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Amendments/Additions implemented into main lore post. Thank you for your submission. Moving to correct subforum to prevent redundancy and clutter.

A Wanderer decided to read over the text when brought to her, a roll of the eyes when finished reading them "So much I could say, but I can't be bothered to waste my breath, stick your head in the sand as you lot seemingly do. It is no wonder you can't progress." She thought about how ironic it was, almost two elven years later, and Haelun'or was back where it was when she left it.

Amendments/Additions implemented into main lore post. Thank you for your submission. Moving to correct subforum to prevent redundancy and clutter.

The combined hallucination of Petra's citizens known as 'Sparrow' nods satisfied. Putting 'Sir' in front of his name with totally make people take him more seriously.

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TO CROWN A DUKE Issued and confirmed by, THE DUCHY OF RAVENMIRE Anno Domini 19XX LO UNTO THE GOOD PEOPLE OF RAVENMIRE, Our ducal coronet laments to inform the good citizenry of Ravenmire of the passing of the Duchess Meira Kervallen-Elmwood, who was felled by southron insurgents. Upon news of her untimely death, the late Duchess’ council has convened and decided upon a worthy successor to take up her ducal seat. B O R O S T O V A An artist's depiction of the Duke Ravenmire, c. 1971 Prior to his ascension, Bo served as the former Lord Chancellor to the late Duchess Meira before her untimely demise. In his fleeting tenure as Chancellor, the newly made Duke Ravenmire has demonstrated possession of all qualities requisite of proper rule. The country therefore releases bated breath as Bo prepares to dons the illustrious mantle and titles of the late Duchess Meira, to rule these northern wastes as she once did. In celebration of the creation of a new Duke, the council of Ravenmire joyously announced his coronation, to be held on the 178 of the Second Age INVITATIONS ARE TO BE EXTENDED TO THE FOLLOWING: THE LORDS OF THE NORTH: The Most Honorable Margrave of the Rhosmark, and the people of Rhosmark The Right Honorable Count of Blackworth, and the people of Blackworth OUR ALLIES NEAR AND FAR: Ellenore av Eiriksdóttir, High Keeper of the Sacred Flame and their Citizens KLOG’AKAAL, Rex of Krugmar, Ruler of the Desert and their Citizens Lumia Uialben,The Silver Lubba of the Most Serene State, Matron of House Uialben, Heiress of House Anarion, Protector of the Whispering Isles and their Citizens OOC: [April 25 at 7:30pm EST] SIGNED, HIS GRACE, Bo of the House of Rostova, Duke of Ravenmire HER GRACE, Yelena of Crestfall, Duchess consort of Ravemire

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Ilaria watched as the rains rinsed away her indigo tattoos; the designs she'd always adorned her good arm with, a practice she's kept up since she was just a child desperate for distractions. Now the process of inking was more grounding, assuring; symbolic and personal. Her patterns faded and washed away into nothing, leaving that lavender arm bare. When the storm passed, she took up her brush and dipped its bristles into the ink. Something new would replace the old, and be all the more beautiful upon that arm.

Released from a desk within the Vale came a pamphlet informing those coming to volunteer for the defence of the Vale, "FROM THE DESK OF DEFENCE COUNCIL OF THE VALE, It is the greatest consideration that the Defence Council has undertaken with the incoming Harrower conflict. Supplies have been ferried; plans have been created; and plans are under the moment in enaction. Furthermore it has also come into our understanding that several groups have made their intentions to join as volunteers clear. While we, at once, appreciate the willingness of the volunteering groups - we also fundamentally must reorganise these volunteering groups to deny a fall of discipline and communication. These volunteers will work - unless otherwise specified - directly under the command of one Cathan or one Nenar. They will not be allowed to operate autonomously. Furthermore, they will require approval of their joining from one Cathan or one Nenar to maintain discipline within the ranks of the Vale defenders. To consider why is to consider that many of these volunteers have not been integrated with defence plans from the beginning of the conflict; which means that they will need to be organised into a foreign legion. Furthermore, if we allow these volunteers to organise themselves autonomously, they will break some of our planning doctrine. Thus these rules are set in stone for volunteers, with the confirmed groupings so far being the Solgaardians and the Paladin Chapter ‘Order of the Golden Lion’. Keep in mind that all Paladins are not approved due to faulty discipline or elsewise. Punishments for breaking conduct will be as harsh as any law within a warzone. Commandant Cathan, Nenar."

