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Caelria

A Call: Restoration of Tradition and Silver

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*A posting is hammered to doors and noticeboards throughout the city.*

 

The nature of being a Mali’aheral to exist in an ever flowing, ever contrasting stream of old and new. Old traditions upheld by new people. Old people forcing new changes. Guardians of the old standing against new progress, and guardians of progress rallying against the old.

 

There is progress, and there is health. There is forward change, and there is the traditional heart of the nation.

 

This is tradition and silver. The lifeblood that makes up the Mali’aheral.

 

When tradition, the heart of our nation, is threatened; it is the eternal duty of our people to be vigilant against those who would threaten it. On this every Mali’aheral agrees. Where they often disagree is their source and form. Sometimes they come in the form of our enemies, and sometimes they come in the form of our friends. Most often they come in the form of ideas.

 

Like the eternal flow of contrast between progress and health, the line between an idea that challenges tradition and an idea that embodies our future is often tumultuous and murky. The rewards vary from mind to mind, pitting allies against one another, creating discontent, causing turmoil, and generating revolution in our state.

 

This too is a representation of the ever flowing, ever contrasting stream of old and new.

 

Today, the city of Haelun’or stands on a precipice. Representatives of the new with no memory of the old, but bearing old allies in the shadows who instruct their every move, seek to command control in the name of what they consider to be progress. They command this control against many of the old themselves. Representatives of tradition. The form this progress will ultimately take only they know. Such is the normal in Elven politics, where the written plans often end at power’s acquisition.

 

Make no mistake that this is a period of decline. The city may appear at a glance to be running as normal despite the hushed voices and knives in the dark, but a war rages on the cobblestones of Haelun’or. A war of ideas that has divided our people. A war between the traditionalists, and the silver council. A war of tradition and silver. A war that has taken the life of our blessed Maheral. A war that has seen our council attacked. A war that has seen our government take to hiding away behind steel doors underground, as if the city itself were occupied.

 

This war has taken much from us already, and it will take more if nothing is done. For a war between tradition and silver is tantamount to a body wounding itself; and while the High Elven state has already suffered greatly, this war bears the potential to do more than divide and damage. It has the potential to destroy. Progress can come only in one form. A return to tradition.

 

To this end, I call upon silver to concede to tradition. To look to the people their council is supposed to represent, and to afford them the representation they deserve.

 

I call upon Okarir’indor Kinahen Athrilum to resign immediately from their office for gross incompetence in the face of threat, and a violation of their oath to protect and give honor and breath to the Maheral as their office demands.

 

I call upon the Sohaer, and the whole of her remaining council, to put their offices to public election - as we did in the past - that the people might be represented by a Mali of their choosing rather than a Mali selected for them by a tyrant.

 

I call upon the Malaurir who influence the current silver council from the shadows, delivering whispers into their ear to broaden their power or consolidate their legacy, to cease in their destructive behaviors.

 

I call for peace in our homes, and in our city, under a government that loves its people and who its people love as we did before tyrants instead commanded their fear.

 

I call upon these things not as one Mali, but as the voice of the Mali in the city who are downtrodden by a council that no longer serves its people, but who instead expects its people to serve it. By Larihei, let your people choose.

 

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“It is shocking that we’ve come to this-- had the council simply changed the one law back to normal, maintained the balance, admitted to the one fault... but no-- they only continue to damage themselves,” Earnest muttered as he read the publication. 

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”Our blessed nation is distraught in these bleak times, our traditions tainted by those that claim power for the sake of power.”, an Uradir mutters in his chambers, reading the missive with nods, “A restoration of Tradition and Silver truly is warranted, for elmaehr’sae hiylun’ehya and for preserving the sanctity of our blessed people.”

 

“Ay’Haelun’or, Ay’Thilln, Ay’maehr’sae hiylun’ehya.”

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*It is noted that at some point Iatrilemar Elervathar has vacated the silver capital. A simple note is left*
 

Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya

Iatrilemar Elervathar 

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Aeron Valaker’s eyes and teeth sparkle slightly in the candle light as his face contorts into a fiendish grin. “Ay’Healun’or he’d state sarcastically the grin slowly fading. The Aheral’s gaze shifts lazily over to the candle light which he would look past revealing a locked metal filing cabinet. Nodding the man sets the pages on top of a large stack of papers which he had not bothered to organize earlier. As The High Elves gaunt hand struggles in its searches for the key the Aheral mutters some words about “Wraiths” and “Foolish Ome’ii” with a groan he would re button his coat, instead reaching into his trousers leftmost pocket and producing the key. After sorting the documents in there correct places he would nod contently patting himself on the back mentally before looking back to his work, continuing on the very important message he was preparing.

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Dimaethor Elervathar waved Elesia over, idly patting her head as he restlessly looked around in the empty residence. The inherent corrosive nature of the nation had caught up with them, and not enough attention had been put into the ever-relevant struggle against those strong forces. Opportunism held progress hostage and the destructive path of these ‘politicians’ our health. He slept poorly, if at all, fear of impure intruders. The Citizenry had asked for their aid, but this confidence was conditional, and we had ruled for true justice,  which happened not to be in line with their political agenda. A peculiar bitterness had taken the former Sohaer and Maheral. It had only taken a decade since the Elervathar resignation for it all to fall apart.

 

The crates were packed. Was it time? Daddy Iatrilemar had departed.. perhaps the family should follow.

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The Elervathar child had become encompassed in confusion and riddled in the fear that her home had been cursed through the impure actions of others. Her parents roamed around the near-desolate halls of the manor, in constant argument about topics unbeknownst to her. Elesia prepared for the worst, procuring recollection of her most valuable possessions— her vast assortment of teddies.

 

“Hmh...” There was a moment of mute thought, as she attempted the arduous quest to select her favourite for the possible change ahead. “You. You... You, too.” Another call, to the cat that followed her. “Come along. We’ve quite the trip.” Dimaethor had called for her, and in that moment she had to depart.

 

The child offered her room a final digestive observation, soft countenance creased in her squinted visage— until her blue-gradient orbs fall unto Iaria, once and for all, buoyant smile growing upon her puffy cheeks. Hastily, the small Elervathar began a rapid hop towards her father, forcefully curling her arms around his figure. 

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*A second posting is added as several of the more imperial homes in the Silver City begin to show signs of vacancy.*

 

Already tyrants flee in the face of tradition, abandoning their opulent manors and ivory towers to wait out the storm in their summer homes.

Let us hope that as allies of tyranny continue to abandon their city in the face of losing the power and control they covet so dearly, the city’s return to tradition will be expedited.

 

ay’Larihei.

 

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On 6/9/2020 at 2:49 AM, Caelria said:

I call upon the Sohaer, and the whole of her remaining council

“Always knew he was a she. I mean, she was a she...” Da’ve uttered, scratching his chin upon this revelation 

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