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About TideFalkmoor

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    Newly Spawned
  • Birthday 05/30/2002

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    Ulm, Germany
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    Music, politics, public speaking, chemistry, physics, history.

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    Dark Elf

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  1. Ker’Okarn: Refuge of the dark elves In 1781, the city of Ker’Okarn was formed after the fall of Renelia. Forged from the fire of despair and the splintering of their race, this city is the new hope of the ashen folk. It lies on the coast, North-East of the Eternal Uzg. Built from the sand and stone of the area, it rises as a great testament to the longevity of ‘Ker pride that will last centuries no matter their setbacks. Guide to Ker’Okarn Culture of Ker’Okarn Within Ker’Okarn are dark elves of many different allegiances. After the fall of Renelia, different groups choose to ally themselves together. As a result, Ker’Okarn is also sometimes called The Bands of Ker’Okarn. While the majority of its inhabitants are dark elves, Ker’Okarn has been known to allow people of many different races refuge in their city. The city is led by a council of elders selected for their knowledge and ability to lead. The state religion is the faith of the Forebears. Those that live in Ker’Okarn pride themselves on their ability to honor their ancestors. The faith of Ker’Okarn is upheld by the Mor’Hotep. The High Priest Maelo leads the faith and has a seat within the Council. Ker’Okarn elves are less secretive than their sanctum counterparts. They participate in many different events. In 1783, there was a festival to open up the city where much of the realm was invited to participate. Their population is constantly growing as more remnants of the dark elf race begin their search for more of their kind. Ker’Okarn is a beacon for those who yearn for the community of old and wish to reach for new heights. Housing There are many different housing opportunities in Ker’Okarn. You can choose to take a room within the Ziggurat of Mor where the majority of ‘Ker live. You could also live by their border in the halls of Sirame Khel (See below). You also have the option of living along the seaside in small houses that give you beautiful sea-side views. The Ziggurat of Mor As you travel lower down, the halls tighten slightly and you will find yourself amid hallways filled with doors leading to rooms. Every now and then you’ll hear a child’s laugh, a mother's coo, or a snore emanating from closed doors. Or perhaps you’ll see an older dark elf stumbling out of his rooms, late for his lesson, papers flying everywhere. The housing in the Ziggurat of Mor brings you closer to your kind. If you choose to live here, you are a dark elf who doesn’t mind striking up a conversation with someone that you meet in the hallway or on the stairs. This is the place where leaders, merchants, and mothers live. The military of Ker’Okarn has a section here where they prefer to live among like-minded peoples who are bettering their combat skills. To get a room in Ker’Okarn rent is not necessary. However, to get more space you will have to give pay for renovations. Sirame Khel Sirame Khel gives dark elves and others alike the option of living below its halls. These dwellings are near the border. If you choose to live here, you are someone who prefers to decide when conversing with your kind and doesn’t want to live amid the hustle and bustle of the city. Though here you may find yourself out of place if you decide not to join their order. As a result, many of those who live here are affiliated in some way or another with Sirame Khel. Seaside Dwellings Not all dark elves wish to live underground. The seaside Dwellings are given as an option to dark elves who prefer the open air at all times. As a result, those that choose these dwellings are often care-free and careless about the future of the race and realm then those living below in the heart of ‘Ker society. Many of the people involved with ships and the port live in these houses. Some of the religious dark elves of Mor’Hotep choose to live here. Points of Interest/ RP Opportunities Sirame Khel Sirame Khel is an organization that likes to remain relatively secret. They have their headquarters on a hill overlooking the Ziggurat of Mor. If asked, their members profess their philosophy about strengthening the dark elves and their allies. They will tell people that they are willing to help any person in the realm who asks for it so long as they haven’t broken any of the moral ideals of Sirame Khel. The order of Sirame Khel wishes to bring an age of dark elves where dark elves don’t have to hide in the shadows and where they stand proud of their heritage and beliefs. They believe that this new age is on the horizon and that they will help bring it about. In short, they wish to begin a revolution of the dark elves on the same level or greater than that of their namesake: Khel Oussana. Often dark elves of all ages and genders can be seen going in and out of their headquarters. Often they will be holding a report from whatever part of the realm they are focusing on. Or perhaps you’ll see them practicing combat in front, or muttering words of incantation under their breath, or reciting poetry. The Library The library of Ker’Okarn contains its people history and knowledge of thousands of years. Within its stacks one can find the occasional tired-looking ‘Ker reading though one old manuscript or another. Every now and then one of the venerable dark elves of the city will present lectures on magic, history, or the ancestors. The dark elves are not a scholarly race in comparison to the high elves. They don’t worship knowledge or seek knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Instead, they learn what is necessary to thrive in whatever profession they pursue. The Port The port contains ships from across the realm. At the port you can meet dwarves selling their wares, or dark elves traveling from far away. The sound of shop owners yelling prices or people talking in ten different languages would echo across the bay. A breeze carries with it the smell of fish and ocean salt. Its port would also smell somewhat of old cheese or an orc who forgot to take a bath. The Town Square Here dark elves can be found conversing about the latest news of the realm, or