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A Missive to my Stygian Kin


Minuvas
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[!]This Open Missive would be hand delivered from Minuvas to the Dark Elves of Clan R'ikarth, and left publicly for those in the city of Stygian Hollow. 

 

Cousins, Brothers, Sisters. 

     I am writing you today as Kin. When we looked at our long arc of Mali history we realized the shared struggle of the Ker and the Elves of the Imperium, a history mired in servitude, subjugation, exile - and even mutilation. These bonds grew to companionship, the Clans of Stygian Hollow taught our people - of the Ker history forgotten, of your traditions, your stories and tribulations.  Then, lastly, those bonds grew to marriage - our House has united with the Dark Elf clans of Stygian Hollow more than once over, and children of shared bloodlines run amongst the city of Ephesius freely. 

 

I shall say to you, than, what your Archon cannot. For he has a Dwarven heel pressed against his neck. Our mutual Kin, Aver'Wyn my niece and the daughter in law of the Archon, was challenged to a duel. A benign request in and of itself. However, when she denied this request the dwed threatened to shear her ears unwillingly. 

 

The shearing of ears is offensive to all of Elfdom, but it is especially so for our mutual  people. When the Ker were once slaves, the shearing of ears was a common method of torture to remind them of their subjugation. As Imperial Elves, of all Mali kind, the shearing of ears harkens to the shame some felt to hide from Valah oppressors or the punishment imposed by Elven purists. 

 

I will not allow allow my own kin to be subject to this practice. I hope you too, do not feel so subjugated by a Grand King who demands you pay his taxes, fight in his wars, while he allows his Dwarven Clans to assault his vassals, and the 'benign' tolerance of Elven ear shearing. 

 

You should be aware that the Grand King summoned his council numerous times to discuss this matter with his Clans, yet your Archon, had been excluded from these discussions - The Grand King biding time while claiming ignorance of the actions of the Irehearts. Is there any doubt the Clans met to discuss how to keep you in line, to keep the Ker from being disobedient? And what even still, of my family in Stygian Hollow - must they now fear for clipped ears and the pressure to defend this practice?  Some Vassals are equal, but Dwarven Clans are more equal it seems. 

 

In Oren, I have been given the opportunity as a Mali to rise to the pinnacles of leadership, and Mali Ker, Ame, and Aheral sit on the Diet, and in the upper echelons of our government.  We actually have a say in our taxes, our wars, and our laws. 

 

Ask the other Non-Dwarven subjects of your King as to how they have been treated, and assaulted. 

 

Do not stand for the shearing of ears.  Many features define us seperately within our Mali kind, but all Mali share the lengthy size of our pointed ears - one unifying feature of our appearance as our descendance from Malin. House Melphestaus and the Imperial Elves openly denounce this practice, and we invite any other Elven community to denounce this practice of Clan Ireheart, whether you take a side on the greater dispute between these nations, to mutilate it's Elven subjects, as well as those Elves outside it's realm.

 

Do not hesitate to write to me at any time. I promise you safe harbor from any Dwed who would take from you by force that which is not theirs. 

 

In Faith and Kinship,

Minuvas

 

 

 

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Mika Uialben, seated upon a chair high in his keep watching over the southern seas went over to touch both of his ears fully in tact after many Ireheart encounters as he looked over the missive, simply uttering "Win or don't take the duel ye fools, Irehearts are bound by honor to complete these trials, those dishonorable are often removed." as he kicks back with both feet on the table while his gaze shifts northwards with a shrug, commenting "The rest of the system seems pretty feudal to me, if people want a say they need to move past landholder into a proper vassal according to their recent reforms. But I guess they couldn't have known such specific details"  to seemingly nobody present as he merely was talking to himself with a bit of a grumble

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Alaric used the missive to wipe his nether regions after a particularly nasty trip to the outhouse after too many Grimgold Goat Grinders. "Wot a crock o'shoite! Mah brother-in-law, rest his soul, didn't die defendin' Elvenesse fo' his great Principality to be disrespected as such. Where has Oren been whenever Stygia had issues? Powdering their wigs and hidin' behoind der walls. Meanwhoile, de Grimgold Dwarves have always fought and build de great city. Dis is a pathetic attempt by a dyin' kingdom who knaes nothin' about de great Stygian people o'der needs to cry fo' wotebah sympathy dey can get." He muttered to Valyndris, his Dark Elven wife, as he rebuckled his belt.

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Smashed between the borders of Imperial Man and the Urguani Mountains, an Owynist priest shouted from the Lordship of Du Loc:

 

"NO WIGS, Y NO TAXMAN!"

