High_On_Math

The streets of Ebonwood are filled with dead leaves. Between cracks in the pavement, young saplings begin to grow. Abandoned, the cihi's buildings lie bare. The possessions of once prosperous Mali had been left behind as the denizens fled, left to be picked up by the vandals and robbers who roamed the streets, breaking into homes and taking all that they could. Who did this? Many shall lay the blame upon you, accusing you of conspiring to rule over all the Mali nations. They shall cry, "Ebonwood fell because of her hubris!" That you, the denizens of Ebonwood, had deemed yourselves the arbiters of truth - and of Malin's will. Yet, you know this to be false. Ebonwood existed to bring peace and unity, valuing all Mali cultures while acknowledging their differences and the need to reconcile them. It was Ebonwood who opened its doors to both Princess Ivarielle and Sohaer Braxus, hosting a diplomatic meeting in an attempt to bring unity and justice to elvendom and to prevent war. Ebonwood devoted itself not to the outward pursuit of physical strength in order to dominate, but to the inward pursuit of moral virtue. And the punishment for this blunder was the destruction of Ebonwood at the hands of those who lust for blood and power. As happens in the East, happens in the West, as there is nothing new that happens under the sun. Every land its light touches as it journeys through the sky is afflicted by the same curse. And the pattern repeats, this time the established kingdoms of elvendom target a new settlement, Sulianpoli. We are small in number, but we shall fight. Fight for our friends, fight for our honor, and fight for our ideals. We have baths, blessed by the spirit of the golden pools, where anyone of any heritage may come to seek greater purity. We hope to bring purity to all, not hedonism, violence, nor lust for power. We are a light- a light which the greater kingdoms desire to snuff out. Malin’or has demanded that Krugmar betray us as follows: I. The Horde will cease its efforts to divide and rule Elvenkind, and expel all elven vassals within its confines, refusing to recognise them as land-holders. They shall be offered suitable residency elsewhere. II. The Horde will cease its puppetry of rogue mali who trade blood for ambition, and expel any mali from the ranks of their leaders, refusing to re-introduce them into such positions. They shall be offered suitable residency elsewhere. III. The Horde will henceforth denounce the problematic, deluded and diseased people known as the “Toga Elves”. . . . V. The Horde will revert back to an Uruk Commune solely; it may hold mali merchants and visitors but it will not grant them titles or land henceforth. It may hold any other races within its borders without violation of this. . . . VII. The Horde and its shamans will cease any spread of spiritualism outside of its own territories, meaning any erecting of shrines to spirits outside of those lands will result in war. All preaching of spiritualism among mali must be approved by that mali people’s respective prince or princess. . . . IX. Should any of these terms be broken, it will result in war. X. Failure to make amends with any of these - will result in war. Malin’or demands that no elven group has the freedom to decide which nation to put itself under. It declares that by race all Mali are subject to princes and princesses. It declares that individual Mali have no right to decide which nation and which military to serve. It silences Uruk shamanism, effectively stopping all communication and discussion of a religion, preventing its truth from being debated, and preventing individuals from engaging in truth-seeking dialectical practices. They are silencing the discussion of individual’s beliefs about truth, and thus silencing the rational quest to compare ideas and come to a reasoned conclusion. Worst of all, if Krugmar acts honorably, defending its Mali denizens, Ivarielle’s bloodlust has compelled her to jealously kill those who stand before her, blocking her path to a dictatorship of all Mali. Truth is not reserved to one race. Right is not defined by obeying what your ethnic group has declared you must obey. It is the responsibility of every individual to think independently, and this war, like the violence against Ebonwood, is an expression of powerful Mali who desire to stifle rational thought and debate. In memory of Ebonwood, in revenge for what was taken, in goodwill to prevent it from happening again, and in the protection of the pursuit of the greater good, I ask all former denizens of Ebonwood and its allies to come to our aid. Luthriel X., former senator for Ebonwood to the Orenian Imperial Diet, denizen of Sulianpoli