just enjoying time with their friends and family. At night, music would sound through the semi-darkness, and elvish songs would be heard from the local tavern. A small garden in the center acts as a place of respite where dark elves can relax and breathe the open air. The Lower Marketplace Here dark elves talk in quiet tones as they walk around the pillars and shops below. In the middle lies a shrine to Laura, the spirit who saved the dark elves from destruction so many years ago. The torches throw shadows on the walls and one can often see dark elves hurrying about their business. The River of Uradas Around the land of Ker’Okarn is a small rushing river that flows from a mountain spring. There are flowers at its edge and fish that spring from its depths. Dark elves come here to sit at its side and contemplate life. The river is named after Uradas the Protector as it encircles the city and is its first line of defense. The Sun Garden After going past Sirame Khel and The River of Uradas, one comes upon The Sun Garden, a beautiful field of wheat and flowers that stretches across the land until one reaches the beach and Ker’Okarn itself. The wheat was grown in the shape of the sun to signify life. The Halls of Ker’Okarn. Empty, dark, and unused, these large halls were built to house large meetings of dark elves, or weddings. Yet, after many years of lost time where dark elves were scattered across the realm, there is little use for them now. However, perhaps in the future these halls will be filled with elves, music, and laughter as ‘Ker trade tales of old and new. Vault Here, in the deepest region of the Ziggurat of Mor, you’ll find many rows of chests and barrels rising high into the ceiling. Iron and wooden gates bar your way into the vault and guards stand watch over the treasure within. You might see an important looking dark elf going in and out, a ledger in their hand as they count the gold of the dark elves. In the advent of an emergency, this is the place where the young dark elves will be led to protect them from danger. It is the last and most difficult area of the dark elves dwelling to get to. The Council Room At the highest reaches of the city is a platform with a long table. Here is where the important meetings of the nation will be held, and important decisions will be made. You might sit here and listen to dark elves debate about the best course of action in the future as the ocean breeze, strong so high up in the sky, rushes by your face, sweeping your hair to the side. List of People that can assist: Catalina, Matriarch of Ker’Okarn: Catalina#8540 Tide Falkmoor, Suliin of Sirame Khel and of Ker’Okarn intelligence services: TideFalkmoor#4561 BenjiBot, High Priest of Mor’Hotep: BenjiBot#1207 Peak Time 5-7 PM Est. Hope to see you here!
  2. Tide Falkmoor would read the piece of paper before him before grinning, “Bring all the elves together? They obviously have not met any high elves or they wouldn’t be so optimistic. Yet ‘Ker unity does interest me quite a bit. Perhaps I should reach out to this fellow to discuss that and let them know how impossible it is to bring all elves together.” He’d laugh before putting the paper away in a corner of his office so he could think about it later.
  3. EDIT: Because of problems with communication with the world team and about the time of the festival, the main time of the festival will be SUNDAY from 5pm to 7 pm est. Thank you for your understanding. We will be doing casual rp with anyone that shows up on Saturday and let them know about tomorrow. It will still be fun! Hope to see you tomorrow and if you want to enter in the bard competition to win 2k minas and discounts on rare items you should show up tomorrow as well! The Ker’Okarn Festival On the 16th of the Grand Harvest, 1783, (Saturday at 4 PM Est) the festival will begin. There will be food, drink, and every kind of rare and impressive item imaginable. There will be a bard competition (see here) for your entertainment. The Kharajyr caravan will be arriving at the same time! (OOC: Save the Kha!) So come along and enjoy yourself in these dark times with people of many different races from across the entire realm! Things we are looking for: Any guards that want to sign up to act as security, More merchants to sell their wares, More bards to compete. Paid for and organized by Sirame Khel OOC: So the location is Ker’Okarn. To get there, follow the signs to Krugmar and then once you get to Krugmar continue by following the signs that say Ker’Okarn. OR If that doesn't work you can just use these coordinates: X:2300 Z:400 If you want to enter as a bard, see the forum page about it. (here) If you want to sell items or act as security, contact me on my discord: TideFalkmoor#4561 We want this to be a rather large festival and have been working on builds all day for last couple days. It should be pretty damn fun rp so tell people from your settlement and get the word going!
  4. This flyer would be nailed to posts and logs all over the realm. Inviting all bards to perform in Ker’Okarn at their festival Any and all who wish to perform will be given time to do so. The Festival will begin on the Grand Harvest, 1783 (Saturday at 4 pm est) and will continue for the next two elven days! We are looking for singers, dancers and everything in between! Join the festival, practice your talent, and get rewarded for it! There is a prize for the best bard of the festival, who will receive 2000 mina, a rare item, and a nice-looking trophy. This will be judged by a panel of judges who will be watching your act. You have the option of forming groups instead of individual acts. In this case, the prize will be split between the group. So come and spend time having fun with people and races from all over the realm. The entry fee is only 15 minas. OOC: So the location is Ker’Okarn. To get there, follow the signs to Krugmar and then once you get to Krugmar continue by following the signs that say Ker’Okarn. OR If that doesn't work you can just use these coordinates: X:2300 Z:400 If you want to enter as a bard please dm me your ign, persona name, what type of performance you will be doing, and your availability from 4 pm to 6 pm est on Saturday. Or from 5 pm to 6 pm est on Sunday or from 5 pm to 6 pm est on Monday. We will put you in a slot. My discord is TideFalkmoor#4561 If you want, you can also rent a shop and sell your own items, dm me the info for that as well and I’ll let you know how to do it. Any questions can also go to my discord.
