N O T I C E    O F    V I G I L A N C E

Issued by the Ivory Crown and Grace of the High Prince,

9th of the Grand Harvest, 287 S.A.

lye’Malian lliran’ehya Cauróh,  

Enduring has been our late era of peacetime, for the rebirth of the noble Tahariaen Clerics and culmination of the southron Badlands War has brought upon the elves of the east their long awaited respite. However, as was Malin’s calling to beset his watchful gaze upon worldly peril, so too shall it be our own; and no less with the wisdom that, for however treasured our radiant era of peace, seldom does it last, for there exists no allure to a jewel without its rarity. 

Such is the imperative of vigilance, through which we shall effort to guard those near and far from aberrant threat, of which they come as three

I. ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴɪɴᴇ

A pattern of sporadic and devastating assault at the hand of the draconic.

II. ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʀᴜɪɴ

The lingerings of unexplained blight near Caras Siol believed to herald demonic incursion not unlike the Inferi War.

III. ꜱᴏᴜᴛʜʀᴏɴ ᴄʀᴜꜱᴀᴅᴇ

The ongoing efforts in the south and broader crusade against the Black Church.

Though efforts have grown due to the High Pontiff’s ongoing military campaign in the south, the Ivory Crown shall partition local forces in order to combat threats of the draconine and omens of dark. It is henceforth that the following individuals are called upon, both local and abroad, in order to repel these perils. 

— Alchemists, weaponsmiths, and laborers, to aid in the forging and distribution of armaments.

— Scribes and recordkeepers, to document ongoing affairs, record accounts, and compile learnings.

— Soldiers, warriors, or reserves, to bolster ground efforts and defend against hostile incursion.

Those willing to lend aid are to send word to Galahad of Ilumrin or Leithril of Rho’ger. 

Signed,

Galahad Ílumrin

High Prince of Cauróst, Prince of Malinor & Eldest Son of Húrin Ilumrin

“What will you do when your magic eventually fails you, Vesryn?”

“Protect those I can with my physical being, even if it means my death, Sir.”

Deep in the night, A Mali’ker rummaged through cabinets and shelves, a mission set in his mind as he picked out the items The High Prince had instructed him to bring. Laid out on the table were rations that would last him a week at most, a small serrated dagger, and a small medical bag in case of emergencies. “A full year, huh..?” Vesryn murmured as he packed up each item from the table in a swift manner. The Greye recalled every haunting event, replaying every what-if, what he could’ve done differently. The man he considered a father, taken while all he could do was watch. “Helun-Velulaeya tom uhv’lye honyr.” He’d utter in prayer under a moonlit sky before heading out the front gate of Caras Siol and into the wilderness.

The Wind called Vesryn forth; it always did. The element was his favorite to learn as an apprentice, it felt natural and free to use despite his mentor's warning of its difficulty to control. He had become so attuned with it that he swore that it whispered to him sometimes. Not unlike his own family's traditions, they might pretend to hear voices in the wind of those past. But Vesryn truly did, and so he listened.

“Go North.”

The Cloak over the Maehr’s shoulder kept him warm from the elements for a time, but as he ventured deeper into the snowy mountains, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he should find shelter… CRACK Vesryn heard a tree branch fall under the weight of the snow piling on top of it before more and more fell at an alarming rate. Something was wrong. The Diraar glanced to the side as a barrage of snow and ice rushed down the mountain at an alarming rate, seeking to trample him and his horse in the process. He’d command his horse forward as they ventured deeper into the forests to escape the incoming avalanche. Hours passed as he eventually came to a stop at a small open patch of the woodlands, suitable for setting up camp.

Months had passed in the blink of an eye, time seemed to be something Vesryn didn’t keep track of anymore, out in the freezing conditions where he decided to set up camp. “How long has it been since I left the East…?” He’d ask himself, looking down at his journal as he tried to trace through entries, eventually landing on his answer with a frown. “2 more months left to go.” A sharp exhale was given in frustration, so many things had happened recently that it just didn’t feel right leaving his family unprotected, but this was for the better. He’d set a target on a nearby rock, practicing his Archery in the early morning, as sunlight broke through the trees. He was used to ranged combat, considering his abilities, but he always found a Bow to be a difficult weapon. As he loosed arrow after arrow, the Mali’ker turned to take a break, turning his back to the rock, before suddenly a rumbling sensation shook the nearby land, and something awoke.

A Towering Beast with a back of stone and ice stood before him as it was woken up by the sounds and movements of the nearby Mali'ker, and he had trespassed on its territory. Vesryn quickly turned, grabbing his bow and quiver hanging from his make-shift shelter before almost instinctively connecting to the Void. The feeling had become second-nature at this point, but he didn’t want to rely on just his magic anymore, despite what he told people. He hated his abilities, it felt more like a Curse than the Blessing his mentor had led him to believe it was. And so the Spellblade continued forward with a determined stride.

The Beast circled The Maehr's camp, seemingly studying its enemy as did Vesryn as he kept a focused gaze on the creature before eventually deciding to strike first, unleashing an arrow, hoping to pierce its eye, but it fell short as it turned and used its horns as a mighty shield to shatter the incoming projectile. Its gaze then snapped over to its target, charging forward as it sought to skewer Vesryn with those same horns. The Spellblade swiftly ran to get out of its path, looking around the nearby area for anything that could help him. He spotted a nearby cliffside that seemed to be close to collapsing in the distance.

“Over here!” He’d shout to get its attention, and the horned creature turned with rage in its eyes before continuing its chase, shaking the ground with each step towards the Greye. He’d nock an arrow as he ran in case of emergency, before stopping just below the collapsing rock, staring down the charging beast as a plan formed in his mind. As the Earthen Creature aimed to pierce him once again, Vesryn would dodge out of the way as it rammed into the side of the cliff. A loud crackle could be heard overhead before the loose stone fell upon the creature, causing it to unleash a resounding groan of pain as it was buried under the mass of ice, stone, and snow. Blood covered the white landscape around it as Vesryn’s eyes adjusted after the snowy mist cleared. The Arctic Beast was pinned and no longer a threat. A sense of guilt welled in his chest, and he decided to walk over and end its suffering. The Greye targeted the weakened skin next to its neck, plunging a dagger swiftly through.

“Forgive me.” Vesryn murmured after a brief moment of silence before breaking off one of its horns as proof of his survival. The Mali’ker stood, uttering a silent prayer for the fallen beast and departed for his camp. He was going to survive this trial no matter what it took, for them.

• ──────────────────────── 𖤐 ──────────────────────── •

Be it known unto all that mine ascension draweth nigh. At last shall I transcend mine half-blood'd coil, and the zenith of mine powers shall be attain'd. Mine loyal allies, by your hands hath this been made possible, and thus do I bestow upon thee the succour thou mayest seek. An aspect of the divine, borne forth from the deluge of Chaos itself.

And so am I Vriza – Patron of the Black Church and Lichtenwald, Forebear of the Malphasean line of kings, and Imperator of Demons upon Mundus. Call unto me in blood, in thunder, and in darkness. Thy King shall answer, should the price be great enough.

With the death of the Aengul Janus, the veil betwixt worlds is sundered, the tether snipped, and by rites of sacrifice most grave, thou mayest bid me loose devastation upon all our foes. So let it be writ. So let it be done.

Signed,

His Majesty

ᴋɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴꜱ, 

ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ɪxʀɪꜱ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴋɪɴɢ’ꜱ ᴄʟɪᴍʙ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

The skies roared with anarchy as Caurost was blanketed by a blood red horizon. Slowly, the skies wept rivulets of rain, mottled and turning black as each droplet moved as like sludge and ash against the ground amidst that infernal turbulence. It was not long before the distant silhouette which lingered on the wind slowly dissipated, an uneasy presence manifested within those rural hinterlands. Those who bore witness to the opaqueness of this event felt watched, as though a pair of hawkish eyes were leering at them. The storm whipped about wildly, the city of Caras Eldar suffering as the weathered walls and statues were stained with what looked like ash. However, it would not only be Caurost affected by these bloody gales, as Nevaeh’len itself was drenched top-to-bottom, swimming with brimstone and crimson rain. The forest found itself in the heart of the storm, the infernal presence disappeared within the miasma mere hours later, but the storm had done its damage. 