[!] You spot a missive pinned to a bulletin board in Providence. The wind blows a bit, and it begins to quiver, though fortunately it is not ripped off. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On the Doctors of the Plague Roughly 15-20 saint’s weeks ago, I met a plague doctor in Providence. I was with an orc friend. He told the orc that his facial anatomy was similar to that of a pig’s, and began to justify this insult with pseudo-scientific ramblings. He carried an air of self-importance and pride, as though he were smarter than everyone else. The Doctor told me that I was insane, and would likely end up killing someone if I did not get treatment. He told me this after I had spoken but a few sentences to him. Throughout my encounters with the Doctor, he continually told me I was insane, and even that I “was a wench”. When I confronted him about using such rude language, he said, “It is merely deduced through observation.” He approached another woman and attempted to convince her that she had a medical condition. I would characterize his actions towards me and this woman as attempted gaslighting in order to get us to subject ourselves to his medical “treatments”. For me, he noted that I would possibly need brain surgery via drilling a hole through my eye socket into my brain. When I was dealing with the after effects of excessive alcohol consumption, he told me that drinking mercury would ease my symptoms. When I protested, he and his master Laurent (who I shall describe later), both told me I was a fool, for I had not had any medical training but the doctor had. These consistent attacks on individual’s self-esteem and pressuring to take dangerous medical “treatments” struck me as very suspicious. On one occasion, the Doctor attempted to kill a musin. His reasoning was that it was a rat, and that rats carry diseases. He often spoke of how dirty and overpopulated Providence was, and how he had to wear a mask to keep out the disease. His attempt on the musin’s life was just one in a series of comments or actions indicating that he believed Providence to be filthy and that that filth needed to be purged. A crowd formed around the Doctor, attempting to prevent him from killing the musin. Upon successful prevention of the murder, a high elf man named Laurent approached the crowd, asking for a chance to speak to the Doctor in private. Laurent regularly hung out in Providence, standing at the edges of the square, watching but not engaging with people. Laurent claimed that the Doctor was his friend. The crowd agreed, and Laurent and the Doctor left to speak privately in the tavern. The Doctor referred to Laurent as “Master Laurent”. Laurent seemed to be of the opinion that the Doctor should not ruin his reputation by killing the musin, but Laurent did seem to agree that the presence of musin was filthy. Later, the Doctor attempted to strike a deal with a musin, telling the musin that if it came with him and was willing to be a test subject in scientific experiments, he would not kill it. My late friend, Iolas, who in his life discovered a daemonic cult and lived to protect descendent kind, attempted to apprehend the Doctor and save the musin. He had come to Providence with his comrades in order to investigate the Doctor. They had been given information that he was connected to kidnapping and enslavement. This is a sketch of the Doctor. Self-important and rude Attempted gaslighting individuals into dangerous medical treatments Belief that Providence is filthy to the point of having an environment that dangerously promotes illness Wore garb designed to protect him from the perceived illness in Providence’s air. Plague doctor bird-beak mask Connection to Master Laurent Attempted abduction of a musin for the purpose of scientifically experimenting on it Possible involvement in large-scale kidnapping —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Around 7 saint’s weeks ago, long after the original Doctor and Laurent had long since vanished, I met another plague doctor, this one distinctly different. He began the conversation by making a rude remark to me, but I did not respond negatively to it. Instead, I offered him a copy of my book and tried to be kind to him, hoping to gain information. His demeanor changed to a friendly