  5. This account is written by Selion Drogon. The information included is supposedly an exact account of the creation of Sirame Khel. The Empty Agreement There was mist, a slight wisp that traveled over the cracked and dusty ground. It was out of place in the dry air of the desert night, crawling over warm dirt. It seemed to speed up rushing angrily and haughtily into the air, screaming into the ashen night, devoid of moon, or stars. Its topmost tendril reached for the darkness, its shadowy form stretching for nothingness and then it was nothing, a little mist, the smallest amount of vapor, floating through the air. Tide’s eyes glanced quickly over the mist as he walked up stairs. He thought nothing of it. His mind was focused upon the task ahead, convincing the council of Ker’Okarn that his group should have a place near their city. He took one step after another, feet making a rhythm on the sandy floor. As each step fell, he went over the same mantra in his head. The same mantra that had been in his head for the last thirty years. The one thing that drove him above all else. In fact, for this diminutive dark elf walking in the corner of the world, this mantra might have been the only thing left. It’s a strange idea that a living thing can so entirely be consumed with one thought. We often consider this to be a good thing, a sign that progress will be made and dreams realized. I suppose, on the whole, the greatest achievements come from mindsets entrenched with a single thought. Those types of people, no, creatures, are often considered the harbingers of effort necessary to produce a desired effect. In the world that we live, no other method seems to be possible. Failure is expected and success only comes from a driven personality that defeats all odds. Was this the idea that made Tide think he had a chance to turn the tides of the world? Was it something else? Perhaps he didn’t think about it. In fact, I’m sure he didn’t. For Tide, it wouldn’t matter if individuality was a myth or if individuality was the best way to induce change. His one thought was the change itself and not whether he had a chance as one among millions. Tide glanced to his side. Artius was walking slowly up the stairs to his left. “Why does the meeting have to be at night?” Tide asked softly. “Would it not be better to have this in the morning.” Artius held his hand behind his back giving the sense of calmness and sternness. Yet, his fingers twitched behind him, a sign that this position had been carefully designed for the very purpose of seeming calm. He was still a young elf and his presentation meant a great deal to him. Yet the absence of experience betrayed itself in his slightly stiff posture. Tide wondered how such a young dark elf could become so powerful. He’d have to ask him at some point. “The council was busy in the morning,” he mumbled curtly not looking at the dark elf. Tide felt a slight tightening in his throat. He didn’t know why Artius was being cold to him. He hoped it had nothing to do with the council. His trek over the desert would become useless and he’d have to start over at the beginning. At that moment, a cool breeze ruffled Tide’s white hair. His chin lifted almost imperceptibly. His eyes narrowed and his finger, which had subconsciously drifted to touch his face, returned to relax at his side. His eyes closed and a small sigh escaped his mouth. Mind blank, he continued to step forward. Each footstep sounding loud and unnatural like a drum in the night. Finally, they reached the council room, which was nothing more than a table. It stood on a raised platform with railings on each edge. Vines were growing around wooden pillars that held up a simple roof. This was the highest point in the city. None of the council had evidently arrived yet so Tide walked over to the edge of the platform and looked over the edge. There it was. Laid out before him. Ker’Okarn. Light flickered below like a vast constellation of stars. His hands grew white as he grabbed the railing that was built into the platform. Unseen by Artius, his mouth split into a thin smile. “Would you like to sit down?” a high, authoritative voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned slowly back to the table. Before him were six dark elves. They had already sat down. Tide didn’t know how he hadn’t heard them come up to the platform. He seemed to be missing a lot of things since his coming to this city. His first instinct was to walk swiftly to the table and apologize for not noticing them. His right foot stepped forward to do exactly that. It was what he would have done on any other day. His face hidden by the moonless night, he paused. He waited, standing there as the nights cool air blew his colored cloak around. After many seconds, he stepped forward, taking as long as possible to sink down into one of the chairs. He folded his fingers and closed his eyes for a few moments longer than was necessary but not long enough to seem as if he was agitated. His ashen lips tightened. “My name his Tide Falkmoor, suliin of Sirame Khel, son of Norn Falkmoor.” He said calmly with poise, almost aristocratic-like. He stared at Artius, who was sitting at the head of the table, his eyes sharp as an eagle’s beak. “Tide Falkmoor, you sit with us today to discuss an offer you made to me the moment you were able. I hope you are not wasting the council’s time. Please state your case for why we should give you land and the protection of this city.” Tide began, his words collected, his phrases lilting, his face emotionless, “Sirame Khel is a group of dark elves dedicated to the preservation and honor of our race. We were founded after the fall of Renelia. We believe that ways of old where dark elves largely stayed out of the dealings of other races is long past. We believe that in order to bring about a better world we must work within and around the cultures of other lands and civilizations.” He paused looking around. The dark elves who were sitting had their face turned in interest. As he stopped