YOU SHALL SEE SILVER

[JustMeMorgan 2067]

 

YOU SHALL SEE SILVER

 

Larihei, behold my pain, and weep for me

The spear, the bow and death, these bring me no joy

for your honor I bleed, for the city I suffer

with this day, I am of silver and red

- The Sillumiran Oath

 

Produced by Acalmaehr Calith

24th Deep Cold, 239 SA

 

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Fires on the nearby mountains around Haelun’or are lit, every Mali’aheral in the Silver City would see it: The Call to Aid, the call for action

---

 

It is said that a drop of Mali’aheral blood carries a hundred years. The teachings of Larihei tell us not to waste our precious ichor, and to avoid throwing our scarce lives away through recklessness; and to treasure our sacred blood and protect it.

 

Larihei, weep for me, for you never had seen the turmoil that exists now. Our realm, threatened by what has been given the name ‘Orsathiael’ wreaks havoc upon our continent and its surrounding seas, I, Sohaer Acalmaehr Calith have seen such terrors and heard its wails firsthand. It is no longer an option to sit behind Silver Gates, as lapping tides erode our walls, lightning cracking and blistering our rooftops, and the looming volcano rumbling from the tremors sourced North.

 

It is for that reason, that I will declare our Sacred Blood is in jeopardy. And call upon all of the Mali’aheral, the Mali’thill, those residents of the Silver City, and those distant elves who still know of the Motherland. It is time to unite against our foe. I declare it be then that the Ilumiran and the Sillumiran are to be sent out to fight, our clinical staff to aid those war-torn areas, and those archivists to unroll ancient texts to find solutions for our fellow descendents.

 

Those of the Silver City know thanks to the aid of one Victor Rorin that the Aevosi Tarots, that some would play and toy with, are now directly linked to each of the Eight Gates that stand around our realm. We are discussing whether each holds a potential threat to be quelled, the source of our disasters, or if they hold artefacts capable of defeating our universal foe.

 

Our Navy is being mustered, the ships of old-Amathine handed over to Numendil at the request of Ser Arthur Marsyr, the ships of Balian have been handed over to us, and our own ships prepare to battle the torrential storm and sail to fight whatever foes lurk within our oceans. Our people shall be available should any call for their aid, the denizens of Haelun’or are of avid magus and mastered swordsmen and we shall spread our forces wherever they are called upon.

 

---

 

To My Blessed Citizens of Haelun’or.

 

The time has come where our impenetrable walls will no longer stop what is to come,

For we fight the land itself, and I have already seen the ruin it is capable of.

Chains that raise from the soil itself, elementals that vaporise stone, souls twisted and puppetted like tortured artpieces. It is vile to see the outside world, and it is why we shall muster against it. You have no set direction, go where there is a horn sounded, go where there are wails heard, go, and show those descendents of Aevos the true potency of nurtured Elven Blood.

 

Ilumiran, find one another in the field, share your mana and create circle spells that spill arcs of light across the night sky. Sling spells of unyielding zeal, show the true potency of your practice. 

 

Sillumir, your arrows shall blazen with aurum, your spears shall punch holes through carbarum, seek one another, lead the lines and head out to slay the unkempt wretches that are puppetted from this accursed being.

 

Surgeons; Alchemists, your talents and concoctions are called for; blaze the field with fire and explosions, suture the wounds that have become fatal to those before, drizzle the blades in auric oil so that every slash rends this force apart.

 

It is a time like this where all shall bear the Sillumiran oath. For it is the sacrifice of our blood we make each day on this rampaging continent, filled with madness and despair, that brings the hope of brighter futures, and horizons filled with abundance and life for our people.

 

Signed,

Acalmaehr Calith, Sohaer of Haelun’or

 

Maehr’sae Hiylun’eyha

 

 

Spoiler

[[OOC]]

The population of Haelun’or is quite a diverse timezone community, for that reason many of us found it difficult to attend certain events. For reasons in roleplay, and this reason mentioned I think it’s beneficial if citizens of Haelun’or are the every faction who lend a hand wherever possible. We would never be capable of mustering a full force to one, but we can trickle a few wherever.

