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The Impoverished Mali


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[!] An open letter could be found scattered on message boards across the realm. Below the ornate red sigil, in neat script, the following message was written [!]

 

"Dear Cherished Brethren,

     On a recent expedition into the city of Elvenesse, where I intended to conduct a field study on foreign culture, I came across some terribly concerning information. 
It would seem the citizenry of the Princedom of Elvenesse is terribly penurious! It would seem these elves are so stricken by poverty that they lack the funds for basic clothing. An unnerving two thirds of the people observed were not adequately clothed, a percentage increasing to five sevenths when disregarding the amply outfitted Valah present. 


     I found one poor flaxen-haired elfess who did not have enough robes to cover, to even the bare minimum of modesty, her legs, leaving her frame frigid and weakened.
One elf had only but a pair of trousers, unable to afford even a shirt or shoes, his skin marred more by tattoos than covered by actual cloth, a clear oversight by the leadership of Elvenesse, that scarring ink is more accessible to its people than basic fabric to cover themselves.
A disconcerting four Mali, women and men alike, had only a sash to cover their torso, leaving much of their chests and arms exposed.


     In all my years of study, never before have I laid eyes on such poverty, Mali deprived of the basic necessities for comfort, it brought me to tears, grief pricking at the edges of my eyes as well as my newly broken hart. I implore any and all needing Mali to travel to Elcihi’thilln, the home of the elves, where refuge from this malicious negligance, an afront to moral decency itself, will be offered. 

 

asul lente karinto, evarae ito lye'leh ito Larihei'leh anuh'wyan 

 

The sincerest of condolences,
Malii’lari Llum'saere"

 

 

Edited by ImNerdiie
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Silvyr Uradir reads the letter that was sent to his door. Smiling faintly when he saw the red sigil. "What a poor choice by the so called 'leaders' of Elvenesse! They can't even provide their own people with clothing! Absolutely horrendous. We must crack down on sympathizers, perhaps new laws will be implemented soon..."

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A "sympathetic" Laraethryn ponders on the mali'thill's impoverished, dreadfully clothed cousins, and muses if he should spare but a couple of mina to provide the vagabond Elvenessian population with some suitable sack-cloth.

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Evar'tir considers penning a book on the ins and outs of having an actively populated city for the severely underpopulated 'aheral cousins. He rolls a cigar out of the missive as he does so.

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A 'thill coughs , unfortunately feeling some sort of horrible sympathy for the lessers.

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"How far my people have fallen..." Mutters a ginger 'aheral as he crumples the missive and tosses it into his hearth, a sigh escaping him as his eyes cast upwards. "Reduced to gossip and misinformation, wasting their breath and their potential on... What?" His head shakes, and he frowns whilst refocusing on the flames, "Is it my fault, that they've been reduced to this?"

 

Watching the paper crumble to ash, his fingers steeple and he rests forwards against his knees, head slowly shaking, "Let the Walls of Silver empty, for it seems, only ghosts of what was, remain."

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