talking, however, Artius cut in. “We have stayed apart from the dealings of other races for good reason. There is no reason to needlessly embroil ourselves in silly wars and conflicts. Furthermore, as I’m sure you’re aware, the dark elves have a history of coming undone when they extend themselves too far. Why should we permit your group to begin tension that has long since died down?” Tide made absolutely no motion that showed he had even heard Artius speak. However, eventually, his head turned back to the elf “we will not start conflict. We will not endanger the race. Those of other cities and races will not even know that we intend to impact their lives.” His voice was clipped and somewhat cold. “Sirame Khel is not a group that will, as you put it, engage in silly wars and conflicts. We do only what is necessary.” “What is necessary might be different for every person! How do you know that your people will not do something stupid” Artius glared at Tide with an unexpected angry expression. “Training” “No amount of training can make someone smart,” Artius said his strange angry outburst disappearing as soon as it materialized. “It can make them careful,” Tide spoke calmly, yet swiftly. “Aye, I suppose that’s true. But if you intend to send dark elves across the realm why do need a place here?” Artius asked. “Everyone needs a home Illr,” Tide said dismissively “While they travel the realm, they must have a place to return to.” He glance again to the so-far quiet onlookers sitting at the table. At Tide’s words, one of the dark elves sat up a little. His face becoming clear in the light from the lamp attached to the ceiling. He said softly “home is something that shouldn’t be treated so lightly Illr.” Tide faced him, considering him for a moment. He was thin, carrying a cloak with strange symbols on it. His eyebrows were large and his face worn. “I suppose my view of home is tainted as mine was torn away from me as I was still very young.” Tide paused before continuing, “yet many of our number have face the same fate as have most of our race. It is the way of the world. Yes, in a perfect world, you are correct. We have no choice these days but to lose what was considered important in years long past.” Artius suddenly stood up, his armored hands smashed upon the old wood. “I have heard enough.” He paused his eyes narrowing, “If the council agrees with me, I think it time to start writing up the agreement. Poem written by Tide Falkmoor at this time: The Last It seems things That last, Are memories, Of loss. It seems things That die, Are eternal, Nonetheless. It seems things, Survive, Not in this world, But above. What will happen, When you are the last, When you are the note, Held before applause. What will happen, When you sing, When you run Out of air. What will happen, When the harsh Sound, When the harsh Sound, There it is. The last note. The one before applause. When the song stops, What will you sing? Entry five of “The History of Sirame Khel and its Rise to Power” by Selion Drogon
  6. At 3 PM EST, there will be a festival at Ker’Okarn. More details can be found here. These are the five poems that were written by Tide Falkmoor and will be performed at the festival: A Forsaken City The last gong rang, Through empty streets, No dreams, no dreams, When the city fell. Sometimes rock crumbles, Sometimes bells toll, For fallen lies, And darkened souls. There was no sound, No laughing voice, No crying child. Sometimes sorrow, Comes after nothing. Sometimes death, Comes before life’s end And then the bell tolled. The stones sang. The stars fled. No dreams, no dreams. And the bell rang. The Last It seems things That last, Are memories, Of loss. It seems things That die, Are eternal, Nonetheless. It seems things, Survive, Not in this world, But above. What will happen, When you are the last, When you are the note, Held before applause. What will happen, When you sing, When you run Out of air. What will happen, When the harsh Sound, When the harsh Sound, There it is. The last note. The one before applause. When the song stops, What will you sing? Darkened State The heads bowed, Statues, shrunken. The weak cried, Eyes, sunken. The strong sighed, Backs, broken. The liers lied, Tongues, forked. A meeting of hope, lost A meeting of future, past A meeting under stone stars, A meeting never to be had. Light thought not to leave, Must in sky be hidden. Shadowed flame burned, Eternal life stricken. Fire killed, Like mist, it fell, Burning cold, Freezing souls. The Door Mist deepened, Sound damp, Silence screamed, Through ashen night. Words spoken, Seemed stolen, From that quiet, Deathly dusk. Now, nothing, No glaring sound, No hopeful grin, No guidance from the past. Perhaps forgiveness, A furtive goal, Was as shapes, In roaming mist. Then light, Blazing brilliant light, It flooded, Burned, Battered, Drove away soaked statues. As wind on early winter days, The mist lifted. Mirth of Loss This world is full, Its story old, And always, love, Leads to loss. For things that last, Are memories, Of what once was. This world is full, Its story old, So let's not wallow, When one closed. We sing, we dance, We revel in The mirth of loss. This world is full, Its story old, We must not cry, When one is told. For all of us, Are here at last, To revel in The mirth of loss. This world is full, Its story old, So let’s not let, This day grow cold. We drink, we crow, A merry sight, For all those, Here tonight. The world is full, Its story old, And now I must Join the throng. My stories done, My voice spent, Let’s join together, to revel until loss is lost. After being performed, they were categorized and entered into the history of Tide Falkmoor by Selion Drogon
