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Tradition And Silver

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.~ (( The 4th of September, 2014 update )) ~.

 

 

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Torn from the grasp of silver the Fringe fell into darkness, threatening to drag the Creator's races with it. A portal opened, almost beckoning the races to enter it. Refuge was found in the land of Thales through this portal however brief for the eerie cold soon engulfed the land. Where had the portal taken them? Had the North found them? Was their destiny to march out their days until the swelling chill clasped it's icy winds around their throats? Dashing their crops and starving their animals? Was malnutrition to be their demise?
 



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Light poured onto one of Thales peninsula's. Perhaps the final bulwark against the storm. Sails of every nation, race and faction rose, blotting the sea in dancing wool, the strong cold front producing winds that would prove to be the salvation of the races. They escaped onto the vessels and watched from their ships as the waters behind them froze. All those left in Thales would meet their demise... eventually.
 
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A land of magic was found. One full of lost culture and untold stories. The caves full of dangers and artwork strewn upon the walls. The elves of Haelun'or were strangely drawn in by ancient elven ruins with words engraved in stone and set out to colonize near the mystic forest which held them. 

 

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And so a new era began for the mali'thill. One of expansion, prosperity and cultural flourish within the newly discovered realm of Athera. Finally the high born could live in a world flowing with more magical potential than they could ever truly discover. The libraries filled with discussion on new alchemical reagents. Countless books lined the shelves, brimming with newly founded theories and research. The days of idle reading were behind them. 
 

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It was time for the children of Malin to enter the age of discovery.
 
 

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 The tranquility of Annil’sul, the new home of the Mali’aheral, was not to last for long. The first year was plagued with the coup of the interim Sohaer, Durion Uradir, in which he attempted to take control of the entire nation alongside his group - Known as the Orariran. The coup was later destroyed and the rightful Sohaer, Kalenz Uradir, was returned to power once more.

 

The peace of Haelun’or was disturbed once.

 

 The lives of the citizens of Haelun’or soon returned to normal, the Sohaer and the Maheral slipped into extended periods of absence. For a time, one could say the whole government of Haelun’or was absent, even though there were several fresh faces within the Heial’thilln.

 

 As time crept by, the discontent grew. This discontent was not isolated to the Mali’aheral, even the Mali’ame and Mali’ker shared similar thoughts, despite the divide between the children of Malin. Talk of an election began, but all it would take was one small speech to change the course of history.

 

 And so it did, the new Okarir’akaln Damasus Visaj stood in front of the fountain in the Annil’sul, where he challenged Kalenz Uradir to the position of Sohaer. The discontent in the leadership appeared to be very great at this time, as Andria Ith’ael soon challenged, then Iatrilemar Elervathar and Lucion Sullas. Though the Annilir of the Beru’cinhir, a Mali’ame by the name of  Phaedrus Lle’hileia also decided to challenge; this sent Haelun’or into a downward spiral.

 

 The election soon came with four candidates, all with the ambition of leading the nation. The turmoil was not over, though some could say it was yet to begin…

 

 Andria Ith’ael disappeared from the city for several days, due to her apparent assassination. Her disappearance only worsened the turmoil, with Kalameet Izalith also choosing to challenge for leadership. Nevertheless Iatrilemar Elervathar was then named Sohaer, and peace seemed to return once more, like the calm before a storm.

 

The peace of Haelun’or was disturbed twice.

 

 Even though the descendant race’s old foe, Iblees had returned, the city seemed rather peaceful. The Silver District was slowly nearing completion, with most Mali’aheral present residing in homes at this time. As the metaphorical storm approached the horizon, many failed to see it, and therefore were unprepared for the day when it arrived.

 

 Iatrilemar Elervathar was discovered trapped inside a purple crystal within the laboratories of the Eternal College, with no evident way to release him from the seemingly makeshift cell. Phaedrus Lle’hielia, without the consent of anyone, almost immediately declared martial law, and effectively made himself the leader of Annil’sul.