one. He attempted to read the book, but held it upside down, indicating that he could not distinguish letters from being right side up or upside down. As I asked him further questions, I discovered that he did not remember his original name, that he did not remember where he was born, that he did not remember anything - except that he had alchemy lessons he needed to go to. I asked him who his alchemy teacher was, but he responded that the teacher was rather secretive. I asked him if I could meet his teacher, but he said that his teacher had almost killed previous visitors. I asked him if he could remember his alchemy lessons, and he said that he could not. He only copied recipes down into a book. Worried for his safety, I attempted to keep him in the square until I could get help. However, he seemed anxious to leave as to not miss his lesson. He eventually pushed past me and ran away. I did not see him again. This is a sketch of the Forgetful Doctor: Initially behaved rudely, became more friendly as I persisted in talking to him. Wore garb designed to protect him from the perceived illness in Providence’s air. Plague doctor bird-beak mask Connection to alchemy Amnesia —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Last saint’s day (1876), I encountered two individuals, one Human and one Musin, in Providence. They were wearing odd garb. The musin and the human’s garb looked the same, but different sizes, suggesting it was a uniform. They wore goggles, and the human had a bandana over his face, though they did not wear traditional plague-doctor bird masks. Their demeanor was rowdy, erratic, and rude, to the point where I had trouble obtaining information from them. The people around assumed them to be crazy. They went out of their way to insult my ability to see, as I have one eye and my body is badly scarred. They claimed to be doctors, though they seemed to know nothing of medicine. They specifically mentioned the filthy, overpopulated state of Providence. They also mentioned something called Bloodmaris. Furthermore, they mentioned “super alchemy”. They claimed to be worried about the continent of Almaris, saying we needed to fight back against those who would hurt us. They claimed to be visiting the city to warn it of something. I overheard them mentioning that this dangerous something would happen in 2 saint’s days (next saint’s day if you are receiving this from me). They mentioned that they had spent years in a cave. They seemed to remember where they were born and who their parents were. When asked about Master Laurent, the man replied, “I know him. I killed his wife,” which seemed out of place. It is likely that he was making that statement up. He did not give me any details that could have proven he knew Master Laurent Here is a sketch of what they looked like: Rude behavior Belief that Providence is filthy to the point of having an environment that dangerously promotes illness Wore garb designed to protect him from the perceived illness in Providence’s air. One was a musin Connection to alchemy —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Precisely one century ago, the Inferi invasion of Arcas began. It began with 5 comets shooting out of the sky, only 2 of which landed in Arcas and were thus dealt with. Furthermore, the Invasion was preceded by blood rain, which we have recently experienced in Almaris. With the two odd individuals I encountered yesterday mentioning Bloodmaris and the fact that we must fight back against . . . something, I believe that these doctors are somehow connected to the upcoming invasion, possibly an attempt to prevent it. The Doctors are a longstanding group, and with their recent words making little sense yet also being reminiscent of the upcoming invasion I have previously predicted, I suggest they be taken semi seriously. Their presence is a bad omen, not a harmless joke. I would take precautions, preparing for undead by fortifying the city with aurum, patrolling the city for possible dark magic ritual sites, stocking up on Oracle Wood and products that provide mental clarity, and mostly being aware of any possible threats. Personally, I would evacuate children and the elderly until the time frame the two individuals set has passed and their predictions have been proven incorrect.

