A Bloody Bold Statement

[Arkelos 1027]

They say Humanity is the plague of the world, but like all plagues on Asulon, They don't last long, or you don't live long enough to see the end of it.

A typical day in Solace is welcomed by the shining sun, melting the remaining snow as a messenger rushes through the main gate, bolting for the palace as he find himself at the dining room Kyral enjoying her tea as she quirks a brow.

"Young man, you bring word I take it?" Kyral says inquisitively, tilting her head as her elven ears twitch, smiling. The young boy, a Wood elf frowns at Kyral as she motions him over, giving him her tea as she asks calmly whats wrong.

The young man relays the message, from the mouth of the former High Princess then from him, obvious some words lost in translation.

((Spoilers for the sake of room saving))

It is not a simple group or even a single nation that is a threat to our kind. But it is the whole of Humanity. Humanity is the reason why the lands in the west are in disarray, humanity is the reason behind much of the grief and sorrow you all see today.

They crusade across the lands citing verses to a false god. They murder and they plunder all that is not like themselves. They are intolerant, volatile and harbor outright monsters such as the orcs, the White Roses, and the Syndicate.

Let it be known that the humans of the Empire will no longer find safety or respite within the borders of the Holy Princedom. They will only find despair and ultimately death. And know that the Mali do not distinguish between serf, gentry, noble, or emperor in these proceedings.

I advise all Sentinels to escort all humans not associated with the Holy Princedom to be escorted out. Those that resist be met with unceremonious death in accordance to our laws.

These recent acts of brutality will not go unanswered.

Sythra points to 'Ash' as she leaves.

That is what you call a 'Half Human' an elf that has coupled with one of humanity and has been tainted by their lies and their corruption.

Let it be known that all elves that wish to return to Malinor will be welcome to do so and encouraged. They will be received as lost loved ones and family. However, those that wish to stay with their human masters will be shunned and treated the same as that 'half human'.

Now is not a time for our people to be divided, we must unite against the threats that this world imposes upon us. Only united will our culture grow and thrive in this unrelenting and cruel world that surrounds us.

In times past, diplomacy was our solution. There were many instances that mistakes and misjudgements were made by us. Never before did Oren take such vile measures against us. Instead they opened channels of talk and peaceful resolutions. This is no longer the case. The empire has shown that it does not wish diplomacy, only wanton violence and submission.

Like the orcs and their slavers, humanity too wishes to enslave our people. But it is even worse then that. Instead of a few elves here or there for simple profits, they wish to subjugate all of our kind.

This is why the half humans exist. They are the product of humanity's tampering with poor elves that fall into their slimy grasp. I ask everyone this, do you wish to remain free? Do you wish for your culture to survive and flourish without humanity's corruption? What of your children? We have long been cursed with very few to continue our lineage, each life being precious and each child being the finest treasure any elven parent could obtain. Do you wish to see Humanity take that away?

I have long urged the High Council to be vigilant in their dealings with the humans. I knew even as your High Princess that humanity could be a danger in some form. Unfortunately we misgauged the threat they actually pose. Never did I think in their emperor's lifetime would I see such violence and depravity. It is not the fault of the High Council for these raids and destructive attacks on our sovereign territories. They were misled by the honorless humans spreading lies from the simple serf to the emperor himself.

Not even an elven week ago was it that it was requested that an embassy be started again in their capital of Arethor. They used such a request as a ruse to mount a surprise attack on Normandor.

As a response left by another said, "time is on our side." We must be prepared to weather this storm brought on by humanity. In time they will wither and perish to the passage of time while we remain vigorous. Perhaps the children's children of humanity will have greater wisdom than their fathers.

But we must prepare for the consequences that they are not.

"How dare they... " Kyral growls, being told of the elves actions, her own kin deciding to put up arms against her and her family if she or her family steps on Elven lands. Shaking in anger as she calls her maids over, asking for a knife and towel, lots of towels.

As the maids gather the towels, Kyral begins to write a note, using the Hightower orange ink as the maid hands her a knife, the maids trying to stop her before she begins to do the deed. They can not stop her, they can not stop the anger and rage built up. They cant stop the screams, the pain.

ALl they can do is watch, as blood pours down her face, Kyral screaming in pain as she continues to move the knife with her hands, near her face, cutting herself with it, Kyral stopping when she is satisfied as a maid wrestles the small blade out of her hands. The other maids going to tend to the self inflicted woulds as Kyral continues to scream, still writhing in agony as she glares at the Wood elf, putting the flesh in a satchel as she hands the note and satchel to him.

