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The Death of The Tahorrans


RachelPotato
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[!] A piece of parchment is spread through the realm to anywhere that is relevant, it holds only a few words.

 

"The deed is done. The Tahorran's are dead."

 

The paper is not signed, one can only assume what this means.

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Alaesia would simply say

 


before going back on with her day... 

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Evar'tir leans back in his seat after a rather taxing day. He scans the missive delivered by courier. "A means to an end." He murmured, sending a letter off to his brother.

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A Particular Elfess would nod in abject approval of such a missive.

 

"Good, let the ael'mali pay for what they did to Vulen..."

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The One-Eyed Coyote grinned toothily.

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A surviving elfess prone to sporadic outbursts and ritualistic dancing akin to a crab -  of said seed by blood cackled manically as she hid in the depths of a shoddy and overgrown forest - hands wringing as she sang the hymn of her people. But she probably would never come out anyways. Yeah.

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"I warned him, all those years ago."

 

Avius Csarathaire rumbled to himself in a manner that sounded distinctly unphased. Despite that, unsettled eyes ran over the line-long text again and again. The 'ame shook his head and, without a second thought, threw the parchment into the flames.

 

"I warned him."

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Erilian Oranor nodded his head in approval. "Maybe I can return to Elvenesse after all." He commented, having heard of the news by word of mouth.

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A lowly acolyte hails the Prince of Elvenesse, green book in hand. 

 

"Aspects protect our Oranor!" he proclaims, saluting.

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