__Hergh

Adelheide Wick’s tired gaze skimmed over the contents of the missive with a grimace. Pushing back her graying hair with a leather gloved hand she rose from her chair with a stagger. It seemed high-time to return home. “Mistruths from the mouths of mewling highborns, too much free time.”

The dead elf would mourn her loss of self from the afterlife.

Aiyeis Acal’Turrii The End A woman would lay in bed, her chest sank and rose in slow, deliberate motions. Hand gripping at her bed sheets. The blurred vision that always accompanied her fading, fraying. Consciousness fading. The candlelight beside her bed illuminates her pallid face, sweat dripping down. Feverish. . . . Gasping, the mali’aheral would wake, coughing, sputtering. Lurching upwards she’d gag, stomach twisting painfully the elf could do nothing but lay back down and bury her face in the pillow. It was silent for now, excluding the crackling of a fire and the distant clamor of the busy city district. The candle at her bed stand was barely alight, the wick burnt down to a black nub. The smell of lavender that had permeated while it burnt–fading. . . . A cool feeling would pass over her, goosebumps rising as whispers would begin to echo. A maddened delusion she would hope, though she would not pay the presence heed, curling inwards, her hand pulling the thick blanket over her head. Even with that, she could hear the whispers begin. Taunting. “You’ve finally reached the end of your rope, wretch.” Her consciousness would fade, though she would not wake from the inky darkness this time. . . . The woman was on the ground, mud under her knees. Her sight was returned, she sat in a field the grass so tall it surpassed her shoulders. Silently, she’d turn her head about, a blink. Over the grass stood a woman, hair so red they resembled flames. They’d turn. Lurid eyes would stare back, meeting the ‘aheral. . . . “Meredith.” The woman would murmur, shocked. Slipping in the mud beneath as she scrambled to stand. Though the figure would not stand still, it began to run off into the distance. Locks of red disappearing in the tall grass. The magi would begin to run, slow at first as though unpracticed before she burst into a sprint. Bare feet sinking into the earth, hands batting at the grass to clear her path. She’d reach a precipice, having caught up to the ginger, who stood at the edge, back facing her before it would move to turn. Gaunt features aging, hair turning gray before the ‘aherals eyes. A lurid smile formed across their features. “Join me, sister.” It would fall back, arms spread wide, disappearing over the edge as the woman ran forth practically flinging herself in. The woman was gone. A hand would wrap about her shoulder, the glint of white in the corner of her eye. She’d turn, face lifting to meet the new figure. It stood, bones stark and white, glinting in the light of the moon that stood overhead. The creature looked on for a few seconds before suddenly the arm that held her still would push. She would fall back, a futile attempt being made to grasp at the robes the skeleton wore. But it would help her little as she fell, screaming into the abyss. She would continue falling, screaming until her voice ran raw and then finally, she’d hit the water. A splash sounding almost in tandem with the sound of her bones breaking from contact with the sloshing waves. Though the pain would begin to fade as she sank, hitting the bottom eventually. Her eyes shutting as the light of the moon grew dim beneath the ripples. Her resolution fading. The woman would not stir from the dream. Though the effects of the fever and the constant tossing and turning would cause swept to drip down her face. The flames in the fireplace dancing. Occasionally the sound of crackling was accompanied by her pained whimpering. A devoted spawn takes the time to carefully move a damp cold rag upon the fevered brow of the sickly elf before them. Soft hushes of breath escape past the lips of the spawn, despite her own brow becoming furrowed in silent anguish and concern. “Shhhh, Haelun… you’re okay… you’re safe…” Ac’Sullii would softly speak, her voice hushed and quiet as there was an attempt to soothe and to aid the woman before her. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel the lump in her throat begin to rise, feel how even her own body betrayed her feelings of the situation. The day she was warned, was told what was to come to pass, she dared not believe it. Perhaps a part of herself begged that it was all a bad dream- but this dream was all too real, and it was everything of the nightmare she feared. Taking a deep inhale, Ac’Sullii would just move her head down to kiss upon her aunt’s…. Her mother’s brow- just as Aiyeis had done to her so many times before. “I love you… haelun, never forget that…” There was more she wanted to say, and yet, nothing could come out. What should a child say to their parent as they lay sickly before them in a comatose state? Her hands begin to shake, and tears start to rim her deformed eyes, nearly spilling past gray lashes- yet she inhaled deeper and would quell her tears back, continuing to carefully dote on her mother no matter what. A part of her wished to be selfish, to beg and plead to anyone who would listen for her mother to remain with her- or perhaps to plead with her mother to keep on fighting. In her mind she screamed the words, ‘Please- don’t go, not yet! I need you here with me-!’ and yet they remained only in her mind. She knew her mother’s story, perhaps only parts of it- but she knew enough. Knew how hard Aiyeis had already fought, and to ask for more? Ac’Sullii could never do so. A selfless child, and yet in that moment- she never wanted to be more selfish- if just to have a little more time with her Haelun. At the same time that Ac’Sullii rushed to Ayeis’ side as did Luthia after yet another feverish dream, she'd rub her back, offering soothing platitudes, "Shhh, Shhh" she'd look to her sister with widened unmoving eyes, lined with fear. The uncertainty surrounding the certainty of Aiyeis' worsening condition had brought the proud elfess low. Luthia rested her head in her mother's lap, she'd clasp her hand, crying softly. As the end neared, Luthia sat up and peered into her mother's blinded eyes in an attempt to be strong, "I won't let you down Haelun. Your work won't be in vain. I love you" In the end, it was just the two sisters together, asleep by their mothers bedside. It would not take long for the mali’aheral to succumb to fever and plague. Her body grew weaker by the day as her delusions were emboldened to rise. Till finally, in madness did she stir, staggering through the manor to her daughters room. Collapsing on their bed as she waited for the return of Ac’Sullii to her abode. The fever fading as the cold set in. Drawn into an eternal slumber was she.