 

 In the coming days, the Silver District became almost devoid of pure Mali’aheral. And in a very symbolic act, The Eternal Library was also razed after its contents were removed.

 

The peace of Haelun’or was disturbed thrice.

 

 The Maheral Kalenz Uradir declared Kalameet Izalith as the new Sohaer, though his words were of no use. Annil’sul was now in the hands of the Mali’ame, with the support of the Uruk, Bortu and the nation of Aesterwald. With much of Athera rising up against those who had united the Mali, there could be no doubt that blood would be shed. With the agreement that silver is more precious than stone, the Mali’aheral simply left.

 

With the mistakes and betrayals of the past burnt into the memory of each Mali’aheral, refuge was found and a new home built before the usurpers could even solidify their control over the abandoned city. The creator of this new home, Delonna Aélèyelsa then named Andria Ith’ael the Maheral of the Mali’aheral. There was no need for the Heial’thilln, all they had left was their hope, pride, and what knowledge had been fled with. Silver would remember those that attempted to tarnish it.

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The Lazul Adendum

 

It is noteworthy that this writing makes its way to you not in the bold and new fangled colour of cyan, teal or whatever these new political mali'aheral call the hue of their blue but rather a colour of old. For this tale is not one of the new days of recovery from the Grand Betrayal but a story from long ago back in the lands of The Fringe.

 

You see, mali'aheral. It was not only Lucion Sullas who guided the mali'aheral as they gathered back together after their long era of being scattered after the fall of Lin'evaral. It was also the work of Lelien Lazul, daughter of the once mali'aheral Yuln the Ice Beast (once Tilruir'leyun) and Delonna (once Tilruir'nor). It was Lelien's industry that brought the mali'aheral from splinters back to their home in the Tomb and it was Lelien who rose as Sohaer once a new state of Haelun'or had been forged.

 

It was Lelien who shepherded the mali'aheral while I, your humble scribe, remained with my mind in the realm of the Arcane. It is her work which forged a friendship with the House Carrion and it is because of this, at least in part, that the Uruk and Bortu hoards fled despite their vehement wish to purge Haelun'or long ago in The Fringe— Though perhaps that was more attributable to the reaffirmation of Crimson and Silver. But never the less, the rule of Lelien was one of rebuilding and one of the upmost levels of peace.

 

Unappeased by the era of conflict ushered in by the Sohaer before her, she sought to uphold the neutrality that was once the hallmark of Haelun'or of old. However, her time was short and brought to an end by the filth of Malinor— As is often the case with the most bright and desirable of the mali'thill.

 

After many years of being courted the elfess found herself to have taken a fancy to the once High Prince of Malinor Eleron Sylvaeri. Scorned by the Empire of Oren, Dwarves and defunct but still very powerful once leaders of the Conclave alive it was the hatred for him that was bestowed on her by right of marriage. On top of this the worm that once was High Prince whispered into her ear and corrupted her. Turning her from the pure and virtuous path of Crimson and Silver to the path of opposition to those who safeguarded the existence of Haelun'or. Because of the whispers of Eleron she was turned to arranging Uruk attacks upon Oren and by poor happenstance she was discovered in her plot. A trial of not only valah but also her fellow mali'aheral she stood before and despite protests she was ended before her time. 

 

This, lliran is a tale not of joy and progress but a warning. Those who stray from the path of Silver are destined to fall into nothing of desire. Impurity brings nothing bust death. And yet, there is one vestige for praise in the story of Lelien that remains.

 

Death did not hinder her contribution to Tradition and Silver, for the Eternal One still stirs.

