thiccpazuzu

Maenor comes across this missive while scanning the public board of the city of Karinah'siol, enjoying the unexpected break the 'fennic peacekeepers have taken from their hobby of mutilating civilians. Upon reading the contents, he finds nothing of particular interest, and at first thinks of this piece nothing special. But all his misunderstandings clear out once glancing at the signature, thereupon his face fills suddenly with mysterious awe and complete shock. He looks around those citizens standing before him, and they should appear as surprised as him, but that further convinces him of the truth of the matter. "eltuferyemir thilln'tuva yallre!" he cries joyously, then draws back in private, wondering how The Restorer of the World will change the tide of battle.

The Struggle of Karinah’siol ——————————————— ——————————————— Blessed children of Larihei, dark times are upon us, as you must have noted. In these trying times, an illegitimate bandit tries to assert herself as urthir. Of course, lacking the support of Haelun’or, she does so only through employing foreign troops, other ‘fennic bandits, to mercilessly oppress our people. Her lawless mercenaries are easily recognizable, lliran. They wear blue berets, and generally stink of sweat, by virtue of them being Mali’fenn and thus lacking all knowledge of the existence of perfumes and soaps. Citizens of Haelun’or, I beseech you to take care. The kinslayer’s bandits are heavily armed. I have just recently witnessed a most brutal massacre in the square, where these blue clad monsters maimed an unarmed civilian, and threatened many others. DO NOT engage them in open battle, unless you know they are heavily outnumbered. DO NOT submit to them, Mali’thill. Resist them at every opportunity. Mali’thill, I have witnessed them oppressing harmless civilians, gathered only to sign a petition calling for elections, for democracy. I believe they do not listen to such. I have heard the blues lament the fact that their chief bandit does not call herself a monarch. These people have no regard for democracy, nor can their minuscule brains comprehend such ideas. Mali’thill, arm yourselves. With whatever you have at your disposal. Bows, swords, knives, daggers, scythes, pitchforks or even your bare hands and magic. We must resist tyranny. But proceed with care, lliran. Do not engage in pointless bloodshed. Hit them only when you have the upper hand. Catch the occupiers unawares and terminate them. Time and numbers are on our side. And so is Larihei. I wish you courage, lliran. Be strong in the belief of maehr’sae hiylun’ehya. Be positive and believe that the Mali’thill will always win! ——————————————— [!] This inflammatory pamphlet is distributed anonymously around the High Elven city of Karinah’siol, throughout all its districts.

"Do not be afraid to stand up to evil. No matter how dark the night, the Sun will still rise come morning, and the children of Larihei will be there to greet it! maehr'sae hiylun'ehya! ahannil'taliyune dion yallreh! elmaruthir'leh iheiuhii kina omente!" So would thunder an insurrectionist from a hidden location within the heart of the Silver District. For the unfortunate souls that happened to go about their lives, this ominous voice would truly seem to come from within their walls.

"A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one." Maenor hailed this great piece of work within his home, written by an elf for whom he held little to no sympathies in the past, but who now became his ally. "Let this be a lesson for those that seek to destroy our Blessed City, that no matter how different the opinions held by individual Mali'thill, when faced with an enemy that seeks to destroy their very culture, they put every disagreement aside, and unite to protect that which they so love. maehr'sae hiylun'ehya!"

A radical republican, drunk by the nostalgia of former times, receives this missive with rejuvenated activity. He brandishes an unremarkable dagger in his room, preparing himself mentally to rid his blessed city of the 'fennic pest that has been genociding his people of late. "Give me liberty, or give me death!" he cries, ready to rally at the Republic's call.