Adelheide Wick would hold the carrier rat with care, patting its head as she read through the missive. A holler of praise escaped the youth, proud of her cousin's achievements, it seemed. A letter would be sent in return shortly.

A forgotten adunian, bereft of flesh and path, would read such words if the sinews that frayed and hung from her skull; the creature would smile. The Thuri-Elendil's people were not gone and consumed by the White Spires of Numendil. Though stuck in place, she was, her bones had long since calcified. Fed only by the small creatures foolish enough to near her snapping jaws. There was still some hope left in the beast's maddened mind that her traditions would continue.

omg omg omg wick lore

A particular silver-haired seamstress would hold the missive close to her face as she skimmed the contents. Her nose wrinkling briefly as she moved to unlock her door. Gliding within, she'd throw the letter in a trash bin, seeming content with sipping tea as Celia'nor readied to hunt dark spawn within their walls.

Aiyeis would visit their grave as she had once done for their sister, Meredith. A bundle of lavender bound by loose lace in hand. For some time, she would stand there, listless. She had known that one day this day would come to pass but she did not think it so soon. Crouching, she would place the bundle atop the burial. "You will be missed, Basha Horisp." And with that, she'd shift her grip upon the dragon head of her cane, using it to steady herself as she stood, some pain flickering across her sullen features. Brushing briefly at her dress, the mali'thill would move to mount her yisar that meandered nearby. A final look was given to the area before she rode off. The old woman, once a girl, was now just a distant memory.

Laurih’Valmiran Heial (Noble/Chosen Artisans) ilMaehr’sae Ilkun’ehya With Knowledge and Steel Table of Contents Purpose Leadership Branches Purpose The Artisan’s Guild was established, its primary purpose is to aid in the growth of the nation, but equal to that purpose - its desire to assist Artisans with permission from the resigning royarch, Illthrak Ibarellan. As such its primary purpose is to aid in the growth of the nation, but equal to that purpose - is its desire to assist Artisans and Magi who serve the guild are there for not only themselves but the community for any sale made under the guild - its people. Artisan’s and Magi who serve the guild are there for not only themselves but the community, for any sale made under the guild - it must be reported to Aiyeis Acal’Turrii so that she can record such for future rewards. Leadership Head of Guild Aiyeis Acal’Turrii Regent Head in case of Absence Midas Von Acal’Turrii, Ac’Sullii Acal’Turrii Current Heir Ac’Sullii Acal’Turrii Head of Magi Lawrintithius, Aiyeis Acal’Turrii, Midas Von Acal’Turrii Head of Coin Siobhan Branches Those who wish to sell their craft through the guild should be aware of the various roles they take and may apprentice for. From Artisans to Magi, the guild is home to all crafts. Artisans A broad term to cover all bases - the guild’s main purpose is to aid all who sell the fruit of their labor. Whether that be a writer's poetry, a musician's melody, an artisan's canvas, or an architect's structure, all may come for a chance of respite with the guild. Each member - depending upon their craft(s); will be gifted a pin to wear at events to show their crafts and whether they seem apprentices. Magi As the Magi aided in the guild's formation, The 'aheral Aiyeis Acal'Turrii formed a sub-division led by Lawrintithius. Joining the Guild If any prospective artisan is seeking to join the guild, they may send word to Aiyeis Acal’Turrii by bird, or by visiting the guild hall in Celia’nor. It will be by the apple orchards.