 

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There was great chaos upon leaving for the Refuge, and many of our kind were lost, slaughtered by the ame and assimilated into others' peoples. But Silver was eternal, and in the times to come, there would be great change and reform. Indeed, there would be progress, even if, for the time, the aheral would have no health. With the Usurper Phaedrus risen to power, and aheral being persecuted and hunted from all across the lands, there were those whom sought to save their culture and rescue their people, and they took on the sacrifice of the Sillumiran. Thus was the Chapter of Ellomian'thilln born. And so, in groups of two and three, the Blessed Elves sought their kindred out deep in the hearts of hostile lands, and brought them back to home.

 

Progress would be made.

 

Thusly did the Blessed Elves stand proud once more, and began to rebuild a life from ruins. They sought peace, unity, and isolation, as in the days of the Tomb, and tempers began to simmer down. And though for a few years they were fearful and quiet, the discontent in the failed nation of Laureh'lin grew, and the mali'aheral grasped the opportunity with both hands. And so the, the leaders of the time, of Tilruir'tir Asul'athri and of Avern'dionne, of Maheral Delonna and of Andria, whom had given up her seat, began to plan for peace, and for war.

 

Progress would be made.

 

But of course there were times when peace was shaky, and the ground uncertain - Renatus and Oren clashed, and clashed again, and then clashed again, before the kingdom of Crows was made gone. And though the aheral enjoyed peace with the Crows in the times of Kalenz, they turned their backs, and forged a new alliance with Renatus. An ally strong was made.

 

Progress would be made.

 

The Naysayer, in his time, had estranged the bortu and the uruks, had spread filth upon them with insults, assuming wrongly that our aid from the Carrions would last forever. And so we had paid dearly with it, when the gates of Annil'sul were opened that we might be forced from them, and cut down where we stood. But the aheral were not stagnate - they, as the tempers of the other nations cooled, and they were forgiven of their had-been leader's trespasses, forged and brokered treaties with cool mind and silver tongue. And thus were two allies in the uruks and bortu made.

 

Progress would be made.

 

And then, a group of a dark elven people rose up from their brethren, and upon Phaedrus and on their counterparts, they waged war, calling upon the might of the world to aid them. And with them the aheral promised to ride, and to set their skills to the test. The Sillumiran were sparked with flurries of activity, as men were gathered up and action was taken - scouting and spying, strategising and training.

 

The people of Laureh'lin were not stupid, except for their senile leader the Usurper. They foresaw the coming of a world war, and to the nations they pleaded for mercy and peace. And some among them came up to push aside Phaedrus' mantle, who stubbornly refused the terms of both aheral and ker, and there was peace. The flurry of the Sillumiran died down, and quieted, as did the pens and blades of all the other races and nations. There would be peace. And at last, our true home, the lands beneath our Annil'sul, was being returned to us.

 

Progress has been made.

 

And as we wait to return en masse, progress will be made.

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The waning moon, barely a crescent, winking behind navy blue clouds to passingly embrace the city in radiant silver. The tremor of war drums in the distance, carried by late autumn winds like the rumbling beginnings of devastating thunder. And the lonely elfess, chewing her quill, inhaling deep the scent of fresh parchment, dusty tomes, and the smoldering midnight oil that guards against the pressing darkness with lukewarm orange hues.

 

She breathes in deep, allows her mind to take flight and escape from here and into her memories. Memories of the city in summertime, the sun cradling the rooftops of the eternal college and smiling down at her. She remembers the council hall, where she spoke with admiration of her peers and ancestors as fellow Elves pressed themselves to the glass gallery, nodding contently to her speech. She remembers the inn, where she would find her companions and crack jokes at the expense of Malinor's politics or Human wine-brewing skills.

 

Most of all, she remembers the calm, easy smile that would adorn her face before she fell asleep, restful, with every threat of war and destruction an ocean away.

 

How fitting, the years that have passed between the last passage added to this volume and the time she writes to you now. Quill and parchment lie forgotten on their tables, as spear and bow and shield are raised and thrusted towards the skies. The beloved mother, Larihei Lohmanih, once petitioned for her love, her guidance, her wisdom, is now called upon to bestow onto us the strength to vanquish our enemies and burn their cities. Elven, once echoing through filled-up classrooms as words of instruction, has been refitted into battlecries, to carry over shrieks of death and vengeance on blood-soaked battlefields.

