of their ruling body. 

       When an elf comes of age, their first and longest of many tasks is to rear a first foal of spring in their care with its dam. The beast will remain with the elf undergoing trial throughout the training process and even through the beast’s end of life. This trial is cherished, for it is believed that through the rearing and bonding of horse and rider Machana ingrains into the elf patience, diligence, fairness and determination. Upon completion, the elf will craft their own lance engraved and decorated with memorials of his or her trials and the mark of the House.

       A hallmark of a truly practiced and established Rochir is mastery of their unique riding style known in the ancient tongue as rochannyer, or a way of riding involving bonded souls and wardance. When a Rochir and their steed ride it is both a work of art and a terror on the battlefield. The rider is able to complete highly complex maneuvers both in utility and in dance with the trusting, guiding hand of their animal companion. Piaffe, pirouette and sliding halts are but a few of the myriad of exhibitions the Rochir is capable of. The Rochirran charge into battle without fear, for the ire of their Wild God patron rumbles in the clouds above them and within their hearts, granting them swift strides and true lances.

      Should a Rochir and their steed meet their demise on the battlefield, the two bodies are ceremoniously prepared upon a pyre as an offering to Machana and the Aspects. Musical lamentations and treasures the elf held closely in life are presented during the burning, and the remaining ash is scattered to the wind during the final hour of daylight.

Music and Art of Hawksong

A three-portioned performance of only a few beloved relic-tunes of the bloodline: Machana’s Ballad, Horse Lord’s Flight, and Sundance

       The heritage of Hawksong is deeply interwoven with music, dance and art. Young elves of the bloodline are given the choice to learn their instrument of choosing, which often lean towards stringed instruments such as the lyre, harp, and violin. It is not rare to see a skilled flutist or drummer, however, and skilled vocalists are very common. Even during war, there is great music to be shared from the children of Hawksong. The House believes that their musical blessings are nothing to hide away from the world, but rather delight in teaching and sharing the ancient tunes and their own songwriting. To bring together descendants in joyous gatherings, recite an amorous lullaby to their love, or perform for the elven courts is believed to be a gift greater than any physical commodity. Dancing, too, is greatly celebrated and involves the traditional roles of the elf couples, superior lone footwork or group dancing.

       In tales of their forefather Andaeren, it was said that he had no skill with forge-fire. Instead their family learned to create talismans, leatherwork, tapestries and rustic pieces from the world around them. Hide, horse-hair braid, simple branded medallions, feathers and uncut gems are often used in Hawksong creations. Amulets to Machana and other Wild Gods are made and worn and given to friends or offered to their respective shrines and are always carried into battle.

Trials of the House

       While the boons of the House are the birthright of elves born into the House, all must face and conquer some trials to truly be considered Hawksong and most certainly Rochir. At the apex of many tasks in reciting heirloom music, animal mastery, rochannyer, the creation of art and a trial in devotion to Machana the prospect Hawksong is presented to the head of the House and is ceremoniously initiated. Further trials through the sometimes intense methods of the Rochirran will fully beknight the elf, and a final Oath of service is recited to the Crown.

Banner and Symbols

       The Hawksong Family banner bears the rising phoenix on crimson backing rising over a green gemstone. The phoenix symbolism was assigned to the family in ancient times when their forefathers discovered their true calling, but has since featured the addition of a green stone. It celebrates their strong sense of justice, fiery dedication and honors their father Andaeren who rose from his brothers’ shadows and found his own way in life. The green stone is a direct calling to the Heart of Malin, a legendary piece reclaimed in Anthos during the dusk of Malinor when their own bloodline ruled before their Sylvaeri kin and serves as a memorial for the doomed state.

       Commonly found engraved into armor, saddles, talismans and on war banners is the image of a pawing white horse. This is in tribute to their main patron of the Wild Gods, Machana. Battle prayers and songs are often played in her honor in both times of peace and war. Very rarely one may find this symbol permanently engraved onto the skin of a seasoned Rochir.

       The mark of the family name is typically burned into their leatherworking once it has passed their scrutiny and deemed it of quality or onto documents requiring officiation. The style of woven knots remains consistent when animal imagery is crafted, specifically in braided leather jewelry or onto wooden medallions.