 

[_Sheylo_ 1177]

A familiar elf, tall in stature, grasped at the leather strap securing his shoulder plate. With a well-learned, repetitive pull, he tightened it across his form, buckling the thing in place to ensure it does not move.  And so he braced himself for the battles yet to come. For many Mali'aheral like him, this was hardly their first brush with death—nor their first witness to the world's end.

 

He bent down to lace his boots, crossing the length of lace over each other so it may tighten upon his feet. Thump, thump; the tip of his boots struck the floor, ensuring they still fill the worn leather boots, as they always had.

 

Nearby, resting atop a half-desk table, sat an old, weathered helmet—its surface scarred by time, its sides crowned with the horns of a stag. A relic of Haelun'or, and of many like him. With care, he lifted it, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it as though reacquainting himself with an old friend. Then, with slow finality, he lowered it onto his head.

 

A small cough cleared his throat as he stepped toward the balcony lining the city's edge. His azure gaze settled far out across the turmoil—a restless ocean, its surface broken and churning. Just beneath the waves, the silhouette of something vast and slumbering lingered.

 

"Our people have endured thousands of years-- hundreds of wars... and more than a few of these so-called world-ending menaces..." His voice, steady but low, carried into the salty air. "This is nothing.."

Valazaer was ready. Were you?

[Behindbush 163]

Valahtos rested upon the back of her steed, the words of the missive whispering in her mind as her golden eyes fixed on the dark, endless horizon of the loud desert before her. It was calling, the shifting sands yearned for help, the element most tied to her arcane figure. Something was coming. And this time, she would not leave the rest of the continent to fend for itself.
The construct urged the horse forward, the sands swirling in her wake as she sped toward Silver City.

"There is no time, I must alarm the others"

[Baccaaa 494]

Somewhere in the Silver State and beyond, Uriella was sleepless. The comfort of bedtime replaced with restless nights of contemplation and research. The starlander that was, returned to her old habit of studying the stars, trying to find ways to trap and utilize starlight... moonlight or even the light of the Red Comet that roamed the skies. Some breakthroughs had occured, yet the 'thill persisted. Past the study of stars, the arcane which she studied for decades since her days as a child took her renewed interest. Uriella tried to see ways the arcane could assist in the battles to come, utilizing her own decades of service in the starlands, the motherland or abroad formulating mock battles in her head. 

 

Yet she realized, she had never faced something uniquely like this before... endless hordes, elementals, chains and the land itself fighting elvendom and the rest of descedantkind all at once. It seems a lot more to think was ahead for her, but the once archmaguses' mind was made for multitasking, the circlet allowing her to focus on multiple tasks at once. Her finger tapped her circlet briefly as she ran a hand through her hair and another task was reminded to the Amethil woman. "It is about time I replace you with something more potent." Spoke Uriella as her hands retrieved the circlet from her head, eyes reading the perhaps forbidden inscription in Haelun'or. "Even these thralls of that Daemon must have a weakness, everything does, nothing is perfect. I must look further, perhaps... tarots?" And at that the circlet was hidden on her belongings as she headed outside, eager to find more clues.

[KidKrinkles 2044]

The man read the missive: and true to his word, he found his name on the missive, and blinked.

 

No coincidences. 

 

It was his motto, these days.

 

Eight Tarot, Eight Doors.

 

But why? What did it mean? What do the other doors hide...?

 

[Frostdrop1 1843]

Reinhard yawned at the reading, grumbling under his breath about elf greed. "Dwed at heart. If only they weren't so incompetent we could have figured et out sooner." He drawled. There came a lean back afterwards, beginning to feel a familiar dread pool in his gut. He felt none too convinced about the abilities of his special allies, already finding himself routinely finding himself disappointed.