"Go.. Leave my sight.." Kyral snarls, blood covering her face as she lashes out at the nearest maid. watching as she falls to the ground, Kyral nearly snapping as she looks down. Her mind becoming fragile with just this one statement, but Kyral grins wickedly, helping the maid up. Her statement much more bolder. The Elven boy bolting out in horror as she rips away the towels, running down to her alchemical lab.

The young elven boy finishes his trek back to Normandor, the eerie quietness of it all leaves him startled. He continues to walk inside, but finds the gates locked, waiting days before a guard notices him, he enters and runs for Sythra's house. Knocking hard.

"Miss Sythra, I have a letter for youuuuu" the young elven boy says, the door opens, as he leaves the note and satchel. Hoping she reads it.

((The note))

To Sythra,

If that what you said about Oren Elves be true, if it be false, It does not matter. I IMPERIAL QUEEN KYRAL HOREN HIGHTOWER hereby renounce my elven blood. Malin has no place in way of the light, I shall remove any and all proof of my elven heritage. Open the bag.

Should Sythra open the bag, she would see them, the elven tips of Kyral's ears, cut clean off. Kyral's ears looking human now as she has passed out in her Alchemical lab.

[Shadeleaf 1021]

Arzota walks by the dining hall, a small elven boy colliding with him as he rounds the corner from the throne room, his eyes wide as the sun as he stumbles past Arzota. "This can't be good." Arzota mumbles to himself, wondering what the nether Kyral did this time. As he walks by the dining hall, Arzota backtracks, stopping in the center of the door way, his head turning slightly to see the sight of Kyral, blood, her face stained with blood. Arzota was about to step in, his mouth opening slightly as he is about to speak, this all being cut short by a venomous glare by Kyral, which sends him back on his way, still quite confused by the entire scenario. As Arzota walks out the gate, he cant help but think why Kyral was bleeding this time, and from her ears...

[Praetor 1550]

Altariel looks up in surprise as Kyral runs into her Lab. Her cold finger pauses on the spine of a large book, and wanders down it to the high bookshelf under it. She sighs, and turns fully to face the swaying Kyral, quite obviously furious. As she sees her waver, and almost tip over to the ground, she hurries over to her, shaking her head, and holding her by the shoulder, firmly guiding her to a seat nearby.

She sets her down against it, and slips around her to the back of the limp figure, always clucking her tongue. She prods the ears non to gently, and frowns, a confused look flashing across her face. "What have you done now..."

After a moment spent contemplating the now rounded, and bloodied ears she cups her hands, focusing on them as two small balls of ice form into them. She carefully brings them up to her ears, rubbing them gently, her free hand trailing between Kyrals silky strands of hair, unknotting them slowly. After a few minutes, she switches ears and repeats the process before deftly bandaging them, and patting Kyral on the head lightly "You'll have to tell me what went on, won't you~?"

She then turns back to her books, and pulls one from the shelf, sitting down and crossing her legs elegantly, starting to read.

[Aerinyes 402]

A basket arrives in Solace, attached to it is the letter that Queen Kyral had sent. On the back of the letter is scribbled a simple phrase, "Your god didn't help these three. This is the fate of those that violate Elandriel."

Inside the basket is the heads of three humans. It appears to have belonged to a man, woman, and child. Possibly a family, or just collected to appear as such, the fact remains unknown.

[Austin 697]

Thore hears news of The Queens statement, he then burps and falls asleep.

[Arkelos 1027]

A basket arrives in Solace, attached to it is the letter that Queen Kyral had sent. On the back of the letter is scribbled a simple phrase, "Your god didn't help these three. This is the fate of those that violate Elandriel."

Inside the basket is the heads of three humans. It appears to have belonged to a man, woman, and child. Possibly a family, or just collected to appear as such, the fact remains unknown.

Kyral receives the heads of the three people, and immediately drops to her knees crying as she sees the child. Her guards rush to her as she yells at them.

"Prepare the cannons! Get the weaponry ready! Someone contact the Rex! The Roses!"

[ayresalex 517]

And the Ulfhaedyns! []

[Hanrahan 2983]

Hanrahan hears of the News, and sighs, knowing this will provoke a great war.

"An Eye for an Eye, makes both blind..A leg for a leg, Crippled.."

