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ON THE MATTER OF SCRISA


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A REVOCATION OF TITLES AND NAME

Issued at Year 154 of the Second Age

 


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SILVER LUBBA AND MATRIARCH LILITH HELENSON-ANARION
REVOKES THE TITLES AND NAME OF SCRISA ANARION


As a matriarch there is much I must do, duties I must tend to. This too is one of them. Consorting with darkspawn, causing harm in foreign nations, and bringing war to the doorstep of your family is unacceptable.
Under my authority as Matriarch of the Anarion family and Silver Lubbah of Lurin, upon the posting of this notice,
Scrisa Anarion is stripped of all titles and claims. She is no longer an Anarion, nor is she a princess of Lurin.
From this point forward, she is Scrisa The Nameless.


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The An-Gho played with the chords of his harp wordlessly while the announcement was read to him. 

 

"We do not weep." He uttered.

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A decrepit necrolyte lit a candle, pupiless eyes staring into the overcast sky above. "I am doomed to watch the rise and fall of each man and woman; Scrisa was no different, flying too close to the sun," it croaked, disgusting face warped in some semblance of sadness. "May may she stay safe. Perhaps I could offer a new life for her."

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“It is what it is.” Lumia yawned rubbing sleep from her eyes. She tossed the missive that was brought to her aside and rolled over, falling back asleep.

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In Hohkmat, Scrisa's consort and ex-wife tore the missive to shreds. She muttered a long string of curses under her breath and paced her room, clearly anxious. Juniper then penned a few letters, tears of worry and anger blurring her vision as she did so. "She can't go down like this... and I can't go down with her..."

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Zelphar reads the missive and just shrugs it off as if this was nothing to him. He'd say absolutely nothing holding a blank face as he sat by a campfire placing the missive into his jacket, packing up camp and walking onwards.

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*a elder mali Inspects the missive he idly play with the corner of the paper.* "I see..."

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Lanre Cerusil recalls leading a recent defense of Lurin in lieu of any sort of military response from Lurin themselves, weakened as it had been. His face breaks out in a grin. "Well - if you're giving up this much to appease a singular enemy, you're really weak. Maybe that's why you've been targeted in the first place. Rest assured, more enemies will come." And thus, Lanre was assured of the eventual downfall of Lurin, outside of the hands of the good rulership of Mika. 

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"Mika would know what to do" Gavilar would shake his head in disappointment, as Lurin was falling apart.

"Perfect, all darkspawn and their associatives must crumble to dust, we are one step closer from ultimate peace." Said Svanir the Atronach.

 

Edited by Kabo0m
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“Actually pretty funny,” comments an incredibly uninvolved dark elf. “Ruling a place for, like, a week, and taking the opportunity to start stripping peoples’ titles.”

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"The True Silver Lubba would know what to do!" Silarus commented!

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Lhoris provided no overtly emotional reaction to the missive brought to her, brows vaguely knit as she stared at the words before her. It took naught twice but thrice to fully garner the context of those delicate scribbles, enabling her to gnaw at the interior of her mouth with deep thought. "As much as it pains for me to confess- those girls were bound not by blood, not by Lurin nor Lubba, but by Mika. With him gone, I am certain things shall not play out neatly for this wreckage of a homeland which that red-haired 'Lord of the Night' called home." The bitter elfess mused, glancing to her husband from afar with soft chuckle as she tended to her obese cat 'Mr Kitty': feeding him daily dosage of three sausage links and a large hen. 

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“I know a scapegoat when I see one. As much as I may dislike her and her company, she did not deserve to take the fall on this one.” Valindra remarked from her district in Hohkmat, shaking her head in disappointment.

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32 minutes ago, Morigung-oog said:

-snip-

 

1 hour ago, sam33497 said:

-snip-


Lily sat on the edge of the bed in her room at the Anarion manor, speaking to Utaria as rubbed her temples.
"The worst stress of being leader again is writing and knowing others will read of it things so far from my intent as to draw the statement into a caricature of itself. Lives will sit on the line, old methods pulled from the days of hiding in politics from an empire looking for a reason, and yet there will be no celebration for a task most mournful and sad."
With that she would scoot up the bed, lying back and placing a pillow on her face.
"When I am free of this once more, I will sing with joy."

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