  7. This account is written by Selion Drogon. The information included is supposedly an exact account of the creation of Sirame Khel. The Next Morning Tide Falkmoor laid in his bed, wondering whether to get up. His throat felt like someone had poured sand down it, though that was an improvement from last night when it felt as if it was splitting from the inside. He tried to close his eyes more than they had been before. It seemed to him as if opening his eyes would mean a great deal of trouble, which he just didn’t feel the need to start at the moment. He rolled and turned over. Tide Falkmoor considered just lying there, just waiting until something forced him to do something. Then he remembered his reason for traveling across that desert, for living with minimal water for so may days, for finally walking into the city at dusk only to be frightened at the sight of a small bear. He instantly sat up, his red eyes jumping open like a fire starting ever so quickly. His hands jumped from under the cover and began to sweep away them away, intending to throw himself off the bed and search for someone to talk to. “Slow down, illr. You need to drink something first.” Tide eyes jumped incredibly quickly to the elf standing in the light of the morning sun, his features dramatic, lit as they were from the suns early orange light. “You need to take it slow. You almost died out there.” The elf said as the light of the morning sun began to abate. Tide Looked at the elf standing impressively in the door frame. He was the same elf who had stopped him from killing that poor bear during the night. Now that the shadows of dusk no longer hid the elf from Tide’s searching gaze, he could finally see him. He was wearing plate armor, held together by leather, which was well treated and smooth. His face was gruff and worn with a large beard, unusual for a dark elf. “My name is Artius Morvayn. I don't know if you remember our conversation. You were a little out of it at the time.” He gave Tide Falkmoor a harsh and impenetrable smile. “Here, you should drink. We tried to give you some while you slept but it was difficult.” He handed Tide a flask of water. Tide stared at the dark elf for a couple seconds before slowly taking the flask. “Thanks,” Tide softly mumbled in a gravely, throaty voice as he began to sip from the flask. He wasn’t fool enough to try and drink it all at once no matter how thirsty he was. His throat began to clear itself. Artius waited patiently for Tide to finish drinking. He took the empty flask. “You can have more after we talk. I think you said your name was Tide Falkmoor?” He asked in a sharp questioning voice. Tide nodded assent, his eyes still taking in the impressive figure of Artius. Artius was peering at Tide, evidently doing the same thing. Tide was wearing a multicolored cloak, which seemed to shimmer, changing colors as one looked at it. His hair was bone-white and his eyes blood-red. There was a curious scar under his left eye. Whatever had given Tide this scar had come within an inch of taking out Tide’s eye. Artius waited, continuing to observe Tide. He believed that silence sometimes told more about a person then speaking with them did. Tide simply waited, giving Artius a knowing look. Tide knew that it was better not to speak first. Artius, seeing this, spoke one word in a seemingly brusque businesses-like manner “alligence?” “Mali’Ker” Tide answered, copying Artiuses tone. “Mali’Ker huh? Very idiosyncratic of you, choosing to be allied with our entire race. You don’t consider one group more important?” Tide looked at Artius still trying to discover whether it was safe to be open with the elf. Finally he decided that there really was no choice either way. His decision made, his face split into a warm and open smile, “as you said, my name is Tide Falkmoor. I have lived among wood elves, dwarves, men, and animals. I have seen much of this world and written of it as well. I now return to my race, a changed elf, ready to give my allegiance, not to one group, but to the honor of the ashen folk. I was hoping that I would find help in this city.” Artiuses face began to twitch ever so slightly in a frown. “The dark elves as a entity are difficult to hold allegiance to. I think you’ll find that by helping some of us you’ll bring pain to others.” Artiuses face would then lose its momentary unhappiness. “Still, it is a noble goal no matter its impossibility. You’ll want to stay here then?” Tide’s eyes would stop flitting around the room and stare straight into Artiuses. “I actually came representing a group, which has the same allegiance and goals as myself by the name Sirame Khel. We seek a place near other ‘Ker to call our own and begin operations,” Tide said in a surprisingly open and truthful fashion. Artius paused, his hand, covered by a steel metal gauntlet, was moving forward ever so slightly before falling back to a resting position. “And what would we gain from such a... uh... drastic move,” Artius asked, his face not betraying anything about what he thought about what the elf had so haphazardly and confidently asked. “An alliance which will prove beneficial to you in the future. Our group will exist no matter where we call home, but I thought it a good idea to offer our services and loyalty. to someone who might have vested interest in our success.” Tide’s former smile no longer left any trace upon his lips. His face was deadly serious as he watched Artius considering his offer. Artius spoke in a careful, articulate manner that still did not divulge any of his thoughts, “It might be a good idea. However, we don’t just make decisions so rashly. We may not take as long as high elves, but it will not be a quick matter, Illr. You’ll have to stay here many moons. I’ll have to discuss it with Ker’Okarn’s council. If they think that we should consider allowing you to make your plea, you will speak before them. After that, if they decide to permit discussion, we will talk about the many aspects of this potential allegiance.” “That is all I could hope for,” Tide stated, while he thought about the inefficiency of bureaucracy. Poem written by Tide Falkmoor at this time: A Forsaken City The last gong rang, Through empty streets, No dreams, no dreams, When the city fell. Sometimes rock crumbles, Sometimes bells toll, For fallen lies, And darkened souls. There was no sound, No laughing voice, No crying child. Sometimes sorrow, Comes after nothing. Sometimes death, Comes before life’s end And then the bell tolled. The stones sang. The stars fled. No dreams, no dreams. And the bell rang. Entry four of “The History of Sirame Khel and its Rise to Power” by Selion Drogon