[SteelMarshall 190]

Amluhan On'Tuathal, Drengr of Holmstrom and protector of House Ulfhaedyn, hears the news as he leans against a tree that stands on the edge of the road between his home and Solace. He sighs, pushing off of the tree and rising to his full height. He turns and spits into the dusty gravel before beginning to walk to Holmstrom. He walks slowly, his easy gait concealing his racing thoughts.

He thinks of the gravity of this; the elves and their boldness, rivaled by the queen's. The letters and baskets, ears and heads, all whirl through Amluhan's mind as he strides slowly past two long pikes in the earth, gaunt and weathered heads stabbed on the tips, barely recognizable as dark elves, their once luscious hair now in tangles. One head is so worn it has no discerning features; the other is missing an ear and its face is contorted in a rictus of pain and fear. Amluhan continues on to the town, the bronze chain that marks his rank as Drengr jingles in tune with the small silver chain, tucked carefully into his belt.

The view of the road was replaced suddenly. Amluhan finds himself back at the small farm he once owned, watching the same thing he has burned into his memory; he remembers dismounting his horse in shock as he came home from armed service to see his small haven in flames. The frantic search for his son, the hissing of the scorched crops, the creaking as the barn, supports turned to glowing embers, strain to hold up the roof. He remembers the feel of the hard earth on his knees as he fell in shock as he beheld the small burnt mass that was his son. He hears, as if under water, the dark elves as they come to him, clapping him in irons. He remembers... suddenly, he looks up at the sudden cawing of a raven as it flies past, bringing him back to reality.

He clenches his fists and his eyes narrow as he thinks of the elves who did this to him, and how they now so snobbishly condemned the human race. A glint of respect came to his eye at his Queen's actions, despite her elvish heritage, and even though he had never even seen her, let alone met her, he was thankful that there were those who knew what had to be done, and what the elves had deserved for so long; punishment.

[ayresalex 517]

Aedric, sitting in his study is suddenly disturbed by a breathless Thrall.

"M'lord Aedric."

"Speak, boy."

"The queen is callin' the banners! The darkies killed 'er daughter, m'lord!"

Aedric stands abruptly, making the Thrall jump.

"Find me Amluhan, and send word to the Roses that we're mobilizing fer war. We'll march on Malin's Gorge upon the queens orders. Wake the armourers an' swordsmiths. We need to be ready within daybreak."

"Aye, m'lord."

Aedric turns to his armour rack, donning his plate steel, mail hauberk, iron halfhelm, lobstered greaves, and finally clipping his sheath on his belt, sliding in his steel bastard sword. He strides out of the keep, and overlooks the fluster of movement down in Stoneguard. Archers fletching arrows, testing bowstrings. Spearmen practicing parry and thrusts and finding scraps of armour. Swordsmen and axeman all honing their blades on whetstones or strapping shields to their arms. Horseman gallop back and forth the roads of Holmstrom, all carrying seperat messages. Aedric spots a few Rose tabards in the quagmire, smiling. The Roses were good men, and hopefully they would heed his plea for him to lead the vanguard.

Aedric begins down the steps, nodding to each man as he passes, making his way towards the center. When he reached his destination, he stopped, and took in his surroundings. The clamour of metal on metal, the smell of fires, the sharp ring of the blacksmiths hammer, the dust being kicked up by traveling horses, the sweat glistening off the backs of men. He grinned, and breathed the smell of war.

[Quavinir_Twiceborn 1050]

*Quavinir having just heard the news of the queen renouncing her elven heritage,and even worse, hearing the queen wishing to go to war with the elves, frowns deeply, than walks back to his small chapel in Normandor, and once in, locks the doors, and leans on to one of the pews, and sobs, because he knows, tough times were ahead, Can't the world just rest!?!" he cries out, peeved and worried for the future, for he was a human, living in an elven city, and he knew that this war would in fact cause difficulty and problems between him and his elven friends, and neighbors, even worse, it would be close to impossible to convert an elf who hates him to his relgieon.

[Shadeleaf 1021]

Walking through the streets of Salvus, Arzota receives a owl, Wither's by the look of it. As Arzota opens the message held tightly within the owl's talons, his expression turns hard and stoic. Reading the news of the children's heads, Arzota grimaces, knowing all to well that the horrible act will be blamed on the Mali'ker by most, even though the council most likely had a hand in this. With the realization Arzota writes a small note on the pad of paper imbedded into his gauntlets, the bright green ink showing like liquid metal in the sunlight. With little hesitation Arzota begins to write faster, no doubt in his mind about what he wishes to accomplish with the letter, finishing it with a small scribble of his own blood.

