CONDEMNATION OF ONE'S OWN

[acronius_ 199]

It is necessary to recognize. . .

. . .transgressions against me. . .

. . .the entirety of Elvendom. . .

. . .my own people are a scourge on this plane.

 

Damn them all. Damn them to the stasis after death, and pain in life.

 

Let them suffer.

 

[!] The following would be detailed first in letters to the author’s family and friends, then released months later in a continent-wide missive.

 

To whom it may concern,

 

It is necessary to recognize the events undergone in the past century and change, beyond the time of most upon Azuras, but not forgotten to some. The circumstances require that I preface my statement with the following:

 

My hand has always been forced.

 

The eternal indoctrination of my mind began in childhood, nearly two-hundred years ago. I was made to believe that I was fortunate to be born in my station, among the proletariat of the Haelun’orian ilk, simply because I was indeed born among them. My mother was pure, and my father, but neither were very wealthy, nor involved in politics. They were a simple pair. This principle was a pleasant idea in the mind of a youngling. To imagine that I was somehow better than any individual who shared my skin, my hair, and my eyes, only because of the banner I had fastened to my lapel, was exceptional.

 

They were killed by a band of urukan when I had just passed the threshold of valah adulthood, and I survived by their mercy. They wanted jewels, and my parents had failed to provide such. El’urukan could not fathom that I would carry anything they did not. So, I was free. I was left in the jungle north of Haelun’or upon Aevos, roughly thirty miles east of north relative to the old merchant city of Kaethul by my recollection. By all means, I should have died. I nearly did, in fact, and my sister, another pure ‘aheral, met her end there. I do miss her yet, every day.

 

I found the road eventually. It was simple to return to Haelun’or. I watched the sun for one day, discerned which direction was east by watching it set in the west, and I followed the road thence. The climb to the top of the mountain was arduous, but I made do. I was turned away at the gate. Without my parents to vouch for my origin, and neither of their names being on the city’s ledgers, as they lived at the base of the mountain, I was deemed an outsider, despite my blood. The caution expressed was enraging, and I was denied again, and again, despite begging and a request only for simple sustenance. I subsided on berries growing from bushes along the city path. Those citizens that passed by were alerted from the bridge as to me and ordered not to give me anything. They were content to let one of their own starve at the gates of their city. 

 

Eventually, I resigned myself to that label they had forced upon me, and I turned in defeat. I heard talk on the road in my hunger-induced stupor of the city upon the coast, the merchant city of Kaethul, and something in my subconscious led my weary feet there without any true recognizance of where I was headed. I did not stop until I saw their open gates and fell to the cobbles. I awoke, now twenty years of age, staring up at the fair complexion of another ‘aheral. He introduced himself and so did I, and he frowned at my origin. I was just alienated by my own people, and another who shared my blood showed distaste at my claiming to be of that Silver City. I am not the only ‘aheral, then, who feels unfit. 

 

I grew older at a rapid rate. Kaethul was not a friendly place, but it was certainly an active place. People came and went, evil and good, and clashed in a cacophony of singing blades. It was there, however, that I had my mind rewritten in a way. There, I peacefully coexisted with valah, bortu, and even called them peers. We shared a common goal, the advancement of the sciences and commercial wealth, and it was a simple life. The many ‘aheral there were pleasant and amenable to working with other races. Kaethul was constantly under threat from its overlord in Haelun’or, and a certain disdain grew in my own thoughts as well as those other ‘aheral within, and we felt oppressed. 

 

The Haelun’orian desire to understand and record became so easily the desire to control. I could not see the fortune that my parents had preached. I saw only silver-tongued people that could not take no for an answer and would pull any strings attached to urge the world in the direction of their own will. 

 

Kaethul fell, Celia’nor fell, Haelun’or went under vassalage of valah overlords, and I went west. I found a forest of mushrooms many fathoms high, seeming to support the eternally-clouded sky, appearing akin to a plaster ceiling. There, I lived by my lonesome for nearly a century. I did not desire the company of my people, the Haelun’orians, nor ‘aheral as a whole, and the impulsivity of the shorter-lived races became maddening. I sought seclusion. It was upon the turn of my one-hundred-and-twentieth that I revised my plan for eternal reclusivity and returned to the bustle of civilization.