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Velsyni Indoren, who had been too busy rearranging her furniture to pay attention to politics, was pestered for a response by one of her friends. Begrudgingly, she rolled her eyes and said the following; "The Indorens have never been plagued by such troubles. Last time the Irehearts were having a trial spree, I started selling false ear tips- remarkably stylish ones, by the way- for the affected. I would do it again, but I have no intention of lifting Taurus' proscriptions against Clan Indoren doing business in the Empire. Bother me when it becomes profitable." She concluded her brief tangent, and then went back to rearranging the room to make it a perfect, flipped reflection of the original decor. Quite why she was doing this was unclear, but it most likely was just because it was amusing to her.

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Luthriel thinks that we should kill all the hairy bean ears.

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3 hours ago, Minuvas said:

 

Ask the other Non-Dwarven subjects of your King as to how they have been treated, and assaulted.

Javier de Pelear sips his Areniscan Tequila comfortably from within the Barony of Arenisca, a loyal Urguani vassal. "I cannot speak for the rest of the non-dwarven vassals that live under the rule of the Grand King, but I can safely say that we here in Arenisca have been treated with nothing but kindness and fairness."

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Thumbrindal looks at who wrote this letter before bursting into a laughter, a Grandaxe beardling would look at him with a curious voice as he asked him why he is laughing, upon he'd respond"an elgi wit' a wig"he'd say as tears would roll from his cheeks while he'd snicker trying to controll his laughter"b-bet t'at elgi is bald unde' t'at wig!"he'd say as he'd continue laughing clearly amused to how low an elf can go"oi 'ave seen mane' t'ings in me loife but a fockin elgi wearin a wig t'inkin 'e is part of some 'umre' societe' is t'e joke of t'e millenia!"he'd tear the missive and throw into the fire as he looks at the beardling"now w'ere was oi.. oh roig't, write down to t'e smit'ies to repair some armour sets for our clan, its toime t'e Grandaxes start wearing their ancestral armors once again!"

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Rhaella Ashwood would have left the dwed meeting with a migraine, only to return home and be met with a missive addressed to the clans of her and her husband's people. 

 

Slowly, her eyes travelled across the paper and with each word she grew more enraged at the words the imperial had written. She liked him, truly, and tolerated the imperial elves who sought their attention. However, this crossed a line. 

 

Rhaella was older than her husband, and had been doing this a lot longer than he. She had seen such egotistical behaviour from the past imperial Mali who withered away... She had seen it from enemies who extended a masked hand that spoke of help but was truly an attempt to rid the realm of her and her people.. 

 

"In Oren, I have been given the opportunity as a Mali to rise to the pinnacles of leadership, and Mali Ker, Ame, and Aheral sit on the Diet, and in the upper echelons of our government.  We actually have a say in our taxes, our wars, and our laws."  She muttered, reading over his words again.

 

"Nie.. In Oren, you have been led to believe all of this for security. It worked, you have your land and believe they care for you.. and now you are their pets within wooden walls, like cattle. Once your job is done, they will get rid of you.." 

 

The Mali'ker woman was sure she did not want war, she hoped she would have time to speak to her Kin who sat within the walls built by the imperial elves... But no longer was this an option it seemed, and whether or not her beloved husband the Archon would.. Rhaellas mind had changed, and she wanted nothing more than to pick up a sword and those firebombs a particular baroness spoke of.


(Ill write a more proper missive later)

 

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"Teh person who wrote des realleh es eh fooken' idiot" Remarked Goddumir as he ripped the missive from its post. "Teh ignorance dey supposedly be blessed wiff realleh es astounding"

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Bakir Ireheart toasted a dark elf in the Stygian hollow tavern “what the hell is this? Is oren really trying to say they think their wigs will look good on you?” Bakir burst out laughing before asking for another refill.

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In distant land, news of this missive reached an elf. An elf who was already scribing a missive, spelling out ‘I hate you’ at the heading of such. And so he begun to write..

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Aver'wyn scans over the missive, a tired look on her face. "I hope everything works out and no violence is necessary." She sets the missive back down on the dining room table, off to search for her children.

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A traveling Bruin donning pelts and bones alike finds herself far from the southern woodlands. |THWAP|, the missive slaps square to her visage when passing her Mali'ker kin. 

 

Miven's bare, red feet make their way up to the arctic lands offering one of the many missives she stowed away on her journey to Prince of Fenn, curious of his reaction. "Huh," She even voiced. 

@Monkee

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33 minutes ago, WestCarolina said:

A traveling Bruin donning pelts and bones alike finds herself far from the southern woodlands. |THWAP|, the missive slaps square to her visage when passing her Mali'ker kin. 

 

Miven's bare, red feet make their way up to the arctic lands offering one of the many missives she stowed away on her journey to Prince of Fenn, curious of his reaction. "Huh," She even voiced. 

@Monkee

That 'fenn scoffs in response. "A sheep beholden to wolves would have the rest of the flock join him."

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