Relics of the House

       With such a rich history of kinship and accomplishments, the House of Hawksong has retained artifacts of past legends and elves of note. Minor pieces are plenty as it is in the nature of a Hawksong to create instruments, songs, or talismans during their life, but there exist a few treasured pieces to the Twilit Folk.

Mane of Machana

       Believed to have been woven from strands of the Wild God’s hair left from her appearance before Andaeren in ancient times, this white cloak shines in impossible colors of gold, silver and bronze. It has been embroidered with silver thread in floral patterns that details the tale of Machana’s Challenge. It is rumored to give the wearer an ethereal presence, like that of a phantom, and glow with the light of dawn.

Amulet of Lauriësúr

       There is a tale of an amulet that had been gifted to him by his beloved brother, Sylvaen, made of silver thread and precious opal and diamond droplets. During the legend of the first ride upon the Horse Lord, Lauriësúr, Andaeren was blessed with his twilight features and that same amulet too bathed in the light of dusk and sealed away that somber, golden bloom into each stone. Pure memory has been sealed away in the largest jewel, and the bearer can hear the voices of ancient elves in ages past. The House Father himself was the last known wearer, who in legend ascended to remain with Machana as her attendant in another life. On clear nights, particularly where the clouds and mountains chase dusky shades across the sky it is believed that you can hear the Amulet’s somber song in the final minutes of the sunset.

Lance of the First Rochir

       When the first waves of demons and foul magics bombarded the descendants in ancient times, Andaeren’s folk rode out like a tempest. His first son, Faorarr, wielded a lance that shone like the sun and could pierce any hide, even that of a dragon’s plate… Or so it has been rumored. The lance never returned from the Ibleesian war, but a replica remains within the House.

The Lyre of Andaeren

       A lyre wrought from fine gold and silver, whose strings produce a sound so pleasant that it was said to induce fae-ring like euphoria. Legend describes the sound of nature’s own voice in thousands upon thousands of natural aspects like the gargling of rivers, songbird chirping, and mountain wind. So incredibly enchanting were the first songs it charmed both descendant and beast, eventually invoking the wrath of Mechana to demand Andaeran to bury the Lyre within a forgotten mountain.

The Heart of Malin

       Of all of the relics within the House, this stone is the youngest to come into their possession. The stone is a dark green emerald that bends and tricks light, fooling the viewer into seeing images of ancient forested halls that never appear the same no matter how long one might gaze. It was discovered in Anthos, when the stone was seen being torn from the statue of Malin’s chest in a violent typhoon and carried to sea. A massive search by the Arcane Delvers ensued… yet, by an odd twist of fate the late Haelphon recovered the gemstone after being thrown into the surf by a sea serpent. There, he expunged the stone from his lungs and passed into the next life.

Ancient History and Foundations

These are the common tales told by the Twilit Folk of their creation, their patron, and their relationship with the elves of Malinor and Almenor alike.

 The Twilight Father, Andaeren

       Andaeren was the fourth son to be sired by Malin. Much unlike his portrayal upon tapestries and art, in his early years he took much of his appearance after his elder brother Sylvaen, whom he loved dearly. He too was touched with hair like the wings of ravens and eyes as grey as the seafoam of cold shores. Andaeren was his brother’s shadow in youth, always striving to live up to the splendor of Sylvaen’s stature, skill, and wisdom.  Yet fate would not see that he would share in Sylvaen’s boons at all; Andaeren found no delight in the forges of Almenor and the sea seemed to scorn him. He could produce no beautiful star-dewed chain nor cut opal and diamond. Whilst his brethren grew in the light of their father’s eyes and crafted great halls, he could not help but feel that the shadow he followed as a youth began to swallow him from the view of his kin. There was no grand tale of accomplishment to regale to the Elven Father, no beautifully jeweled things to give his kin, no feats worthy of historical recording. It consumed the elf’s heart. Thus Andaeran began to wander from Almenor. He turned to the wilds for answers as his father, Malin, oft did. It is said that during his longest expedition he spent ten moons atop the highest peak of the first world. The turmoil within his soul roiled, and he lamented to the empty sky around him.

