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An Elven Armistice

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An Elven Armistice

18th of Harren’s Folly, 1749

 

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Many Orenian couriers are dispatched by carriage and horseback to the Tripartite nations of Haelunor, Irrionor, and Renalia. They bear their letters of credence and a message of peace once more, prepared to present these to whom may be concerned.

 


 

TO ELFKIND,

 

The invasion grows quiet and distant. There is an ever increasing number of children born and migrants settled who do not know fear or sorrow: a blessing that almost two generations of Men want for. However, even those born to know our Troubles enjoy a blossom of prosperity - most lively in Helena and Haelunor - while the homes of those invaders wither. For good times have come, many Men and Elves idly question the nature of this war. We wish not to disappoint them; to make this a premature Spring.

 

In what fighting there is, we are left to face little but feudal levies which the main invasion is unwilling - or unable - to support. Many of our defending soldiers are relegated to peacetime tasks as the ranks lack a need to be filled. Only the veteran troopers are able to say they have faced an Elf on the field, and some break bread with them at home. Though we have wounded each other, it is clear that there is no better time than now to heal each other. Our previous terms to you were declined, but we wish to extend the branch once more before the calm in this storm passes.

 

    The Holy Orenian Empire thus offers the Tripartite of Haelunor, Irrinor, and Renalia an armistice. We propose this with intent to mend our stately dialogue and relations in an effort to bring our Troubles to an end.

 

  1. Hostilities between the Holy Orenian Empire and Elven Tripartite will cease until declared otherwise.
  1. The Holy Orenian Empire and Elven Tripartite will resume peace talks in hopes of finding a solution to this conflict.
  1. By agreeing to this armistice, our states recognize war is ongoing, but agree not to deploy soldiers against one another.
  1. The Holy Orenian Empire promises that all diplomats representing the Elven Tripartite will be protected and treated with due respect.

 

Issued and confirmed, 

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Peter III Anthony, Holy Orenian Emperor, King of Renatus, Curon, Salvus, and Seventis, Protector of the Heartlanders, Highlanders, and Farfolk, etcetera

 

HIS IMPERIAL EXCELLENCY, Simon Basrid, Archchancellor of the Holy Orenian Empire

 

HIS EXCELLENCY, Jahan Basrid, Secretary of Foreign Affairs of the Holy Orenian Empire

 


 

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Godric rolls up his sleeves, sweat dotting his brow as he’d do so, intensely concentrating upon the matter at hand.  He’d hold his hand to his side, the hand laden with exquisitely crafted ivory dice. An orenian women (fleeing an orenian husband) would seductively blow upon the dice, before he’d toss them across the table before him. Snake eyes. The Powerful Masculine, highly Vital human being known as Godric would shake his head. That is what he deserved for relying on the luck of a Haenser woman he supposed. He would wave a hand, a large smile upon his face as his Kha-Servant, the well groomed MISTER MUFFINS, would delicately saunter forwards bearing a silver tray (taken from an orenian caravan) laden with golden coins. 

 

A page would enter bearing further news from the south, bowing he’d present the missive with both hands to the awe inspiring grandeur of the incredibly exuberant, unbelievable muscled, incomprehensibly virile man before him. Stroking his lustrous well groomed and oiled beard his athletic and dexterous digits would deftly dart down and take the letter. With a raised brow he’d glance at the letter’s title and cast it aside.

 

“The imperials spend so much time on their knees fellating the elves one would almost think they wanted to bed them” he’d say with great mirth “Oh wait...” He’d quip with a cheeky grin and a wink to another Orenian woman who had mysteriously become lost during the night and ended up in his bed chambers, catching him performing calisthenics whilst well oiled clad only in his fine silk night gown. A story for another time. ”At the very least our Eldari allies have nothing to fear, the Helenan King and his bed mates spend so much time begging for peace with all parties there can be no doubt they are being royally spanked in this war... perhaps royal is too grand a praise for such a base crowd” With that he would return to his gambling

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44 minutes ago, Narthok said:

Godric rolls up his sleeves, sweat dotting his brow as he’d do so, intensely concentrating upon the matter at hand.  He’d hold his hand to his side, the hand laden with exquisitely crafted ivory dice. An orenian women (fleeing an orenian husband) would seductively blow upon the dice, before he’d toss them across the table before him. Snake eyes. The Powerful Masculine, highly Vital human being known as Godric would shake his head. That is what he deserved for relying on the luck of a Haenser woman he supposed. He would wave a hand, a large smile upon his face as his Kha-Servant, the well groomed MISTER MUFFINS, would delicately saunter forwards bearing a silver tray (taken from an orenian caravan) laden with golden coins. 

