Kyrrn

[This post is meant to be a direct letter from one character to another while one player is away from the server. Follow along for curiosity's sake, but no information enclosed is intended to be accessible through RP by any other.] ** A letter enclosed and sealed with a wax owl seal was sent out to Illynora Sylvaeri in hopes it might reach her. ** Written upon the 3rd of Malin’s Welcome, 285 S.A. "Go where you want. Die where you must.” · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · To Illynora Sylvaeri of Serinwë’s Hand, While you do not yet know me, I am Arien Íreth of the Mallos, daughter of Círion and Adanel. I was born of the Almenodrim upon a grey isle far between the lands of Aevos and Azuras. We knew it as Tol Craban, and the quiet settlement founded by my progenitors is known to us as Caras Hart. It came about as a trio of wayward ships fleeing Aevos came upon the landmass mid-transit. I was born too late to have experienced the ruin they could not forget. It’s only been in recent years that I’ve arrived on the mainland of Azuras. I’ve found it to be full of beauty yet full of noise. The weight of many different peoples living and dying upon the same ground is heavy. It took no effort and little will of my own to be swept by the Thalassa’s tide into the deep waters of this world. Fortunately, I have come to travel with another of the Almenodrim. His name is Úrion and he is my age, or near enough, new to these lands as well. It was both through him, and my cousin Aer’dir, that I was able to meet Fëanor. On the paths we walk in life, I shared with him my desire to mend and heal as my mother had. While I learned basic medicine growing up, Fëanor implored that I seek you or Medli within Illivira. He spoke with a warmth for all that you know. I would wish to learn anything you may be willing to impart. Even beyond healing, I lack the wisdom of those which came before. I am still youthful in years, and have much to learn on this journey. But, I have crossed the seas alone, and have not turned back. If you will write to me, I will greatly appreciate that kindness forevermore. If it is not to be, then I would still thank you for the chance to pen this letter. I will still be one who seeks, striving to find peace and offer aid in this world. With Peace and Starlight, · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · Arien Íreth Mallos, Daughter of Círion and Adanel, Wayward of the Almenodrim

An elf of little understanding on Azuras mused aloud while reading the notice. "Boy, I love fishing!"