 

Irreverent hatred towards the Mali'aheral is nothing new. More than a century has passed since the first doomsayers prophecized that our so-called arrogance would be our swift undoing. The High Elves have known many rulers since the first time Malinor attempted to thwart our progress, dull our splendor, cull our growth. But as Malinor shrunk and shrunk, the legacy of Larihei did nothing but grow. Now once-great Malinor is small enough to fit inside the pages of a history book and we are here, last bastion of Elven Culture, fending off spears and broken glass of those Elves who have lost all but their loathing for us.

 

What is new, however, is the reciprocity.

 

The greatness of Haelun'or never came from the leverage of armies or the sharpness of our spears. And while peace must be compelled, yes, sometimes by war, there was never once the urge within us that called for vengeance. We did not exchange an eye for an eye and never once caused the preventable death of a pure Elf. But with each new day, more and more Mali'thill wake up with vengeance on their lips, yearning for more of its bitter taste.

 

While primitive hatred of the lesser races used to end as it smashed uselessly against our Silver Walls, it now does naught but escalate. Flames of rage roar and roar again until even our exalted library was caught in their blaze. And still it hungers, this fire, wishing to be fed. And still we fan the flames, hoping it will consume our foes and not ourselves.

 

Whatever envy of the lesser races kindled the fury is all but lost, the list of supposed reasons lying somewhere on these library shelves, to be appended to and used as justification and propaganda. Foregone is the need for ink, the words instead written in the blood of the Elven sacrifices made for this feud. And beyond our walls the warlords, sitting on the elderwood thrones formerly reserved for Princes wise and just, eagerly embracing the titles given to them with wanton hunger, eagerly chanelling the growing anger towards the High Elves into greater power for themselves.

 

 

Us blessed Mali'aheral have suffered to become the architects of our future.

 

Now we are the architects of our own suffering, at least.

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 Without another word, the Elves of Annil’sul surrendered, cowardly of the three nations that wished to befall their corrupted city. Within mere months, the silver walls of the once grand sight came down, leaving a vast expanse in its wake. Via some strange, perhaps magical force, a plateau rose from the ground, their golden pools were a worthy sacrifice for such a wondrous land.

 

 Alas, the tribulations of the Mali’aheral were not yet over. One individual incited the rage of the Uruk, Kalenz Uradir. His attempts to reconcile with the Uruk proved useless, and therefore his refusal to leave the city - instead preferring execution - for the benefit of the blessed Mali’thill resulted in his wish being granted.

 

Or so it seemed…

 

 Nevertheless, Haelun’or soon delved into a time of peace. The Maheral Delonna Aélèyelsa beckoned forth elections of a new triumvirate, placing Avern’dionne in the position of the Sohaer of the nation. By her side were Kalameet Izalith and Silir’ilume, serving as Medi’iran. But this set up was not to last long, for emotion would cloud some. A trial of one by the name of Lyu’Maehr resulted in Avern'dionn and Kalameet swapping positions, as a group known as the Gentle Elves revealed her love of the accused. Thusly yet another Sohaer began his reign, Kalameet Izalith.

 

 In a blink of an eye, the peace of Athera was disturbed once more as the lands plunged into another war, known as the Schism War. The Mali’aheral joined with those who once their enemy, the Dwarves, the Konigreich of Aesterwald and the State of Laureh’lin. But the cost of such an alliance was great, for the people of Savoy, who had sheltered the Mali’aheral for over a decade fought with the Canonists and against Haelun’or’s so called allies. Many began to regret their choice to support the ‘WATO’ alliance.

 

 Then an opportunity came for a chance to reverse this decision; an opportunity to take revenge on those who had caused them trouble. Silir’ilume, Kalameet Izalith and his ‘cousin,’ Ibar Izalith, convinced Dwyn Tinuvial to sign a treaty to effectively give Haelun’or control over the Mali’ame once more. As expected, the Mali’ame prepared to fight and bought their allies, the Dwarves.