Maenor Aildhuin, twice former Tilruir, regards the missive whilst inside his abode, not daring to test the outside waters for fear of rabid 'fennic monsters cannibalizing him. With a monotonous tone characteristic of those elves that have lived long enough to see with their own eyes many long streaks of disappointment within the history of Haelun'or, he talks to nobody in particular "I remember very clearly the days of Nelgauth Maehr'tehral. He was many things, impure by the standards of many. But above all else, he was a patriot." he roared with pain "A champion of democratic ideals, of equality between all Mali'thill, of freedom of speech and thought..." he took a brief pause to let a nostalgic sigh escape his lungs, before continuing "And there stands his sister, pure in comparison, but who crowns an illegitimate criminal as urthir and sells her nation to foreign powers." he shook his head "Nelgauth, impure as he was, was great. While this caricature of a sibling squandered all that the former stood for, and unlike the former, deserves no special place in the annals of history, only the contempt of those in the present." he then settles the pamphlet down, and reinvigorates his dry mouth with a glass of water "May Larihei save this Nation, for black days are coming."

An Official Statement From The Eternal Library It has been brought to our attention that, during the unfortunate events that have transpired over the course of the previous day, the Eternal Library has not escaped unharmed, and that a rogue band of intruders have sought to vandalise our most blessed sanctuary of progress. On that front, Mali’thill, rest assured that the vandalism has been cleansed, for no foulness can withstand the simple power of soap and water. Nonetheless, this should be a propitious moment to remind that, regardless of allegiances and feuds, the tomes of the Eternal Library deserve not to be harmed. They are not mine, nor the Head Librarian’s, nor anyone else’s but the Motherland’s. The thousands of books in the Library’s keeping are nothing else but the fruits of centuries, and embody the collective knowledge of generations, many of whom have long since passed into antiquity. It should be reminded too, that the Eternal Library should not be prized by Mali’thill only, for among the countless tomes housed therein, one can find the wisdom of all races that inhabit this World, the voices of all the Descendants. For many mortals, the Eternal Library is their only natural key to immortality, for long after they have passed, the opinions inscribed and the knowledge shared will still echo in the minds of people yet unborn, who should have the honour to find enrichment in the ancient halls of the Eternal Institutions. A fool of the highest order is the one that believes, even for an instant, that ideas shared in books can be imprisoned at our whims, or that they abide by the laws we construct. The Eternal Library represents something greater than all of us, and has reached this stage only after centuries of careful considerations, of generous donations from writers who decided to forever inscribe their names in the annals of the immortals. The books need no liberators. The Eternal Library needs no successor, for the Eternal Library is ETERNAL. maehr’sae hiylun’ehya. [!] This statement would, of course, be made public, to those inhabiting the Motherland, and to those outside of it, by way of couriers well paid for such service.

The Tilruir'indor would indulge himself in a short break from his administrative affairs concerning the Library, and stumble thus across this flyer. Wide-eyed, he'd read incredulously "That murderous cockroach is alive?! And in the Blessed Motherland?!" and at that, he'd check the inside of his coat, feeling for the short knife concealed about his belt "This cannot be allowed. The Council must take immediate action if their reputation is to be salvaged. arhiln fiyemereh! ay'Azorella!"

Maenor received the news whilst meandering through the Eternal Library, thus his neutral visage turned somber with grief. The Mali simply stood, bereft of words, and contemplated the grave times ahead of the Motherland, hoping only that the will of Larihei's children just might last them long enough to survive the night to come.

The news of the recent republication would find Maenor in the Sullas-Calith lounge, where he often spent his time. Thereupon, a vexation most terrible afflicts him, commenting with a little defeatism "I had hoped we had matured, and ceased to propagate works of little to no factual value. I doubt there is a single person in this world that believes a single thing within this piece of writing, that will use it for anything other than toilet paper or fuel for fire. It is plainly inflammatory, and does us no justice, nor does it make foreign realms any more sympathetic to our cause, in fact quite the opposite, I'd reason." he'd sigh, shaking his head violently "And I question the sanity of whoever proudly quotes that Valarieth monster, who should be remembered not as former Okarir'maehr, but as one of the Mali'ata assassins who murdered Maheral Azorella Elibar'acal." a long pause followed "Really, the motto of our Blessed Motherland should be nothing else than mayhaps one step forward, two steps back."