[!] A short note would be pinned to notice boards around Almaris. Karin'ayla and hello! My name is Luthriel, and I am looking for an alchemy teacher. After the recent month of blood rain, I have become aware of the necessity of having better ways to defend myself, my family, my llirs, and my community from the horrors that are sure to follow this bad omen. Since alchemy neither weakens an individual nor requires an individual's dedication to a deity, I've decided it is a good choice rather than learning a magic. Please bird me if you are interested in taking on a student. Of course, I'm willing to pay for lessons! Thank you, Ahernan, Luthriel

Plenty of characters with atronach arms would not have gotten one of it was going to make them weaker. Mine would have tried golem arms or something. If this is accepted, I can imagine some characters getting rid of their atronach limbs that they paid a lot of minas for

The missive reached a single mother, Luthriel, who began to shake as she read the missive. She knew too much, and for that, she was hunted. And now, her hunter was freed, and the whole world might believe a lie about her, sending mages, Cannonists, Paladins, and every sort of decent people against her and her child. Was there anywhere where she could truly hide? And when she died- what would happen to her child?

Luthriel pondered what An-Gho meant when he said "Truth is Asioth." before smirking, "This is why one does not devote themselves to a being first, but to truth primarily. Otherwise you begin to spew nonsense."

OOC: Satinkira asked me to change a phrase. I was unsure if I should mention this for sake of metagamers, but he was ok with it. the new phrasing reads: "Nothing really phases me, anymore, after Kivdrona"

Several Years Ago: Luthriel and Remon walked into Cloud Temple together. There, before their eyes, a dark elf infant lay at the base of a tree, abandoned. Remon picked it up, "Who would leave a baby at Cloud Temple?" Luth's eye widened, "An awful person. Can I hold them? Can I see the baby?" Remon gave the little thing to her, and she held it with her remaining arm. "What do . . . what do you feed a baby who doesn't have a mother?" She asked Remon. "How would I know?!" he replied. She smiled fondly at the girl, "We'll figure this out." A week later: Luthriel and Remon stood in the center of Ebonwood. She stared at him with a hollow, melancholy look on her face, "The baby- I lost her," she muttered, almost in a whisper. Remon, however, didn't seem too phased, "How? What happened?" he asked. "I do ne remember!" Her eye began to swell with tears, "I was- was walking in the Ebonwood carrying the girl, and then- I do ne remember anything! But a sick feeling, as though I remember the feeling of losing her. When I try to think of it, all I can recall are the feelings." "And? What kind of feelings?" "Sick, Anxiety, as though I know I am going to die soon, and the child too would die." "Luthriel, you died. I can't say for certain, but it sounds like you did die." "What?! Ne- I'm ne undead!" "You are." "Then I'm wrong!" she muttered, "I'm ne meant to be here, I'm ne meant to be here. . . . but even then, it's ne me I should be weeping for! The girl, what do you think happened to her!? There's ne thing I can do - I failed. Ne thing I can do to save her. I do ne even know where to begin looking." Remon shrugged apathetically, "You are not wrong. Plenty of people are undead." "What is wrong with you?! Why are you ne - You act as though ne thing happened to the girl!" "Nothing really phases me, anymore, after Kivdrona" The events of the past year: Luthriel stared at the empty bookshelves where countless blank books used to rest, waiting to receive the inked form of Iolas's words from beyond the grave. She'd done her duty. She'd spread his message. All of Almaris now knew of the rumors: That Nim'bur was a servant of a daemon, and that he had killed Iolas. She'd spoken with a paladin, and he'd agreed to apprehend Nim'bur if she could confirm the rumors to be true. Soon, she would move back into that fateful Urguani manor and become a housemate of that kha once again. The Xionist ghosts had said that daemons and anguls were responsible for the suffering of descendent kind. She could believe at least that much of their message. Another ghost had told her that perhaps, the reason she'd consistently lost any family she had over the years was because she loved them too much. She'd loved family more than Godan, and thus, fate, the unstoppable servant of Godan's will, would take them from her. It was not a half-elf's place to be happy, but to bear the curses that others cannot. Looking down at the hound sitting next to her, she smiled slightly. People cared for her, her dogs cared for her, Godan cared for her. She just was not meant to have the family that she'd wanted. Instead, she'd have to look forward. She would find a way to protect descendent kind from Hell. No matter who else had failed, she would succeed. She had to. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Luthriel returned from Kivdrona, missing her spear which had proven oh-so-useless in the battle against the . . . . the thing. At least she had notes. Information was what they had gone there for, anyway. She walked into Edvard's forge, eager to share her discoveries with someone. Veronna was there . . . delivering the news of Minuvas's death-state. Any excitement that Luthriel had from her adventure vanished. "NE!" And thus began the woman's annoying rants about the importance of mandragora and blood lotus tea. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ebonwood died as Minuvas was comatose. Elvenesse had threatened their princedom, and with a weak military force, comatose leader, and growing numbers of enemies, Veronna, now the leader of Ebonwood, had done what she thought was best to protect Ebonwood's people. She'd submitted to Elvenesse's demands, and commanded Ebonwood's people to forsake their homes. Luthriel stared at a picture on the wall, "Refugee again." she muttered. Taking it off the wall with her only hand, which was an atronach hand, she muttered, "And still a pathetic one. At least can I be a refugee with ten fingers?" She stared out the window, "Maybe it's Godan's will that I ne have a home, either. I suppose I will move to Nim'bur's place and begin prying him for information about daemons." A long moment of silence followed, before she began crying. Two dogs came up to her. On sniffed her, then went back to sniffing the room. Another sat next to her. "Godan, dogs die! They die younger than any human does. And you- you do ne care! Ne that you should, but- how am I supposed to do what is right when- when there's ne hope! We all go to hell when we die, and surely do we all die. You do nothing. You created us with free will, expecting us to solve our problems ourselves, but what good is a will when my strength is so small?! The only thing left to do is to resign myself to my fate and to find comfort here, in this life, but you continue to take everything from me!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The door of some large yet lonely manor in Urguan swung open. "Nim'bur!" A woman's voice called out, "I'm moving back in! Oh, and maybe you could help me meet that daemon the rumors say you serve? Also- I'll need a large amount of space for . . . organic herb concoction creation" The manor felt sickeningly empty. Nim'bur approached from the stairs, not a daemon spawn but still a normal, friendly kha, though his eyes were blindfolded. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ In an empty cellar, Luthriel sat on a dirt floor, her back leaning up against the wall. "There's ne point to my life. I keep finding a home and then having to flee it, finding a family and then they turn on me or vanish. Ne point in trying anymore." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Walking one last time through the streets of Providence, Luthriel spotted Remon . . . Or, rather, a strange body wearing her friend's clothes. Yet as she spoke to him, she realized it was him. Something had happened. Something that he wouldn't tell her. As she stared at this person, a young boy ran up to them. "Hello, do you know anybody who works at the orphanage?" Luthriel looked down at the child absent-mindedly, still worried for Remon, "Ti, I do. Why?" "I don't have a family and was wondering if I could live there." Remon replied, "Oren is no place for an orphan. Go to the Vale, for it is safer there." "But I've always lived here in Oren-" Luthriel looked down once again on the boy, "If you would like, you may live with me. I'm living in a manor with much space. It is ne a home, but it is . . . well it's more than a house, at least to me." The welcoming words rung out in a cold and hollow voice filled with melancholy. "Really?! Thank you!!!!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The trio arrived at Nim'bur's manor. Remon took Luthriel aside. "You're being cruel. To bring an orphan to a house you yourself have said is not a home." Remon said in a stern tone. "It's only because of the memories I have here. This- this is the house where I took in the insane homeless man, Morbane. There, by the door, is where he killed his pet fox. The kitchen is where he told his young children that I was their mother. And that road out the window . . . it's where my husband chased after Morbane, trying to kill him in revenge for what he did to me." she motioned to her missing eye, "And again, in the kitchen, I lay on the floor, a cripple, in between Morbane and the Druids, begging them not to hurt him, for he was a vampire. And downstairs, is the room where I used to live with my husband. And again, in the kitchen is where I last saw him . . . where he first saw me a cripple, held me and told me he would never leave me again, and then disappeared forever. And upstairs . . . upstairs is where I left a girl . . . who I had adopted. Out of guilt, I chose to abandon her rather than to make amends. The boy has none of the memories I have, and this house doesn't have to be " "Luthriel, you're not in a position to take care of a child. You'll hurt him more. Look at yourself, you are being selfish. Take the child to the Haenseni orphanage, where he'll be safe. But not only are you hurting him, but you're hurting yourself, too. You'll fail. You'll bring yourself more pain. If you want a family this much, join the Azdrazi." "But you told me ne to talk to them!" "That was before I knew you were going to adopt a child." The discussion continued, becoming desperately heated. Remon continued pressing Luthriel, telling her that adopting the child would only bring more pain. Ralphy overheard, and began crying. Remon walked over, comforting the child in a soft voice, casting a glare to Luthriel. "I knew I shouldn't have left the forest! All I wanted was a family! I didn't- everyone I always talk to, I hurt! My mom died giving birth to me. I shouldn't have come here." Luthriel walked over, muttering, "Remon was ne saying that you were going to hurt me. He was saying that I was going to hurt you." Suddenly, she ran out of the house, crying. After a long conversation with Ralphy, Remon emerged from the house to find Luthriel crying on the front porch. "Go and comfort your son." he said. She looked at Remon with pain in her eyes, unsure of what to do. Ralphy declared that he did not want to be a bother to people, and that he was going to live in the forest again. Remon approached Luthriel, whispering, "I'll give you one final chance. Keep him safe. Make sure he lives a happy life. And if you don't . . . he won't be the only one to suffer, believe me. Am I clear?" And with that, Remon left Luthriel with her new son, Ralphy.