Issued and averred by _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Per the decisions made at a meeting of the Petrine Laurel, the Order has seen fit to elevate four Petrans to the Chapter of Brooks in recognition of their outstanding efforts within the Petran Commonwealth. Henceforth elevated as members of the Chapter of Brooks, afforded with the honour and privileges afforded per the Edict of Rising Tides are: _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dame Thérèse von Theonus Elevated to the Chapter of Brooks in recognition of her lifetime of service within the Petran government. First serving as Commissaire then Vice-Chancellor, and later Chancellor of the Petran Commonwealth during the reigns of both Queen Renilde I and Queen Catherine I. Under her leadership, the Petran Commonwealth was seen through the aftermath of the War of the Covenant, saw the overhaul of stewardry, a registry of Petran nobility, and many years of leal service. Among living Petrans, there are few who have dedicated as much of their life in service to the governance of the realm as Dame Thérèse. Sir Barnabas Grein Elevated to the Chapter of Brooks in recognition of his efforts to found and govern the district of Moleton within Vallagne. Amidst the ongoing shortages of housing within Vallagne, Sir Barnabas was central to the creation of this district which to this day houses many Petrans in an open and welcoming environment. For this, he is recognized as having contributed greatly to the administration and culture of Petra. Sir Cypress Brylynn The posthumous elevation of Sir Cypress is made in recognition of a lifetime of service to the River Guard during the long reign of Queen Renilde I. Within his lifetime, the Reformation of the Petrine Laurel was only in its infancy, and he was not afforded the opportunities seen today within the Petran Commonwealth. Thus, the Order of the Petrine Laurel seeks to rectify this, and recognize the large contributions he made within his lifetime as an officer of the River Guard. Sir Pelym Vagil-Rivers Akin to Sir Cypress Brylynn, Sir Pelym spent his lifetime in service to the Petran Commonwealth through his enlistment within the River Guard. Amongst its ranks, he was a prominent and well-known member, often remembered too for his foray into Petran politics within his lifetime. He too served during the reign of Queen Renilde I, and deserves recognition for the over two decades of unfaltering service he gave to the realm. Although controversial in his actions and behaviour, at heart Sir Pelym was a true patriot, and embodied the dogged resolve which marks the Petran spirit. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ HIS EXCELLENCY, Theoderic von Theonus, Knight Commander of the Petrine Laurel