 

I had not been so removed from propriety that I would have appeared castaway, but I was not of the finest manners. I fit in more with el’valah in the Heartlands than my blessed brethren. I lived in Petra, took a job in their tavern, and learned to cook. I found myself among a friendly, delicate folk, prideful in their nation, yet humble in courtly proceedings. Their lack of rationality, although reprehensible in serious instances, was endearing as if they were impertinent hounds whelped much too early. I could tolerate them. Such was my life for the peace observed before Orsathiael’s reign. I returned to Haelun’or under a different name, proffered myself as a wayward one returning home at last, and I was accepted not for the guardsmen’s good heart, but for the opportunity to bend another to their ideals.

 

I would not bend, no. I was beaten down by word, by action, and once by fists. These transgressions against me would have felled any man befallen and broken the back of an olog. In partnership with the Sythaerin family running an apothecary, the success of which I am solely responsible for, the patriarch and matriarch did not so much as acknowledge me. Their daughter, my business partner, laid sole blame for the stasis and later failure to rebuild on myself. I had ideas, I stocked the place, I advertised, and she reaped the reward for her family. The Sythaerins grew wealthy on my behalf. I was never recognized.

 

I was promised the allegiance of the Calith family. El’Sohaer of my time I had assumed to be a close friend of mine. His older relatives, some of the wisest ‘thill of the last millennium, vested trust in my word. Unbeknownst, they took every word, recorded every conversation, and flipped the context upon its head. Secrecy had made the Calith family, and secrecy kept them in power for as long as I can remember. Secrecy banished them from their homeland, killed their people, yet alas, that misfortune did not befall the prideful perpetrators. They still live, Seth and Acalmaehr Calith, and should not, but they defy the will of the universe in continuing to do so. 

 

The Ana’halrae family are made entirely of scheming, foul beings, from top to bottom. I have learned such, being unfortunately wed to one of their deceptively fair folk. I was misled into believing that they were truly benevolent. The first disparate clues came at the announcement of my daughter’s birth. I was beheld with scorn, a reasoning unknown and unsaid. I made no prior commitment to any within the family and had the child of my own volition, to a pure woman who died during labor. From that day, the patriarch vowed to see me removed from comfort, or life, if circumstances permitted. Behind my back and without my knowledge, the blessed peerage of Haelun’or were misguided to believing I was a criminal, a turncoat, and surprisingly worst-of-all, impure. 

 

I, born to two Haelun’orians, married to a Haelun’orian, father of a pure ‘aheral, was deemed impure. How nominal, how insignificant must a race of people be for mistaken steps in unexplored territory to influence the greater community? How fragile is their mind? They were told to hate, and hate they did. They were told to ignore, and that they did. They were simply told how to act by the demon named Hymnal, and they acted upon his word as if it were a decree from an Aengulic council. Lies undid me as lies bolster the foundations of the Haelun’orian mind and as they undermine all that is good and pure, and they do damn the entirety of Elvendom to stasis.

 

The remainder of ‘thill claiming blessed parentage and progeny are against the general fortuitous ongoing of the rest of Azuras and are poised to take such for themselves. They cannot maintain their haughty livelihood without taking the right to comfort of others deemed beneath them. They alienate their own people and by consequence themselves. No people in this material plane have ever been more hated than they. No people have ever done more harm than them. They are a scourge on this plane.

 

I am not advocating for another Adunic slaughter. I am, however, taking matters into my own hands. Henceforth, and as long as I live;

I place a bounty of four-hundred mina on the head of Hymnal, patriarch of the Ana’halrae family.

I place a bounty of two-hundred-and-fifty mina on the head of Acalmaehr Calith.

I place a bounty of two-hundred mina on the head of Lenniel Sythaerin. Bought.

I place a bounty of two-hundred-and-eighty mina on the head of Seth Calith.

I place a bounty of two-hundred mina on the head of Delphin Ana’halrae.

I place a bounty of one-hundred-and-fifty mina on the head of Aurelith Silevon. Bought.

 

The prize will be proffered upon deliverance of the dead and the means by which they were taken. Should the victim be proven yet alive, the prize will not be given. If this plea is not answered in reasonable time, I will be forced to find them, armed with my own dagger. Let those named above know that I will kill them. If not by my hand, then by my word. They will die.

 

I damn them hence to the eternal stasis offered by death, and so do I wish only pain in their long life.

 

Let them suffer.

 

Signed by

Lorandil Sindarin

[spaazmatism 1017]

"What the **** could Aurelith have possibly done?"
A 'ker, in a far-away land, knits his brow at the missive.