 

A page would enter bearing further news from the south, bowing he’d present the missive with both hands to the awe inspiring grandeur of the incredibly exuberant, unbelievable muscled, incomprehensibly virile man before him. Stroking his lustrous well groomed and oiled beard his athletic and dexterous digits would deftly dart down and take the letter. With a raised brow he’d glance at the letter’s title and cast it aside.

 

“The imperials spend so much time on their knees fellating the elves one would almost think they wanted to bed them” he’d say with great mirth “Oh wait...” He’d quip with a cheeky grin and a wink to another Orenian woman who had mysteriously become lost during the night and ended up in his bed chambers, catching him performing calisthenics whilst well oiled clad only in his fine silk night gown. A story for another time. ”At the very least our Eldari allies have nothing to fear, the Helenan King and his bed mates spend so much time begging for peace with all parties there can be no doubt they are being royally spanked in this war... perhaps royal is too grand a praise for such a base crowd” With that he would return to his gambling

 

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k-kisama...” said Sprinkles, staring at the vacant bed where his beloved wife Clownthilde once lay. He wept soulfully. Tears rolled down his chiseled features, becoming cloudy with makeup, as his body shuddered with grim determination... 

 

“I shall show this man...” 

 

 

“The meaning of honk...

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”This must be the second or third time the Orenians have attempted to persuade us with such an offer. Unlike their Curonian and Hansetic puppets, we do not break our treaties.” Ailmar Velulaei’onn read over the missive ever so carefully, stopping to read the first term the Orenians presented before the Tripartite. ”Until declared otherwise? Do these Valah truly think we are foolish enough to not see the underlying meaning of this treaty? They simply wish to cripple the numers of the AIS, before turning on those they signed a treaty of peace with. The Dark Elf sighed, reading over the missive while seated in Renelia’s tavern, wondering if the misinformed Orenians will spell it right the next time they attempt to make peace with the Elves.

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“No.” Nehtamo would say, throwing the message away after reading it

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Some Dark elves in some cave remember when Oren killed Avurak Syllar, barely even forty years have passed since then. Oren has always made itself clear when it comes to the Mali’ker not white washing within their city. 

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2 hours ago, ThatFunkyBunch said:

Some Dark elves in some cave remember when Oren killed Avurak Syllar, barely even forty years have passed since then. Oren has always made itself clear when it comes to the Mali’ker not white washing within their city. 

 

William Napier remembers when they elected a Mali’ker Senator to represent the citizenry of the Kingdom of Renatus.

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Posted (edited)
4 hours ago, Hanrahan said:

 

William Napier remembers when they elected a Mali’ker Senator to represent the citizenry of the Kingdom of Renatus.

“The Dark elves of the Concordat  will laugh. For any Mali’ker that lives within the Kingdom of Renatus are white washed, Azulites, heretics. Traitors to their kin and Luara. As such, their own ancestors demand them dead. Daichia highly encourages a cultural lesson to better understand as to why the dark elves may be displeased with Valah that try to force those blessed of Luara to their own being. Giving them false hope of the seven skies they shall never reach. The Mali’ker return to Stargush’Stroh as the ancestors always intended. Beneath Velulaei’s guidance and Luara’s light. The Mali’ker know their history more now than ever. Not once single apology.  The Mali’ker you speak of is no doubt a heretic. I likely remember them. We barred them from Vira’ker for their human ties. There are simply somethings that one may never understand of one another. To long have the Mali’ker been misguided from the Moon Mothers most holy light. It is now that most of us see it. To the Mali’ker hiding within the realm, refusing to see the light of Luara. Our eyes are upon you. The eyes of the ancestors never left you. Those that follow the Valah beliefs are heretics, any Mali’ker that offers praise to Xan, or the Aspects. The Mali’ker have not forgotten the Mori, nor that the druids still teach of the Spider. 