Maenor would get his hands on the missive, and read it from the comfort of his abode, all the while sipping on some tea. "There's a little lie. I was neither in awe, nor in shock. In fact, I expected nothing else from Ivarielle. Civil discourse is a thing unheard of in 'fennic culture. Nor am I surprised that she was late. I believe the Mali'fenn are, like, a millennia behind technologically, and have still not discovered clocks. I've read once that they still draw lines and plant sticks in sand. I almost pity them." he'd comment casually as he drank.

The executive order fills Maenor with complete horror, not at all looking keenly towards the mountain of one-paged, often plagiarized and often meaningless, poetry he'll have to review from the State's visitors. Deep down he could only hope that mayhaps one in ten will be as talented as the illustrious poet Heath Linnord, and gift works as fabled as the internationally acclaimed best-seller "Dagger Head".

The newly appointed Tilruir'indor gets his hands on the missive, and comments publicly, venom in his voice. "Kill this missive with fire. This accursed monster is responsible for all the woes of Haelun'or; for it was during his tenure as Sohaer that Haelun'or resumed its raids on Elvenesse, and altogether made nonsensical diplomatic choices that alienated virtually everyone. The tale of Othelu Orrar should be one to frighten children to go to sleep, not to educate. Burn this Mali'ata and his memory."

A High Elf currently residing somewhere far from the Motherland would sigh, recalling some distant memory of being tasked to transcribe, for the Library, the doings of the institution mentioned in the document in his hands, shuddering. "I don't know what sort of curse must afflict Larihei's children that compels us, when in crisis, to reply immediately with cries to war and genocide, as if somehow that's going to magically fix all the problems, even though that's been tried by our people over and over and, except an initial short term boost of vitality, it never accomplished anything worthwhile, and always led to an ankylosed administration, a purposeless people, and an alienated diplomacy."

An exiled Republican considers moving back to Haense.

Maenor, upon receiving the news, would immediately go on to reveal an ancient bottle of wine, stored safely in one of his chests, and pour a glass for himself. It struck him then as rather dramatic, that the bottle was once delivered to an apartment he owned in a city that no longer exists, by a friend that has ceased to be. He downed the glass, hoping that would drown his momentary grief. It was such a vain feeling, the 'thill knew, for death was inevitable to all lessers. He, nonetheless, could not help but think just how much he missed the good old days of decades past.

Maenor Aildhuin proceeds to read this out of boredom. He then vomits.

OOC ((MC Name: thiccpazuzu )) ((Discord: thiccpazuzu#7956)) ((Timezone: EET/EEST/UTC+2 )) IN-CHARACTER What is your name? Maenor Aildhuin Why seek membership to the Mages Guild? I seek membership due to my desire to further my science of the arcane and participate in the effort of progressing the collective knowledge in such frontier topics. What arts, if any, do you currently practice? Fire Evocation, having mastered it. What position do you desire to attain upon acceptance? Adeptus Majoris or Adeptus Minor. Further, I would prefer to be ordained in either the Astrologicus, or, more preferably, the Hermeticum, as I have taken recently an interest in the art of healing and in alchemy, and plan on deepening my understanding in these matters. When should you be contacted for an interview? Whenever.

A staunch republican would revel in this newly sparked conflict. "These two poor creatures make it so hard to root for them when they start regurgitating that miserable Othelu's propaganda, tsk." he'd add with a degree of disappointment "Azorella was impure? The Maheral is useless? Oh, how misguided the children of Larihei truly are..." he'd lament from far away. "One clique replaces another. As it always happens in undemocratic societies." he would comment conclusively about this whole fight, before moving away.

“How terribly ironic that those who worked, in the early years of this century, towards the ultimate destruction of free speech, and who actively persecuted those of differing views, should now cower in the face of their own creation, and rue a state which they themselves designed” A Mali'thill would muse as he loitered somewhere far from the Motherland.

As news about the Sohaer’s illness-induced death propagated through the world, they would eventually reach the ears of Maenor, now camping temporarily on one of Almaris’ many beaches, in a cozy, makeshift tent. The untimely departure of Othelu’s personage gave Maenor cause for celebration. Opening an ancient bottle of Seregon Red, he poured for himself a glass which he lifted upwards as if toasting the sea “Thus always to tyrants.” he said, downing the drink in one go.

