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The newly ordained Herald of Strife found the missive entering their iron grasp. They needed only peer over it for a few seconds before a nod followed, one of approval. "It has been too long. The Four Heralds must rise anew to spread the Primeval ways once more, lest we fade into further obscurity through the inaction of generations. As Maleficar are a threat to us, so too is stagnation. We only hope Delmar is versed enough in our ways.."

“It's a lesson. It must be” Perhaps it was a lesson to be thrown off a ship by your mentor. A quest of perseverance. At least, she had hoped that it was – and continued to hope. The battering of the waves must amount to something, and the risk of death had to have meaning. But there were no further splashes of water; no rope thrown down, none to dive after her. Perhaps this was an extended lesson. God, it’s freezing.  “It’s not the season to go swimming.” Vasily – Arrogant and smug. He was a stranger when he pulled her out of the water, dragging her limp body through the sands. He had cause to be arrogant in that instance, but it didn’t stop her from thinking so. And saying it (An appreciative thank you following, of course). He was the first face she saw when she had awoken. A part of her still questioned why he did it – would this count as failing her lesson? Is this a part of it? How was she meant to find her way back to The boat? “You think too much. Come along.” Her time in Reinmar could be defined by two faces. The first was the face of Jeffrey De Wees. She had gone to Reinmar as directed by Vasily, then left to stand alone in front of its looming gates. Entering it felt odd, and she was sure that she looked as out place as she had felt. Perhaps that was why Jeffrey approached her, taking pity on the lost. But he was, undoubtedly, the face which marked the beginning of her stay in the city. He led her to the outer region of the city, past the woods and towards his monastery. Their conversation was formal, polite; kind, even, as he offered to house her within his monastery for the time. It was Jeffrey, too, who then pointed her way to finding her Mentor once again. “Gael. You should look for Gael, the Paladin.” Tilruir’tir of ******* Joma. It was a name that created an impression before you met him. At least, She thought so. She had teased and commented on the matter incessantly, from the moment the name was mentioned. Her reunion with him was as sudden as her departure from him. Quick– unintended. Her investigations for Gael had led her to the steps of Urguan. A daunting task, to locate a man she had never met before, but her hope was enough to drive her feet towards the city. It became a fruitless endeavour at first, as she saw no signs of the man she was meant to find. But then came Tilruir’tir of ******* Joma. Of course it was him. The second face of Reinmar did not have a name, nor even a face. Well, not a name that she could remember. He had found her when she conversed with Tilrurir’tir – Or Til, as she called him – within the Church. The pair had returned there following their reunion in Urguan, bickering, before the man interrupted their way. We're Agents of Janus. The moment those words came from Til’s mouth, there was no room in Reinmar left for the both of them. No amount of back and forth exchanges could change the matter. By the end of their meeting, the matter was settled: They were not welcomed. Kicked out of, yet another, form of home – Trespassing was evidently the only option left. Til didn’t know where the Sage had gone with the boat; though his departure from it kinder, stepping off on the docks rather than shoved off the railings. Now, they were left to find accommodations of their own. And She did. Sort of. If trespassing counted as accommodation. The cabin was old and unused. Snow had blown through the broken windows, and the locks on the doors had long broken. Perhaps there was a bit of blood, but nothing that Til and her couldn’t clean themselves. It was perfect. “Surely the lesson is over soon?” “I think he forgot us” She uttered these words as she led Til back to the place Vasily had found her. An open beach, with the forests a few steps back from it. The Sky was clearer than it was when The Sage pushed her, the waters calmer and the sun kinder. What a joke. But the cabin was cleaned, and she was here now with Til – she could afford to be patient. Perhaps that was the lesson. Not perseverance, Patience. If there was a lesson to be learned, at all. "Come along, Serana. He'll come back when he wishes to – He always does."

A Radiant Renaissance 13th of the First Seed, Year 178 SA Dear Denizens of Aevos As many of you have come to know, we of Murkwater are a folk who value coin and clear cut deal over religion. For greed bears its merits, it brings a common honor, and understanding of personal want and growth. Yet there are other paths, other ideals that share this model. Take for example, the Path of Umbrage. The Sacred way of the Old Dark, that for near half a century now, has come to be spread in a diminished setting. Its words not made manifest, its ideals of expansion and magical renaissance. Not made manifest, for its herald lays languishing. Idle as one can be, and without proper vision for the future. The title of Herald of Umbrage, has been left destitute and lacking. Those who practice such, and those who learn from its teachings, left lost or worse. Doing nothing. It is why I, a wander who sees not through the lenses of zealotry, but through the gaze of an artisan. It is as an artisan, and wielder of the Darkened Art. That I take back that, which has been left in the hands of the Mystics. Whereby the title, Herald of Umbrage, returns to those who innovate and expand that very original art. It is with such, that I challenge you, Aranur. For the very title you bear, that which is the Herald of Umbrage. I give you a single Grave Week to respond to this challenge, otherwise I shall take this title, and use it to forge a more radiant future for my craft and kin. Let our Renaissance begin Signed Reynard Pharamir Delmar, The Lord of Crows

"I treated this mans head wound." A one Catherine de Lewes would mention to those around her.

Maiteas would read the letter before reciting a prayer, he had learned for his Uncle and then checking his pockets for one mina. . .

Upon a visit to Castle Vissingren, and seeing Annette's name spelled correctly on the paintings and the garden, Adalfriede made an amendment to her writing.