“Shall I simply wither away the years as a reflection of what could be?”

There was no answer but the wind.

“Shall I remain the ambling, naïve younger brother of fairer and wiser kin?”

There was no answer but the song of birds.

      As each moon passed there were fewer lamentations. Another moon rose, and the young lord listened. When the last morning broke, the world answered. It was a quiet response. Something where, perhaps, long forgotten elvish or druidic magics were at work. Andaeren could hear the wind whistle and rise like the gentle tide at sunset. The songbirds warbled an enchanting melody that enraptured the elven lord. Indeed, he felt the subtle magic of the song of nature herself. He arose from the peak with the first smile in a long, long time. He returned with a new glimmer in his grey eyes, imploring his brother for guidance in the creation of a golden frame. Then, long and thin silver-spun cords were secured by his design.  The young lord and his kin would not produce any fine crown, jeweled carcanet, nor blade. With the sooty labors of the forge still upon his brow, he seeks out his sire and presents the First Instrument.

Father of Music

       The elf-lord approached the Father bearing a tool not yet seen by descendant eyes. It was not a thing to shape rock or slay beast, rather a peculiar device bearing four strings made of glittering gold and silvers. While it paled in comparison to any true Sylvaen work, its beauty lied therein the unusual strings. It is said that when Andaeren played the first song for the elf father, it invoked the very soul of nature to echo the earth’s ethereal music. So delighted, Andaeren too unshackled his golden voice to rise higher than the clouds and dance like fluttering swallowtails. Malin’s halls hummed with tranquility. The Fourth Son of Malin’s blessing would not be forgotten, for that day the first song crowned Andaeren as the father of music.

Machana’s Challenge

       No longer shackled by despair, Andaeren traveled the world with his lyre. He charmed animals and descendants alike, for few could resist his musical mastery. Captivated animals gleefully pranced alongside. Songbird, stag, wolf and even bear paraded after his footsteps. His tune only ceased when an impossibly white steed charged forth at the elf. His lyre fell to the forest floor and his animal companions fled. The horse snorted and stomped the earth with an ire the elf had never felt before. Her mane was so ivory that the light danced upon her fur in iridescent gold and silver colors, and her hooves were gilded in an astral, otherworldly shine.

“Do you think yourself so entitled to the will of the forest beasts? Your claim is false! You are an insolent fool who thinks he can command the Aspects’ children with vile enchantments!”

The Wild God raged, her voice quaking the forest and shuddering the soil beneath her.

“I am Machana, Princess of the herd, and I challenge you, Son of Malin. Abandon this accursed lyre and dedicate yourself to my sons and daughters, and in return I will bathe you in my blessings!”

       With her final shout, the figure of the mare flashed with a bright light and departed from the realm. Andaeren, realizing the unfair potency of his instrument, cast away the lyre within a stone cavern of a forgotten mountain, never to be seen again. No song made therefore by the elf-lord ever strayed again towards the enchanted nature of the Lyre, but he created instruments responsible for the joys of music we hear today.

Lauriësúr and the first Rochir

       In Machana’s wake, a murky brown stallion stepped into the world. He would become known as Lauriësúr, one of the five Horse Lords under Machana. His mane was light like a dusky moon, and his eyes pierced into the soul of Andaeran. The elf-lord would spend unknown time with Lauriësúr in the wilderness, discovering the intricate balance between elf and beast as the Aspects intended. There was no request that was not disputed with hoof, muscle and spite and there was required an understanding with this creature. It would not come until many seasons had passed. Andaeren became wise to the ways of the wild beasts, and understood the respectful care he must take towards the stewardry of the Aspects’ creations. The delicate balance required tenants, for the presence of the descendants would forever make that very balance unstable. Then and only then was the elf lord able to mount Lauriësúr, not as master and servant but as connected souls. And so Lauriësúr ran. The stallion ran so fast that the earth disappeared beneath their feet. His flight took them towards the horizon, and there they chased down the last light of twilight with the swiftness of the setting sun. Andaeren bathed in the dusky light of the day’s final hours and emerged with the light of the next dawn with a new blessing.