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · The path turned and made its way back towards the now High Kingdom of Idunia. It was the very same in succession to the one he had served as they raised tents to hamlet to lordship and then kingdom. All within a land of Barrows from a time long past. No longer did he come as a lord carrying his House’s banner, but merely as a knight with little left to call his own. The kingdom’s first Tar, a once great friend and mentor, had long since abdicated his throne and died. That which had stood beside him against horrors from the Underdark had become only a memory. The second Tar had come and gone as did more in the line of heirs. Every knight and citizen he had once called brother or sister were now but memories too. With what little he had left, he came with no expectations or requests which might harken back to his prior service. Instead, he asked only to serve the kingdom once more. In the place of a House he once built and halls he once lorded over, he found kinship in an unsuspecting place. The House of the Mithrenion, who gave him a place worth serving. It was within the noble House of the Mithrenion that he gave his blade and heart and ultimately his life. They did not ask why he chose service to them. They only asked if he would stand with them. · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · The final battle found him late within the night. The Lordship of Angrenost rang out with the toll of a bell which called for aid. In the duty with which he had not only sworn to, but his very soul demanded of him, he answered. In four centuries of life, he had not known purpose as much as he had upon this path. To raise his blade in the honour of his patron, the Aengul Malchediael. To bleed beside the very essence of that which he lived to protect within the battle of Light and Dark. The enemy which marched upon the gates came with a young hostage, no more than fifteen years of age. In many ways, it was consequence which he fought, not the eidolic dregs from which Mysticism had wrought. It was the shape of every choice he had ever made, given teeth to bite with and hunger which drove it. He fought. Of course he fought. But a century is a long time to carry a sword without a home to lay it down in. · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · “Are you certain?” The words echoed and coiled past the window sill of his consciousness. He heard her voice, perhaps. Or was it his? Or maybe it was the cacophony of all those he had burnt in memorial during his life. It was asking the question he had asked himself a thousand times on the road. “This path ends only one way.” Whoever it was that tried to speak to him, he knew he had told them true. “I want this. I want this purpose for all my life.” Yet now he was laying in the mud, broken and bleeding from wounds that would have killed any other man. As his eyes struggled to focus on the Pale Lord that towered over him, he began to wonder if purpose and solitude had truly been the same word, spoken in different places. Was he faithless? Too wayward? An apology stuck like a rock in his throat. Not to the enemy, but to the garden. The garden which they had once planted so many decades ago. It was one of family and progress. The kingdom he helped build from nothing. Somewhere beneath the depths of his steelish-blue eyes that garden still bloomed. Perfect. Green. Untouched by the century of rot he had walked through alone. While the world before him burned with consequence, he sifted through the ashes. Though it was not another chance he sought. In his heart, he knew he was far too old for that lie. Desperate, the man clawed for the very thing which led to such misery. The first misstep on his journey. Whatever choice that traded their garden for this cruel and lonely road. If he could find it, he could name it. And if he could name it, he could finally stop carrying it. · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · A blade tore through his arm. He spun as the cudgel careened into his shoulder, dropping him to the ground while the scene around him swam. In an instant, three things happened all at the same time. First, his weary soul pleaded only for the end. Though not one in death, but stillness. Yearning for the quiet after a long and hard road. Second, every version of himself he had once been in the past suddenly converged on this single moment. The young teen who fell before the September Prince. The young man who sought the scholar’s life of his mother in a return to his homeland. The terrified mage who stared into the form of a Shade Father. The naive who looked upon the path of the Xannic Paladins, turned away by one who cared so much that he not end up in this forever war. The assassin who held the life of his homeland’s leader within his grasp. The fledgling knight. The lord who gave all of it away. The Hedgeknight who wandered too far for too long. All of them stared through his eyes at this blasphemous Black Templar and spoke in a haunting unison: “This is where we always meant to arrive.” The third and final part which utterly broke him was the feeling of its weight upon him. It was not the enemy’s, but the garden’s. Every hand he had ever shook, every banner which he carried, every brother who had died in his arms, and every friend who had laughed at his terrible jokes were no longer here. No, they had been dead for decades. And yet- Their eyes. He felt them. A final glance. And his heart began its old, familiar swell. · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · With little fanfare, he invoked it. He was no fool who clawed desperate and afraid. No, he called to his patron and his domain like a man lighting one last candle in an empty chapel. Second Chance. The wisps of his patron’s radiant flame did not blaze from him. It breathed a slow and deliberate pulse. His wounds began to stitch themselves closed as the fatigue of battle washed itself away. And so, he rose. And what stood before the enemy for the first time was no mere Hedgeknight. Nor was it a relic of some lonely elf who had outlived his world. Instead, this Pale Lord would see the man who had helped build that very kingdom he dared sully. The man who had stood in the cold and dark barrows when no throne, nor crown, nor certainty gave any assurance. All that he had was the promise that tomorrow would be better than today. For one final time, his House’s warhammer drew back with its enwreathed radiant flame. In but a moment, the eidola before him crumbled. There was no beauty or heroism in that final blow. Nothing personal was between this foul abomination of a Templar and himself. When it was all said and done, he stood over the crumbling remains as his patron’s flame began to ebb and diminish. For in that moment, his body was whole again, yet entirely hollow. · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · “Is this what feels to be a lord amongst this wasteland? To choke on the dust of your own reign?” He looked down at his healed body which bore no blood nor any scars. All that remained was unmarked flesh, waiting for the next battle to come. Though it would not come to be in this plane of existence. For clarity broke through all like a wave. It was both her name and their name. The name of the garden and family he had once belonged to. In one seemingly improbable but beautiful moment he had once existed in, a moment where he truly belonged. Utterly and completely to something so much larger than his own self. It was the only truth left hanging in his throat. Every bit of what he had crafted from nothing only for him to then give up so easily. It was with every scar and every silence that had been written that the hammer fell in a silver promise. It was not one of glory, but instead one of witness. He had been there. He had loved them. He had left, and he had returned, and now he would carry their garden in his soul as he finally fell to his knees. The silent word on his dying breath was not of any prayer. It was a name. “Seregon.” · · ───── · ✦ · ───── · · The radiant white flame around him no longer faded. It began to lift as the fallen knight felt his soul separate from his flesh. His wounds had since closed and his battle was won. Yet beyond the veil was the realm of his patron which opened wide. One long and hard road. One return. One knight, finally at his fair end.