Trees lay broken within the woods, great redwood boughs of incalculable age reduced to torn ligaments and shorn leaves that rested in shattered piles on the forest floor. Within that swirling vortex, the origin point of this wretched magic had disappeared, vanquished by planar laws to an ulterior realm. However, for Warlocks and Inferi the work was unmistakable to see… It had been a Zentherak. And there inside the forest floor, there dwelt a huge chasm, and rising like ants from the debris were the debaucherous Imps and Zekulka – bestial demons of the Shattered Lands – who had managed to cross over. Hell’s Gulch, the firm terra firmament was wounded, and the nearby shrubs and trees gradually morphed into unfamiliar abominations.

ᴍᴏɴᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ (ᴏᴏᴄ)

Since I was a boy the world was so large. My brother and I crossed the sea, we came to a godless land full of strange customs, and even stranger people.

The ignoble Haenseman sought to stifle us beneath his boot. At first, he was successful, but we got our licks back in. Vyllaenen, Veluc, Lyulen, where has the time gone?

It does not. They would not recognize me now. Isha, why did you take my boy from me? Where have you gone? And the others, my memories have been robbed from me, but that is the price of power. 

I suppose I have created many Twisted Kings now, and they shall bear fruit of their own. My work has been wrought. The world has been reshaped as I intended, and now I may set my sight upon the juicier prize I am after.

My will be done, my kingdom come.

[No thoughts remained.]

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪʙᴇʀ ᴄᴜʟᴍɪɴɪꜱ

At last, the King of Demons’ tome was released by Skulltaker, his most ardent General. The culmination of the ill-begotten warlord’s tutelage and his truest understanding of the nature of The Climb.

The Fall of Haelun’or: Its Causes and History
By: Althanis

(A missive can be seen in the notice boards of various places on Azuras, announcing a new book that can be read in Caurost Library)

INTRODUCTION

This document was not written with the intention of offending or defending any of the parties involved in the destruction of Haelun’or. The consequences for the High Elf population were significant, and many innocent people suffered as a result of the destruction of Haelun’or. This document is also not intended to criticize the concept of purity ingrained in the culture of the elves of Haelun’or, nor their culture as a whole; ultimately, it is like any ideology, with its flaws and virtues. Instead, the primary purpose of this document is to shed some light on such an important event in the history of Azuras. It is up to each reader to draw their own conclusions on the morality of the events - if any conclusions are to be drawn at all.

PURITY AND CORRUPTION

Within the culture of the High Elves of Haelun’or, purity of body and mind is one of the key pillars of society. For them, the body of a High Elf is a treasure that must be preserved, which is why they reject most bodily modifications. Many of the most dedicated High Elves consider themselves fundamentally superior to other races due to the belief that their bodies and mind are a blessing.

The mind is another aspect of purity. High Elves take great care not to let their minds and bodies be affected by anything “weakening” or “impure” such as uncouth words or altering substances.
These ideals viewed from this perspective are commendable and worthy of a civilization that seeks the highest status and development for its people.

While the intentions behind purity culture seem benevolent, the writings of Vellullaei'thill Vul'athri (E.T.H.I.C. is the best example) and the statements of myriad anonymous elves and half-elves display just how these ideas of purity led to some actions unseemly for such a highly developed civilization, including the creation and use of the violent "Acid Pool” (used to execute those considered impure and cleanse any trace of their presence) invented by the High Elf Silvos Sythaerin, and even going so far as to consider religion, physical characteristics like hair color or even height as impure.

In Azuras, it was thus under the leadership of Sohaer Acalmaehr Calith, a notorious Darkspawn and founder of Haelun’or on this continent, that these ideas would take a path that would lead the city to corruption, and to the suffering of many who would escape from this city over time, before its destruction.

HISTORICAL CONTEXT

Before discussing the fall of Haelun’or, and its capital, commonly referred to as the Silver City, a brief historical overview is necessary to understand the factors that led to the end of this great civilization.

Haelunor’s first iteration was founded under the leadership of the first High Elf, Malaurir Di Astore, almost a millennium ago on the continent of Aegis.

The city has been rebuilt on the various continents that Descendants have since colonized, sometimes as its own regional power, other times as a vassal or protectorate.

Within Haelun’orian culture, every High Elf is considered an equal; however there is an office, that of the Sohaer, bestowed upon the one who holds the greatest political power among equals, through a democratic election by the population of the realm.

It was on the continent of Aevos, in the year 2028 that conflict erupted due to the Sohaer Valindra Nullivari’s aggressions against the honor of High Prince of Caurost, Galahad Ílumrin, like the attempted murder of Húrin Ílumrin, father of the High Prince and the forced captivity of Seraena and Galahad Ílumrim, according to a public missive from the Princedoom of Caurost. In the face of this looming conflict, Haelun’or sought the protection of Idunia and became its vassal, temporarily avoiding potential destruction.

THE FALL.

Under Calith's corrupt rule, darkness reigned in Haelun’or, transforming the last few decades into some of the darkest in its recent history. Twisting the ideology of purity for their own purposes, Calith and his followers managed to infiltrate beings of darkness into their society. Rumors and popular stories from anonymous Idunians and High elves of Haelun’or, speak of the presence of Mystics, demons, and other creatures. Official sources such as the Imperial decree on the crusade and The testimonies of Paladins of Xan speak of followers of Azdromoth. Regardless of the nature of their origin, these foul beings marked a bloody era in the history of the Silver City.

By the year 2057, the Empire would declare a crusade against the city, following an incident in Idunia, where Haelun’or's political envoys were executed after their connection to forces from Ibless was made public.

Among the justifications for this crusade were:

- The accusation that their government was organized by a cabal of demons.

- Harboring within their lands followers of Azdromoth, responsible for the murder of priests and nuns, as well the murder of Paladins of Xan.

- The allowance of sorcerers and practitioners of dark arts who used the souls of their own citizens in their rituals.
- It is later discovered, thanks to the interception of correspondence between high-ranking officers of Haelun'nor, regarding the darkspawn nature of the Sohaer, and subsequently confirmed upon finding the lair of mystics.

Faced with these accusations and the evidence presented by the Kingdom of Idunia and the Empire of Man, the kingdom of Haelun’or was dissolved, its population dispersed, and the guilty parties executed. Even so, anonymous survivors who were interviewed accuse the Empire of going too far with the innocent population, since many of them were unaware of the presence of these beings in their lands.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank the NGS, and especially Dr. Tanith Vursur, for the opportunity to start this independent research. I also thank the Paladins of Xan for providing initial information, to High Prince Galahad Ílumrin, The Annals of the Library and an anonymous former official of Haelun’or for providing opinions.
 

WORKS CITED

3rd of The Deep Cold, 283 S.A.

A single elfess draws in sharp breaths as she draws back her longbow's string. The yew and bone that makes up the arms of the weapon creak under the weight of the pull. An exhale pushes from her as her hand loosens, the arrow splitting the air with a gentle whistle as it plants itself deep into the target of Caras Siol's training ground. Her presence invites the patience and calm needed with archery, but her mind is a storm. She knocks another arrow as her mind wanders...

273 S.A.

The same elfess, but younger, brighter. She smiles as she is handed a small arsenal worth of weapons, tools, and congratulations. A banner is placed on her back, a symbol of the Sunlit Covenant. Her smile is beaming against flame that alight a small space. The comforts of home and purpose overtake her. 

"Maeth?.." 

