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An Elven Awakening


Qizu
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Spoiler

 



Throughout the lands of Almaris a series of shrieks and screams emitted through the night. A horde of cloaked riders begin storming through villages lighting thatch and hay roofs aflame, slaughtering men, dwarves, orcs and the wretched half-breed spawn. An awakening was in the midst, an uprising from the depths of the world, a massacre in the shortest of terms.

From the northern mountains a series of angelic horns would sound out through the night. From the southern seas these same horns would carry across the waves as they began to echo off the walls of the southern cities. From the eastern caves and depths howls and yells would sound from below the ground, a beating war drum would be heard through the halls of the dwarven fortresses and human tunnels. From the west the trees would shake in fright as cloaked individuals emerged from the cover in the leaves that concealed them. An Awakening is Here, the Awakening of the Mali’ker is upon us.

 

 


[!] As the chorus of dark elves rang through all cities and lands of Almaris parchments and letters would find themselves in the homes of all descendents, constructs, mousemen and more. . .

“Brothers and Sisters of the moon, our time is upon us. The prophecy taught to me as the Awakening, a time when the mali’ker who have resided below the surface of the world for centuries will begin to leave their dark depths. A time when they will show the weapons of war, slaughter, reconstruction, and technology that they have been developing for centuries in the dark. A time where mali’ker will emerge and lay wrath and hatred upon the lands that treat them so poorly, for too long has our race been cast aside. For too long have we cowered in the dark depths, for too long have we shown weakness; our time is now.

Rise forth mali’ker, unite with your kin for the time will come in which we take the world as ours. The fell races of vallah, dwedmar, urukin, and half-breeds will soon fall to not only our blades as mali’ker, but the blades of the mali’ame, mali’thill, and mali’fenn. Rise from your depths, rejoice in the halls of your brothers and sisters, soon we will begin. Soon we will bring the liberation of death onto the lesser races for they are wretched spawn that plague our world.”

Join the Awakening.


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"Who are these savages?"

 

A young mali'ker questioned to herself, brushing her hair before standing up and walking up to the Fennic Tundra.

 

"Killing men and woman for existence? Unbecoming of our people."

 

Daenaera Veleuaei'onn expressed with horror, shaking her head in disappointment while word of these events would spread.

 

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A green eyed Ker looked to the missive pondering the potential writer "Long are the days we had the pride to stand alongside one another, our people should think more highly of themselves... perhaps this can be in reach... well for whoever this is." 

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A 'Ker, standing next to one of his fellows when the missive gets sent out glances over it and shakes his head, "Ancestors, these people never learn. You attract more with honey than vinegar."

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A Ker simply looked to a fellow Ker, only to shake his head."You build back up with your hands, not with blades and thoughts of randomly harming others. It is why we scattered before, and let us hope it ne be again. "With a sigh he folded up this weird form of cultic recruitment paper, and continued the idle chat.

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A mali'fenn is extremely entertained, though thinks nothing of it beyond a terrorist organization that may harass Ebonwood, or Elysium. What a fun time to be an elf.

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A Warhawkian woman grins wickedly as she read the missive, the mali’ker sharpening her tomahawk. 

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A mali'ker scoffs as he looks the letter over, quickly crumbling it up and tossing it into a fire. "They will be met with death, destruction, and fire. The honorable mali'ker who do not follow their creed or any of their ilk will also be met with the same unscrupulous ire, for simply being mali'ker. Have we not learned from the ages of the White Rose, when we were mistaken for those cursed and evil Mori'Quessir? Our kind will be hunted again and again.. Our ancestors would be ashamed." The mali'ker shakes his head, returning to his forge and sharpening blades for what was to come.

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ChildTea bites his lip, growing rather excited. I can't let them, obviously, but.. distractions, much? 

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The young prince sat in his studio as he received that missive.

As he pondered who the writer might be he offered the weapon displayed on the wall before him a glance.

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Rhaella Othan Ashwood would read over this missive.. Her tired gaze reading over the words as she felt the paper between her fingers. In truth, she had cared little about anything in recent years. The once lively 'ker princess began to fall in spirit and will, and with finishing the quick read, her hope as well.. She held little thought to the Mali she had spent years around, and wished for nothing but to provide for her children and lay in bed.. A truly depressing existence, never ending... 

For the first time in a long time though, she had felt something. A spark ignited once more within the woman as she set the paper down on the fur blankets below. 

This spark was shame. 

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Luthriel squinted, muttering, "Mika you bloody artist! Please craft my arm soon.  I'll need a way to defend myself.  But, in the meantime, " She spat, "Ti, I think I have what it takes to ne allow my soul to be sent to some dark ocean of torment.  Kill me and I'll come back.  I know I will."

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An infamous ‘ker grins menacingly from behind her yellow bandana. “Perhaps I’ve found a new purpose,” she remarked to herself while sharpening her dusty blade.

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16 hours ago, Qizu said:

Soon we will bring the liberation of death onto the lesser races for they are wretched spawn that plague our world.

 

"What a racist statement!" - uttered a certain high elf, holding a missive in his hand. He laid it on the table, with an exhale: "A waste of paper that can only attract unwashed barbarians. A disgrace to the Malikind, truly," he concluded, beginning to brew some mint tea in the teapot.

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