I didn't describe it too well but basically, think of it as a ghoul situation. They are more related to undead than actually demons. It just the souls that possess them aren't the undead version of that person, just more of a vessel or host for the demons on the other side.

Maerryl reads the missives. Anger, confusion and disbelief plaster her face, "Wha' the bloody hells is goin' on?!" She picks up her things and heads deeper into the city.

Cool lore but slight question, these are demons of presumably the moz but can only be created and tamed by necromancers?

A FESTIVAL OF FRIENDSHIP By the hand of Saelihn in the year 178 S.A. We unveil a floral festival, extending a warm welcome to our esteemed diplomatic guests from distant lands, while simultaneously expressing our wholehearted support for our new Sohaer. This event offers a splendid opportunity to witness the transformation of our city as flowers embellish its every corner, enhancing its inherent beauty and radiance as we adorn its walls with colorful blooms. I. THE SILVER ADDRESSING During the Silver address, the Hostess of the event shall formally introduce and extend a warm welcome to our new Sohaer, who will in turn express gratitude to the Citizens of the Silver State for their unwavering support. II. BLOOMING STANDS The Blooming Stands, comprised of various floral arrangements crafted by the Citizens of the Silver State, serve as vibrant showcases representing our esteemed Bloodlines. This presents a unique opportunity to exhibit your bloodline in a creative and artistic manner, highlighting its elegance, beauty, and purity. [ Sunday 28th, 4 PM EST in Tahn’miar, the Capital of Haelun’or ] To Her Majesty, THE QUEEN OF BALIAN. ( @HIGH_FIRE) On behalf of elSohaer Ashwýn Sythaerin, we extend a cordial invitation to Her Majesty and her people to partake in our festival, serving as a testament to southern kindness and friendship. As previously discussed, amidst the festivities, our leaders may convene to engage in discussions regarding the intricacies of a prospective diplomatic agreement between our nations. We eagerly anticipate the arrival of Her Majesty and her entourage, and the opportunity to host them in our midst. Signed, Elensir Calathân and Naedwylm. MAEHR’SAE HIYLUN’EHYA

Aerrund grumbles as he reads the note. "May yer go, but go with ale, friend! Glory to the uncorrupted. Narvok oz Grelu!"

Garen prayed to the Creator for Lug's wellbeing and sent him as much mina as he could spare.

Trahendaes Inferior Demons I. Origins Within the confines of the Underworld and the realms of chaos and death, a blasphemous breed between Voidal horrors and daemons alike spawn within the reaches of Aevos; Trahendaes (shortened version of Crawl Demons) are of the abominations of the undead throughout the lands. Trahendaes point of origin and their circumstances of becoming are a mess, as so few are seen that they are rarely documented. Theories awry that they are messengers of Iblees, some say they are warning signs of upcoming danger, others say that they are tricksters and cold hearted but they are just theories. Though, a running theory of these daemons is that they are creations of Higher Demons for messaging and surveilling continents that would be plausible for usurping and draining it’s natural structure but still, a theory nonetheless. II. Biology Trahendaes are daemons that have either been stripped of their legs or the legs are completely amputated from either waist down or so on. Trahendaes have untouched muscled torsos with long arms. The arms to the torso are skin but the waist, head, and hands are daemonic in origin. The heads can either resemble the heads of medium to large prey animals (Sheep, cattle, rams, etc) or of recently deceased men or women. The heads of the Trahendaes are usually stripped of any skin and shown to have mainly meat and bones on them. The hands of the Trahendaes are elongated and the fingers are spikey and sharpened to the bone. A thick, black casing engulfs the fingertips and acts as sharpened tools. Due to the length of the arms, and the unfortunate circumstance of the legs, it is given that the arms are used for the transportation of the daemon. Even though they are losing an aspect of their body, Trahendaes are extremely efficient crawlers and climbers, being able to scale walls and trees in no time. Daemons seem to not need food, water, or sustenance to survive but tend to eat for no reason. Unlike other demons and undead, Trahendaes can possess emotion but are bound to their creators whim. If a Trahendae is to harm you, you are not to worry as they possess weak strength when fighting due to their hesitancy. III. Behavior Trahendaes are neutral stalkers and do not seem to attack or intend harm on those they stalk. They often disguise themselves in nature or on objects and structures with whatever is around them but they tend to stalk openly as well. Trahendaes are incapable of inept incubation and are not driven to lust, their only desire is to finish their tasks set to them by their creator. Trahendaes are also very fluent in common and other languages, but tend to slur their speech due to the circumstances regarding their heads. There is not much known about Trahendaes behavior, they are mainly docile for daemons. Though, they are extremely wise as well as very good at convincing or persuading their way. This, however, is uncanny and can be seen as some sort of magic, being named Silvertongue Trahendaes. Trahendaes, being brought into this world, seem to have a shared connection with the undeath plain. They do not possess memories of the bodies or souls used to create them but seem to be a selected slot of daemons. IV. Taming Unfortunately for those who wish to KEEP a found Trahendaes, they are only bound to loyalty to those they serve but they can still be interacted with and befriended by anyone.

Dark Elves are tricky to say the least, there's no exact definition of them in fantasy. On lotc they have their own lore and history (something that I haven't checked out yet, guilty indeed), so I guess that would play a big role on their height

"You're a mad dwed still!"

people always like to emote being stronger then ppl because they're taller make them all 5'5

Yera pouts as she has the missive taken from her hands. "Rude! I was trying to read that deliberate attempt at sparking dissent and instability in Haelun'or."@Cobbler