  8. This account is written by Selion Drogon. The information included is supposedly an exact account of the creation of Sirame Khel. Tide Falkmoor entered the gates of Ker’Okarn. His eyes flitted from side to side, taking in the surroundings. Was this place what he was looking for? Could this be the very place to bring his plans into action? His piercing red eyes roamed swiftly over the sandy walls. He breathed in. The sea air again rushed past his face. His white hair wafted in the wind. His tired eyes burned in the darkness of the late evening. The silhouette of broad walls fell on the ground. Shadows filled the corners giving the light from torches posted periodically a sinister gleam. They danced, endlessly fighting the darkness, or perhaps embracing it. Tide glanced slightly fearfully into the darkness. His footsteps rebounded off the walls echoing in the night. “Perhaps it’s abandoned,” he muttered to himself as much to quench his irrational fear of the dark then anything else. He then shook his head. A dark elf afraid of the dark, what joke. He laughed quietly at himself. He had spent too much time with forest elves. Then a sound burst from the shadows behind him. It was a sound that would have chilled any heart, of any race. For in the quiet, the dusk, the night that so quickly falls upon deserts like an axe on wood, there was a terrible growl. Tide froze. He hadn’t seen anything when he came into the city but he supposed that the shadows must have been too heavy. Tide’s hand fell to his sword hilt, sweat forming on his knuckles. Tide knew that there were many beasts in this realm for which his sword would have no purpose. If one of those creatures laid behind him, he would surely die. He now would have to lay his life into the hands of the ancestors. He took a deep breath, knowing that once he moved the creature would surely spring. His sword sprung from his sheath like water from a mountain spring. Tide whipped around, his sword blade diving forward like a spear, its point turned slightly downward. The sound of metal striking metal rang through the small city. A gruff but powerful voice rang across the square. “Trying to kill something, are you?” Tide immediately retracted his sword. He looked to who had spoken. It was a ‘Ker, tall and proud. He was also sheaving a beautiful and well-wrought sword in his leather sheaf. He gave Tide a suspicious look. “You don’t have to kill everything that moves, Illr.” He motioned to the shadows, “could have killed snowflake here.” Tide saw that the thing he had heard was an altogether harmless looking polar bear who was tied to a post. He let out a breathe. He had, after all, been frightened of nothing. “I’m truly sorry. I think the night may have made my mind believe in monsters that weren't there.” Tide glanced at the ‘Ker’s face, which was not unkind. In fact a small smile broke out at these words. “Ah ,even the best among us are still afraid of the night. The dark elves are not named such because of their affinity with that which is dark or evil!” The stranger paused before continuing “though some among us seem to have forgotten this.” The dark elf shook his head bringing himself back to the conversation. “So, what are you doing in Ker’Okarn at this time of night?” Tide walked forward, and gave the ‘Ker a slight bow. His eyes, however, never left the ‘Ker’s hand, which was still resting upon the jewel encrusted hilt of his sword. Tide had long ago learned not to take a friendly voice as proof of friendly intentions. “For the moment, Illr, I seek only a place to stay the night. Any conversations of my intent could wait until the morning couldn’t they?” The unknown ‘Ker frowned, his eyes also not straying from Tide. “Let us at least exchange names first. I can see you are tired from your journey...” the ‘Ker glanced at Tide’s sun-burned face and cracked skin, “and soon I can give you all that you might need, but I need to be sure that I can trust you. My name is Artius Morvayn, Patriarch of the Bands of Ker’Okarn and you are?” Tide glanced at the ‘Ker. He realized that he should have given his name earlier but his manners had abandoned him. His legs buckled, unable to hold his weight any longer. After the scare with the polar bear, any adrenaline that may have been fueling his ability to stand straight was no longer there. “Tide Falkmoor” the elf managed to mumble before his legs gave out and he fell to the ground. His eyes closed from exhaustion. The torchlight played on the backs of his eyelids. They laughed and cackled, their eyes black as coal. They stabbed each other, danced with each other to music only they could hear. Now they were carrying him, lifting him to the sky, to the light, and then Tide Falkmoor could remember no more. He awoke in a comfortable linen bed the next day. Poem written by Tide Falkmoor at this time: The water bubbled, Dark from dirty depths. Rising like many messages, Under the glow of a setting sun. The pond hid its face, Shy from prying light. It grumbled gently, As the bubbles popped. I stare as the sun does, To find a hidden gem. Deep below the surface, A secret must lie. I stood as the sun sinks, To slowly walk, The orange path, Away from little bubbles, Entry three of “The History of Sirame Khel and its Rise to Power” by Selion Drogon
  9. Tide Falkmoor would read the message. He would smile at the courage of those 'Ker who didn't allow the race to fall into utter chaos. He would mumble "This would make a fine poem, I think I'll write one for the history books"
