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THE WICKEDNESS OF THE IMPERIAL "ELVES"


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Captain var Ruthern would clean and polish his long saber, ready to act in the defense of his Imperial Elven comrades

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Upon reading the Missive Aesar would spit on the floor  "What in the ancestor's name is the bullshit is this. I have stayed loyal to my people, and every Melphestaus is good, regardless of their culture? Plus is anyone tries to harm my family... they have another coming" he would remark ripping it up.

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Just now, 𝖂𝖆𝖌𝖜𝖆𝖓 said:

Captain Sir Robert Archibald Galbraith frowns deeply as he scanned the missive turning to his steadfast Sergeant Holy Sir Hieran Melphaestus "We shall not falter in the defence of the Citizens of the Empire. The criminals who wish harm upon you shall meet the sharp edge of our sabre."

 

 

 

 

 

@bufffsanta

  • The Honourable Judge Hieran nods his head with assurance
    "Of course Captain, we're no Norlander."
    He salutes his captain and good friend with pride, before finishing his tea and raising from his seat
    "You know what they say Sir - Servus Sumus"
    And with that he mounts his great stead along side the 3rd brigade
    "Onwards and upwards chaps, Onwards and upwards"

     

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
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Aver'wyn scans the missive, placing a protective hand across her stomach as she reads more and more of it. A look of harsh anger settles on her face as she goes off to find her husband and other close members of her family, "I cannot let them harm my family."

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The Right Honourable Ensign Duncan 'the fearsome' would read the missive and laugh to himself, setting it on fire "What the ****, some people need their guts ripped out" He would say sharpening his zweihander 'Broken Fury' "Could be fun..."

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The Speaker of the House read the missive giving a shake of his head as he placed it in a drawer. "I worry that this druid has been allowed to eat too many of their precious shrooms... He stated in his own missive that just living with other cultures and religions does not make you a traitor. How then can he confirm myself and others within the estate are so called race traitors, but only knowing our names?"

Thucydides paused his monologue to himself as he peered out his window. "Perhaps this druid would be interested in taking a visit to the estate and speaking rather than ranting into paper. So long as he was capable of remaining civil, I am sure he would be delighted to hear of the druidic friends we have happened to make..."

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Humming comes from a tower far in the west. The humming slowly turns into a light chuckle. "All who have dared to lay a hand on Sylvari... didn't end up any better. That Haelun'or captain face certainly didn't look any better. Let's see how many come out and challenge me... She lays under MY protection and I will not fail." 

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"For once, in my entire life. I agree with the elves of  the hellish woods." Alyssa Seregon would say after throwing the artcle away while getting a pedicure before her manicure. 

 

Spoiler

 

Woopies! Sorry, Orenian Elf players!

 

 

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"One draws steel, shedding blood for his legacy.  Two take the bait, besmirched to live amidst lies. Blinded by hate, they bicker and fight."

 

An ashen man murmured in smooth baritone, his words creeping with the tinge of bemusement. His hands left the rag, and he opted to sit upon a stool -- atop of the counter now laid his boots, eyes glazed in thought as they'd glance at the distant pebbles amidst a road.

 

"Tell me, for a race that once seemed to bright, is desecrating the past truly right?"

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“Thank Malin somebody finally said something - hundreds of years of mali genocide to the likes of valah .. and yet here they are,” Commented April, glancing over her shoulder to say something witty to her cousin Seraphite , before frowning  as she remembered she wasn’t there anymore.

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Prince Amaesil Vuln'miruel read the missive with a frown. The wind outside his keep was howling and rain peppered the old stone pillars with loud slaps. He came to the end of the missive, but he had already assumed who had written it. Wildfire, he thought with a sigh. Obsessed with the traditions of elves half a continent away.

 

The young elf stands from his seat and — as tradition demands — tosses the missive into the flames behind his seat. The paper withers and shrivels in the crimson flames. Amaesil steps out to the balcony and watches the downpour with a glower.

 

alex-van-der-linde-stormy-sea.jpg

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Razu receives the missive for Caer Raywyn, then passing it to Maehr'rir thereafter. He then presents the letter they'd received from the Imperial Elves the same day, requesting a meeting. Like on a scale, he begins to choose which of the two are better to select.

"Choose wisely!" @King_Kunuk

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Charles Darkwood tilts his reading glasses down as he skims through the missive; a wide grin slowly spreading upon his features. "Heh-" He sniggers to himself, then tossing it aside and leaning back into his comfortable chair.

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A woman of red watches from the trees. Sorrow in her bloodied gaze. To watch and mourn the kin lost amongst the humans. Those who had abandoned all identity to become nothing more than undying valah. Turning on her heel, the woman strode off, a figure of red and blue amidst vibrant green woods. Soft murmurs followed in her wake, to be heard by naught but the trees and creatures around her.

"They are but children, lost and afraid. Led astray by false promises and lies from silver lips. This god they worship cares nothing for Malin's children. Those saints are valah, mortal men cut down in due time. Their seven skies are not for the kin of the forest and snow. We live on, while valah die."

She'd pause then, looking up to an eagle that soared overhead. 

"A life which may find an end, a sacrifice for our kin. For each elf that dies, another stands tall and grows strong on the centuries of legacy left in their wake. We are the undying people. Those that are true know this. They are not mali, no longer children of Malin. They have disowned their father, and run to Horen's feet instead. Malin will not look kindly on those who abandoned him."

 

Scarred hands brushed across verdant leaves. Bare feet tread silently over moss and fresh earth.

"I mourn for them. That they cannot be saved from the valah lies as I was."

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An Illatian man concurred, nodding his head, "This elf has been brave enough to say what everyone has thought. Perhaps he is one of the good ones." Content, the man smiled the man's smile- awaiting the results of the impending elven inquisition.

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