A voice calls out echoing through her thoughts as she is ripped from the thought back into the training ground. Her hand loosens as another arrow splits the thought from her, stabbing into the target with a sickening thud. She closes her eyes as her breath quickens. A drip of discordant moisture runs from her bow down the sides of her face. She steadies her breathing. Another arrow finds its way to the string. 

275 S.A.

Pain shoots across her face as her legs are lifted higher and higher, before she is scattered to the ground holding her side. Her eyes flow across silhouettes in the moment as she grunts taking back up her shield. She works her way back to her feet, holding it forward. The symbol of Xan spattered with her blood on its metal as she sturdies herself with a mighty cry.

"Maeth!"

*THUCK* Another shot finding its purchase. Her arm instinctively taking another. The draw of the bow is met with more whines from the wood. She winces as her tired arm struggles against the power needed to pull its arms back

She's now kneeled. The light silhouette before her speaks as she breathlessly vows herself. Her chin is high, held with purpose. She stands and bows deeply before turning to an happy echo of several voices 

"Maeth." 

Potential energy turns to movement as the arrow reacts. It glides through the air with a gentle sound before planting itself another hit. A few more breaths fill her lungs before she grunts pulling back another readied stance. Her eyes narrow weighted by racing thoughts and physical exertion. Quaking takes over her shoulder as she tries in vain to steady it against the demands her muscles release. She endures.

282 S.A

Sitting before a smaller frame. A blue silhouette as her head hangs. Her chest is tight with confliction as she grips for some sense of composure. The silhouette embraces her and softly speaks

"It is better to save and innocent life than it is to take a guilty one. It is better for the soul...so save who you can..."

Her eyes welt with tears as her focus becomes fuzzy, the target becoming nothing more than a blurry mix of colors in her vision. She blinks to cure it in vain. Her breath is exhumed broken as her fingers loosened from the string. The arrow flies but clatters against the stone wall, snapping under the transfer of its energy. Hearing her failure, she shoulders the bow. Her hands meeting her face, rubbing out unruly drops of salty water. She walks towards the target to collect her arrows

"Perhaps that is enough for today..."

The Sea and The Sky

Zahel liked to watch the ocean. Sometimes it crashed against stone cliffs, wind howling as it split around rock. Sometimes it was gentler, lapping against pale sands with a refreshing chill, waters ruffled by the passage of invisible air currents. But dearer to the Vectran was when he was out upon its surface, feeling waves pass beneath and around him as he ventured across its infinite, ever-changing plane.

He was out there now, off the eastern coast of Azuras. Caurost’s rocky bay was a fuzzy line in the far distance, and the normally chatty elf was quiet, contemplative as he usually wasn’t, alone with the gray-blue waters below him and the pale-azure skies above, wispy clouds streaking across the vault of darkening sky. Orange sunlight limned the edges of rippling waves and his small double-rigger boat, the sun itself drifting low along the horizon. 

The Mali’ame’s fishing trip had been a successful one; silvery-scaled fish filled baskets beside him, and he’d long since stowed his nets and rod. Now, as sunset trailed towards night, he unclipped his fishing knife from his belt - the only source of metal on his body - and laid it to one side, leaning against his boat’s mast and closing his eyes.

Zahel drifted. He heard the wash of waves, felt them lapping against the side of his boat and sending faint vibrations up to the mast he leaned against. He felt their rhythm - slow and ponderous now, yet titanic in their omnipresence. The very currents below him, he knew, stretched for thousands of kilometres, guiding the paths of marine life so diverse that they put to shame even the greatest cities he’d visited: Rittersburg, Alduun, Alba.

He listened to the wind then. It was brisk today, enough that he’d closed the sails to avoid drifting, and deployed a sea anchor for the same purpose. The wind seemed to whisper past him, carrying faded scents and sounds away from Azuras and out, out into the indeterminable places beyond. Sometimes, when a new wind blew towards the continent, Zahel liked to imagine what lands it had passed. Perhaps Vectra, his homeland, or maybe the old continent Aevos, lost to Orsathiael.

Zahel focused on his breathing; taking in lungfuls of that drifting wind to the beat of waves drumming against his boat. In, out, in - hold - , out. . . He strove to attune himself to the sky and sea, to become a medium for their eternal rhythms. In, out. . .hold. . .in, out, in. . .

When Zahel opened his eyes, he saw himself as the horizon-line between ocean and sky, the point in-between the realms of wind, water and life. He could no longer hear his breathing; rather he heard the wind, rushing past in a sweeping melody sung in time with the rhythm of water. Air currents swirled around him, gilded with teal light, and mist the color of seafoam danced in thin swirls about his limbs. There - he’d achieved it for the first time. Resonance. Harmony.

I, Silwyn Cerusil, hereafter acknowledging myself as the prime Sword of Cerusil in good standing, declare that the reins of the Patriarch of Cerusil are mine by right, following the disgracing and excommunication of my father Lanre Cerusil and the disappearance of the house from the public.

Thus, as Patriarch of Cerusil, I hereby renew our vow to the descendants of Ivarielle Ibarellan, swearing the utmost fealty of House Cerusil to Galahad Nullivari-Ibarellan of Ilumrin, High Prince of Caurost, and his rightful heirs. 

To those of my house that still remain who object to this decision or my reclamation of the title of Patriarch, I await your public challenge and duel to the death. Otherwise, you are welcome to be sheltered within the home we erect in the Princedom as family, assuming you uphold the fealty hereby sworn.

Signed

Silwyn Cerusil, Patriarch of the Cerusil Talonnii

Galahad Ílumrin

High Prince of Cauróst, Prince of Malinor & Eldest Son of Húrin Ilumrin

“Why?”

“Why!?”

“WHY DID YOU RUN!?”

A constant reminder stabbed into his brain every single day, allies turned enemies, and a Scar is all he had to show for it. Friends and family keep telling him that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have done anything more than he did. But the Scar remained, as did a singular grave.

Vesryn had been too optimistic; he saw his family start to gray while he remained the same as fear set in.

“Boys, I don’t have much time left.”

A coin was flipped across the room, landing in the Maehr’s palm. Heads.

It was rusted and probably older than him, but it was a keepsake, probably one that would be better left forgotten, but one all the same. Vesryn turned to a familiar face next to him, thinking they both knew what he meant.

Vesryn sat under a full moon, blade sat beside him as he was deep in prayer, or what he wished he was doing. He didn’t have the faith left in him to keep up his devotion.

“Helun-Velulaeya hon laht.”

He muttered, grabbing the blade on his right, attaching it to his hip as he stood. He was Oathed into a Diraar. This should be a time for celebration, but only emptiness followed as he looked at the blade gifted to him. “Dragon’s Claw.” He was handed yet another weapon. Memories began to manifest across the reflection of the onyx blade, ones he wished would leave him.

“What are you saying, sign this or.. What?” Aedric questioned

“We’re having your people moved to the Capital, this is better for all of us.”

“No.”

Chaos erupted throughout the meeting room as two armed men closed in on Vesryn, raising a dagger as the Maehr instinctively tried to connect in time. Pain shot through his nerves as a warm feeling ran down his arm. Anger rising in his voice as he became reckless, using any ounce of strength to fight back, forsaking his honor in exchange for survival, a familiar voice called to his left, a Knight of ginger hair. Someone he was supposed to trust. “Stand down, Vesryn.” He commanded as if he were blind to the situation at hand. 

“STAND DOWN? THEY’RE STABBING ME, YOU STUPID ****!?" A rageful tone cut through the clattering of plate armor throughout the hall as Adrian and another Fellow Maehr cut through the chaos.

“Let my cousins and I leave.” Adrian bargained as Aethermaw raised menacingly, amethyst flames flowing off of the blade as he cleared his way through the two attacking him, and a hand grabbed him by the cloak as he, Adrian, and another rushed out and downstairs. He watched paintings fly by in his vision. He wanted to go back and save whoever he could. But that wasn't an option. “Run while you still can, Knife-Ear.” A voice called from upstairs, bitterness rising in his chest, before a familiar voice called from the upstairs meeting room. Fear then rose alongside his bitterness as he could tell by his tone that the voice was injured.

