The Sheer Impurity of Haelun'or

[High_On_Math 399]

Maehr'sae hiylun'eyha translates to progress and health in the common tongue.  These are goals that are undeniably laudable, and every being ought to pursue them wholeheartedly.  Haelun'or purports to be the shrine of purity on earth, andyet, last month, I experienced a horrific awakening to what Haelun'or has become, or rather, has reverted back to.  Under the leadership of Sohaer Kolvar, Haelun'or was stagnant.  Yet there is a greater enemy to progress than stagnancy: the reversion from enlightened ideals to those of our barbaric forefathers.  Under Sohaer Braxus, Haelun'or shows exceeding promise to become a nation of the utmost superstition.

 

I was once stewardess of Haelun'or.  During my there I witnessed the growth of Haelun'or in unexpected ways: humans and wood elves came to Haelun'or to seek a place to stay. Haelun'or's population had dwindled under Sohaer Kolvar, and I endeavored to keep its population alive.  I fully believe that if a rational, hard working Mali had been elevated to Sohaer, Haelun'or would be a prosperous AND logical nation.

 

Last month, I was taken against my will to some sort of "tea party" in Haelun'or.  I,  of course, refused to enter the city.  Yet I was arrested OUTSIDE of the gates.  I was hogtied, gagged, tied to a tree, and left outside for hours until a guard came to mutilate my ears.  A citizen of Haelun'or fortunately rescued me, and for that I am grateful, but not before my right ear was severed.

This elf made sure to explain to me that he affirmed the use of acid pits to kill impures (though he did not approve of torture).

 

And what did I do to deserve torture or death in the eyes of Braxus and his flock?  I did nothing.  By no fault of my own, my parents conceived me half human and half elf.  When I was older, I culled them, preventing them from creating more cursed children and I decided to never produce offspring. I devoted my life to relieving present suffering and preventing future suffering.  My life is a net good for the world, yet the elves of Haelun'or want to exterminate me and others like me. 

 

I formally renounce the ideals of Haelun'or and commit myself to pursuing health and progress through a pursuit of logic rather than one of idiotic superstition.

 

It is illogical to kill one who begs to be your ally. 

It is illogical to spend time drinking tea rather than working hard. 

It is illogical to assign different metal elements moral characteristics. 

It is illogical to banish the hardest workers in your society. 

It is illogical to cut ears, burn beards, or any other form of pointless mutilation. 

It is illogical to drink intoxicating substances. 

It is illogical to claim my culling of my parents was impure while claiming my death is good. 

 

Haelun'or is filled with bloody idiots.

Signed, 

Luthriel

[Minuvas 2878]

The Archchancellor had many missives of hate, misinformation and disgust arrive in his office these past few days.

But this struck him at the very core of his identity. 'What did I do to deserve torture or death in the eyes of Braxus and his flock?  I did nothing.  By no fault of my own, my parents conceived me ... ' 

It wasn't letters from Haense, or angry complaints about bad piping, or some other matter that would sting him this day, but the cry of a Half-Elf named Luthriel.

[Morigung-oog 2320]

A certain elf sighed, having disregarded her invitation to haelunor which had likely not only saved her ear tips but also her life, potentially. In truth, she could’ve taken them on but she was far more focused on her studies and prep on dealing with the voidal hollow. “Typical Dimaethor diarchy type trap.”

[_Sheylo_ 979]

Valazaer Shazorwyn raises a brow at the missive and scoffs. "What lies are being pasted across these boards? Ignorant and illogical. 'Tis everything we go against. To believe this would be to admit idiocy.." He tears down the missive and crumbles it.  Taking said paper with him to dispose in the bin.

[Stump 704]

Aiera Sullas went from shelf to shelf in the Eternal Library, scanning the spines, and occasionally casting scornful looks toward the Diarchy; a pair of paintings depicting the Elervathar-Visaj, hung across from one another like a frigid audience.

 

In the matriarch’s ledger was folded a copy of Luthriel’s Accusation, and she wondered if any act of her own would ever heal just one of the festered wounds from centuries of violence.