To The Elves.

[Onnensr 1908]

 

To the elves,

 

Excuse my lack of genteel in the political world, my time is used in the heaven’s, so I have grown out of touch with the realm and its current state of affairs.

 

On my recent descent to the world, an ecclesial shepherd of GOD has made me aware of a most foul and cunning plot within the denise of the Principality of Celian’or–in particular, regarding blood sacrileges, demon-spawning, and cultists. 

 

Whilst on bare-foot, I walked the path towards the Principality, and three demon-cultist, most tepid servants of the Dread Prince Drazhana, made aware their allegiance with the elven government of Celian’or, and that they had conjured a lair in the embankment of your land. 

 

Know that I do not trust the lies of demon-ilk, but in my rage, I had desired to burn down your Principality and be done with the matter, should their venom be of any tact or truth. I have also been made aware of the presence of the cursed-ilk, the children damned with horns, in your land. Fortunately, it is a matter of little care. I understand the trepidation of Man, but it is not the fault of the cursed-child for his or her ailment.

 

Understanding patience, I took counsel from the most righteous and virtuous flock of GOD, those of the Church of Canon, and have been asked to engage in short conversation to thwart any hatred towards your people, so that I do not feel the desire to destroy your nation.

 

I ask that you meet me in the ruins of the old Aaun cathedral. You may bring an armed retinue if you fear for your safety, but I do not plan to spill blood. 

 

Once the matter has been explained, I will depart back to the heavens. I would recommend you do not ignore this missive, and do not show pride in not responding, as you will make an enemy. 

 

Although I do not see Malin’s tribe as the chosen sons and daughters of Lord GOD, I have come to show a pity of respect towards the elves due to great shepherds such as Cardinal Nerium. 

 

I hope that you are fair in health, for now, at atleast. 

 

Saint Raguel

the Archaengul of Justice

 

[!] The missive is written upon a gold litany, its words tribbing with light. This missive has been sent directly towards the Celianor government and those of the upper-echelons of the Canonist Church, mainly, the School of Cardinals. Clearly, the being that has cupative this paper is one of pride, holding himself with great value and respect. 

 

Below the missive is an additional attachment, in different ink, and by a different hand. 

 

Salutations,

I will keep this brief, as the publicist of this missive it is my responsibility to establish that the words above are neither my own nor those of Numendil. The threats contained above are neither ours, nor do we stand to gain anything through them. I have ever been a messenger for the codexes of our faith, and now deliver a new message to the people of Celia’nor who have been fair friends to me and my own. The Aengul Raguel, energetic and unrestrained by terrestrial matters, laid upon me the mere request to publicize this and have had the gift of culpability thusly laid on me to answer any questions it may engender as best as I am able. It is no doubt a matter of Tribe that I was chosen to do this.

For its imperfections, I remain a child born from Celia, and will assist with clarity and clemency to make a plea to spare the good people there. 

Cardinal of the True Faith

 

[Laeonathan 5889]

"I hate Warlocks, I hate Warlocks, I hate Warlocks." Grumbled the Lord Raziel, "They keep coming back! When will they stop?" He exclaimed, upon reading the public part of the missive. "Again and again... They infiltrate and corrupt, when will their evil be done with? Was it not enough Uriella had to slay her, after her corruption...?"

 

And so he makes sure a meeting is made.

[Morigung-oog 5697]

"Oh shit."
 

A world-weary Okarir spat out her tea upon reading the missive. Many valuable and confidential documents would be forever stained thanks to the threats of Raguel.

 

"Kind of hope they'll be okay."
 

[PrimnyaQuorum 3999]

A demon, wrought of the very hells themselves, sips at a cup of Rakir and bids the sacred incantation in a babbling tounge

 

"Notos Kruvat ak'kreika"

[Baccaaa 490]

Uriella had been idling nearby as she saw her father Raziel whom was exclaiming with disdain over warlocks. At the mention of a warlock she had slain, she revealed a severed horn from the voidal pocket, one she had seized from an accursed warlock. "They keep returning... some slain once, some tens of times. But now they grow wiser, knowing they can't defeat our resolve, they pretend to be of our ilk to the eyes of other realms, in an attempt to turn the righteous against the righteous." She spoke perhaps in a monologue meant to be heard by her father Raziel, as she gazed at the severed horn of one of many.

[Cheeseycereal 829]

The elfess sat at her vanity, her fingers pressed against her forehead as even the name of St. Raguel proved too great a headache to bear. Leaning back into her chair, the Akaln'riv stared up at the ceiling, a moment of subtle, quiet grief washing over her. After a brief pause, she sat upright, carefully placing items back into her chest. A soft mutter escaped her lips.

 

"He was indeed right."

[Frisket 4538]

“Give me a ******* break…”

 

Ember groans at the missive pinned.

 

she watched as the diraar scrambled and prepared…heavily.

[Chimeraof1999 1187]

Airn, in his darkness submerged, waited to be released from the coil of restlessness. He would wait and wait and wait, thinking and speaking to himself in the pit he had been condemned to. He then spoke out into the pitch black, as a fire lit ablaze.
"Garn ratur'kul ru khrudroklu zatu nohizt vhu ra izh."

With such words, his dark prison was lifting him to a light as he was being revived back for this very moment to show the weaknesses within.