The aging Knight and former Lord looked out towards the North out of Angrenost. A bottle of Seregon whiskey of very appropriate vintage hung from one of his hands. "She lived, my old friends. She lived..."

The aging Knight and former Lord took notice of the call, setting the writ upon his desk as he stared deeply into the candlelight. "If it is Crusade, so be it. By what little remains of the House Seregon, I shall call it to arms."

Somewhere within the Avistran landscape, a smaller blonde woman reads the missive and protests, "Hey! Where's my special mention!"

Ah, yes. It's all coming up Aether.

Somewhere within the Autumnal Forests that surround the Idunic lands, an Almenodrim of bright copper hair takes notice. His thoughts murmured aloud as he read the silver-leaf lined paper. "And so it was, as even I have seen with my eyes. For whatever shall be needed to Purify this, let it be formed in unity with all Descendants."

Petition to the High Council As written upon on this 13th of Sun’s Smile, 272 S.A. "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road." To the High Council and High Prince of the Princedom of Cauróst, Let this writ serve as a petition for your consideration as I, Elerríon Seregon, seek to aid The Princedom of Cauróst and its High Council and High Prince. I have not been a stranger to you in recent years, having made this city my home. Nearly two centuries have passed since I have moved along the same paths as the greater group of Descendants. In that time spent in the Wilds, I diligently hunted all matters of adversaries of the Creator. It was the influence of my brother-in-arms who accompanied me, a Paladin of Xan, that drew me initially towards an alliance with the Sunlit Covenant within the state. My path has been drawn parallel to your own until now, I have come to understand the clarion call of elHalern’yulln. In your founding principles, I see hope that Elvendom may turn itself to be an active force, a sculptor of destiny rather than a relic awaiting the dust. My life has been one of service in many guises. To the White Court of the Númenaranyë, I offered my blade as Ranger Captain of the Royal Guard, my cunning as Huntmaster of its wilds, and my stewardship as Seneschal for the White Court, and Lord of Caladras, where I learned that true strength lies not only in stone keeps but in the prosperity of the land and the people who tend it. I have governed and defended; I have planned harvests and commanded skirmishes. I have known the weight of command and the duty of preservation. Now, as a Templar sworn to the Virtues of the Most High and a hedgeknight whose oath is to the Realm itself, I seek a cause that marries zeal with wisdom, ambition with Order. In Cauróst and with the Sunlit Covenant, I perceive that rare union. Your rejection of apathy resonates with the Radiant Flame of my very Soul. Thus, I present myself not as a supplicant, but as a resource. My petitions are these: First, to place at your disposal my experience in logistics and governance. As it was, administering Lordship through management of lands and serfs, and organizing a Royal Court and Royal House as a Seneschal were unglamorous foundations upon which glorious endeavors were built. Should the High Council have need of one to oversee supplies, coordinate infrastructure, or advise on domestic stewardship, I offer my learned hand. Second, to lend my martial and strategic skills. As a Ranger Captain, I specialized in reconnaissance, frontier defense, and the tactics of the wild. All of which are valuable skills for a realm that must be both enforcer and protector. I can train scouts and soldiers, advise on security, or serve as a strategic advisor to el’Annilir. I seek no title, nor lands as Caladras is a memory I carry, not a claim I press. I seek only a place where my decades of toil and learning can be of use to a vision I believe in. I wish to prove myself a Laureh’ir in deed, if not yet in formal title: a seasoned blade and a watchful mind in service to our people. My sword, my quill, and my counsel are yours, should you find them fitting for the great work ahead. For the dream that was kindled beneath northern pines, and for the future you forge each day. In service and respect, Ser Elerríon of House Seregon, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm

Heir’s Ascent As written upon on this 10th of Malin’s Welcome, 157 S.A From The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil and the Lordship of Caladras "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” To the Denizens of the Lordship of Caladras, Her Grace, Tar-Caraneth Aryantë of the Royal House Arthalionath of the The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil, and the Esteemed Númenedain of the The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil, In the embrace of duty and the passage of time, I, Elerríon Saoren Seregon, humbly pen this missive to convey a rather monumental decision that has weighed heavily upon my heart and conscience. It is with a blend of nostalgia, gratitude, and profound trust that I hereby declare my abdication from the titled holdings of Caladras and as Lord of Caladras, and with it, the mantle of leadership that encompasses House Seregon. The echoes of history reverberate far beyond these stone walls, each telling its own tale through shared endeavors, challenges, and triumphs that have defined my life and this community. Through the turning of seasons and the forging of bonds, we have thrived as a united House under the guiding hand of the Exilic Kingdom. Yet, as the river of time courses unyielding, it demands recognition of its inexorable flow. To this end, I have pondered long upon the legacy of our House and the torch that lights our way into the future. In the realm of inevitability, I have found solace in the knowledge that the essence of Caladras, its spirit and resilience, shall persist in capable hands. It is with unwavering confidence that I pass the mantle of Lordship to my eldest child and the esteemed heir, Lóriniel Arabella Seregon. Lóriniel, my daughter, inheritor of our legacy and the new Lady of Caladras, I place the trust of Caladras into your capable hands. May you lead with wisdom, compassion, and the unwavering commitment that defines the Seregon lineage. To the noble denizens of Caladras, I extend my deepest gratitude for your unwavering support and camaraderie. The bond we share went past titles and shall endure as a cornerstone of strength in our collective spirit. In acknowledgment of the vital role played by the steadfast Castellan, Ellisar Aevaris, I express my profound gratitude. Ellisar has been a wealth of support, a guardian of our traditions, and soon an unofficial regent during this period of transition. His wisdom and dedication have fortified Caladras and ensured the continuity of our noble line. As I step into the twilight of my stewardship, I do so with the knowledge that the flame of Caladras burns brighter than ever. May the coming days be filled with prosperity, unity, and the echoes of a realm that has stood the test of time. In enduring fellowship, Ser Elerríon of House Seregon, Seneschal and Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Huntmaster to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Captain for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm

"Be it quite strange for a druidic man to partake in something so Knightly as a joust." The Lord of Caladras remarked as he poured over the more recent submissions. "So be it! More merriment and festivity spread to farther reaches. May it be a boon to the Faith!"