“TELL VETA I LOVE HER!”

Aedric Greye called to the fleeing Greye’s and allies alike, the last words they would ever hear from him.

Vesryn traveled towards Kurai-Kuni, determined to meet a friend on a nearby island and see the new bastion of his people. The Maehr left his Evaran Armor at home, instead traveling with some light armor he had forged previously. The warm wind was a nice change of pace from the constant rain of the East.

The Maehr looked around the brilliant temple, seeing shrines and statues of figures he had only read about as a boy. He had almost forgotten why he had come there, snapping back to his objective. He stood in front of a shrine of Luara and knelt in prayer. Hoping to get his faith back, but it seemed that he would need a miracle. How could he believe in a higher power if he can’t even believe in himself? And so he moved on, deciding to take the walk back home to Caras Siol instead of by horse. A twig broke behind him as he walked through the towering forests, and an instinctive hand flew to the pommel of his sword as he shouted “Reveal yourself!” A rustle came from the bushes before an injured Mali’ker, looking to be about ten, stumbled out of the forest. Vesryn rushed over to check her wounds, offering a comforting smile, despite every muscle in his body being fatigued, and the lack of sleep didn’t help either. He quickly addressed some bruises on the young girl’s face before asking

“What is your name, little one?”

“Aerith, Sir.” She responded weakly; it was clear she hadn’t eaten in days, and her injuries were left untreated.

The Spellblade reached into his rations, handing over a piece of bread that he was saving for himself, but.. They weren’t far from Caras Siol, he could always make more later. Memories rushed back to a story his mother often told him, of how she found him in a basket hanging from a tree and took him in. He always found it a bit strange that she would do that, especially in the mental state he would come to find out she was in during her life. He snapped back to reality, looking at the Mali’ker staring at him with a curious expression, making a decision after a long breath. He didn’t seem ready to raise a child, but he also refused to allow another to fall to the same fate that he’d seen time and time again. It would be different this time.

“How would you like to come with me, Aerith?” He asked, extending a hand to her as she was gnawing on the piece of bread he had given previously.

Aerith paused, looking up at him with confusion, before hesitantly taking his hand.

“Okay, Mr.” She responded

Vesryn had found a new purpose, a reason to keep going as he whistled for his horse, making his way back home.

He was determined to break the cycle that he was convinced was set in stone.

T H E    S Y L V A N    C O U R T S

Issued by Princess Carnissëa Ílumrin, with Lady Nefeli Cerusil

7th of The Deep Cold, 281 of the Second Age.

INDOREII’OEM (ᴘʀᴇᴀᴍʙʟᴇ)

To govern without humility is to erode the very foundation laid forth by the High Prince. Caras Siol does not belong to the Lauriran, it is the Lauriran who are sworn to her people, and thus, let not the Lauriran of Caras Siol be measured by the magnitude of their estates or wealth, but the breadth of their prudence and guardianship, their nobility.

Lauriran are to shepherd cultural refinement, to rouse innovation, and traverse the gap of Noble and Low. They are entrusted with the care of land, kinship, and traditional preservation. They are vessels of strength, and pillars that sustain the significance of Caras Siol and her denizens. 

INDORII’NIUT (ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ)

❖ Laurir, Noble

❖ Lauriran, Nobles

❖ elLaurir Talonnii, The Noble Houses

❖ elLeyuame Heial, The Sylvan Court

“Nobility is recorded as a mark borne through years of service rendered to land and sovereign, to custom, history, and the keeping of tradition. It is worn as an insignia of labour and obligation, set down by those who have given more than they have taken.

Such standing was never meant as a means to stand above others, but rather, arose from duty owed to the people and the lands that sustained them. Many have taken the style of aristocracy, buttressed by wealth and manors, yet few have left behind a ledger of deeds undertaken for the realm rather than the self. 

Titles endure in abundance, true reckonings remain scarce.

From this understanding, were the Sylvan Accords first committed to parchment, to introduce nobility anew.”

— Carnissëa Ílumrin, on Elven Nobility

· ─ · ·   ✶ · ─ · ·

· ─ · ·   ✶ · ─ · ·

INDORII’HAEL (ᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇꜱ)

oem (I). elLauriran Talonnii

A noble house is a lineage officially recognized by the Ílumrin crown, entrusted with land and charged with the guardianship of its domains throughout Cara Siol. Such houses hold dominion within the territories of Cauróst, bearing the authority to petition the creation of laws, to arbitrate disputes, and to speak for the Caurosi citizens before the High Council.

From this charge, follows the expectation of humility. The Lauriran are to know the worth of their name, yet remain mindful of the charity and restraint so often lost to authority. The citizens of the Princedom are to be regarded as kin, held in esteem, and treated with devoted regard despite their titles or lack thereof. In turn, the people are bound to hold their nobility in due respect and to appeal to the High Prince, in instances of unwarranted injustice.

Practices of violence or cruelty, lacking cause or justice, shall be judged by the appropriate ruling , with severity and may even result in the stripping of noble standing. Cordial conduct is expected between citizens and Lauriran alike. 

Before the pursuit of nobility, those of steeled heart must fulfill the following criteria:

ɪ. ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍɪɴɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴꜱʜɪᴘ.

ɪɪ. ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ.

ɪɪɪ. ᴏʙʟɪɢᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴘʜᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴᴇᴛꜱ, ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜꜱᴛᴏᴍꜱ.

ɪᴠ. ʀᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴀɴɪᴍᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴅᴏʀꜱᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ʜɪɢʜ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴄɪʟ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴇʟɪɢɪʙʟᴇ. 

niut (II). Duties

Lords and Ladies of the most distinguished houses are chosen to sit within elLeyuame Heial, known also among the common tongue as the Sylvan Courts. These seats gather at the close of each month to advise and petition to the High Prince. From their deliberations flow matters of market, law, housing, and other affairs that shape the living order of Cauróst.

Citizens are permitted, and oft encouraged, to bring forward commendation or complaint regarding the Lauriran directly before the High Prince. Though all members of the Sylvan Courts are appointed by His Highness and His High Council, the voice of the people is said to guide each selection. A Laurir thus named may accept the charge or refuse it by right of their station.

The Saneyir of the Sylvan Courts is appointed under the authority of the High Prince and serves as keeper of the people’s voices. Their office remains open to the citizens of Cauróst, who may bring forth grievances and petitions at all times, rather than burdening matters of less importance to the High Prince. These concerns are gathered and carried into the monthly council, where the Saneyir ensures that no matter of weight is lost to silence. 

• An election is held at the appointment of the High Prince and his council, wherein three Lauriran, regardless of standing within their houses, may be named as candidates to preside over the Sylvan Courts. 
• The citizens are then called upon to inscribe the names of three Lauriran they deem fit to serve as their voice, chosen only from the list of running candidates. 
• These writings are gathered and accounted for under the oversight of the High Prince.
• From this, the High Prince, or his council, confirms the appointment of those deemed most fit to serve. 

hael (III). Ownership and Rights 

All lands held by a Noble house may be forfeit upon the committing of grave offenses, from theft to acts of coercion or in the rare cases, murder, should such judgement be affirmed by His Highness, the High Prince, and his respective kin. The Lauriran are bound to preserve their granted domains in good order, free of neglect and injustice.

Within their holdings, Noble houses retain authority over conduct and governance. Trespass, damage, or impropriety upon Lauriran lands is held in ill regard and may be met with sanction or summons before the High Prince. Within their lands, the word of a Lord or Lady is to be respected, so long as it is in accordance with The Ivory Edict. All laws of Caras Siol extend to its vassals, who may not raise laws of their own beyond matters of internal currency, though stewards may be appointed to oversee daily affairs, martial and legal authority remains with the Crown.

elLaurir Talonnii are encouraged to host regular gatherings and entertainments upon their estates. It is customary for wards of lesser birth to be taken under their care, both as education and stewardship, their conduct reflecting upon the house that raised them. In turn, such wards may bring activity and standing to their patron’s name, forming ties between ranks.

