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The Banner of Isilioleth


Smaw

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The Banner of Isilioleth

 

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Zaniil descended from the clan hall, his vision obscured by the flag that wafted in the sea air, sat upon his shoulder. Several other Isilioleth were waiting to greet him, walking as one across the cobbled stone path of Velunor. Before long they arrived at the platform in front of the tavern. With some effort, Zaniil plunged his banner into the ground, the colours of Isilioleth wafting in the breeze.

 

The Ker stood for a moment, looking out upon the district of Velunor to see only his own blood amassed around him, no other clan in sight. After some reflection, he nodded to himself, procured a small note, and pinned it beneath the flag.

 

 

***
 

It is by this declaration and the placement of this banner that we assert ourselves the dominant clan of this district. Should it lay uncontested, we shall consider this an act of submission from the other clans.

 

It is time for the Mali'ker to rise once again, under a leadership that will bring our name to the farthest reaches. 

 

The Isilioleth

 

*

 

 

A chest sits beneath the banner, a place through which members of the community may express their support, or disapproval. 

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An Isilioleth grins from amongst the small crowd, pipe in hand as he marches across the waterfront with his brethren about him. Peering at the banner as his cousin lodges it in the earth, he offers Zaniil a bow of the head.

 

"There's much to be done, so much yet to do! Long live the Isilioleth, and may the Spirits ever lay blessings upon our blood."

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A solemn visage led the Isilioleth around Vellunor, a deserted district until his gaze lay unto his family. His posture was straightened for a moment, proudly pacing towards them as he commented. "We have taken over, and we will continue to do so. As long as nature sees to it, Isilioleth will not part again."

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Khaine descended into the Dark Elven district, watching the rejuvenated Mali'ker speak with a curious gaze and a glad smile. He speaks to himself for some reason.

 

"I would go into battle alongside this lot."

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Zairleth Isilioleth stood upon the steps that descended down into the harbor district, a bottle within his hand. He stood there, watching his cousin speak, a weak smile appearing on his normally stoic features. "To the clan"  He'd mumble, before lifting the bottle up to his lips, taking a long hearty swig. He sauntered down  the steps shortly after, moving into the tavern of his kin. 

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A wandering knight errant clad in finely fitted plate stood amongst the rabble of the crowd, a long, cascading cloak of eyed peacock feathers and darker, navy plumage guarding his steel; the peacock knight called in a brassy tenor, "Hail Isilioleth, hail prosperity."

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Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it. 

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