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To Xan's Paladins, A Letter


rukio
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((The contents of this post are for Paladins only. Non-paladins would not have access and therefore should not reply/act on this information IRP))

 

“Another...and another...and another. How bold they have gotten.” Ezyl murmurs, an idle yawn escaping her, concealed by her left hand as it often was. Over the elven days she had begun to notice the Azdrazi, emboldened for some unknown reason, no longer bothering to hide under those disguises they tended towards as much. Even the heralds had grown bolder, displaying power in front of masses. Her eyes close, briefly, and she sighs. “I see now why you were always so tired, ti?” With a laugh in the form of a quiet exhale, she would begin to pen many letters, all of them the same:

 

To the Paladins of Xan,

 

To preface this letter I wish to state that I am not eloquent in my writing. My duty is not to the pen, nor to the paper but instead it is to Xan’s purpose, as we all are. I also wish to preface this with the acknowledgement that we are not the singular, united force that the Paladins once were. Our groups have splintered, irremediable slights have caused a divide so severe that uniting under one banner in one room leads to nothing but the disconnection of those the majority opposes. Yet still, we are brothers and sisters in arms beneath Xan’s vision. It is time we act like it.

 

In the past the Azdrazi were content to walk the realm as mortals, disguised beneath the veil of a descendant’s form. We are all aware of this trick, how their true form breaths smoke, their true skin is that of scales, and horns protrude from their skulls. In the past they were content to hide this disfigured, abhorrent appearance. Yet, in recent times, as I am confident others have seen, and have pointed out, they grow bolder. No longer in Yong Ping do they disguise themselves, instead they willingly walk among descendants, worshipped as gods. In Haense and Oren they breathe smoke, summon their flames, and wave away natural flame to draw fear and respect from the citizenships. 

 

For too long we have let our own animosity get the better of us, letting it divide order from order and brother from brother. We have let our own goals and desires ruin our reputation in lands we are sworn to protect. I fear it is time to put away our disdain for each other and unite just as we did against the Inferi, against our aengul’s nemesis’ ilk, the Azdrazi and their heralds. Their disguised forms matter little, as I am confident they are capable of changing these forms at will, or with some great effort, just as alchemy has been used to disguise descendants in the past. 

 

To begin, I propose we create a list of those we have confirmed and those suspected of this atrocity, of their disguised second lives. From my own studies I know this as fact: The Laraethryn family are all Azdrazi and Heralds. From my own suspicions I believe Celialsil, Ravondir, Elradir, and Zodd Calliban to be Heralds at the least, though some may be Azdrazi by now and some may have had this affliction removed. As well, I have 'killed' one disguised azdrazi whose form took that of a man with half a shaved head, a yellow-golden right eye, and an eyepatch concealing the left eye, his nature having been confirmed by his return to ash and dust once cut down. 

 

The time to work together is now. The time to find out who has been swayed, who has been turned, and who can still be pulled back from the brink of this destructive and unholy branding is now. The Inferi Crisis showed us well enough what inaction leads to.

 

- Ezyl Grey

 

[!]

A dog would deliver these letters to those connected to Xan. Those familiar with Adelith/Ezyl would recognize the dog to be Oddwig, her warhound.

 

 

Edited by rukio
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Upon Oddwig’s arrival, an ‘ame and another warhound— stockier and larger, but older by comparison— approach the familiar beast. A shrouded hand extends to seize the delivered letter. The figure curls a grip against the letter, before turning and sauntering to where he previously sat. In the meantime, the two hounds busied themselves with a reunion.

 

A disheveled sigh parts the ‘ame’s pursed lips as he broodingly set the letter aside. Deep concern burrowed beneath his scarred complexion, only shown through the scowl that now rested upon his features. With a troublesome rasp, the ‘ame mused aloud. “When blood is inevitably spilled, we must pray t'at it seeps between t'eir scales.” 