  10. OOC: From now on I’ll be writing these posts in a somewhat dramatic story-telling fashion. This was not uncommon in ancient times. Most history was written in rhyme or in a the dramatic. (It’s also more fun) The sweltering sun beat down upon the thirsty dark elf. Used to the cool of the forest trees of Siramenor, the heat of the desert plains during the Sun’s Smile fell like a hammer on his shoulders. The sound of his footsteps sounded hollow across the barren landscape. A soft, hot, humid wind ruffled the gray grass. It whistled past small rocks that stuck up from the red dusty earth. The crimson eyes of the ‘Ker rose slowly to glare at the sky. His lips were curled in a slight grimace as if daring the sun to shine. The sun paid no attention to the small, figure. The light of the sun seemed to sparkly lovingly off the red sand. It jumped from stone to stone. Yet as the elf cleared the next small hill, his gaze fell upon an orc who lay dead upon the ground. His mouth was open and his tongue protruded from the side, cracked, swollen, and stiff. The dark elf glanced at the orc. He walked over to the body and knelt by its head. The voice of the elf sounded in the deathly silence, croaky but still with a touch of sadness, “Hello my friend, I suppose you fell to the sun’s embrace.” The elf then smiled at the orc, a smile that seemed entirely out of place in the brutal heat so close to death. “May you have died so that the sun does not seek to take me.” The elf paused looking at the orc before continuing on, his feet plodding, each impact releasing a fine cloud of red dust. It was for ambition that the elf was to be found on that day, on that road, in that heat. His eyes shared a kindred spirit with that terrible sun, as they burned with the intensity of fire, his irises flickering. Yet who are we to judge the sins of elven kind or of the morality of powerful ambition. For do we consider the world to be filled with only those perfect and those evil? This elf struggling through the heat was no saint. But like the sun, a force of nature, he bore no ill will to those that stood in his way. Like the sun, his hammer would fall regardless of race, creed, or allegiance. Should we call that evil, or immoral? If you define it be so, yes. But, like the sun, this elf could be gentle, giving life to those he loved. Like so many emerald trees, the fruits of his labor would grow and would be loved. Perhaps, in the end, we shouldn’t think of this elf as the sun that killed that orc, or as the sun hovering over the trees of Siramenor, but instead as a flawed being just as any other. Good and evil in equal measure, internal struggle radiating outward, burning and loving, killing and growing. On this day, he was none of these things. He wasn’t the sun, or powerful elf. He was a small figure who was thirsty and lost. The elf was searching for Ker’Okarn. He hoped to bargain with the ‘Ker who lived there and begin the building of the tower of Sirame Khel. He hoped to start a great dynasty lasting thousands of years. Yet, on this day, he was nothing but a young wandering poet. It was many days till he reached the sea port of Ker’Okarn. He looked down upon the small city, his throat parched, his eyes stretched thin, his water bag empty. Yet the salt air woke his tired mind. His thin ashen lips curled in a smile as he surveyed his new home. He could imagine where the tower would stand, a little off to the side, and near the shining sea. This was a dark elf without family, without a father, without a clan. A dark elf who lived during one of the the most dangerous and terrible times for his race. Yet as this elf of little means looked down from that small hill his lost heritage didn’t matter. He would forge a new family, a new clan, and a new future for the dark elves. Poem written by Tide Falkmoor at this time: A deep sorrowful note, A long forgotten song, A wailing from each throat, The tale of those long-gone. Silence upon the scene, For birds knew not to sing, When the oldest did keen, When death the breeze did bring. No comfort for the weak, No promise to forgive, Paradise they did not seek, For they sought not to live. A rushing of dark wings, As quiet ravens flew. The dissonance now rings, Of stories sadly true. Deadly rain, Fire of incessant pain, Fire of a realm insane. There is no light. Except burning deathly bright. Light that only dead may see. Entry two of “The History of Sirame Khel and its Rise to Power” by Selion Drogon
  11. This is a series of entries in a journal that are written by a historian about Sirame Khel. They will be entered into the grand library of Dragur upon the event of Tide Falkmoor’s death or that of the order. (OOC: so you can't use this information until Tide Falkmoor has died) On the 15th of the deep cold, 1780, Sirame Khel was founded. There was no fanfare or celebration. This order would forever hide in the shadows, protecting itself from prying eyes. At the time there were only three dark elves whose only connection was their hope for the future and their belief in the honor of the Ashen Folk. Their names were Tide Falkmoor, Salaron Chaeydark, and Selmas Chaeydark. They pledged to change the world and the fate of their race. Salaron Chaeydark was a brazen, tall, and haughty ‘Ker. He believed that the dark elves should be proud and thought that an open assault upon the order of the realm would soon be necessary. He wore dark leather and carried with him a short sword. He spoke with great conviction of the plans of the order and was determined to see it as far as he could. Little did he know that his part in the story would end sooner then any would think. Selmas Chaeydark, the sister of Salaron Chaeydark, was a quiet, younger ‘Ker. She had a full and loving heart and wished to help the growth of Sirame Khel because her brother was invested and she believed in helping those poor and powerless. She would speak slowly as she then could not speak common as well as most but still understood more about the future of Sirame Khel then any other. Tide Falkmoor was a sly, quiet ‘Ker. He, unlike Salaron, believed that the authority of Sirame Khel and of the Ashen Folk could only be grown through slow and gradual growth. He was a