The door of some large yet lonely manor in Urguan swung open. "Nim'bur!" A woman's voice called out, "I'm moving back in! Oh, and maybe you could help me meet that daemon the rumors say you serve? Also- I'll need a large amount of space for . . . organic herb concoction creation" The manor felt sickeningly empty. Nim'bur approached from the stairs, not a daemon spawn but still a normal kha, though his eyes were blindfolded. ---------------------------------------- In an empty cellar, Luthriel sat on a dirt floor, her back leaning up against the wall. "There's ne point to my life. I keep finding a home and then having to flee it, finding a family and then they turn on me or vanish. Ne point in trying anymore."

Lamentations of a crazed, middle aged, badly scarred half elf woman can be heard! "Give Minuvas mandragora tea!!!! You're killing him! Let me see him! None of you know anything. Blood lotus tea too! Frick you, did you at least give him blood lotus tea?!"

REMOVE LOTC TECH LOCK. MAKE LOTC FANTASY SCI FI.

I cant tell if this is a goodbye post or a cry for help

Luthriel squinted, muttering, "Mika you bloody artist! Please craft my arm soon. I'll need a way to defend myself. But, in the meantime, " She spat, "Ti, I think I have what it takes to ne allow my soul to be sent to some dark ocean of torment. Kill me and I'll come back. I know I will."

"Sounds hedonistic", muttered an elfess. "Still, I might go to meet new individuals. Though as for a dress, I'll have to spend more time in deliberation."

Luthriel's head sunk, unsure of what to do. She had predicted that Ivarielle would be more blood thirsty than Braxus, but no one had listened. For now, however, the least she could do was have a talk with Lynnette, that elfess who thought herself noble yet fought for Ivarielle.

@Jenny_Bobbs [!] Evo'lur receives a letter from an ata.

"AH, another will of Malin divined through the dark craft of sitting around and talking. We have quite the system, don't we, Mr. Fluffy Butt?!" This absolutely crazy elfess would squeal at her dog, before chucking a glass bottle at the wall and beginning to cry, "Why don't we start an orphanage?! Where we teach all the orphaned Mali children to follow logic?! Why- why- WHY WONT PLUME LET ME ADOPT HIM!?!?! HE'S GOING TO DIE!? EDVARD IS KILLING ORPHANS!" Mr. Fluffy Butt politely cleared his throat and whined a little, reminding Luthriel to take her oracle wood.

Luthriel walked around in the woods, alone, muttering to Godan, "All the good ones are dead. All the good ones are dead. How are we supposed to bring the goal to fruition? All the good ones are dead." Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Deniers are an active threat to Malin's return, and may need to be ceremoniously removed if they cannot be redeemed." For the first time in her life, Luthriel felt alien to her elvish half. In her heart, she thanked Godan for blessing her with at least one human parent. "It seems," She muttered, "from my experience, that the only way for an elf to come to belief in God is through a rare miracle. There . . ." She pauses, "there must be some sort of second curse on elves making them want to worship creations rather than The Creator. Mali kind is . . . Hopeless." She closed her eye and muttered a quote from Gandalf, "It is in men that we must place our hope." In a sudden rage, she began penning a letter to a Cannonist friend "Minuvas has said that Cannonism is basically incompatible with Malinism and that Mali who stand firm in their denial of Malinism may need to be executed. . ." In a karen-esque touch, she added, "They placed me in housing that was then assigned to become an ancestors shrine. They used bloody eminent domain to take a Cannonist's dwelling and turn it into a place of pagan worship. They bloody obviously did this on purpose. I'd ask to speak to their manager, but he's probably dead or at least he's never around." @KaiserJacobII

OOC: im sorry you had to pk, Gavin. Like super sorry. it sucks. *virtual hugs*

Luthriel starts freaking out, "WHO IS HOLDING MINUVAS HOSTAGE?!!?!?!?!?!!?" She pours over the document, trying to find some hidden pattern in the words.

Luthriel stared in horror at the missive. Haense aristocrats had been hanged. How hard would it have been to keep 2 men prisoner? She wondered if she knew the men who were hung. She wished she could have been there to at least be a single voice in protest. It seemed these men were hung, not immediately having their necks snapped, but being strangled. Her loyalty to Oren grew during its defeat and was challenged during its violent, gloating victories.

Luthriel was silently staring, ooking at the Urguan Oren border from the Orenian side of the river. "To capture a king is a much nobler thing than to laugh at a peasant boy's death."

Luthie had the missive reprinted with different spaces so it would be a lil easier to read.