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An Address to Any Proud Mali'ame


Nectorist
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A crazed drui of years only recently passed read the missive and scoffed, "For my own people I do not care. I hope we die out." Thus the 'ame cast away the missive, devoid of hope for redemption. "Should there ever be a change...?" Ornthalas wondered. Unlikely, but maybe, one day?

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A petite wood elf concealed herself behind a nearby corner, silently observing her father as he carried out his last solemn task in honor of their departed mother. Her eyes widened in rapt attention, tracing his every movement as a delicate piece of parchment gently descended to rest upon the ground, occupying the very spot he had just vacated. Swiftly snatching it and erasing any telltale signs of his presence, she eagerly perused its contents. With newfound determination, she set out to locate her elder brother, "I Wish to know more."" 

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"Hail The Bronze Age! Only in ascent do we take vital life! May the Mali'ame throw aside their impurities! May they unstagnate! May they grow in brightness, pre-eminent in their race, so they may shun the impure, and bring about a glorious, pure age of ascent!" Grinned a sulian high elven poet, a pure hoplite of TRULY polished bronze. 

 

"Hail Health! Hail Progress! Maehr'sae hiylun'eya!"

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The Elves must arm themselves. So long as they are impotent they shall suffer under the weight of the world of men and their ambitions. 

 

Malin has long commanded us to become bronze! May his will be done!

 

The Saneyir remarks to the temple cultists on a desire to end Elven pacifism. 

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shut up david

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