poet, a singer, and an expert swordself. For Tide, the world changed through words and not actions. He considered fighting to be beneath him and through his methods, the power and influence of Sirame Khel would grow exponentially. His speech was always considered and careful. Yet beneath this veneer of genteel, cultured, intellectualism hid a vibrant, dangerous elf who, when faced with a challenge, would forge forward no matter what obstacles stood in his way. While not evil, Tide Falkmoor would never shrink from any method so long as he got what he wanted. This small group of dark elves immediately began building a network of elves and spies. At first success seemed inevitable. Elves flocked to join. Sirame Khel even made a deal with the leader of Ker’okarn to gain land in the city of Krugmar. There they began to build the tower of Sirame Khel. This would be the place where the members would meet met for many years. However, tragedy struck sooner than any would have expected. Salaron Chaeydark was slain during a moonless night by a faceless guard. This death destroyed Selmas Chaeydark. She had lost her father only a few years earlier. Now she was without family and for the Ashen Folk, family is everything. This also meant that the order of Sirame Khel had lost someone who was important to the cause. Tide Falkmoor was determined to continue the order in memory of his friend. He was now the sole leader of Sirame Khel and as a result, the methods of the order would from then on would follow only his philosophy of quiet subterfuge and would avoid antagonizing any group, race, or nation. However, Salaron would always remain at the heart of the order, leading it in his name. His excitable spirit would guide the order towards higher heights and would never be forgotten by those who followed the order. The Tide A poem written by Tide Falkmoor at this time. Roaring waves, Pouring over deep red stones. Slow water, Flowing into sharp wide cracks. For years, the tide has risen, Yet now waves lap on shores. Sparkling drops, Flying orange in bright rosy light. Streaming rays, Turns oceans to gold, Rocks to pillars, And fish to angels. When water hits a wall, Mountains move. Entry one of “The History of Sirame Khel and its Rise to Power” by Selion Drogon.
  12. TideFalkmoor


    Tide Falkmoor was born on the 5th day of Malin’s Welcome, 1698. When he was still a baby, his people left the realm of Atlas. As a result, the only realm that Tide remembers is Arcas. Tide grew up in the Kingdom of Renelia-Gladewynn. His father was a member of the Vanvir clan. His father followed the religion of the Kervira. While he was young, his father, a strict dark elf by the name of Norn, taught Tide to respect him and his ancestors. Norn Falkmoor was a well-known elf that wished above all else to retain and grow his families honor and reputation. He would promote an image in public of silent control and power. However, Tide secretly despised his father. Not because he didn’t believe in the importance of family, but because he considered his father a hypocrite who only cared about what others saw and not about his actual character. As a result, when Tide was only 24 years old he left the land of his people to travel and learn about the world. While traveling, he met a wood elf by the name of Dorgon in the Shade Marshes. Dorgon was an exiled wood elf that had been thrown out of wood elf society because he killed two other wood elves. Dorgon took Tide in and taught him sword fighting. Tide, an impressionable young elf who despised his father quickly began to consider Dorgon more of a father figure than Norn. While in Drogon’s care, Tide’s view of the world shifted. He began to believe that the world was chaotic and needed guidance. He had come to the conclusion that his role in life would be to right the wrongs of his people and of every other species. As a result, a thirst for power grew deep within Tide’s soul. This thirst was coupled with anger against people like his father who lied about who they were. To Tide Falkmoor, the worst thing a person could do was be dishonest. He vowed to one day return to his people and return them to the ways of their ancestors, which he believed his people had strayed from. He also denounced the Kervira religion of his father. He now does not believe in a greater power because if he did, he’d have to recognize that some of his actions or planned actions would not be accepted by that religion. When he was 35 years old, after 11 years in Drogon’s care, a terrible thing happened. While out hunting, they met a strange beast which neither of them had ever seen before. The beast attacked Drogon, who was very old even by elvish standards. Drogon was too slow. The beast clawed him before Tide could beat it back. It ran whimpering into the forest. Drogon died there on the forest floor within minutes. Tide, blinded by anger, believed this to be the proof that the world need to be fixed. He left the forest, determined to return to his peoples land and claim his position among them. As he left, he was ambushed by a group of four high elves who were adventuring. They captured him and, believing him to be sub-intelligent and impure, made him their slave. Even though they were on a trip, they wanted Tide to serve them. For 5 years, Tide was forced to follow this group around. One night, determined to finally escape their control, he decided to try and escape. He managed to get more then 100 feet away from them when he changed his mind. Tide did not consider himself a coward. Instead of running into the night he returned. He took one of their sword and killed all four of them while they slept. With this act he ensured that during the rest of his life, he would seek power through the use of methods that wouldn’t always be noble or honorable. This was also the only time he would ever kill anyone unnecessarily out of vengeance. After escaping and killing his capturers, Tide returned to his people and Renelia.
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