 

 Haelun’or called upon the Canonists and the Company of the Wolf, thus the legions of Humanity came forth, for traditions of old still stand strong. Soon after the war came to an end, but the feud between the Mali’aheral and the Lesser Mali had only just began, especially with the arrival of a peculiar figure a few years later.

 

 Ibar Izalith, thought to be the cousin of Kalameet Izalith, was a ruse; Ibar soon showed his true colours as he revealed himself to be Kalenz Uradir. He launched a campaign against his old foe and  the leader of the State of Laureh’lin, Artimec Camyron. Each Elven day in an act of terrible retribution, a member of the Ivory Order - the guardforce of Laureh’lin - was slain.

 

 As war was brewing, the Sillumiran grew larger and took on a new name: The Evarir’thilln. Lead by one by the name of Rael Ith’ael, he managed to successfully defend against most attacks on Haelun’or. Nearly all foes were slain, Uruk, Dwarf and Mali’ame alike. Skirmishes were undertaken on the Stone Road, which became a blood bath. Once more men of the Reformed Kingdom of Oren came to assist, and both Mali’aheral and Valah fought side by side - even though the Valah and Dwarf had tried to make peace. For a time a traitorous Kharajyr Tlatlanni decided to move against Haelun’or, however her reign was rightfully short.

 

 Soon the day of repayment for the Mali’ame crimes came as Haelun’or prepared to march on Laureh’lin once more. Many of the citizens of the capital city, Leyulin fled to a new city: Cerulin. In a vain attempt to stop the progress of the Mali’aheral, Dwarves built a fort underneath the now cleared city of Leyulin. Kharajyr, the reborn Bronze Elves and many others joined the Mali’aheral in preparing for the battle.

 

But Humanity was not to be seen…

 

 The Reformed Kingdom of Oren issued a notice preventing all from partaking in the siege of Leyulin and instead planned to hold war games. Concern seemed to rise, some doubting even Haelun’or large military could win such a battle. But as prideful as Mali’aheral are, they went ahead with their daring siege.

 

 With uncharacteristic war cries, those of Haelun’or, the Kharajyr and the Company of the Wolf moved forth to secure the grounds of Leyulin. Deep below them presided the opposing force, hiding like rodents from the predators above. Alas, the Mali’aheral had been to a ruse - for the better.

 

 The warhorns of the Reformed Kingdom of Oren blew, and offensive on the nest began. The tunnels of the Dwarves soon resonated with the thunderous crack of explosives. Together, the allies went forth and slayed every Dwarf and Mali’ame, their tunnels a fitting grave for such a foolish plan. All who opposed the might of the Mali’aheral and Humanity perished had no chance to escape.

 

 Victorious the Mali’aheral and their allies stood, and the war was yet to be over. Though a treaty was drawn up later between the Mali’aheral and Mali’ame - tensions still stand high in wake of yet another war on the horizon.

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The book is removed from the library.

 

Silver is eternal. This is no mere statement but a fact which rings true throughout the ages. And yet, just as iron can rust and wood may rot— Silver may grow dull. Envision then, elves of Haelun'or, a house of an elf in a city of others— filled with trinkets of Silver. His collection so lustrous that the others in the city would grow jealous and ****** them from him, night by night. One after the other. His collection would slowly dwindle. And yet those who stole them did not know how to care for the precious creations of Sliver. They did not know to polish and shine. They did not know how to display them so that they were at their most beautiful. The Silver trinkets grew dull and the world filled with sorrow, for by stealing from the man they had extinguished the most beautiful sight in all of their city. It is this decay that Haelun'or so often stands in defiance of. And yet, it is not always this decay that can be avoided.