The privileges of Laurirans vary by station, some houses of Nobility distinguished more vehemently than others. A typical Laurir has but a quartet of privileges that mustn’t be misused or ill-treated;  

❖ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇ

Lauriran possess the right to private audience with the High Prince and High Council, directly and without public intermediation as an opportunity to voice their woes, concerns, or social proposals.

❖ ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴏʀʏ ᴘʀɪᴠɪʟᴇɢᴇs

Lauriran may, at the will of the High Prince or High Council, be summoned to the courts of the Ivory Crown as consultants on matters of politics, law, and so on.

❖ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʀᴇᴛɪɴᴜᴇ
Lauriran may request a personal escort or guard of the Caurósian military for the preservation of any lands or protection of persons, with authorization from the Annilir.

❖ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴꜱᴇ

Lauriran may, in reasonable means, preserve themselves in the face of violence and vitriol, levying minor punishments such as lashings and temporary internment. 

vailu (IV). Inheritance

When a noble house arises, its lands and holdings pass to a single heir, chosen by the ruling patriarch or matriarch. The continuity of blood is to be preserved, and it is customary for noble lines to contract marriages within their own standing, avoiding lesser unions to safeguard the integrity of their lineage. The dignity of a house rests upon the conduct of its kin, and heirs are therefore raised and trained with strict discipline, from a young age so that error and disgrace may be avoided. 

A noble family may petition an audience with the high council, and therefore, the High Prince to contest the leadership of its own lineage, should cause be deemed sufficient. Where an heir proves unfit in duty or decorum, if such claims are found sound, intervention may follow. A patriarch or matriarch is expected to guide kin through times of strain without failure. 

Should they prove incapable, removal of their station is permitted under a public, or private, trial.

kulin (V). Attire

Nobility typically dress lavishly, adorned by many gems and bangles– nothing is considered too much or too little. Flowing dresses, bound by a bodice or enwreathed by beads amid a gilded chain. Many adorn armour of shimmering plate, or others languish in modest hues of faded greenery; the likeness of attire varies by family and is commended by the High Prince. 

Noble rank and duty are visually represented by exquisite laurels, meticulously and custom crafted by the Ivory Crown's artisans. These symbols denote both an individual's status and their specific role within the noble hierarchy. 

Jewelry and charms may be fashioned by citizens and nobles alike, however, circlets and crowns worn without right or title are subject to scrutiny, as imitation of royal likeness. Head-dress and adornments such as bands of cloth, headwears of steel, or others of that fashion, are deemed acceptable, so long as they do not bear likeness to crown or diadem. Those pieces would remain the sole province of the royal family.

❖ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴄʀᴏᴡɴ

For the High Prince

❖ ʙʀᴏɴᴢᴇ

For the Royal Family

❖ ꜱɪʟᴠᴇʀ

For the esteemed High Council

❖ ɢᴏʟᴅ

For the Lauriran

These fanciful laurels are scrupulously crafted to suit each wearer, varying in looks and gemstones in consideration of their labors to Cauróst.

banih (VI). Address

It is held as proper custom within Caras Siol that the Lauriran be addressed by the styles of Lord and Lady. Lesser forms of address, in the name of hubris, are taken as discourteous and as an affront to the High Prince, and are known to invite quiet scorn upon those who fail to employ them.

❖ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴘʀɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴠᴇʀʙᴀʟ ᴀᴅᴅʀᴇss

[My, your] Lady[ship], Lord[ship]. Depending on influence and regality, [Serene] Lady, Lord.

“You have my attention.”

nae ito kae suliian

“You have my service.”

nae ito kae tilruer

“Of course, my [serene] Lord/Lady.”

ti, nae’leh [leyu] Laurir

❖ ɢᴇsᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴏғ ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ

The lowering of the chin, bend of the torso or curtsying,

Palm over the forehead, then offered outwards.

· ─ · ·   ✶ · ─ · ·

Thus are the customs of the Princedom of Cauróst set forth under the authority of the High Prince, Galahad Ílumrin, that a new order be maintained within Caras Siol, and may it endure without fracture.

Signed,

Galahad Ílumrin

High Prince of Cauróst, Prince of Malinor & Eldest Son of Húrin Ilumrin

Carnissëa Ílumrin

Princess of Cauróst, & Eldest Daughter of Rúmil Ilumrin

♬♬♬

• ──────────────────────── 𖤐 ──────────────────────── •

Khelman Acal – Sul Amirsan aen Sov – patrolled the halls of his cavernous underrealm with hurried steps. His Striith dogged his steps, the ram skull mask howling at him with amusement.

“Usurper!”

With that, he jolted, as he clutched onto something in the periphery of his vision. An angelic woman dressed in blues and pinks. Sul remembered now the sordid tale of how he was reconstructed from nothing; Vriza dominated him, but he kept that inkling of what he was. Until he overreached…

“You think your plans went unnoticed? That you can seek to consume your own Patron Lord without consequence?”

The Striith hissed aloud as for the first time in his many years as an Inferis, the Demon King knew true fear. Ordinarily, the creature was subservient to the Demon King – the two had always acted of an accord, they had possessed mutual symbiosis. However, it had spied on him, and reported back to their master what he saw. The evidence was quite damning.

“You are no fabled Arch-Drakaar, that is certain. Velketzar shall exact his penance from you.”

Raucous laughter filled the Demon King’s throne room as he slumped back in his great ornate chair, the terrible power of the vision overtaking him. The price of power was steep – there is nothing in the world for free – and needless to say, the Pentacle Lord of Greed had sent something in his stead  to come and collect.

“We must confess, you are a useful pawn. We have given you much to enable your schemes. But now, we see you are spending more time running than winning. And saving this woman’s life… No, that cannot be done.” 

Sul, Khelman, Vriza choked on his words as words left his gullet unprompted, and he suffered at the hands of his master. 

“And you conspired to have her soul all for yourself. You sought to rob us by enabling her dabbling in Flesh Alchemy.”

This time the voice grew angrier. In the distance, the mosaics within his chamber began to shatter, and the glass flew in all directions. One gouged out one of his eyes, the Acaelanite howling in agony as darkness overtook his rightmost socket. It was a pathetic site. Such a powerful creature – a hybrid Zar’akal – reduced to nothing more than a weeping child in his False Prince form. A mere man clutching his bleeding arms as that vision of his wife had been robbed from him forever. He could see her soft smile vanishing from sight as in the distance, the sulphuric winds of Moz’Strimoza howled. Space seemed to be translucent, his soul was caught between worlds, cleaved in twine by dual responsibilities.

“Do not worry though, Vriza. Your usefulness has not been outlived. We merely deign to… Reorganize your priorities.”

The elf screamed loudly, it was so hoarse and truncated that it was cut off immediately by the howling winds. Blood oozed from his right eye socket, the matter of his cornea smeared over his neck as the ichor swept forth over the side of his face.

“I gave you everything! My soul. The souls of my children.”

• ──────────────────────── 𖤐 ──────────────────────── •

“That is not enough.”

“You cannot take her!” he begged pitifully. “I will do anything. Take me instead!”

The night was young as Sul and Naazeri took to the halls of Caurost’s tavern. Around them dwelled their smiling friends like the High Prince Galahad, Lorinthia, Veluc, and Dubh Ainmhi. Festive cheer was in the air as the couple stole away to a hallway far away from the joy and laughter to gaze into one another’s lives. Such is the curse of the Naztherak, the fragile ego, the false sense of divinity, and the notion of invulnerability. However, the Hells always take their due, and soon enough the couple’s love would be unwittingly plucked from them forever. Their son Caderyn left entirely without his doting parents because their vices had claimed their souls at last. As they gazed upon one another’s eyes, it did not occur to them that twelve-years later, their unbreakable sacrament would be stolen from them. That those loving eyes would gaze upon one another no longer. 