“You have learned much with your journey, youth. Go now with my golden blessing, the first rider who conquered the ground and showed me the true meaning of haste!” 

       The last words of Machana echoed through Andaeren’s mind as he emerged anew. Where his hair was like dark ash, he now had locks so delicately golden in shade the dusk itself envied the lord. His eyes shone like the glittering clouds clinging to a young evening sky.  

“I am Rochir, brethren, steward of Machana’s children and lord of beasts. She has blessed me with her mark, and the sovereignty over her kin. The hawk sings in my reverence and the herd runs proudly beside me. I am Tahorran’len, and so the children of my house will be named.”

       Lauriësúr remained with Andaeren, for the bond between them would remain past their stay within the realm. He did not lean upon the enchanted lyre again, and his new ballads would become the foundation of the songs we hear today. New instruments of joyous celebration he would create, and many praises to Machana and the Aspects he wrote.

Departure

       The Twilight Lord departs from Almenor proper with grand ambitions, but a somber heart. For as much as he loved Sylvaen, the forge and the sea offered no comfort to the Hawksong Father. Andaeren and his wife Imryll depart to the valleys and plains before the great Almenor, for it pained him greatly to stray too far from the vicinity of his kin. He would sire many children and a great herd of silver-steed, and his own humble hall established within a great valley. Of course, darkness eventually besieged the first world… and Hawksong too would come to the defense of Malin’s folk.

“Arise! Arise, Rochirran of Tahorran’len! Do you give the horse his strength? Do you cloak his neck in a fiery mane, or make him leap like a locust? He laughs at danger, afraid of nothing! He snorts proudly, pawing at the earth and striking terror. He rejoices in his strength! He does not shy from the sword, or quake at the rattling quiver or flashing lance. In frenzied excitement, he eats up the ground… he cannot sit still when the trumpet sounds!”

Andaeren Hawksong to his troubled children during the formation of the Rochirran

       When darkness clouded the ancient skies, the first Rochirran formed and answered the horns of war. When the first charge of the cavalry crashed against the legions of demons, legend tells that the Hawksong Father pierced clean through the lines of evil, and ascended into the clouds atop Lauriësúr into the next life as Machana’s chosen steward. Andaeren was no longer needed, as their battle had been won and his children would carry the fiery banners well into the history of ancient Malinor. As the descendants of the elves splintered, House Hawksong remained at the side of Malinor until its crumbling, rebirth, and final death in Anthos. While their numbers have dwindled and the stories forgotten, those who remain have a rich memory of grand and ancient tales indeed.

The Irrinite Seeds

A Seed, more colloquially referred to as a Clan, is defined as a tribe of Wood Elves, defined by its worship of the Aspects and practice of old traditions that go back to elven antiquity- the Era of the Seeds.  Many wood elves look upon this period of history as an ideal era. It was during this time that the mali’ame were all unianimously devoted to the Aspects. Due to their nomadic lifestyle, the ancient wood elves of the various Seeds knew perfectly how to live in harmony with nature, something modern wood elves are still striving to do to this day.

Traditionally, Seeds were mainly nomadic, roaming the mountains, deep forests and coasts of the ancient world. In the modern era, the Seeds are mostly sedentary and live principally in the sanctuary of Siramenor, or the Talus Grove among the druidic order. Many Seeds are the lineal successors or direct continuations of bloodlines, and hereditary continuation of the ancient Clans.

To join a Seed is to partake in the great cultural revival in the eyes of many mali’ame. After centuries of assimilation, destruction, oppression and suffering through the lands of Asulon, Anthos, and Athera, the wood elves lost most of their culture and their religion. It was only after weathering a string of disasters, and the ascension of leaders such as Prince Tristin, Artimec Caerme’onn and later Arahaelth and Awaiti Aureon, among others, that the wood elves finally enjoyed peace long enough to rediscover their history. Lacking in any cultural identity, they clung to the stories of the old Seeds and their traditions and sought to bring them about into the modern era.