In Regards to the War in Oren To the citizens of the Silver State, As you may have heard, the Silver State is mobilizing its Sillumiran and other civilians for the purpose of armed assistance of the Iron Accord members at war with Oren. It is the purpose of this letter to clarify the moral atrocities thus committed by the government and the impurities its members are guilty of. Since their inception, the Sillumiran’s sole objective has always been the preservation of purity and the protection of the High Elves and their settlements from foreign invaders. There is nothing pure to be preserved in a conflict involving ‘lesser’ states. By sending the Silver State’s forces forth to fight in foreign lands where neither the progress of the nation nor the health of the citizens is in peril, the Sillumiran become the harbingers of war and destruction and, by extension, differ in no meaningful way from the run-of-the-mill mercenary bands of the lessers. Whatever injuries exist between the people of Norland, Urguan and those of Oren need not and should not be of any concern to those pure enough to resist the brutish urge to cause violence and chaos. Moreover, no grievances actually exist between the Empire of Man and the Silver State of Haelun’or. In fact, no more than fifty years ago, these two nations were in a most harmonious alliance. Now, for those of you Mali’aheral who have the memory of an insect, or who happen to have brains in an advanced stage of biological decay, like our higher-ups, I would like to take a moment to remind you that, had the Orenian Monarchy not come to the aid of the Silver State at the end of Arcas, the entire collection of the Eternal Library would have been destroyed and, worse, most of you would have died then and there on the shores of the continent conquered by Inferi. When our city was sore beset by otherworldly monsters, our allies in Oren generously offered to freely protect and temporarily house our collection of thousands of books. Afterwards, when all the cities of the continent started crumbling, they housed and fed us all in their forts. When those too fell, they welcomed us on their ships, to carry us all to the new continent. Nothing, except mutual respect and goodwill, was ever demanded in return. To attack without cause a state that has proved more than eager to pursue benevolent relations shows the complete lack of moral integrity the leadership of the nation has, as well as the barbaric warmongering ambitions of Othelu. The current objective of the government is not the pursuit of progress, nor of safeguarding the lives of the Mali’thill. Rather, the government proves more eager to gamble the lives of those who enlisted in the Sillumiran, for no worthy goal, only the sole purpose of killing and plunder. Those supportive of such actions of the government have no right to call themselves Mali’thill. To obediently applaud a leadership that is ruining some fifty years of diplomatic endeavors carried by both the Silver State and Oren reveals an abundant impurity within oneself and an utter lack of any characteristic Mali’thill spirit. Those of you that have taken a liking to blood and gore, I personally invite you to further pursue your interests, but in so doing to also sever all ties with the Motherland and join the bands of the armies of lessers, whose actions seem to align more closely to yours. In such a fashion, whatever shadow of Haelun’orian diplomatic reputation still exists can, somewhat, be saved. Those of you uncertain, insecure and afraid in these times of war, normally I would have directed you to seek the Maheral’s counsel but, unfortunately, one is more likely to get the Sun to rise in the West and set in the East than to get the current Maheral to do anything useful for the preservation of purity. And so I will only remind you: There is nothing pure in untimely death. Citizens, study the history of our forefathers, care for your kin, pursue progress and health incessantly, but refuse the call of the government. Lay down your swords and refuse to march on the offensive. Preserve purity. From the Silver District with love, a 'thill. [!] This letter seems to be at every house's doorstep in Haelun'or. Quite clearly, someone was rather busy during the night.

"You would think that the state would be capable of capturing at least some of these vile creatures, considering the state is also so certain they're abundant in our society." spoke casually a certain Mali "Else people would start thinking that the state is bankrupt. Or far worse, that this is yet another cheap populistic missive dictated by state propaganda, serving no purpose other than to instill fear and sow mistrust."

Maenor proceeds to tear down the walls of his home in search of those damned hidden microphones recording his monologues.