“No,” the insipid voice laughed, before there was a chorus of screams echoing throughout the caverns.

• ──────────────────────── 𖤐 ──────────────────────── •

One day their son Caderyn was left to visit their graves, the place where Sul and Rhianwen would remain in soul-sleep for all eternity, their bodies entombed forevermore within Haelune'leh Tahn, The Glade of the Dead. Yet, disquieting was the burning incense, and the way the grave itself appeared to gaze upon him with malice. With a shudder, their son left their grave behind, the soft crunch of gravel audible as their grave was littered with roses and chrysanthemum flowers to honor their passing. In the distance, a tremendous shadow lurked, before it slinked away into the dead of night, the thing's robes bellowing from the wind as it descended from the hilltop.

Requiescat in Pace,

Rhys and Rhianwen aen Sov

Issued by the Ivory Crown & Grace of the High Prince,

10th of the Grand Harvest, 278 S.A.

N O T I C E   O F   C I V I L I A N   T R A I N I N G

lye’Malian lliran’ehya ito Cauróh,

Go with vigilance, for within the east do the wicked labor evermore upon our resplendent glades of Ame’lentian, reaching ever desperately to extinguish the light of the Aengul Tahariae. While the righteous have labored diligently to repel Ibleesian, Necrotic, and Infernal devilry since these revelations, recent affairs would reveal the necessity for the exchange of knowledge as it pertains to the dark lord Reikenor. 

Such is the second Civilian Training of Caras Siol, through which citizens and respectful allies and friends of the state may partake in the exchange of information in order to promote effective communication and cooperation henceforth.

Topics of interest are as follows:

⊱ The Abyss, Reikenor, Wraiths

⊱ The Aengul Tahariae

⊱  Repelling the Undead & Demonic

For the sake of our prosperity, and the prosperity of our brothers and sisters, attendance is mandatory for all citizens of Caras Siol. Additionally, invitations are hereby extended to friends, leaders, and allies of the state. 

Signed,

Galahad Ílumrin

High Prince of Cauróst, Prince of Malinor & Eldest Son of Húrin Ilumrin

 

The Vanari’s Claim for Annilir

“With Purity of the Light We vanquish the Darkness.”

[!] Missives were sent throughout the realm of Caurost

⚬────────✧────────⚬

May the words gracing the parchment find all of you who read it well and with good fortune. I write to all of the Elves of Caurost, my people, to whom I and others took an oath to defend their lives, rights, and our way of life. I write to the High Prince and his High Council, whose will,  decrees, and principles I enact and ensure that they are upheld, and I write to those who don the same plate as I, the elHileia’evaran.  

You may know me from holding a seat in our Congress of Common,  helping new arrivals find a house in our Princedom, from manning the bar at the Dancing Nymph, or from the work I found the most pride in, that of serving our realm as a Soldier. But for those who do not know me;

My name is Ellathor Vanari, the eldest son of Lunah and Amethyst, Lightbringer.

With the abdication of our former elAnnilir, Veluc Strixxi, I henceforth present my wish to take his place as the next General of the High Prince’s Peacekeepers. 

Of my deeds and reasons for why I should be granted this seat, they remain the same as when I joined the Congress. I know that experience and knowledge can only bring that much favour, and in more deeds done, you prove that you are truly deserving of the prestige and duty of such a title. 

From Almaris, to Aevos, and now to Azuras, there is no oath I have broken, no promises I did not keep. In this, my honour lies, and should I be bestowed with the duty of Annilir, all of Caurost will have my word that I will strive only for greatness.

⚬────────✧────────⚬ 

-Signed, Ellathor Vanari

Issued by the Ivory Crown & Grace of the High Prince,

12th of The Grand Harvest, 277 S.A.

E V E    O F    T H E    S T A G     &    U N I C O R N

lye’Malian lliran’ehya cauróh, 

Rejoice, for as the tides of war wane do the tides of spring smile upon us! While the holy folk of Caras Siol tarry to repel blackcraft and wickedness to the north and south, it is the esteemed Spring Equinox that shall mark the call for new light, hope, and healing for her people.

Such is the season of the Stag and Unicorn, for which the harmony of the Myumiaran Stag represents inner peace with the rising sun, while the Myumiaran Unicorn beckons beauty and expression as the flowers bloom. To mark this blessed eve, the Ivory Crown declares a period of revelry, art, and celebration to be enjoyed by all Caurosian and her friends alike.

Expected revelries are as follows,
 

ᴇɢɢ ʜᴜɴᴛ, where attendees shall scour the woods of Ame’lentian in search of colored eggs for a prize reward of one-hundred minas.

ꜱᴘʀɪɴɢᴛɪᴅᴇ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ, where participants shall offer forth motifs of flowers, candles, colored eggs, and other personal belongings to one of Ame’lentian’s trees, where faithful Caurosians shall carve their names into its bark as an everlasting message of kinship and communal bond.

ᴡɪɴᴇ ᴛᴀꜱᴛɪɴɢ, where attendees may submit their personal signature spirits to judges, the winner of which to be added to the Dancing Nymph’s repository as a specialty brew henceforth, and a prize of one-hundred minas. To be judged based on appearance, taste, presentation, and homage to Caras Siol.

ʀᴀʙʙɪᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛ, where participants shall make chase through the woods of Ame’lentian to capture the fabled Springtide Hare. 

ꜰᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀɪɴᴋ, where attendees may enjoy and sample local seasonal imports such as ciders, liquors, and confections. Those who wish to aid in serving or distributing food and drink are to write to Neia Ibar’ame for inquiry.

ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ, at the behest of the city’s talented performers, musicians, and singers. Performers are to write to Neia Ibar’ame for inquiry.

ᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ

Attendees are strongly encouraged to dress in themes of spring, renewal, and beauty. Motifs of flowers, ribbons, light or bright colors, and vibrant face paint are appropriate.

Those who wish to aid with event organization and hosting are to write to Galahad Ilumrin. 

 

ON THE STREETS OF IVORY

YOU CAME TO MEAN SOMETHING TO ME

AND ON THOSE STREETS OF IVORY

IT WAS YOU, WHO MADE MY HEART BLEED

And it was i, Who foretold of it

And it was i, Who prepared for it

IT WAS I WHO WARNED YOU

YOU, WHO TOLD ME IT WAS NOT TRUE

YOU, WHO REASURRED ME

YOU, WHO CAPTIVATED ME

BESTRUCK ME

HELD ME

YOU

ON THESE VERY STREETS OF IVORY

SCARCE, YOUR VISITS BECAME

FORTUNE COME TO PASS, JUST AS FORSEEN

WHY, THEN, IS IT I WHOSE HEART HAS GONE LAME?

IT IS I,  WHO WOULD LIKE TO SCREAM

IT IS I, WHO WOULD LIKE TO BLEED

I WOULD LIKE TO HATE YOU

MY HEART BREAKS; I CANNOT MAKE IT TRUE

I

HELD YOU

 MY HEART FELL FOR YOU

I, WHO COULD NEVER HURT YOU

I, WHO CAN DO NOTHING BUT THINK OF YOU

ON THESE STREETS OF IVORY

NUMB, MY FEELINGS BECAME

SO, I MADE HIS HEART BLEED

JUST TO SHARE SOME OF MY PAIN

AND ON THESE STREETS OF IVORY

MY HEART BLEEDS

AND SO, I WRITE POETRY

HERE IN THIS PRINCEDOM OF IVORY

I, Thaelyra Valmyr, born of pure Mali'Aheral blood and lineage in the 245th year of the Second Age, do formally announce my intention to seek public endorsement for the position of El'Kalirir by my fellow citizens, the proud nation of Caurost. 

Citizens of Caras Siol, and most esteemed High Prince,

It is with humility and devotion that I stand before the people of this city to nominate myself for consideration for the office of el’Kaliriir. The role entrusted to the hosts of revelry is not merely one of celebration, but of stewardship over the spirit of our home. Where the el’Kaliriir walk, the streets are meant to feel alive, filled with gathering voices, shared joy, remembrance of our traditions, and the quiet assurance that even in difficult times like these, the light of our people endures.

