A Chief's Statement

[RachelPotato 59]

[!] A letter would be found pinned to trees and posts in Elvenesse. Some would also be delieved to others outside the nation by an older barn owl.

 

Aboard Malinic Ship GOLDEN WIND, in North Harbor, Amaethea

 

To all to whom this may come, greetings:

 

Desiring a clear account be made of the objections against the right honorable Lord Exarch Evar'tir Oranor, Adjudicator of Malchediael, etc., which lead to the withdrawal of his nomination for High Prince of the Crown of Elvenesse, I have set them here.

 

The said honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues, being anxious to assure the Ithelanen Seed of their esteem despite that family's well-known enmity towards the Crown, subjected Laetranis ap Tahorran, Coyote Druid, my father and predecessor in the captaincy of my Seed, to three punishments of increasing damage and indignity for the same supposed offense against the Ithelanen: first flogged on the orders of the honorable Lord Exarch; then surrendered to the Ithelanen that they might strike off a hand and an ear, put out his eyes, and draw his teeth; and finally banished from the lands of the Crown.  Before and during the intervals between each of these acts, the honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues provided us with assurances that Laetranis would not suffer, or would not suffer further; these were of little value in the fact.

 

While these indignities were under contemplation and with Orkish or Ithelanen action an immediate threat, I desired the Council provide some guarantees of the safety of my seed, as is the customary duty of overlords, and received no reply to my very modest proposals to that end.

 

The failure of the policy of the honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues as it concerns my seed undoubtedly contributed to the death of one of my relatives, of which we had news only when his skin was discovered to have been worn as a coat by an Orc.

 

Considering these actions, and the manner in which they were carried out, I am obliged to perceive a cavalier attitude among the honorable Lord Exarch and his colleagues towards my relatives and accordingly I, when given the chance, did not support the nomination of either sitting Councilor for High Prince.

 

I desire this letter be considered but an elaboration of my statement in the recent court of the Council, and to reassure my readers, particularly those who may sit upon the Council, of my sustained loyalty to the Crown of Elvenesse and that of my relatives; the manner with which we are habitually treated has only deepened my belief in the necessity for unity among all our people. I have only the best hopes for the amicable elevation of a worthy successor to his Grace the High Prince and I will work united with my brother- and sister-chiefs to this end and for the maintenance of our city in service of our people. 

 

Rylleah ap Tahorran

LEADER OF THE PEOPLE OF NEMGLAN

    

 

[Juno. 1276]

“Aspects be with you lari’onn..” The Fox Druid hummed from within her grandparents’ den, folding up the notice and placing it in her pocket as she meditated by the fire.

[TwiSama 331]

"They will not get away from what they did to my family. Never again.. I shall speak against them once more if I must, I will do anything for my family and people.." Tahlia would say as she sat in study room, reading a the note, then placing it aside to once more read her book.

[TwistedFries 426]

“Oh my... What have they done... Aspects be with those who knew Laetranis... If only Syllia was still here, she might have then been able to do something to protect this forsaken nation from this dark path.” Said Becclain, the Hummingbird Druid as he frowned. 

[ronin_champloo 5951]

"They should've skinned more." Konrad mused, lips tinged onto a mirthful smile.

[latte 1310]

"how low does Welvenesse have to go to skin one of its own?" questioned a 'thill in disgust.

[Keefy 2047]

A Dragaar in another realm remembers a certain Hound Druid killing masses of imps after being stranded in the wilds for a month, and wonders how he could have instigated such punishments in a city at the same time. Taynei shrugs and keeps doing dragon stuff.

 

Hareven eats some berries or some ****.

[Mavromino 513]

A certain grey-haired, though surprisingly youthful, man mutters to himself. "All the information we had said that the Evar'tir guy was gone, pretty from the entire world, during the time this skinning thing happened. How on earth could he have been responsible? Elves, they're crazy." 

[Kalehart 1062]

"Oh, come now," the Lord Marshal mutters as he looks over the paper, alone in his office with a grimace on his features, "we had no part in his death. Evar'tir wasn't even present for much of what this speaks of."