Most of the Seeds that exist in the modern era are the successors to these old seeds. Almost all Cheiftains can trace their bloodlines back thousands of years and link them to the various old tribes which roamed the Aegisian forests. This is a point of pride for the brown-skinned Irrinite Seeds, who proudly emulate many of the old traditions and customs their nomadic ancient ancestors lived by. 

Tribal Markings

Seeds often lived in isolation, and thus their traditions and lifestyles could diverge vastly. However, one ritual that remained universal among all seeds was the ilmyumier- the tribal tattoo.

Each Seed bares its own tribal tattoo with its own unique colour, shape and location on the body. In ancient times they served to identify a mali’ame to whichever tribe he or she belonged to. In the modern era, the practice of tattooing all adult members of a Seed is a continued tradition. The ilmyumier is iconic to seed culture.

Culture

For many centuries the wood elven Seeds lived nomadic lives, often isolated from one another. As a result, each Seed has developed a unique culture and outlook to life, often based upon their individual history, or the geography of their ancestral lands. Some Seeds emphasized a seafaring or rivergoing life, while others were better adapted for colder, mountainous lands. Some seeds were more war-like, while others more passive. 

A Seed’s environment and culture also influenced which of the Wild Gods they worshipped. A Seed that lived by the edge of their spears may specifically make Morea, the war-like Prince of Wolves their patron. Meanwhile, a tribe that emphasizes peaceful artistry and expression may have devoted themselves to the Trickster Raven Kwakwani, or the Hummingbird Prince Kholibrii. 

Chieftains

A Chieftain is the principal leader of any given Seed. Wood Elves are decidedly an egalitarian people, and historically both men and women have equal chance of ascending to the role. A chieftain must be wise and strong, and show both great conviction, temperance, and piety to the wild gods of the Forest. The Chieftain often has the final say in a Seed’s migrations, inter-kin affairs, and intra-tribe alliances. 

Chieftains are appointed differently in different Seeds. Most Wood Elves operate on a system of election, while a rare few Seed Chieftains are hereditary, passing down the position only to those of their bloodline. 

Major Seeds

Seeds that are permanently based in either the Glade of Siramenor or the Talus Grove.

Caerme’onn

Taliame’onn

Arvellon

Tahorran

Sirame

Illathdyn

Asimulum

Minor & Wandering Seeds

Seeds that either have no permanent home, or are cadet branches of larger seeds.

Songbird

Aureon

Terin

HOUSE KAERONIN

Basic History
Kaer was born a long time ago to two elves who followed the prophet Larihei to the golden pools of yore. His Grandfather was a son of Malin by the name of Aearon, a brother of Sylvaen, he was a Mali loyal to the King of elves with an adventurous streak. Kaer and his Grandfather got along well despite the disapproval of his parents. The Young elf learned his respect for the ways of old from his fatherly Grandfather and admired him deeply for it. The day the news of Aearon’s passing reached the rash Kaer, it lead him down a path filled with distraught and the questioning of the meaning of what life could be or offer. He did what he saw was best to stay close to his beloved Grandfather. He privateered a ship and set sail over the waters his Aearon had loved so dearly. Over the years Kaer acquired a crew of elves alike to his ways, including a certain Elfess stunning in looks and cunning. He married an elven lady by the name of Onin, he loved her, and she loved him. There was no one more caring than her. With her they gave life to two sons and Kaer got swept up in his new life, continuing to explore the seas with his new family and kin. Decades had passed before eventually, Onin died. Pushed off the ship by the wind of storm in attempts to usher a crew-member inside for safety. Kaer was broken and for many a year hardly himself.  Even when he remarried and had more children, he was never the same man as Onin once knew. Colder and without much joy in his passion. Kaer and all of his crew died. Atleast, that is what is assumed due to their sudden disappearance. His family had long since split, the younger Generation had built a ship of their own and set out to follow their own course. His bloodline remained strong and alive, setting sail to Atlas. Where their voyage ported, but never finished as the lines of Kaer exist to this very day. Residing within the halls of Aegrothond along the Almenodrim, follow Mali of the Sea. they are currently lead by

Kailu Kaeroinin



The Kaeronin and the Almenodrim

The history of interaction between the Kaeronin and the Almenodrim is a long one with various encounters occurring. Once a large battle was fought between the two! The Kaeronin and Almenodrim did some cultural exchange over the many years between then and now but mostly they stayed clear of one another to avoid more bloodshed. That is until the Kaeronin’s arrived in the Dominion of Malin on Atlas, ready to instate there place. The Kaeronin then moved to old Aegrothond in Atlas for a safer home base. The Kaeronin in Arcas wandered for a small bit even creating their own charter by the name of Attica but they eventually found themselves in Aegrothond once again.