The amount of times I've been sent to god because of those pesky bushes.

“Alberic is…nie no longer with us. Szam.” As the words sounded, Marceline would hear only ringing, the smile set upon her features twitching, a lump welling in her throat. It took all she had to control her expression, “That is not a very nice joke,” The woman would laugh, a pitiful laugh that would only further her spiral. “That is not something ea would joke about.” Those were the final words before she’d break, her smile falling; attempts at regaining her composure would be futile as the first sob escaped. Barely able to stand, Marceline would try to seat herself, wiping furiously at her eyes as her body shook. Her thoughts a whirlwind - all she understood at that time was that her father was gone. Memories of him, good and bad, all swirled about in her mind; no longer would she be called marshmallow. No longer did she have a shoulder she could rest her head atop. He would be missed.

Aiyeis would peer at the missive in confusion, wondering how the beheaded man was sending them out before returning to the artwork she made of his demise. Foot tapping idly upon the floor as her charcoal sketched out the decapitation of Braxus Ni'Leya.

"I am always on top," Muttered the cripple as she discreetly began her journey of sneaking missives in every Aevos mailbox.

Laurih’Valmiran Heial (Noble/Chosen Artisans ——————— Welcome to the opening of the Artisan’s Guild in Celia’nor. Within the next few elven weeks, a guild hall will be constructed with a reading nook for our permanent residents and quarters for the apprentices. There will be a notice board in the main hall to promote their works and garner commissions. Also found in that hall would be a small tavern space used by the Celia’nor Winery and Tavern. And a few market stalls. ——————— ——————— Upon its construction - the guild will be used as a gathering square for artists to converse with like-minded virtuosos and create or strengthen bonds within a fresh community. The Artisan’s Guild aims to be a beneficial center for those in creative fields. Artists who join and are active participants will be given emblems to show they have the guild's support. There will be five separate parts of the guild: artisans, tailors, architects, writers, and musicians. Though they are split, the guild will function cohesively. More information will be provided in later missives. ——————— ——————— To establish your desire to work at this Artisan’s Guild, please get in touch with Aiyeis Acal’Turrii (EamBhaaling) or Ac’Sullii Acal’Turrii (CaffeinatedCrow) via letter. Lady Aiyeis Acal’Turrii, Court Seamstress, Head of Acal’Turrii Talonnii Ac’Sullii Acal’Turrii, Apprentice of Aiyeis, heir of Acal’Turrii Her Ladyship, Renna Py'lrie, Circle of Stars, Silver Seneschal, Primary Physician of the Celia'norian Clinic and Medical Institution His Royal Majesty, The Prince of Fi'andria, Evarir of the North, Descendant of The Silver Phoenix, Enforcer of the Star’s Will, Prince of Celia'nor, Illthrak Ibarellan of the Principality of Celia’nor

A creature would stir, dirt and grime leaving her skeletal form as she rose to her feet, rusted armor creaking. In the absence of Aonghus, a rage would beset the woman, taking the place of grief. Her soul too twisted by foul magic to properly process the loss of the once-great knight. Any reminder of life before death now gone. Forever lost to the same false light he had brought her into when dragging her soul from the afterlife.

MC NAME: Eambhaaling Name: Aiyeis Acal'Turrii Vote 1: Theveus Sythaerin Vote 2: Theveus Sythaerin

A sigh of relief would leave the scarlet haired Arthalion, much akin to her father. She was a self admitted bisexual.

A rather dirty and decrepit adunian would clutch the missive close to their face, olive hues narrowed to slits. Mouthing the words, a short laugh more akin to a wheeze would leave. One hand sifting about in her pocket, pausing upon an empty and light pouch. Perhaps no letters to be penned, or drinks to be had. She had laughed too quick. Throwing her chin up towards the sky Liadain would grumble before turning on heel and striding out. Her brief city venture quickly ended.

Though she took no glee in the death of a king the adunian would laugh at the irony. Her father was right, they long outlived the lech. Perhaps the one to take their place will usher a greater era for the Balianites. Packing her bags, the Morrigan Arthalion would make to return home to Numendil.

The silver haired mali'thill directed her attetnion unto the penguin that sat within her side yard. Grasping a sharpening stone and a dagger she'd prepare it's method of demise. The mother would serve her child penguin jerky for dinner.

A smile would cross the freckled features of young Dianthe Py'lrie as she read over the missive. Such a joy brought to her that she let out a laugh, before exclaiming "We've been freed of war!" Placing the parchment upon the desk she'd been sitting at the, the 'aheral would make to stand. Ready to start her day without the threat of war looming over the cihi.