I’ve not been a part of this nation for long, but in my time here, I’ve met citizens who embrace tradition, are fearless, and most importantly, kind. I’ve felt welcomed by everyone I’ve come across. It is with that knowledge that I want to bring the feelings of warmth and joy to all those in Caras Siol.

Caras Siol is more than its towers and halls. It is the laughter echoing through the markets during festivals, the solemn reverence of seasonal rites, the gathering of neighbors in times of uncertainty, and the unity that binds us when the world beyond our walls grows troubled. The el’Kaliriir must serve as the keeper of that spirit, ensuring that our people remain connected to one another through celebration, tradition, and shared memory.

I offer myself for this duty with sincere loyalty to the Crown and unwavering devotion to the citizens who give this city its life. To serve as el’Kaliriir is to listen as much as to speak: to understand the wishes of the people, to help give voice to their gatherings and their stories, and to ensure that the rhythm of our city, its celebrations, announcements, meetings, and rites continues without silence.

In times of peace, such a role allows us to revel in the beauty of our culture. Yet in times of hardship or war, the importance of this office grows even greater. Where fear may linger, hope must be kindled. I could bring this hope about. As an aspiring bard, I’ve always planned to bring untold joy, however I could, to this great city. In this role, I can do just that.

I hereby state in truth that I meet the qualifications of

1. Citizenship 
2. Heritage 
3. Age
4. Record

My loyalty lies first with the High Prince who guides this city, and with the people whose lives and voices shape it. I seek not the title for its prestige, but for the opportunity to serve the heart of Caras Siol itself. As tradition dictates, the citizens' voices are now heard in this matter. Over the coming days, I welcome your thoughts, whether they be words of support, counsel, or rebuke. The trust of the people is not something claimed lightly, and I would hear openly from those whom this office ultimately serves.

May our city remain a beacon of light

Signed,

Thaelyra Valmyr

[!]Depiction of Author[!]

I, Neia Ažuolas' Ibar'ame de Whitewood, born of pure Mali'Aheral blood and lineage on the 245 year of the Second Age, do formally announce my intention to seek public endorsement for the position of El'Illeriran by my peers, the proud people of Caurost. 

I legitimize my candidacy for El'Illeriran by making the following statements known to the Princedom's citizenry, council, and patient leader, with GOD as my witness:

    I. I, Neia Ažuolas' Ibar'ame de Whitewood, do publicly affirm:

       A.  The purity of my blood and lineage

    II. I, Neia Ažuolas' Ibar'ame de Whitewood, do solemnly swear on the purity of my blood and lineage:

        A.  I am a recognized citizen of Caurost, as defined in the Ivory Edict 

    III. I, Neia Ažuolas' Ibar'ame de Whitewood, do cordially call to attention:

          A.    My lack of a criminal record within the Ivory Princedom, thus proclaiming my nature as being just and devoid of criminal desire and controversy 

    IV. I, Neia Ažuolas' Ibar'ame de Whitewood, do furthermore insist that the development of my maturity, tolerances, and mannerisms has reached a point of proficiency which:

         A.    Reasonably discredits any controversial or criminal actions or behaviors I may or may not have exhibited, expressed, or encouraged before my becoming a citizen of Caurost, thus demanding any such hypothetical incidents be recognized as nothing more than the frivolity of childhood, rather than being a genuine mark of character

         B.    Is emboldened by evidence of my complete and utter lack of public tantrums and outbursts throughout my time as a citizen of Caurost

         C.    Validates omission from purview that one time wherein I was almost struck by lightening three consecutive times in the public square

I, Neia Ažuolas' Ibar'ame de Whitewood, am humbly requesting that the denizens of the Ivory Crown consider the following information as being pertinent in the judgement of my favorability for the position of El'Illeriran:

    I. Having been raised in a family boasting Nobility status: 

        A.     I am properly educated and sufficient in the general studies of Math, Language, and Science.

        B.    I am properly educated and proficient in the general studies of Etiquette, Dance, Literature, Anatomy, and Music. 

        C.    I am culturally indoctrinated with an intimate familiarity of the proper mannerisms, practices, and attitudes befitting for interactions involving high class people and environments. 

        D.    I am ennobled by a keen and deeply vested interest to uphold myself to a manner of conduct that espouses a positive public image. 

    II. Therefore, I am qualified and capable of: 

        A.    Proficiently performing Data Entry, Record Keeping, and Research 

        B.    Respectably and productively engaging with the public 

        C.    Ensuring said interactions with the public are in the best interest for Caurost and her image

    III. Lastly, I find that the following acknowledgements embolden my favorability as a candidate for El'Illeriran:

        A.    I possess well above average and easily admirable physical features that make me enthusiastically approachable.

        B.    I have been told I am thrilling to converse with.

        C.    I have a natural proclivity towards social settings that leaves me eager for interaction.

        D.    I am very often around when others are not, so I would be available to assist visitors and potential citizens when others cannot be. 

        C.    Mom would be very proud of me.

Should the Princedom of Caurost and its citizenry find it favorable to entitle me with the role and responsibilities of El'Illerira, I vow to:

    I. Serve the People of the Ivory Princedom of Caurost and to wield my rank selflessly, for the People

    II. Maintain Cultural Integrity by merit of my own adherence to our Culture

    III. Labor Towards Betterment and to pursue my station in the pursuit of merit and health to the People 

Signed,

𝔑𝔢𝔦𝔞 𝔄𝔷𝔲𝔬𝔩𝔞𝔰 ℑ𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔢

T O U R N A M E N T    O F    T H E    E AS T

Issued by Ser Ellathor Vanari

Officer, Steward, and Tavernkeep of Caras Siol, 267 S.A.

            “Iɴ Cᴀᴜʀᴏsᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀsɪᴇsᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ɪs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴀɴᴅ.”

To all across Azuras who may find this missive, allow your hearts to be filled with joy and ambition as you read that with the victory at Goldleaf by the Imperial Host, by order of his Highness, High Prince Galahad Ilumrin, a tournament shall be held in the meadow near Caras Siol, at the festival grounds, let all who claim to be a formidable warrior prove that very thing to all who will watch and take part, be it friends, rivals or strangers. Embrace the fame and renown, should you be victorious in this most Graceful and Honorable of events.

Sign-Up Format

Name and Titles:

Affiliation:

Notes of Interest! 

Sign-ups require a 10-mina donation per person, collected on the day of the tournament. Funds will be put towards the Ivory Treasury.

1st Place: The title of Malaurir Diraaran, Prince of Warriors, will be bestowed by the tournament host, accompanied by a set of golden laurels and 100 minas.

2nd Place: The runner-up for almost claiming total victory shall be rewarded with a mastercrafted blade and 50 minas.

In the case of any inquiries or concerns, contact Officer Ellathor Vanari of elHileia’evaran (Thannon#5848).

Special Invitations

All leal denizens and subjects of the Empire of Man are invited to attend.

OOC

Time of the Event: Saturday, 02/21/2026 at 7 pm EST.

It will be PVP, Fist Fight Type

Issued by the Ivory Crown and Grace of the High Prince

10th of the Grand Harvest, 273 S.A.

C A L L   T O   E L D E R T I D E

To the denizens of Caras Siol,

While recent affairs would at large turn the attention of the Ivory Crown away from local and domestic policy, evermore is it the duty of the crown to serve the will of the people. Such are the merits of public assembly, by which the hand of law may join the hand of the gentry under counsel.

In light of recent exchange between descendants and the Mori'Quessir matriarch Felyndiira, the advent of their population from their cavernous dwellings brings into question their social status among the people of the city. As there are those who rebuke the welcome of the Morifolk for the barbarity of their Almaris ancestors, equally are there those who contend that they do not reflect the crimes of their forefathers. 