RELIGION

The Kaeran praise their ancestors and a handful of minor entities for their prior ways and deeds. They aim to roam free and follow their hearts to distant shores yet unknown. The Edge, the home of afterlife, where the souls of all Kaeran go and their voyages come to an end to live with those who had previously been brought there. There they live together as they wait for the Ferryman to bring more kin or sail them back to roam the world once more. The most important and influential ancestors are Kaer, Onin and Malin as well as Aearon. Some Kaeronin will follow other religions alongside this belief in their fore-fathers. Followers of the way of the Kaeronin named themselves ‘Kaeran’.

Weaponry

The Kaeronin do not have a common set of weapons, each Mali preferring their own. Though, reoccurring preferences tend to fall upon nimble blades such as Cutlasses or Sabres.

Traditions/Customs  

1.) Kaeronin are from day 1 thought to always follow their own path and live with the wind in their backs. If this path guides them to different shores compared to that of their direct family, so be it. It is expected all Kaeronin will support their kin in their voyage to their own life.

2.) The Kaeronin are a caring bunch. Prioritising family and close friends over the masses in any situation and often seek for ways to show their unity. (Such as common colours)

3.) One of the visual traditions of the Kaeronin is the red-beads they proudly wear within their hair. It serves to remind them of who they are, what they follow and what is important to them.

4.) Kaeronin more often than not seek to drown themselves in both physical and magical crafts and arts. From Sailing, Shipbuilding and Weapon Crafting to the Arts of Weapon-Wielding and Magic.

5.) Not as much a tradition as a cultural pass-over; Kaeronin often posses superiority complexes passed down from their founder, Kaer

HOUSE RELICS

Kaeronin Relics are far and few between. Plenty of tales run within the house, telling of these mythical objects, though none have yet been found.

1.) The Cutlass of Kaer and Aearon.
A cutlass of fine elven make, forged by Aearon very long ago and passed down to Kaer to aid him on his journey. The supposed unending sharpness and controllability of this weapon would surpass the common blade by thousands.
2.) Onin’s Cloak.
Though Onin was not of any traceable decent. Her love for her family solidified her importance to the Kaeronin only second to Kaer himself within Kaeronin history. Legend has it her cloak, soaked in blood from her death is still floating in the sea, not rotting and free of decay from so long in the salty brine.

Special thanks to our lore writers

Titanium430

0MN15514H

_Fid_

Thank You ❤️

OOC Note

“And verily I say unto you, go forth and fear no darkness; for ours is the way of the Light, and no foul evil may turn us away from our Oath.” -Aegnor I Starfinder, first bearer of the Seastone Crown.

The Venerable House of Sylvaen

Mar’lin Sylvaeri

           The House of Sylvaen, often known colloquially as the House Sylvaeri, is an ancient Elven bloodline which traces its furthest roots to the ancient homeland of Malinor. Alongside the elder Elves of the House Silma, they serve as representatives of the Elder Bloodlines upon the Continent. While the extent of their early history is best told in the Lay of Aegrothond and other tales, they have made their mark upon modern Elven history as well; many have served as High Princes, Princes, and Lords in Old Malinor, the Dominion, and Aegrothond.

The Sylvaeri

           Despite the great span of years which has passed since their formation as a distinct bloodline, the House has remained generally uniform in appearance and in phenotypic traits. They are almost always possessed of peculiarly grey eyes, akin to their forebear, and this is the surest method of discerning pure blood. They are more varied in the colour of their hair- while the dominant colour has always been dark, the Sylvaeris of the Atlasian era are largely fair-haired. Their skin is also fair, though tends towards tan in those who spend a great deal of time in the sun and sea-spray.