THE TALE OF OSMUND Art depicting Osmund hearing admonitions from his people. DIE GESCHICHTE VON OSMUND | THE TALE OF OSMUND Raised by Owinrich Eadlacsson, Chieftain of the Eadlkin In the Age of Frost Transcribed by Aelfwin von Kretzen In the year of our Lord 1973 Medieval II Total War Music "The Widow" ÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON REINMAR, HARK THESE TALES INSCRIBED ON STONE, KINSMEN. I have transcribed the Runespire of Osmund, one of the earliest known chieftains to undergo baptism and convert to the One True Faith. Formerly a mighty, prideful, and boastful chieftain, he found the Lord after committing a great sin and was granted salvation following a most divine punishment. THE TALE OF THE MARTYR Art depicting Leofred ‘The Martyr’. Long ago, when my son was but a babe and my people still praised the spirits of the forests, rivers, and sky, my hirdman and brother, Leofred, approached me after a great battle amid my feast. "Brother, brother!" he exclaimed as he entered my hall. "What? Come forth and partake of your bread!" I called back, eager to receive him. "The herder Alfgar recounted a most wondrous tale! He spoke of an ancient king, Goswin, if memory serves? How steadfast he remained in his faith even amidst defeat by his foe, Harwin." He shared the tale with me as he accepted my bread and seated himself beside me at my lengthy table. "Bah! Alfgar must be weaving foreign fables and myths. Why does this Goswin captivate you, brother? He was forsaken by his gods and met defeat," I inquired, scoffing at the account of what I would later come to know as the tale of the illustrious Godwin of Aaun. "Was it not honorable to remain loyal to his gods even in the face of defeat?" Replied Leofred with a curious expression. "I suppose..." I responded with a thoughtful hum before shifting the conversation to the spoils we had garnered from our triumph. It wasn't until a fortnight had passed that Leofred broached the topic of his tales once more. This time, during one of our hunts, he spoke to me of Horen. "Brother, have you ever heard of the chief of chiefs Hörn? A man of such magnitude that he held authority over all others? A trader came to our mead hall and spoke of him, mentioning how Hörn was bestowed power by a singular god. Have you encountered a god so mighty as to elevate a man to such heights?" I grunted in response, my focus consumed by the hunt, and in my ignorance, I harbored disdain for such tales. "If there truly exists a deity of such magnitude, why bother with any others?" I retorted mockingly. Leofred remained silent regarding this god until the arrival of summer and the resurgence of our campaign against the Joreksson clan. Following a skirmish with our enemy's warband, I was informed that my hirdmen had vanquished the most foes and seized the greatest number of steeds. "I beseeched the god of Hörn and Goswin ere the battle, and he granted me strength!" Leofred exclaimed joyously when I inquired about his newfound prowess in combat. "Brother, we must invoke this god; he shall shield us! His might surpasses that of the spirits!" he urged earnestly. "No. You shall not lead me or our brethren astray from our allegiance to the spirits. Keep your tongue still concerning this foreign deity, Leofred," I retorted with disdain, my fear of the retribution of the false spirits and gods palpable, fueled by envy and ignorance. I cautioned my brother, and he held his tongue. ! He gazed at me with apprehension, though at the time I mistook it for fear of my anger, only to realize later that it stemmed from his concern for my well-being. As days turned into months, Leofred's valor on the battlefield became legendary within our clan. Yet, with each triumph, I witnessed his inner struggle, the torment of not being able to attribute his victories to his deity. And with each pang of his heart, mine grew colder. Though I was mistaken, I persisted in my condemnation. Then came the moment when he could no longer bear the weight of my persecution. Amidst an assembly, he boldly declared that his triumphs were bestowed by the god of Hörn and Goswin, denouncing the spirits of the forest, rivers, and skies as false. He lamented my misguided convictions with sorrow in his voice. In a fit of fury, I rose from my seat and demanded of him, "Leofred, my brother! Renounce your god and embrace the spirits once more!" His response was a defiant shake of his head, unwavering in his faith. "Then face your end, brother! Renounce your god or meet death!" I demanded in return. In response to my ultimatum, he drew his seax and, with a solemn prayer on his lips, drove it into his own heart. I made a martyr of my brother, and the rebukes of my tribesmen fell upon me like thunder. "Silence!" I commanded, quelling their voices, before dismissing the assembly. I withdrew to the depths of our sacred forest, beseeching the spirits for solace, yet my soul found no rest. THE TALE OF CONVERSION Art depicting Osmund receiving a sign from God. On the night of my brother's passing, a mighty tempest descended upon my lands, wreaking havoc until I was granted mercy. This marked the beginning of God's retribution for my grievous transgression. My plains were submerged beneath floodwaters, and the ancient trees of our sacred forests were uprooted, the very shrines they guarded laid to ruin by the relentless storm. The following day, my adversaries, the Jorekssons, whom my brother had once vanquished with divine aid, triumphed over my forces on the battlefield, seizing our steeds and laying waste to our livestock. In the ensuing days, calamities befell my people, yet I remained obstinate in my defiance of God's will. Even as my tribesmen reproached me in assembly, I blasphemed against the Almighty, demanding their silence. But when the final blow of divine punishment struck, and my son fell gravely ill, I felt the fear of God grip my soul. With a heavy heart, I rode forth to the banks of the once-hallowed river, where I knelt in supplication, pleading for God's forgiveness and protection. I vowed that if He would spare my people and my son from His wrath, I would dedicate my life to His service, surrendering myself to the priesthood. As my entreaty reached its crescendo, I rose to my feet, and with me, the sun emerged from behind the clouds, the storms abated, and the trials ceased. God had bestowed upon me redemption and a divine purpose. My son and my people were spared, and together, we embraced the glory of God. He bestowed upon us priests and wise sages of the One True Faith, and at the hallowed place of my redemption, the sacred river, I underwent baptism. I took the name Owinrich, in honor of the renowned son of Goswin and nephew of Harwin. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET AELFWIN VON KRETZEN HER LADYSHIP, FREDERICA, Baroness of Sigradz, Seneschal of the Heather Court HIS EXCELLENCY, NIKOLAUS, Prelate of Reinmar, Chaplain of the Heather Court