 

King Vydra, after the war, did grow hostile towards the eternally faithful to Crimson-Silver. Just as has been written, tensions still brewed amongst the elves and yet the aid of humanity was absent. The mali'aheral and mali'ker, realising the wayward ways of their wicked wooden kin did form a union— The Emerald League. A unity of elves was to be established that had not been seen since the age of The Fringe. But this was not to last. The King Vydra grew lustful, seeking to bring the elves of the world into the fold. The elves of Haelun'or and Ker'nor were instructed thusly— allow us our armies into your lands so we might protect your city from war. This was no choice and so the mali'aheral did let them in. Step by step the men did desecrate the sacred ways of Haelun'or— Demanding they the Children of Silver embrace the impure, tearing books from shelves and wiping mud on that which is Eternal and the knowledge within.

 

And with that, Vydra ceased to be... and our troubles did begin.

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Plagued with unrest, the silver document was left untouched for years. No pen or hand touched the worn document of history. Under human occupation after the assassination of Vydra the pure mali'thill underwent extreme turmoil. Most facilities and productions in the city came to a halt, leaving maehr'sae hiylun'ehya temporarily behind them. It was conspired that the city would be altogether abandoned so that the remaining mali'aheral could seek refuge away from all of mankind. Where were they to go though? Two separate factions within the silver walls began to appropriate possible new homes. Some chose to follow Avern to the hostile desert island to the south while others found shelter in an abandoned cleric stronghold and after having cleansed it of the clerical taint found it to be a modest, peaceful location. However fate would not be so kind as to allow any of the descendant races to build their lives up.

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A great beast soon tore Athera asunder. The screams of the innocents fell deaf as rockslides, earthquakes and fissures swallowed them, their families and their homes into deep abyss-like trenches throughout the continent. At every turn the descendants were outmaneuvered by the terror, a colossal realm eating worm born from destruction. One by one the cities fell, starting with the Northern most cities. Warriors picked up arms to defend all as the entirety of Athera was evacuated onto life vessels stationed near the cloud temple. Those on the boat watched helplessly as humans, elves, dwarves, and orcs were in-consequently crushed like ants. Screams were heard from the shoreline as well as from the boats as men and women alike dove off the rafts to swim back to shore and help with the evacuation, only to meet their inevitable doom.

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Those that survived remember one last image. The image of hundreds of lives falling sliding into the fracture that soon swallowed what remained of the cloud temple. There were no monks to guide those spirits back. They were gone, lost to Athera forever. Those who stayed in Athera, thinking that they could hide and outlast the worm were eventually met with the misfortune that befell every other settlement in the realm. We have not ventured back to Athera since nor is it likely that we would recognize it as it once was.

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Many of us awoke on the shoreline of a new continent, Vailor, after travelling for months with little to no reserves of food or water. Hunger and thirst drive many mad over the voyage, and the races that had worked together to save each and every soul they could were now at each others throats for scraps. With luck the descendants made it though many are not sure how. The lands of Vailor were vast and plentiful allowing the races to spread themselves out over vast mountain ranges, plains, oceans and deserts. It has been studied that the separation between the races led to a brief cultural boom and allowed each of them the comfort and space they desired.

~ * ~

Unrest followed though. The mali'aheral would not be allowed to divert from their path so easily. At this time the mali'aheral lived in what is known as the Protectorate of Haelun'or. A city-state of Oren. Many found being under the humans as a form of belittlement to their great race while others were unsure of the repercussions were they to achieve independence. Regardless under the reign of Sohaer Laethis Izalith the mali'aheral fought for the King, who had shown them compassion in years past and had been the one to save them from the wood elven genocide, Olivier Savoie.

