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Othelu Orrar, Prophet of Larihei


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OTHELU ORRAR, PROPHET of LARIHEI

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Mali’thill of the blessed Silver State of Haelun’or, this missive goes out to all your ears in hopes you recognize that we, the Mali’aheral have been blessed by Larihei with her greatest servant, sent to us in our time of need and desperation to set things straight and put forth a new age of High Elven Greatness. That Prophet who has been sent to us is Othelu Orrar, the Sohaer of our blessed State. For to long, we have been blinded by this prophet sent to us by the purest of the pure, the first Maheral, our Blessed Lady Larihei; and like all prophets Othelu’s words ring true and strong in the hearts of our people. Let this missive be proof of the miracles he has done, and convince you that Othelu Orrar should become the sole, absolute ruler of all High Elves throughout Almaris and beyond, channeling the will of Larihei through his genius.

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DESTRUCTION of THE CORRUPT
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The old regime, the failed, bloated, disgusting Haelun’orian republic was a failure of a state. This dark age in our history saw our people debase with the lowest of the low: impures of all kind. Ranging from lessers, tainted High Elves, and even mystical creatures that would love nothing more then to see us dead. However then came Othelu, blazing forth with the blades of Larihei as he pushed the corrupt out of their homes and wrote upon us a new Rule of Law which sees us elevated to that of a strong nation. No longer shall we be subjected to the whims of foreign powers. The Sohaer as put us on a path that shall see us rise like a phoenix into a new age: the Age of the Elves.

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BLADE of JUSTICE

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With the rise of the Sohaer, the rise of our armies have come at last. Mali’thill of all ages and social class have begun to join the blessed El’Sillumiran to do their parts for the state. The lost art of war has begun to return. Soon our warriors shall be worth a hundred men in their own right. Each one shall carry the strength of an army, the wraith of thousand elves. Their blades shall sing the songs of justice as they cleave into the hearts of darkness that seek to undermine the will of the Prophet of Larihei!

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BEEFEST of MALI

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The image detailed in this missive shows us clearly that the Sohaer, Othelu Orrar, is at PEAK PHYSICAL CONDITION. Look at those abs, those biceps. By eating the Haelun’or Beefeater Burgers and flexing his strength upon the impures, the Sohaer has proven that the Mali’aheral are capable of great things. Will you push for such pureness of the body?
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SCHOLAR of IDEALS

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It is quite clear that the Sohaer is full of great ideas. His mind blessed by the Pure Lady Larihei. Genius spreads out from his very words. All who listen to him are enlightened by his ideas. His Charisma is a burning passion that shall make all listen to him. For I say now that unwavering loyalty to Othelu Orrar, Greatest of the Sohaers is not a crippling burden, but a righteous privilege granted by the purest of our people by Larihei herself.
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CONCLUSION

 

The conclusion of this missive is quite clear. The Sohaer is our great leader and shall lead us on a road to salvation to liberate our people from the shackles of the past. No longer will we be subjected to the whims of others, but to the strong silver will of Larihei herself

Hail Haelun’or, Hail the Sohaer!


Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya

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Edited by King_Kunuk
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The Okarir'sil pasted the missive on his refrigerator door.

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The Sohaer pasted the missive on his refrigerator door.

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The Okarir'maehr pasted the missive on her refrigerator door.

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The Okarir'nor pasted the missive on his refrigerator door.

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The Okarir’mali pasted the missive on her refrigerator door.

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The Okarir'san pasted the missive on his refrigerator door.

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Celiasul is concerned with the cult personality forming, but awkwardly goes with it.

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Sarrion tossed the missive in his fireplace at home. No one was present to see it - so they couldn't hear his witty one liner that usually goes with such an action. In fact, how do you even know this happened in the first place?

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Elle Laraethryn’s brow slowly arched upwards as she stood and read the missive with her arms crossed loosely and lazily. “I have faith in our Sohaer, as much as tbe next, but seriously? Pick me! Pick me!” She’d mockingly chime before tossing the document into a waste bin. 

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Haskir pasted the missive on his refrigerator door.

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Malithor would take a moment to read over the missive, a derisive snort escaping him as he crumpled up the paper. “Haelun’orian scum-” he’d mutter, tossing the paper lazily into the fireplace. He would smirk as he returned to his recliner, his eyes shutting as he drifted off. His rest was only made better by his witty response.

 

Smoke. It was the first thing he saw as his eyes startled awake, his hands moving nursingly to his burn-covered throat. His desperate gasps for air denied by the thick smog that now permeated the room. His eyes would dart around in a primal panic, the ‘thill watching helplessly as the crimson flames scaled the walls of his cherished home.

 

He would stumble hastily to the ground, his belly twisting as he crawled towards the exit, the sound of the flame-eaten wood crackling loudly in ears, though it was soon to be dwarfed by the shrill screams of his beloved family. He would freeze as he reached the exit, his ash-covered face contorting as he realized his children and wife were still trapped inside. He would pause; his next thought damning him to a lifetime of guilt. For but a second, he dreamed of escaping alone. Saving himself instead of his cherished kin. But like the life he had built, the current thought would go up in flames. His eyes narrowed as he was filled with a new resolve, the resolve of a father.

 

He would with a determined howl turn back towards the cries of his young, crawling over ash and ember towards the sounds of his family. The floor would light a clear enough path, as flames licked up from the gaps in the boards. As he moved down the hallway, he would see before him an impossible choice. To his right his dear wife Fle’Elamef, trapped under the weight of a massive pillar, her legs crushed and pinned to the ground. To his left, the squeals of his two young, each of them cowering in the corners of their room. 

 

His eyes would bulge as he watched the scene, his bleeding lips quivering as he struggled to come to grips with his situation. He would weep loudly, as he thought on his impossible scenario, his blistered fingers slowly dragging him towards the room with his children, his eyes slamming shut as the stinging smoke seared them close. His hesitation, however, would prove to be fatal, as the support beams began collapsing around him. The house would in its entirely crumble, the previous light he once saw dimming into near-total darkness. 

 

He opened his eyes once more, his body aching from the raining barrage of wood and stone. He would stare ahead dazedly, a small tunnel of light illuminating a narrow path, a tunnel to the outside world. He would crawl towards it, wailing the names of his wife and children, pleading to the heavens for their forgiveness. As he reached the exit he would be blinded by the bright light, his vision vanishing momentarily. When his vision returned, he would look around at the scene before him. Several poorly dressed Mali’ame were dancing around the flames, appearing to have mistaken his burning home for one of their treasured bonfires. He would look on with sullen eyes, his earlier wails having been lost to the primal hoots and yelps of the Mali’ame. He would stare at the nearest elfess as she read her missive, a smirk rising to her face. “Stupid Haelun’orians.” she’d chide, tossing the paper into the inferno that was once his life.

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29 minutes ago, Tox said:

Sarrion tossed the missive in his fireplace at home. No one was present to see it - so they couldn't hear his witty one liner that usually goes with such an action. In fact, how do you even know this happened in the first place?

 

Emergent from that Arch-Magus' closet, a wolven maw would seem to part the wooden threshold...

 

It knows.

 

@Tox

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The former Sohaer Iyathir begrudgingly pasted the missive on her refrigerator door. 

 

"Unbelievable..."

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@OhDeerLord

 

Leniandir comes into Dwyn's house with this missive in her hands, showing it to him curiously, "Papa, what teh fock ehs wrong wit' theh white elves?" She asked as she pointed to the very strange sections of the papers that she'd found in Haelunor.

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