Mood FOREWORD This document, dated the 12th of the Amber Cold, 110 SA, was discovered within the princely palace of Rostampur following the death of Her Serene Highness, Princess Daria I of Ba’as. The ascension of her daughter, Princess Asria I, put into motion a great collection of old documentation and correspondence between Ba’as and its allies to serve as historical reference. This particular report was written by Sarson al Granpaloma, otherwise known as ‘The Great Pigeon’, an elven scribe in service to King Alexander I of Balian. The dossier was later delivered to Ba’as in the hands of Princess Lydia Novellen, as part of her vast personal collection of her father’s letters, following her marriage to Prince Ambros Rostampur in 124 SA. This historical document acts as a window into the initial planning of the union between the then-Prince Hadrian Casimir and the Rhenyari Princess Andromeda Rostampur, when the Novellen monarch sought insight into the political intrigues of that distant land. 12th of the Amber Cold, 110 SA As an intelligence officer in the court of Ba'as, I am tasked with documenting the complex political landscape that exists within the principality. Ba'as is a great power in the eastern continent of Rhen, with a rich cultural heritage of the Rhenyari. At its helm is Prince Balthazar, a legendary general and warrior of Basrid and Pertinaxi ancestry, who ruled for forty years before being forced into exile for three decades. He has since returned to his throne, wearing an enchanted set of armor that keeps him alive, and continues to campaign against the Rudran Empire. However, as a result of years of magical enhancements, Prince Balthazar is more armor than man, having lost much of his senses, and much of his soul. There are several factions vying for power in the court of Ba'as, each with their own ambitions and desires. The Rostampurs, descendants of Balthazar's eldest son, Rostam, are historically proud and powerful, but have been greatly diminished by war. They are led by Daria Rostampur, a young captain in Balthazar's army, and her two young daughters and young son, who serve as her heirs. The Lyraides, descendants of Balthazar's daughter Lyra, are known for exploring new islands and powering naval expeditions. However, in a bid for survival, the faction has bound itself to the Rostampurs, with Daria's husband Vasili serving as its leader. The Caspaides, descendants of Balthazar's son Caspian, are led by Lysander, a sixty year-old high priest who intends to push his daughter to the throne. The Parsipurs, descendants of Parsi Basrid, control the society of Barraman, responsible for all siegeworks and alchemical innovations in Ba'as. They are led by the geriatric, crabby, and altogether vindictive Iris Parsipur, a 90-year-old granddaughter of Balthazar. Finally, the Mahsadokhts, descendants of Mahsa Basrid, have staggering influence in court, with their leader, the fifty year old groomed and cunning Iskander Mahsadokt, an ice sorcerer, regarded as the master of the palace. He uses his ice sorcery to track and monitor court intrigue, glamoring mirrors and doors with wards and enchanted ice. The first vizier, Nicomedes Cirillo, is tasked with juggling the wills of these factions for stability, while his deputy vizier, Theophilius Saffar, seeks aid from outside realms, large and small. They are faced with balancing the court intrigue of these many factions while also ensuring Balthazar’s wars do not destroy the state. The inevitable crisis that will emerge once Balthazar succumbs to age and death looms large over the court of Ba'as, and it will be interesting to observe how these factions maneuver for power in the coming days. Sincerely, Sarson la Granpaloma ‘The Great Pigeon’, Principal Secretary of Balian

Daal cackled, falling to the ground and rolled around in laughter “SAR-RIN SHOULD SHOULD PAY GIVE MORE RAKKIR YUM YUMS! KEEP KEEP ALLY THINGS THAT WAY WAY!”

From within her acquired residence in Celia'nor, the eldest sister of that forsaken Drakon sat oblivious to the woes of her relation, or that they even shared blood at all. Instead, she awaited the word of one Ilaria Des'nox, to deliver unto her news that she had been most impatient to hear.

Silwyn watched the sea surge and recede in idle contemplation.

Somewhere in a forgotten back-alley a blue tinted devil feasts upon a stolen chicken from a nearby farm. Laughter bellowed from the teen as he read the missive, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Perhaps it was something he misunderstood, or just did not know yet. "Doesn't that mean they need to kill this child too?" - The devil tossed the remaining carcass aside, dismissing himself from his dinner and leaving his mess behind for his eventual hunters to clean up.

"With how much she's done? Oh I can't wait to hear the redemption story." Echoed a crowned elfess seated at Numendil's throne, the hall empty besides her and a serpent. "Pathetic, really.." Offered her devilish companion.

"The one who killed the queen wishes for an escape?" An amused chuckle turn to cackle escapes the former Prince, "Hear that Severn? Ahaha! The chains never break, she'll still end up in the Hells with the rest of us." Haldir utters towards the dead familiar which was nailed to a distant wall, returning to work while dwelling in his own madness.

Caught within the rectangular pupil of an observant man, a moment of discontentment hung in his mind. Peculiar seemed fitting for this scenario; did Laelia sincerely find such weight upon her name dismissible, or was the public eye sent in the midst of a facade?

Word reached a distant 'aheral, who merely nodded in approval of the missive posted and the seemingly sincere words of the elf. ".. Betrayal is in the nature of almost every 'fenn still alive.. Now that you've gotten it out of your system, there may yet be hope for you." Valindra mused, swinging the lorraine which hung from her belt idly, it was time for penance. "Unlikely, though," ----

"Weakness pervades her - She abandons." A constant companion to that White Cat, that Mother, seethed. "Perhaps it is some long ruse?" That Cat returned in kind, her own tone amused. "I would see a ruse in an instant." That companion snapped, "She waited until the flame could no longer be brought to her fingertips, and ran off with her little dragon toy." "Awfully rude you're being." A hum, "We shall see just how far she goes."