The King had promised the mali'aheral independence if they helped quell the human rebellion but such has yet to be achieved. The title of King soon found it's way to another after the war and Laethis Izalith found new misfortune. Purity, the guiding principle of the mali'aheral was being forsaken by many mali'aheral within our home and the Sohaer could do little to stop it. It was suspected that a frost witch coven nested in the city, spreading their corrupted roots throughout the populace. An attempt was made on Sohaer Laethis Izalith's life, though unsuccessful. Another threat was made to Maheral Iatrilemar Elervathar and thus began a chain of events that led to the assassination of the Sohaer. It is speculated that the coven was behind it but without help the mali'aheral have yet to learn or purge more than a single frost witch. 

Political disdain surrounded the silver culture in Vailor. Many possible canidates found themselves not participating at all due to the fear of an attempt on their own lives. Some were brutally murdered. Others imprisoned. The mali'aheral could only hope that with their new Sohaer, Kalameet Izalith, that order would be restored and the children of silver would find their way back to the path of progress. Our dear maehr'sae hiylun'ehya is in dire need of it's mali'thill and the wisdom of Larehei. Would the continue down this new found path that led them astray or find their way back to the illuminated path of Progress and Health? 

 

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 Alas, Kalameet Izalith’s second tenure as leader ended with him disappearing from the Citadel, the only hallmark of his reign being the creation of a new government system: one with a council and no proper leader. Riondil Seni was voted in within the year and his reign was peaceful in comparison to those in the past.

 

 Moreover, a second settlement was constructed on an island a fair distance from the Citadel and lead by Taeleh Elibar’acal. Named Fi’ceru in honour of the Asulonian era settlement by the name of Ceru, it attracted both pure High Elves and lessers alike due to its lax gate policies and the opportunity for those of all races to live there; its population grew quickly and began to rival the Citadel.

 

 Around this time a private army known as the Order of the Golden Owl arose. Built on the ideals of purging monsters and impurity alike, the group swelled in size and soon dwarfed the miniscule Sillumiran. With Taeleh Elibar’acal at its helm the order set to work and attracted positive and negative opinions alike.

 

  Riondil’s term ended with his resignation, and in an unexpected twist, Laethis Izalith returned and won the position once more. Many speeches and controversies followed as Taeleh and Laethis dueled for power. Alas, in turn our blessed nation began to split into two and became little more than a battleground for the Owls and the supporters of Laethis. And the flaws of the new political system began to show, as elections were being held every Elven week or two.

 

 A betrayal then changed everything: an ally of Laethis by the name of Kelthran revealed that that Laethis’ wife was a Frost Witch. Taeleh, working in conjunction with Kelthran, then challenged Laethis for his position. Thus he fled to other lands, along with many of his supporters, leaving Taeleh to become the new Tilruir’mali. A last ditch effort to save Laethis by his supporters was to remove Maheral Iatrilemar Elervathar - who had sided with Taeleh in the allegations of impurity - but it merely resulted in the resignation of those who opposed Taeleh in the council.

 

 These supporters founded a city known as Sanctuary, while Taeleh had the capital of Haelun’or moved to Fi’ceru, leaving the Citadel abandoned. Whist Sanctuary thrived with impurity, Haelun’or remained steadfast, even if it’s population was greatly reduced. Taeleh’s term came to an end via the Scholar’s Society, led by Avern’dionne Adriane, who took his place as Tilruir’mali.

 

 Maheral Iatrilemar Elervathar, in yet another turn of the events, decided to proclaim Laethis Izalith as Maheral, in an attempt to promote unity amongst the various shards of the Mali’aheral. Yet Haelun’or simply rejected him as Maheral via vote, and Avern’dionne became Sohaer of Haelun’or via council vote within the Elven day.

 

 Under the leadership of Avern’dionne, a third city was constructed for our kind on the island of Fimaehr by the name of Lin’sulan, and mayhaps the first city truly suitable for the Mali’aheral of Haelun’or in the land of Vailor. Another vote spelled the end for the Order of the Golden Owl, deeming all private armies in Haelun’or without the permission of the council illegal, as was proclaimed in the days of the coup of Durion Uradir. Thus the Mali’aheral began their path to restore themselves to what they were long ago.

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