[Beardicuss 486]

12 minutes ago, acronius_ said:

I place a bounty of two-hundred-and-eighty mina on the head of Seth Calith

Thriku Frostbeard realized at this moment he knew how to make his money back after Seth sold him the 200 mina Smart Watch

[UniBearse 922]

15 minutes ago, acronius_ said:

I place a bounty of one-hundred-and-fifty mina on the head of Aurelith Silevon.

"Surely this is misplaced anger, atleast specifically to her?" Luthien said as she showed the letter to her husband

[PrinceTheDM 275]

Elijah gazes upon the letter. His eyes scanning the pages before pausing. A blink. Then two. 

 

His fingers swept across her name. Aurelith Silevon.

 

It seems he had yet another letter to write. 

 

His wife's name was not to be smeared.

[Mynto 107]

"Am I only worth four hundred...? It'd be more sensible have my bounty be the full thirteen hundred mina offered..."

 

He'd hum, lowering the bounty with a trembling hand- He'd been chuckling softly upon reading this missives title. 

 

"Lorandil. . . Mere words cause your hand to write me a longer letter than any of the ones you sent your own wife?" 

 

The 'aheral, now considered a part of the "thill" would turn to stare over the wall of his underground office. A single sliver of a note pinned to it with the force of a stake.

 

"I still fail to see how I was ever wrong, my loud aelillyt'ii"

[DISCOLIQUID 2701]

Catcher slaps the Black Bishop on the head and shows them the missive. "Get in, it's Elf season!"

@PolarLoLs

[Frisket 4537]

“Tsk Tsk… you picked the wrong targets.”

 

a High Witch seemed to only care about One or Two of these names

 

A missive shall be written.

[kuebiko 684]

One Sythaerin has just barely began to check the local news, missives, and the like. The shock of reading Lenniel's name was so strong that he lifted the blindfold from his eyes.

 

"LENNIEL?????? ISNT SHE ONLY 10??"

 

.. because to the 'thill, the passage of time is incredibly hard to grasp. An uncle can't bare to imagine her as anything beyond a wee child. 

[F1F4 121]

No simple rush could convey the grown girl's anger properly, Mira'lean, Lorandil's daughter. Her eyes peered at the signature miserably tagged to the endline, a far too familiar name for comfort, and of course, it was her fleeing father.  Her fingers pressed flat against the parchment. 

"...Hymnal is certainly a demon," She murmured to herself. "And due to his self-absorbing pride, the family has rotted for decades."

Her jaw clenched, nevertheless. 

"...And, this is what you sincerely chose over me? " -- "I hardly witness a mention of me, except that you have forgotten, I am an Ana'halrae too, now, but instead you opted to name half your world for a call of blood."

"You left me for revenge, and eventually, the reaper will tread back to you in some form, father." 
"Shame on you."

[ArgentEra 459]

A musin looked at the names on the letter as it landed in his letterbox. A brow was arched as he read the list of names,
"Wot en the world did tha' therapist do tae earn this man's ire?"
He shuffled back inside, heading to his study to pen his old friend.

[JustMeMorgan 2065]

Acalmaehr Calith stands staring at the hit list, clearly this elf cannot take a break.

"I think I might take up dark magic." he ponded to himself.

[Hush 112]

The deceptively fair folk in question looked down at the missive, which she read from the safety of her home, frowning at the contents as she rested a hand on her hip. "Oh, Lorandil... what have you done?" Celia'dant asked the empty space, still not having fully finished damning him after the first letter he had sent her. Her eyes trailed over the bounty list, going to her cousin's name many, many times before finally deciding to return to her desk and draft some letters and call upon some old friends.

[Spellblades 749]

The letter arrived late at night, an owl perched on his windowsill as it extended the letter to Vesryn. Shortly after the letter reached his hand, he felt a sharp pain in his finger. The side of the paper cut a small wound.

"By the Light.." he'd sigh as he washed the wound in a nearby water basin, the missive set on the counter out of sight. The Mali'ker opened the letter as a list of bounties sat before him, rage began to build in his voice as he teleported his armament to himself, hanging it on a nearby display.

 

"I should've killed you when I had the chance, Lorandil." The Spellblade murmured as he went to protect, as duty demanded.

 

 

[Air 911]

An iron gauntlet gripped the missive with a thinly contained ire, Ante'ahern scanned his eyes over the parchment again and again. He needed to be certain his eyes weren't deceiving him. After some careful deliberation, he'd stuff the missive into his satchel, saving it for later- though committing the signed name to memory: 'Lorandil Sindarin'. 

 

"This cretin is to be purged."