In the interest of honoring the voice of the people and the contentions thereby, the Ivory Crown hereby convenes the third Eldertide of Caras Siol. The crown looks forward to your attendance.

Signed,

Galahad Ílumrin

High Prince of Cauróst, Prince of Malinor & Eldest Son of Húrin Ilumrin

Petition to the High Council

As written upon on this 13th of Sun’s Smile, 272 S.A.
 

"Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road."

To the High Council and High Prince of the Princedom of Cauróst,

Let this writ serve as a petition for your consideration as I, Elerríon Seregon, seek to aid The Princedom of Cauróst and its High Council and High Prince. I have not been a stranger to you in recent years, having made this city my home. Nearly two centuries have passed since I have moved along the same paths as the greater group of Descendants. In that time spent in the Wilds, I diligently hunted all matters of adversaries of the Creator. It was the influence of my brother-in-arms who accompanied me, a Paladin of Xan, that drew me initially towards an alliance with the Sunlit Covenant within the state. My path has been drawn parallel to your own until now, I have come to understand the clarion call of elHalern’yulln. In your founding principles, I see hope that Elvendom may turn itself to be an active force, a sculptor of destiny rather than a relic awaiting the dust.
 

My life has been one of service in many guises. To the White Court of the Númenaranyë, I offered my blade as Ranger Captain of the Royal Guard, my cunning as Huntmaster of its wilds, and my stewardship as Seneschal for the White Court, and Lord of Caladras, where I learned that true strength lies not only in stone keeps but in the prosperity of the land and the people who tend it. I have governed and defended; I have planned harvests and commanded skirmishes. I have known the weight of command and the duty of preservation.
 

Now, as a Templar sworn to the Virtues of the Most High and a hedgeknight whose oath is to the Realm itself, I seek a cause that marries zeal with wisdom, ambition with Order. In Cauróst and with the Sunlit Covenant, I perceive that rare union. Your rejection of apathy resonates with the Radiant Flame of my very Soul.
 

Thus, I present myself not as a supplicant, but as a resource. My petitions are these:

First, to place at your disposal my experience in logistics and governance. As it was, administering Lordship through management of lands and serfs, and organizing a Royal Court and Royal House as a Seneschal were unglamorous foundations upon which glorious endeavors were built. Should the High Council have need of one to oversee supplies, coordinate infrastructure, or advise on domestic stewardship, I offer my learned hand.
 

Second, to lend my martial and strategic skills. As a Ranger Captain, I specialized in reconnaissance, frontier defense, and the tactics of the wild. All of which are valuable skills for a realm that must be both enforcer and protector. I can train scouts and soldiers, advise on security, or serve as a strategic advisor to el’Annilir.
 

I seek no title, nor lands as Caladras is a memory I carry, not a claim I press. I seek only a place where my decades of toil and learning can be of use to a vision I believe in. I wish to prove myself a Laureh’ir in deed, if not yet in formal title: a seasoned blade and a watchful mind in service to our people.
 

My sword, my quill, and my counsel are yours, should you find them fitting for the great work ahead.

For the dream that was kindled beneath northern pines, and for the future you forge each day.

In service and respect,

Ser Elerríon of House Seregon,

Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm

O R D E R  W I L L  P R E V A I L 

⊱𐫰⊰

The great Staglord has returned to us, cherished brother of Xan, and bearer of a light long thought dimmed by Shadow and Ruin. His return should not be regarded as mere providence but, instead, a symbol of continuity; the infinite and unending path through which Order endures, so that Ruin may not. Through legacy does Order survive, and through remembrance does it take root, emboldening us to prevail. Though Xan has fallen, the truth He embodied has not perished with Him–it has been renewed into Taharaie’s keeping. 
 

O N  R U I N

Ruin does not always announce itself with thunder or blackened flame; oftentimes it quietly lingers, with its presence mistaken for naught else but normalcy. It must be noted, however, that Ruin heralds the arrival of both Violence and Peril, and through them comes the unraveling of Order. 

Violence begets Chaos. Chaos begets Disorder. Disorder begets death. This is the unbroken chain that has undone Empires, felled Paladins of Yore, and scoured civilizations from memory. To neglect the first link in this chain is to invite the last. Order, therefore, is not passive, and must be maintained–lest Ruin take its place. 

O N  G R E E D 

Greed is the sin bestowed unto all of us by the Betrayer. It is not borne of hunger alone, but also of excess; the desire to take beyond one’s own need, and to claim beyond one’s charge. It is by this creed that Greed corrodes Order from within. Wherein power is hoarded, compassion starves. The Betrayer did not solely destroy the world by force; he had commanded it to consume itself. To walk the Sunlit Path is to resist this inheritance. 

O N  G U A R D I A N S H I P 

Guardianship was bestowed unto the Lion as a symbol of restraint, rather than dominance. It is thus that the Lion stands at the threshold where Order risks primality–when structure turns to oppression, and law forgets mercy. The Lion’s Charge, henceforth, is sacred: to temper the force of Order, so it does not turn foul upon the Descendants of the Four. Subsequently, it is Guardianship that demands vigilance, humility, and the courage to stay an eager hand.

T H E  P I L L A R S  O F  O R D E R 

Order is not singular, nor self sustaining. It is upheld by pillars set in a deliberate, intentional balance. When one is lost, the edifice turns to Ruin. 

❖ Order is the form and foundation that repels Chaos. It is the discipline that prevents the world from succumbing to impulse, shapes Duty, and defines Restraint. 

❖ Justice is the measure and scale that weighs intent as well as action. It reminds the mighty that authority without accountability is merely sanctioned violence. 

❖ Compassion is the living heart within the law. It tempers judgment with mercy, and reminds us that Order is intended to persevere and prevail over wanton cruelty. 

❖ Guardianship is the sacred duty to protect rather than possess. It binds power to responsibility and forbids exploitation under the guise of stewardship. Through Guardianship, Order protects the vulnerable. 

❖ Empathy bridges the gap between authority and understanding. It allows those who judge to truly see those they bestow judgment unto. It is often mistaken for weakness, but ensures that punishment does not outpace wisdom. 

❖ Redemption is the promise that failure is not final, and that darkness does not have to be one’s destiny. It affirms that those who have fallen may yet return to the Light, for Order that offers no path to the Light is merely despair dressed as law. 

It is without these pillars that Order would certainly curdle. 

T H E  F I N A L  A D M O N I T I O N

This treatise will serve as a vow proclaimed unto the Descendants of Azuras. Order is not declared once and maintained forever; it must be chosen intentionally, deliberately, and willfully.

The Sunlit Path, illuminated in Tahariae’s light, remains. It is walked by those who would rather bear the burden of Guardianship than surrender the world to Ruin. So long as our Pillars stand unbroken, and so long as the Lion tempers the blade, Shadow shan’t reign. 

Greed will be denied. Chaos will be answered. The Covenant will hold. Order will prevail.

⊱𐫰⊰

[ ʟɪᴛᴜʀɢʏ ɪꜱ ᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ]

T ᴡ ᴏ   K ɪ ɴ ᴅ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ   H ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴛ ꜱ

⊱𐫰⊰

Let it be announced and made known to all within the bounds of Cauróst, and to those beyond who hold the realm in good standing, that by lawful custom and with the consent of kin and Crown, Mahtë and Morwenna, both loyal Caurosians in faithful service to their people and homeland, shall soon be joined in marriage. 

This forthcoming union is proclaimed in recognition of their devotion, both to one another and to Cauróst itself, and symbolizes their continued loyalty and affection for one another. Upon the first evening of the Snow’s Maiden, they shall be joined as one household, bound by heartfelt vows and oaths made in the presence of their loved ones.

All who bear witness to this notice are invited to bear witness to the jovial union, and to hold the couple in goodwill as they prepare to walk their shared sunlit path. 

⊱𐫰⊰

[ ʟɪᴛᴜʀɢʏ ɪꜱ ᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ]