Crisis; A Call to Wyrvun's Devotees

[Monkee 7369]

 

 

From the frost-stricken lands of Fin'hesin, a missive spreads across Almaris upon a northern wind.

 

"To those who would serve Wyrvun, Aengul of the Deep Cold:

 

'Death' is empty. 'Sacrifice' is dead. 'Justice' is disavowed.

 

An Archvigilant, that of 'Death', was corrupted by the forces of darkness; a vampiric fiend. Such sacrilege - and in one of our most sacred havens - is an attack upon Wyrvun himself. Our nascent Vigilants stand alone against the mounting threat. The Archvigilant of 'War' calls for conclave. Ours is an order of values. Inaction is not among them.

 

Those who stand as Novitiates, now is your time; your trials must be completed.

 

Those Isvinites who would serve Wyrvun, now is your time; the ranks of the Vigilants call to you.

 

Those who dwell upon the Rimeveld, now is your time; you live upon Wyrvun's realm. Convert to Isvinity, or your soul will wander the mortal plane for an eternity.

 

Sons and daughters of winter, now is your time; seek Wyrvun.

 

Sincerely,

'Hope'

 

______________________________________________________________________________

[[Conclave will be held Friday at 7pm EST in the crypts beneath the Fennic Remnants. People interested in the Vigilants (or who just wanna spectate) are encouraged to attend! Hoping to spread Isvinity RP beyond the Snow Elves!]]

[Epistile 856]

The Huntsman held the missive within his hands, quickly crumbling up the parchment after digesting its contents. A frown came upon his face, the Araaloq's one beloved becoming subject to hunting by his brothers and sisters. 

[Callum 1009]

'War' would be deep in thought, glancing over his plans for the attack, turning to those few around "Let us hope there is still time for her" he then moves to prepare

[Morigung-oog 5697]

"So quick are the 'Fenn to turn on one of their own.. And twice. I've seen bloodthirsty uruks who believe more in redemption than these fools." A certain 'thill remarked as news reached her at long last, though she was by no means unhappy. In fact, Valindra was beside herself with glee, letting out a maniacal laugh at the news. "Justice delivered to the so-called vigilant of justice, though. Oh, how the tables have turned!"

[OddOllie123 255]

The vigilant of seclusion lifted himself up from the couch in multiple awkward motions. Once upright, the 'Fenn reached for his cane and moved over to the fireplace. Thoughts endlessly propelled around his mind after scanning over the missive. Though none of these were formed verbally as he dropped it into the flames. 

[NolandTheNovice 276]

The Vigilant of Resolve set the parchment down upon his desk. "Our sanctity has been breached, our creed...tainted." Eying the ornate ritual dagger, his gaze drifted up to the dragon skull that hang upon his wall, divine purpose rang in his voice. "It must be cleansed."

[Unwillingly 18096]

This letter only reached Penance after he had long left the chill-ridden Rimeveld, now venturing into the southern territories of Almaris. A thoughtful grumble erupted from his throat before he'd fold the letter.

 

Where has our childhood gone, Ryunthur and Kindrel? We do not deserve this. 

[Isvinity 729]

Some words are untranslatable - not in that there is no way to redefine them, but sometimes they simply lose meaning. Sometimes they gain meaning. The same could be said of these two who sit across from one another, both bodies twisted into something new and different, parts of their old selves lost in the translation. "If I tell them of my suffering, will they sympathize?" A low, throaty chuckle from the dusk-eyed elfess. Across the table, her confidante drawls amusedly, "Perhaps they will tell stories of your pain and they will feel sorry for you." Then they laugh, together, in that hive of unbridled hedonism, for what bewitching predators need to leave a space for thought of the scared bleating of sheep and sycophants? And yet - ... a bitterness rises, unease climbing the length of her throat.

[Harold 3386]

Prince Sigirath Tundrak III finds the parchment in a darkened corner of the cesspit he would reside in now. His ears clipped, and his face angry from a life spent away from his peoples. His father, the exiled one, would flash before his eyes and his face grew dark. 

“I am on my way.”