BoneChive

Hungry

Sitting deep within his study and looking upon a letter that had just been granted to him, a certain mage's face darkens. He scanned each stroke of ink pledged across its page, searching for whatever falsehood would lie beneath...if only he looked closer, there might be a flaw, an illusion. But alas, there naught to be hidden; Somehow - he thought - This was the work of desire. That of his own, that of his kinsmen...the curse that so fervently plagued his own kind. All was of little concern now, as his face was cowled in the hearth's absence, the clutch of cold despair taking hold in his very core... A flame had been snuffed.

I think it could be neat dynamic for both the irp economy and just irp flavor in general to have a courier system. Picture this: Someone goes to the courier office and asks the man on standby to run a letter from Haense to Norland, and so he takes the letter there accordingly. Then you get the classic courier running down the busy square yelling for the name of the intended. This sparks roleplay, and creates the barrier between nations that Arcas was so criticized for not having. As well, one could go to an aviary and send a letter through that. Makes it so EVERYONE has to get out of their houses and make open, applicable rp for all. A courier system could also be neat for some sort of info monopoly, double agent type stuff, reading people's letters for villainy rp. Idk, it just sounds like there are 0 downsides to such an implement.

"MAEHR'SAE HIYLUN'EHYA!!" cries a certain pure elf upon notice of the aforementioned. "Through the great cull shall come enlightenment!"

"Short and Simple..." a particular elf remarks, before marking in a tome of record and stowing it away upon a shelf in finality.

Follow yourself, man. Thanks for everything, and I hope only that your departure is fruitful. Best of wishes.

A solemn, trodden elf would walk upon that scene in the tavern, glancing over the horrid, lifeless form of his once-fallen comrade. Acquiescent hues would pan its figure, looking knowingly upon the wooden smile. There was no happiness that lingered there. There hadn't been for some time. He knew now, more than ever, that his friend was truly beyond him. Sighing within the crisp silence of that tavern, he vocalizes only "My Pride and Joy."

Reserved as the amputator smh

A particular elf looked upon the bird, taking up the missive and deftly reading over its contents. Sighing softly, he shook his head and tossed it into the nearest flame, before setting back to his own studies.

Paris Langren looks upon the missive, reading over its contents once more. Deftly would he take up his quill, saturating it in red ink and placing his mark upon the parchment. "A new path. A hopeful path." With this, the elf would pass the parchment along to the next of table.

A poet of wander views the missive "A perilous journey is it; One that is wrought in tyranny, and slicked with inherent unawareness. But doubly so is it cast, upon two villains of each other's stories. This....shall be interesting."

A particular elven sir takes up the notice, looking over it duly. A soft smirk adorns his lips, his head coming to shake lightly. "Help is naught, if one does not choose to accept it." The man then crumbles the parchment within his grasp, tossing it into his flame; more fuel for the inferno.

A particular elf would take up the flyer, looking over the guests invited with some smile curling his lip. "This should be good." He states, folding and pocketing it as he heads home to fetch his vintage.

I absolutely adore this lore. Mega +1. I think it has the draw and lore backing necessary to out-do wonks and the stereotype of memes. You can 100% count on a musin coming from myself. (Always been a fan of rp niche over power, regardless. The same goes for sprites.)

Silas Astasel would look over the notice with a light exhale "If only matters were that simple.." Afterward, he folds the parchment and places it within his robe. He has manners to discuss.

Silas Astasel would read over the missive with quite some intrigue. "I suppose the true trials of purity shall now commence." After this, he folds the letter neatly and places it within a drawer.

Silas Astasel reads over the letter with little more than a smirk. He tosses it aside. Big things are in motion.

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