Caladras Joust of St. Malcolm of Fjordhem As written upon on this 6th of The Amber Cold, 154 S.A. From The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil and the Lordship of Caladras "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” To all of those in Aevos who champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil, THE JOUST OF ST. MALCOLM OF FJORDHEM To celebrate the consecration of our Temple of St. Malcolm of Fjordhem, The House Seregon shall host a joust upon their Lordship. Knights and squires of all realms and their people are invited to either watch or participate in this grand joust. The skilled artisans and merchants of the Exilic Kingdom of Númendil are highly encouraged to bring wares out to showcase and sell. The Champion of the Joust shall receive a 200 mina prize, with second place earning 100 and third earning 50. (OOC: Mechanical Joust) TIME AND PLACE The jousting shall take place in the Lordship of Caladras within the Exilic Kingdom of Númendil. The Lordship is host to a lists within its domain, on the early days of The First Seed, 155 S.A. OOC: 5 PM EST, Friday the 17th of November Coordinates: 811 170 497 Midlands Warp at CT SIGN UP To participate in the joust, please fill out the form below: OOC NAME: IRP NAME: DISCORD: Lord Elerríon of House Seregon, Lord of Caladras, Seneschal and Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Huntmaster to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Captain for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Lady Cálienë of House Seregon, Lady of Caladras, Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Physician to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Serjeant for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Ser Ellisar Angrenor of House Aevaris, Castellan of Caladras, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm

"Utúlie'n aurë!" A particularly Knightly Elven Lord proclaimed from afar.

An Open Invitation - Life Awaits As written upon on this 12th of Malin’s Welcome, 152 S.A. From The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil and the Lordship of Caladras "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” To all of those in Aevos who champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil, In the heart of the Exilic Kingdom of Númendil, next to the ancient Kingswood, where the shadows dance with the sunlight filtering through the leaves, lies Caladras – a stronghold carved from the stone of the realm itself. We, Ser Elerríon of House Seregon, Lord of Caladras, and Ser Ellisar of House Aevaris, Castellan of Caladras and Taras Ilsa, extend a solemn invitation to those in search of refuge, purpose, and belonging. Why Choose Caladras? A Refuge of Solitude: Caladras stands as a bastion of Númenedain security amid a world in turmoil. There exists a somewhat rural attitude whilst being a short distance from the Kingdom’s capital city of Númenost. Here, rolling fields meet the towering and dense woodlands. The gentle rustle of leaves and the song of birds offer a refuge from the chaos and Darkness that rolls through the realm. Shared Endeavors: In the quietude of our mark on this realm, those of Caladras and the Númenedain work together, cultivating the land and fostering a community where the Virtue of labor mingles with the earth. A shared sense of purpose binds us, transcending the mundane and that of racial bonds. Faith Amidst Mixed Company: In reverence to the Creator that sculpts these lands and all that is, many of those in Caladras practice the Canonist faith, deeply rooted in the Holy Scrolls. A temple stands as testament to the kinship of all, where Virtue and the Good and Just of His flock reside. The Lordship extends its welcome to the Virtuous, even if faith and the Canon is not in your beliefs. Guardians of the Northern Reaches: With a vigilant levy and steadfast guards, Caladras shields the northern parts of Númendil from the unknown. The security of the Númenedain is ensured by the watchful eyes of the Royal Guard, the Confessors, and the Rangers. Through our mortal hands, and the light of the Creator, we embrace comradery through shared defense. Kinship Beyond Blood: Within our hearths, bonds of kinship are forged. We celebrate the diversity of our community, where shared laughter, solemn prayers, and quiet moments of understanding weave the tapestry of our collective identity. Opportunities Await! No matter your walk of life, be it a skilled artisan, aspiring squire, diligent farmer, studious scholar, or a protector of hearth and home, Caladras shall welcome you. Here, amidst the Heartlands and the Númenedain, you may find not just a place to dwell, but a purpose to uphold. If any of this pulls at your heart to seek, or if you simply seek to learn more, the invite is open for the reasonable, Virtuous, or otherwise good-natured to visit these lands. Send writ to Ser Ellisar or Lord Elerríon. Come, join us in the heart of the Númendil. Let Caladras become the sanctuary you have long sought. Lord Elerríon of House Seregon, Lord of Caladras, Seneschal and Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Huntmaster to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Huntmaster and Ranger Captain for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Lady Cálienë of House Seregon, Lady of Caladras, Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Physician to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Serjeant for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Ser Ellisar Angrenor of House Aevaris, Castellan of Caladras, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm