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THE WITHERING OF AN ERA

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Monkee

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The Silver Lubba who has already dealt with Haelun'or before is ready to continue fighting them till they give up and Ivarielle I is on the throne.

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The Citadel bell tolls within Caras y'Tennallar as the declaration is sent out. Elvendom rallies against the " 'thill " menace, a threat against the sancitity of Free Elves.

(ss cred to josey)

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"Its a shame this has to come to this, yet my enemy is not willing to sacrifice everything... i would scale the walls alone. For the unified front of Mali-kind." The Princess spoke on

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"They may as well give up now." sighed Vierra

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Held her blade to the sky, the cloaked mage listening to the rings of shouting victory while storming the city having been met with a resistance of all but two. "It seems for today we shall continue on"

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Aroiia Elena Drakon raises her trident high, and would chant, "Ceru'rost myumiererih"

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"Where do i sign up"  The banished Karirimir spoke out as he scanned the missive

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An Oussana looks to his Axe giving a simple sigh as he throws the missive to the fire, a morbid saying in a forgotten tongue, exiting his lips.
"Chuthen ulu chuthen... jal zhah chuth..."

 

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Sarillah looked to the empty city as the rally easily walks in "There is no one here! What a surprise!"

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The news reaches a distant druid, primeval and devoid of civility these years. Yet, the news procures a weak grin to the face.

 

It sparks a strange concoction of hope and hatred. 

 

Hope, for elven unity.

 

Hatred, for the Haelun'orians.

 

 

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clanking was heard in the depths of Nor'Asath as a Mali'Ker was seen forging refined blades in the warm forge, a hammer hitting the steel in a continuous rythm.

These blades would soon serve a great purpose.

 

He would raise his head  "we are ready, shall the fate be on our side"

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