 

With a conclusive grunt, the ‘ame roughly crumples the letter between gloved digits and lobs it towards the room’s opposite wall. The parchment landed in a roaring hearth, soon being enveloped by a roaring fire. The embers licked against the object of ink and paper, before leaving it in an ashen state. And as the ‘ame sat amidst his thoughts, he felt the unease that persisted amidst the flame— taunting and worrying his youthful mind. 

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"They look at a fire they can never have. Why do they hate? Why do they despair? Under masks of steel you haunt our creed, from a god that shatters palaces and mounts your women like steeds. You cry and you torment yourself, not because ill has been done but because my kind persist. Is it - is it you swim in the dark, lashing out, for fear of forever losing purpose in a world of dying magic? I do not envy you, I do not fear you, but I do not hate you. But I will not tolerate you." Spoke some grotesque creature of dark skin, wreathed in robes. Horns protruded from it's head, and it voiced its concerns aloud on some plateau, for none but the wind, the rocks and trees to hear.

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The Herald of Azdromoth and friend of Ezyl Grey, Haskir, stood stalwart against the siege of frost trolls invading Haense at the time of this missive's writing. He didn't know it'd been written. Azdrazi and herald alike held the line against the bestial army swarming the city walls and gates, dragons fire and ashen weaponry lashing forth alongside explosions of cannon fire in chaotic flashes of light and divine might to strike down the evil that assaulted the stalwart thread of civilization. In his Path to Asioth, the pantera sought no death unto those who bore the spark of Xan, 'lest they misstep. He still didn't -- yet.

 

As the missive was sent forth unto the Paladins of Xan, the Herald of Azdromoth ripped and tore into the Rimetroll beasts with fiery bloodlust, ignorant to the writing.

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From the depths of the crypt, harsh words were uttered in tongues beneath the stone:

 

A clash of flame and gold again:

 

No forge will e'er refine,

 

These wayward men sworn to blood,

 

Who acquiesce to the divine.

 

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An 'Ame of repute would not have received such missive, for she too took to the field as a horde of northern barbarians sought to deliver damnation unto her home. She dared not call upon mist of silver hue, yet e'er more she sent bolt after bolt from an arbalest of Dwedmar make into the assembled army. 

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 A High Elf in plate was busy being stuck in a tree in Haense, therefore not knowing of Ezyl's conspiracy theories about him. If a Paladin of Xan were to come 'round to check, they'd see that their information was false.

Edited by AdmiralLB
fixed the spelling a bit
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9 minutes ago, altiar1011 said:

An 'Ame of repute would not have received such missive, for she too took to the field as a horde of northern barbarians sought to deliver damnation unto her home. She dared not call upon mist of silver hue, yet e'er more she sent bolt after bolt from an arbalest of Dwedmar make into the assembled army. 

The dog appears to return later, after the trolls have died and departed, the same letter within his maw. What a determined little fellow.

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An accused elf and once-friend of Ezyl Grey made his arrival on the isle of Almaris once again, and rushed to the defense of Haense under assault of the Trollkin. He hadn't known of the missive beforehand, and continued to live in ignorance of it. Though he knew that conflict was inevitable.

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Upon Oddwig's arrival after the attack of the trolls, a Mali woman gave the hound many pets and treats before opening the letter. Once she read its contents, she'd suck in a breath in shock. She hadn't dared produce her mists in public and this only confirmed her fears. She tossed the letter into the nearest fire as to not be found with it and set off to find an old friend.

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From her hidden whereabouts, one tiny Heloisa Athna would read over the missive, stuffing a muffin into her mouth. If only she was of age, she'd thought fondly.

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Oswald continues to sleep in his bed.

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Bolvar would tuck the letter away and pat the dog upon its head, offering it a response letter if it should take it back to it's master.

"I care not for the dramatics, unity is seemingly not possible due to it. However, cooperation should be our preferred outcome at this time. I am stationed in Oren's capitol, I have not seen any draconids while I have been around. If you so happen to know of any dwelling within, simply send word with their name or description and I shall do my best to dispatch them. Light guide you, sister.

- Bolvar of Joma"

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