My Dearest Queen Kyral,

It has come to my attention of the actions of Malinor's council, though you and I both know I had no hand in this, I believe it is necessary for me to leave your service for a small time. I shall return, this is a promise, yet my presence in Salvus will only drive things further into chaos. Give my regards to Lancel and James, I have only one request. When the siege does come, I wish the Flormai to remain unharmed, if the forces of Oren but scratch one of the family, you will have made a serious enemy out of myself and my kin. On a lighter note, I wish you the best luck in the coming conflict, may the shields hold strong, return a bird if you have anything to say.

~ The Once and Future, Elysian Okeas Arzota

With the note finished, Arzota searches it over and over, questioning weather to send it. With a small amount of hesitation, Arzota rips the piece of paper from his Gauntlet, folding it twice and wrapping it into a cylinder with a small piece of vine. A high pitch sequel then pierces the air of Solace, Arzota's messenger Re'hun swooping down to grab the cylinder and deliver it to Kyral. As the piece of paper is taken from his hand, Arzota walks out of the gates of Solace, glancing back only briefly to see the banner, a small pang of guilt in his heart as he ventures off into the forests, flipping his hood off and bringing his black yew bow to hand.

[Arkelos 1027]

Kyral stands at the small grave she made behind the church, unable to mark the grave as she just puts the word "Hope" there, watching as her solders bring in he cannons from Alras, the trebuchets, coming in piece by piece, cannonballs rolling in slowly, warhorses being suited and then tested. Kyral grins, but ultimately knows that she only wants one person, not a war.

Sighing, Kyral walks to her room in the palace, opening her chest of special armors. Strapping on her boots slowly as she looks solemnly outside to the graves, adjusting her feet. Sliding on the Dragonscale mail underneath as she then buckles her legplates on. She then puts the chest Dragonscale mail on her and pulls up the Dragonscale coif over her now human ears as they still twitched.

Grumbling she takes her blades, attaching the four obsidian mixed sheathings on her lower waist, four light iron blades inside as she clips her mace to her side as well, adjusting her sheathes for her alchemical weaponry belt, attaching multiple vials of mixed substances, more than any mixture, she attaches Alchemical fire.

As her weaponry was done being put on, Kyral picks her helmet up, looking at the golden trims as she sighs.

"We shall seek justice from the elves, we will get Sythra, or they all will pay."

[Praetor 1550]

Altariel wanders down the corridors in her usual maid disguise and walks up to Kyrals door, pushing it open without even deigning to knock upon it.

She doesn't seem to notice Kyral at first, letting her disguise slip away and reveal her true form, grey skinned with glowing blue eyes. She spins around as she hears Kyrals voice utter the single line, her hand flying to her dagger hilt. Once her magical eyes focus on Kyral, and she sees her face through the helm she relaxes, her hands going to the slim belt encircling her slim waist. She rests them there lightly and wanders up to Kyral, circling around her slowly, admiring her armor.

One of her slim fingers come up and taps the armor lightly with a pale, perfectly manicured nail. "I prefer when you wear none of these cumbersome metal cages...It hides your beauty.." She murmurs, shaking her head and slipping both hands to the rim of the helmet, pulling it off Kyral's head and tossing it to the side uncaringly, taking Kyral's cheeks in her freezing hands and depositing a light kiss on Kyral's with her blue lips. "If you must go and hit people and run around yelling, do come back undamaged~ I would be quite displeased to have to see a blemish on you.." She laughs softly and spins around quickly, her silky dress swishing around as she steps to the window, looking out on the city.

[Goldd 126]

*Xexus Nightheart grins as he hears from one of his messengers about this. He talks to himself in a deep and rather mysterious voice.*

"So... the council has finally taken the action that is needed. I knew a child of Velulaei would come to their senses and do this.~ Praise Sythra, a great figure to our kind.~"

*Xexus chuckles to himself.*

"I have seen enough of these torturing valah. Decapitating mali'ker children for the sake of hate. They will be treated with the same hate they have show to Haelun's children. We will fight if it means our death."

*Xexus yells out to the messenger.*

"Gather the Cunning Shadow. We will defend our kind, whether physically or not.~"