Asking allies of a race you have never tried to help is foolish. You cut off the ears of Mali’ker, this only stopped within fifteen or so years. Maybe twenty. Forty past that, Renatus slaughters a leader of the dark elven people at the time. You offer us prisons of  thin walls, cut ears, and hateful looks. Only if the Mali’ker become white washes for you, do you offer them a shred of  kindness. Few of you are kind, but I remember telling someone of my dedication to Luara. To which that of Renatus gave me a sour look. I knew then that it wasn't gone. For each of these lands, Renatus attempts to vassal the elves. The Dark elves have always been targets. You grow old, as a race sons of Horen. You may think us to be the most ancient. It is indeed the sons of Horen that should think of their own past and their ancestors. Once, we fought along side one another. But with Ibless gone, in time the sons of Horen would turn to the other races of the realms. To release their rage. There are many guilty, and all though the actions of some of the Aheral will forever leave the dark elves they trapped beneath their city touched. Even the Mali’thill had given the Mali’ker an apology for such. The last time we asked for justice of Oren. They mocked us and laughed at us. They have killed countless dark elves. But a few hundred years ago, the sons of  Horen made it a sport to nail dark elves to crosses. This practice itself didn’t end quickly.  

When you see dark elves in your human city. Worshiping your GOD. Know, they are heretics to their kin. The very people that made their blood lines, which demand a return to the ways of old or  their death. The days of the Mali’ker looking from Luara are over. Our eyes are upon the Goddess, The Ivory Wolf, Salvation of the Mali’ker. I find it strange, all the races speak to the dark elves the same. As if we join you and become like you, we’ll be great. The Mali’ker, faithful to Luara, are already great. Our souls were saved long before your grand fathers great grand father was around.  It is through Luara we are saved eternal.  To these Mali’ker that white wash themselves. You must repent. By Velulaei’s will, the might of Luara’s faithful  will wipe your blood line from the trace of the earth, as the great mighty Khel once did, I feel another great dark elven racial purge comes. The ancient clans stir, do not stand in our way, people of Arcas, as we hunt our heretical kin. Be you Dark Magi, voidal magi, Druid, or Xan worshippers. Xionist, Canonist, or any other religion. Without Luara’s blessing. You will fall onto the ground with a fit of rage and insanity. Azulites work with humanity, no doubt. These dangerous heretics delight only in pain. Many dark elves in your human citities are Azulites. No doubt, Dark magic and torment is all an Azulite thinks of.”

Edited by ThatFunkyBunch

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6 hours ago, ThatFunkyBunch said:

Some Dark elves in some cave remember when Oren killed Avurak Syllar, barely even forty years have passed since then. Oren has always made itself clear when it comes to the Mali’ker not white washing within their city.

 

Illythia sweats, remembering when she cut off his head then delivered all but it back to Vira’ker. She aswell remembered being granted the title Grand Marshal of Renatus, and later Oren, reviving a military- then being forced into retirement. Quickly she grew irritated and went to continue forging blades for the AIS forces, and her elven bretheren. 

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3 minutes ago, SquakHawk said:

 

Illythia sweats, remembering when she cut off his head then delivered all but it back to Vira’ker. She aswell remembered being granted the title Grand Marshal of Renatus, and later Oren, reviving a military- then being forced into retirement. Quickly she grew irritated and went to continue forging blades for the AIS forces, and her elven bretheren. 

 

 

eyes

 

Daichia sits within the sub caverns, taking travel beneath his hallow home and the city of New Magara’lin. From time to time, his mind wonders. To un-faithful Ker. Or Ker that were once un-faifthful. Many giving praise to Xan, Aspects that would enslave the Dark Elves, A GOD that will never let you into its great city. The ‘ker rose a moment. To make a little list. Of Ker that ought to be paid a visit. ”As the Primarch decrees, for the will of the ancestors and Luara. Save those we can, warn those that don’t listen,  kill any that would bring Mali’ker from Luara’s light.”

 

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