           The House dresses primarily in shades of crimson and gold- simple garb, and fitted for the active trades. Common also are earthy tones, and sometimes autumnal wreaths, though these are considerably rarer. They are not, despite their other vices, particularly prone to vanity- as such they rarely adorn themselves for the benefit of others, and only do so to their own humble satisfaction. To this end they have a greater appreciation for jewelry, especially in the realm of gold and precious gems- but they love silver best, and pale diamond and opal-stones which are found deep beneath the earth. They are not miners themselves, however, and as a result the House has often made alliance with representatives of Dwarven Mountain Clans; they are welcome in their woodland halls, and the Dwarvish language is commonly learned by their children.

           The sons of Almenor are with few exceptions proud and haughty, and value personal honour highly; the spirit of fire associated with their ancestor burns true within their hearts, and ire comes more easily to them than to other Elves. Grudges and feuds are seldom left unpunished when slight (perceived or true) has been done upon them- though these resolutions may come many generations later. Some who bear the blood are by this virtue grim, and even dark-hearted- but most tend towards a nobility of spirit, and do no evil.

The Forges of the Almenodrim

           Of all the families of Elvendom the forge-craft of House Sylvaeri may be considered chiefest and greatest; by virtue of their friendships with the Dwarves they long ago grew wiser in the lores of metals and gems, and developed their own styles to better suit their Elven natures. Therefore the steel wrought of their forges is considered to be among the best in the world, and is prominently reinforced with woven natural magics and other, more secret arts which are taught only to few.

The Oath of the Seven and Bloodsilver Rings

           There are few customs which define the House of Sylvaen more clearly than the Oath of the Seven, which is sworn by all of-age members and is considered the rite of passage for young Elves. The Oath, and the accompanying tradition of forging rings made with the blood of the oathkeeper, find their roots in the establishment of the House by the Seven Sons of Sylvaen. This tale, and its meaning, is fully told in the Tale of Dagnir, which is a constituent part of the Lay of Aegrothond.

Symbols and Banners

           Most prominently featured upon the crimson banner of the House are the hammer and anvil of Sylvaen, which are set below a crown; the latter represents the Crown of Malinor, which was worn by their ancestor Eleron, last royarch of that fallen Princedom. The seven stars which flank the arms are of the constellation Narnir’vallei, which is known in Common Speech as ‘The Mariner’. It is beloved of the House, and the grouping can often be found in their works, and even sewn upon their garments.

           The use of the arms follows the practice of a quintessentially Elven form of feudalism; they can be worn by any sworn to the House and honour of Aegrothond, and as such are not reserved solely for the bearers of Sylvaen’s Elder Blood.

Heirlooms of the House

Due to the rich tradition of forgework kept by the family, the Sylvaeri clan are possessed of a commensurate amount of relics, artifacts, and jewels of rare and unmatched craft and beauty. Most of these were wrought in the old lands of Almenor, but some are more recent- and with few exceptions are associated with great deeds and Elves of yore.

The Necklace of Stars

           Known also as the “Light of the Almenodrim”, the Necklace of Stars is one of the greatest treasures of all Elvendom, and the work of Sylvaen’s own hand. It is set with a great multitude of diamonds and other gems, cut to perfection by the ancient hosts of Aegrothond. It bore for a time one of the Crown Stones, taken from the circlet of Malin.

Belethil- The Star of Morning

           A gem crafted by the hands of ancient Dwarves, Belethil is steeped in the traditions of Malinor, and greatly treasured. It was lost when Sylvaen cast himself into the sea, and none have seen it since. At times, when the moon is high, it is said that the path which it traces upon the surface of the ocean will lead a traveler to Belethil’s resting-place.

The Crown of Storms

           A younger artifact than the first few, the Crown of Storms is representative of the later deeds of the Almenodrim- most specifically of Aegnor Starfinder and his descendants who dwelt upon the shores of the Sea (and for whom it was made). Though the Crown itself has been lost to time, it was fabled to render unto the wearer the wisdom of the ancient mariners- to render them safe from the furies of the storm, and even to prevent drowning. Whether these tales are true or not, is entirely unknown.