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Heart_Spam

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  1. Nisreen Odinson de Astrea read the missive posted at the White Bear Tavern's doorway, fingers skimming over the parchment as line by line blurred to watery ink. Though Nis hadn't spent long with the woman, she reminisced on the few moments they'd spent together, good and bad. A flicker of light erupted from the match as Nisreen struck it, using it to light a candle. She added it to the candles she kept for others who had passed, sitting in vigil until the wick burnt low and melted wax became a hardened puddle. "May your soul find everlasting peace," Nisreen whispered to her cousin, wherever her spirit may be, as she left the burnt candle to lie amongst the others while she returned to her duties and prepared for travels.
  2. Amidst all else that may greet Frisket, there stood another waiting for that moment. Familiar flaming red locks popped against the brilliant skies as Matilda raced to welcome Frisket into the afterlife with a smile and character reminiscent of those long by-gone days of traipsing about the wheat fields of Old Elysium together and defending her hills. So much had passed since then, and Matilda couldn't wait to hear the tales from Frisket herself. Eternity was left now, after all.
  3. [!] Painting of a Rathonian chicken coop - before the slaughter. A still night air broke over the Rathonian countryside; a gentle, cool breeze wisped through the waving fields of golden crops. They were ready for harvest. Then, that silence was shattered by a ferocious squawking from one chicken coop upon the outskirts. A farmer jolted upright from the bed he’d taken up not half an hour prior and, as the fowl took up the first coop’s cries with a tremendous squawking that seemed to shake the very earth, other farmers followed suit. It wasn’t long until the chickens’ frantic cries died down to be replaced by the still night air once more, no longer disturbed by whatever had first startled them. As the farmers examined their coops and their fowl, they would be met only with the chickens themselves as they once again settled down for the night in peace and quiet. Yet, in that first coop from whence the distressed cries had first arisen, the first farmer found a trail of blood. Feathers mottled with crimson littered the ground, yet there was no corpse to be seen, all the fowl seemed accounted for, and none seemed to have sustained injuries. No trace remained of what culprit had stolen into the coop that harvest night. In disbelief, the farmer recounted his chickens, but the count remained the same. All were there. Wagging his head, he returned to rest, and the night went by in peace. Over the days following, outbursts from the coops became more frequent. Fearful for the very economic structure that sustained Rathonian trade through the farms, citizens began laying traps within the coops - and caught only their own animals. Slaughter ensued. Mottled chicken corpses began to appear, within and outside of the coops, though the flocks seemed to diminish at a slower rate than the number of corpses that appeared. The odd occurrences began to spread - from South Dunbar, where they’d first begun, towards the direction of Granstaad. Not only chickens were felled now, but pigs, cows, larger animals. Was it bandits? Wolves come down from the mountains? Or something far worse? If whatever oppressed the farmers’ flocks continued to spread, disease could ravage the little community and the economy would turn to recessed turmoil from loss of trade and provision. Something must be done to keep the Norlandic vassal of Dùnrath and its surrounding territories from crumbling beneath the burdens of its own people.
  4. A copy of this notice blew against the skirt of a Qalasheen woman, struggling to right her tent post amidst the relentless desert winds. It had been born there by those same winds, across the dunes, a loose piece of paper tumbling over the sand. Fatimah knelt to retrieve the notice once her tent was set upright, prepared for the evening's chill. She read the missive under flickering orange firelight... and then, with a bitter look, allowed the missive's lettering to mingle with the fire, allowed the words' dark ink to glow vibrant orange with flames, allowed the parchment to burn until all that remained was ash that floated amidst grey smoke towards the darkened heavens.
  5. Nisreen agrees with this sentiment. About the walls. To clarify.
  6. This letter is penned by scribe, under direction of Nisreen Odinson de Astrea, this 9th of Malin’s Welcome, Year SA 72, and addressed to Duke Eugeo de Astrea, Lady Leika de Astrea, Heir Regent, and the members of the Government of Elysium. I am writing to inform you of my decision to leave office and my position as the Minister of Knowledge of Elysium, as well as relinquishing any governmental power I may have held as Minister. This decision does not come easy, although I have concluded I cannot uphold my position and serve the community of Elysium as it is fit to be served, whilst I am pursuing personal investigations and fulfilling duties elsewhere. My final day in office will be the Day of The First Seed of SA 72, after which I fully relinquish the title of office. I thank you for the opportunity you have provided me in serving this position, and I am grateful for the eighteen years I have been able to serve you and Elysium as such. I am willing to aid in a search and interview process for a new Minister of Knowledge as needed, as well as any duties to be completed before I leave office in order to ensure a smooth transition for Governance after my departure. Sincerely, Nisreen Odinson de Astrea
  7. [!] an impressionistic rendition of the Elysium gardens How rare is it that two flames, burning brightly on their own, should meet and burn ever brighter? How rare that they should leap from embers into a roaring blaze? How beautiful, when light breaks the veil of darkness? [!] Invitations are spread to the public in the Elysium community, inviting Citizens and Friends of Elysium alike to partake in the celebration! (Granted that the Al-Sayd is successful, of course.) 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑅𝒶𝒹𝓋𝒶𝓃 𝒪𝒹𝒾𝓃𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒩𝒾𝓈𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑅𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑒 𝒹𝑒 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓇 71 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓁𝓎𝓈𝒾𝓊𝓂 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓀 w𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓉 𝒜𝓇𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒 Special invitations are made out to: His Lordship, Duke Eugeo de Astrea and House de Astrea His Lordship, Fal'leon Odinson and House Odinson Her Ladyship, Amethyst Vanari and House Vanari Her Ladyship, Scarlet Anarórë and House Anarórë Her Ladyship, Lle Aylir-Hawksong and House Aylir-Hawksong House Dolorem House Mondblume His Lordship, Pyrin Nria-Crane His Lordship, Oliver Solros and House Solros Ehrendil Taliame'eonn Chen Linli Khalto The Youth of Elysium
  8. The haggard winds whipped around the two, throwing sand and dust like biting knives against any uncovered skin; Fatimah ensured to keep Daliah close as they hastily pitched a tent in the wilderness. She'd brought Daliah out here to teach her to survive, to flourish with next to nothing - and it became very clear, very quickly, that survival would now certainly be something hard-fought-for. Isolated from any others of their family, their tribe, listening to the winds and sand beating against the tent's hide as nights passed into days unending, Fatimah uttered stories of adventure and mystery to Daliah, to comfort her, all the while the words of her mother echoed in her mind. Words she'd laughed at, that she hadn't believed. That the lands of the Fakhr Tribe, once grown to the Kharasi Sultanate and now desolate once more, were cursed beyond understanding. And Fatimah could only pray her husband, her children, and her tribe fared better than they. That they would one day be able to traverse the empty deserts once more and find their way home.
  9. Pen and ink eternally fortify our words, our histories, and our tales to tell, just as the wind carries the words we speak across the breeze. Crisp pages blotted with ink don’t tell of a mess, a haphazard writing, but of communication, of exchanging information and through its sharing: growth, like the spreading of a tree’s branches through the sky. A word, once spoken, cannot be retracted; a word, once written, cannot be erased. The Ministry of Knowledge is committed to developing a scholarly community within Elysium, constructing an ethos grounded in knowledge and expanding upon research and communication with peers. As such, the Ministry of Knowledge is proud to announce it is opening a search for archivists, journalists, and teachers for three of its facets: Archival Commissions, The Elysium Post, and the Department of Education. Archival Commissions researches and maintains Elysium’s culture and history, archiving information in order to preserve knowledge and history for the future generations of Elysium. Currently, Archival Commissions is searching for archivists who: Are dedicated to preserving Elysium’s history, culture, and traditions Are willing to work with other archivists and the Head Archivist as needed Please contact the Minister of Knowledge, Nisreen Reede de Astrea @Heart_Spam[Heart_Spam#6587], or our Head Archivist Radvan Odinson @AmericanSniper52[BBqsquirrel#0896] with any questions or interest related to this position! The Elysium Post is a newly founded facet through which the Ministry of Knowledge can provide information to citizens in a timely manner, prevailing over subjects such as current events, military announcements, governmental changes, and other publicly-spread information as each issue sees fit. Its purpose is to connect the community with one another through a shared journal. Currently, managers at the Elysium Post are searching for journalists who: Are dedicated to presenting factual information about current events to the public in a timely manner Have a drive to seek out stories with the intent of sharing them with the public Please contact the Minister of Knowledge, Nisreen Reede de Astrea @Heart_Spam [Heart_Spam#6587] or current Elysium Post Manager Eugeo de Astrea @Suicidium [Crines#2975] with your interest or for more information. The Department of Education facilitates a learning community within Elysium through the University and Library systems, striving to create a growing center of shared knowledge amongst Elysian peers through maintaining accessible classroom and library settings for all citizens. Currently, the DoE is searching for teachers and story-tellers who: Are invested in sharing their knowledge and experience with students Bear an ethos dedicated to teaching or story-writing Please contact the Chancellor of Education, Solaine W. de Astrea @Mayaran [Mayaran#6528] with your interest or for more information regarding these positions. Signed: Lady Nisreen Reede de Astrea Minister of Knowledge, Manager of the Elysium Post Duke Eugeo de Astrea Manager of the Elysium Post Lady Leika de Astrea Heir Regent of Elysium Radvan Odinson Head Archivist of Elysium Lady Solaine Wranralei de Astrea Chancellor of Education, Master Librarian
  10. As silence followed the declaration from the forest, Nisreen Reede de Astrea scurried through the city to the gardens, to halt in front of the statue of her late father, Esmond, and a candle she'd placed for her late mother, Aylin. She looked to them even still for guidance, for wisdom. "The people should be free to choose, even knowing the risks. This isn't about purifying, this is about control. War upon the elven residing here is war upon us all."
  11. Fatimah al-Hadad returned home from one of her long treks in the wilderness, which she'd come to take more and more frequently these days. She was weary, tired and thirsty from the journey, yet ready to welcome her family upon her return. Yet she would not come home to a warm, blissful Oasis; there was instead a shadow that lingered over it, a unsurmountable heaviness in the air. Leaving Bubba at the entrance, Fatimah moved into the tribal city, searching for answers - and was met with despair. Upon hearing the news of Marah's death, Fatimah stared in disbelief. Marah had been her mother figure after her own had passed, one of the first to welcome her back that day she'd wandered in from the wilderness. Marah's teachings, her warmth, her generosity - gone? It was impossible to believe, yet the aching hole in Fatimah's heart told the woman it was true. Her throat closed; unable to utter another word, she turned to disappear into the desert once more for three days' time of fasting and mourning. - - - - - And as Marah entered into Jannah by the grace of Allah, Zahra bint Hakim al-Hattan was there to welcome her with open arms, to squeeze her hand in greeting and return that ever-present symbol of sisterly love and devotion that surpassed even death itself into eternity.
  12. Nisreen lay the notice aside with her growing pile of work... Only to remember to open it the day before the feast, and proceed to freak out over having nearly forgotten yet another event.
  13. If Cap'n Sam could read the news of Atherian's death, she'd salute the loss of her two-time drinking buddy and Canonist baptiser.
  14. Why does this look like clickbait? (jkjkjk ily Gen it's been a fun year o7)
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