 

Shuffling through the papers on his desk, a dejected sigh leaves the 'aheral as he rests forwards with his head in his hand, "And as I'd feared, not even a single new applicant. How can we rise above these cruel indignities, if our people won't lend us their blades?"

 

"Without the strength to hold firm, we bend, or we break."

 

OOC:

 

[Waibiao 372]

41 minutes ago, Kalehart said:

"Oh, come now," the Lord Marshal mutters as he looks over the paper, alone in his office with a grimace on his features, "we had no part in his death. Evar'tir wasn't even present for much of what this speaks of."

 

Shuffling through the papers on his desk, a dejected sigh leaves the 'aheral as he rests forwards with his head in his hand, "And as I'd feared, not even a single new applicant. How can we rise above these cruel indignities, if our people won't lend us their strength?"

 

"Without the strength to hold firm, we bend, or we break."

 

OOC:

 

Spoiler

Bump

 

[The Media Wizard 2954]

 

Amaesil Vuln'miruel reads the missive all the way through before a slow exhale escapes his nose. The young elf folds the paper at the crease and places it smoothly into his maroon robes. Looking out across the woodland city at dusk had become a pastime of his in the last few years. Times of struggle and hardship compelled him up the steep cliff face above the inner gate to see the best views. The hound that lived atop that mountain — who Amaesil had named 'Mountain Dog' — had fallen asleep nearby as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The city was bathed in warm, golden light.

 

Still, Amaesil frowned. His heart was heavy and his ego was wounded; how could it not be?

 

The revelations had become political. A game was being played and the Young Fox had become its greatest loser. He had not lost his ability to play, of course, but his willingness to believe that this was the correct way had waned. The elves he had trusted in and served for years had betrayed him and the city alike. The worst part, though, was how unapologetic they had become. "Is this what is to become of us?" he asked toward the sleeping hound. The hound gave no response.

[CRP Goon 71]

Soon after it had been read, the missive was crumpled up in Oryl's hands and tossed into the corner of his room. There it sat, quite unlike the carvings and sketches adorning his many shelves. The 'ame rose to his feet, wood shavings falling from his lap and across his dusty floor. He paced over towards the barrels full of weapons, and drew a short blade of elven design from its scabbard, rolling it over in his hands. 
"Never before has such a disgrace been brought down upon the name of that which I draw bow and blade to defend."
Oryl crossed the room with his sword in hand, setting it neatly atop the table, and retrieved a raven's feather to rest upon it. Subtle smoke from a lit cigar idly burning where he had left it drifted over the feather and blade as one.
"Sons of eagles may your weary souls be at peace, for your flesh and honor has been discarded by those we so freely pledge our loyalty to."
With his jaw set and his heart heavy, he knelt before the weapon and the feather, the scent of rich, smoky amber filling his nose as he closed his eyes and lowered his head.
"Great ones who guide my hand and heart, I lay my blade before you. I'm full of anger, disgust and spite. Grant me but a piece of the faith I held when first this weapon was forged. For my kin, my creed, my honor... grant me strength and peace of mind to stand for those who look to me for guidance, and calm my wayward spirit."
It was here the warrior remained. Fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestled with what he felt inside. He was torn by feelings of betrayal and disgust, and with his first blade and the feather of his patron's kin before him, sought answers to the questions his heart and mind alike seemed to be begging.

[DragonofTaters 470]

A pink haired Mali scratched his head in perplexity. Pulling a stub of charcoal from his pocket, the fellow wrote a quick note at the bottom of the page. He’d then proceed around the city, marking any more documents he found in the same manner.

 

’He was out fishing during that chaos. Man missed his own wedding. He really isn’t responsible for that.’

[Xx_BloodStalk_xX 2120]

A disgruntled expression was met with the missive in his hands as he wandered down the path from Elvenesse, having snagged a missive upon his travels nearby. The thing that bewildered him the most was the matriarch's report on the Red Coyote's pelt, a slight grimace being brought upon his features. He soon rolled the missive up between both hands, keeping it within a tight grasp. The Dark Lord was neither humbled nor offered pity to those involved, only feeling something futile.