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A Missive to the Maelstormics


bravery
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The use of the word schizophrenic is added into this missive for a number of reasons pertaining to lore, and I do want to let those who may voice concerns of the usage know that I did indeed look into the definition to be able to use it accurately and without poking fun at the disorder. I understand that many people do have their own thoughts on the usage of the word in non-medical settings, and I do apologize for any upset. Whilst I may be one who lives with psychotic disorders, I will understand if somebody requests me to use a different word. <3

[!] A missive would be publicly posted, directed to the Maelstormic Society.

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The Maelstorm Family coat of arms
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To the Maelstormic Society, I, Aerith Majin-Maelstorm, direct heir to the late Vivian Maelstorm, hereby denounce your brutish ways and demand that you relinquish any hold that you THINK you have to the Maelstorm name. 

 

The Maelstorms are smiths, wealth managers, librarians and soldiers, not bandits raiding the cities their families built. The city you now attempt to attack is, in part, built by your beloved Vivian, my late mother, who spent countless days and hours helping to create a home for her, her family, and friends. Whilst she may have been misguided in her leadership as a previous monarch, schizophrenic, unknowing and paranoid as she was, she would not want to see her home destroyed.

 

You believe that there is some kind of throne to be reclaimed, but do you know the true history of Vortice? One would doubt so. Despite never living to experience the city prior to my mother’s reign, I’ve done my research and spoken to previous residents.  The Domain of Vortice was once a reformed pirate cove in the land of Arcas named as Talon’s Grotto, with a sovereign leading rather than a monarch, and from what I hear, the Jusmia and Medii’la families have been around the longest, having helped to form the city back in Arcas, and even now sticking around to take care of the city.


There is no claim to any “Throne” you speak of, much less a golden throne. And even if there was, none of you want-to-be “aristocrats” would be next in line for it, as none of you have had any stake in anything relating to the Grotto, to the Port, or to the great Domain herself.

Save yourself the embarrassment. If you wish to discuss with me on this, in a much more private matter, where nobody else can see me decimate you lot with words alone, send me a correspondence and I may meet you in a public location.

 

To others reading this, I want to reiterate to you all–

The Maelstormic Society has no claim to any throne, nor is it associated in any way, shape, form or manner with the true Maelstorm name. They hold no affiliation to myself or my siblings.

 

Aerith Majin-Maelstorm

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Rian caught a glance of the missive as it changed hands. "So it seems the story gets deeper." He chuckled to himself, stroking his beard as he walked off.

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Shamil ibn Saeed Faheem eagerly updates the wiki page with this new development

 

The aging Shamil ibn Saeed Faheem shook his head briefly as he took a look at the next missive, "Aerith Maelstorm is the eldest of the family, the true Matriarch of Maelstorm, and has denounced these bandits that scuppered the Maelstorm name multiple times... any idea that the Maelstormic Society had a claim on Vortice was laughable in the first place, but it's even more so now! Long Live Vortice, Long Live Lenora!"

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A small frown comes to the elven prince's lips as he reads the missive. "The people of Vortice have always been good, kindly folk and allies to my own. Perhaps developments have come, but were they not protectorates of Urguan? Have the dwarves entered the conflict?"

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Sulieronn sits with his staff resting simply in his hand, the end of it resting on the ground while he remained hunched over, reading over a missive that lie within the grasp of his left hand. A snort passes from the elven fellow's nose as he comments. "Fools claiming thrones is not something new. This group of moronic bandits should walk into a hoard of undead drones for only there would their smarts start to match up with the crowd. I've seen none as pathetic as they within recent years. Relinquish the name you claim to hold, bandits."

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ChildTea wonders what insanity has gripped his mother, the Marlett laying claim to the throne. Mother.. what are you doing?

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Gusiam took a moment to climb the ever tree grown lighthouse, a Icon of Vortice with the paper in hand, reading of the Matriarchs words. then remenist about the Marletts lies, claims to burn our home. A home built up from nothing but driftwood, ale and gunpowder waterlogged from sunken ships of yore... Though as he climbed, he spoke to himself. A tone to the horned ker as each stept made his armor rattle.

"You know, the more and more I read these the more obvious of who dared to commit such acts of threatening terrorism. I wonder why, we aren't the wealthiest I can admit, but we do tend to ourselves and respect all circles of life all the same to survive and be at peast to do what we love. Yet this, well now abandoned maelstorms have shown that they are willing to harm innocent men, woman and children of all, to steal the krug-hai armor and essentally call the dweds of the eastern grand mountains lazy for their protectorate on us. It makes you truly think, why are they so serious on a throne that holds no bloodline claims in the first place?"

By the time the shamic Mali'ker reached the very top of the lighthouse, his gaze was to the lush moon that dawned the night sky. The papers of not only the two missives of the matriarch of the Maelstorms, but the creation of the maelstormics and the failed attack on us. Arms looking to almost hold the moon.

"Do they assume better just because of their half assed names? that they are a society. But news flash to them. We  live in a society!!! 

The ker cackled at this crude joke to the one he now peace together tried to run the show of this little game. A smile creeping to the shaman face. As he looked to the moon, knowing well the spirits watched as the devotee then returned to his normal duties of smithing and patrolling the humble yet quiet town.

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Frisket seemed sad how Vivians family name was being slandered by such savages. She wondered what Vivian was thinking in the high skies

 

"I miss you mon ami"

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