__Hergh

Vihai’sae Valleian Whispering Waters Caras Siol, Caurost Date 11th of the Deep Cold Year 285 of the Second Age Publisher Isilmelire ‘Aduiladyr’ Acal’Turrii Siru’s Journey The girl ran through the streets of Caras Siol without a worry in her mind, bounding over stone and moss with a toy in hand. Its little wings jolted about in the air; detailed scales carved into ivory wood. Bound by a thread that had been woven through its inner bits. A name was called by a voice, welcoming and warm in the light of the sun, “Siru!” Siru came to a stumbling halt, her gaze of gold turning back along the path she’d crossed in haste. At the forefront of her attention stood a woman of pride, her shoulders square and posture strong. Her hair gleamed in the sunlight, the heated hues of a fire, orange hair bound in a loose braid. Barely any time had passed before the girl began her trek back, bobbing along, her ginger waves drooping about her dome like a mushroom grown upon a tree. Eagerly approaching the warm embrace of her rather tall mother. Though perhaps it was her size that tricked her, a thing of three feet and eleven inches in height. Anything else seemed comparably bigger. But this was not a deterrent; rather, it felt safe and welcoming. Her hair was combed with a gentle hand as she made to acquaint herself with her mother's knees, “You wished to visit the training grounds, ti?” Came the cozy voice, the girl’s gaze lifted to find their gaze amidst the glinting light of the sun above. A smile ever gleaming upon that chubby face. “Ti, haelun,” She chirped, separating from her mother's legs only to acquaint herself within the hold of their callused palm. Her own, dwarfed by theirs, but this was a comparison she found comforting as if she was within the taloned grasp of a gryphon, its warm wings encompassing her. It drew her back to a memory of a not-so-distant past, of when she was nestled within her blankets, her mother sitting near. So close, as she’d always been. Her hands resting ‘pon a book with many pictures adorning the cover and interior. It was her favorite story. Her hands thrummed with a golden energy, pulsing and twitching as an image rose from the page. At first it was small, and then it grew. A taloned beast of epic proportions, gleaming and gold, felt like a hearth on the cold night as it nestled by her side. Leaving no impression upon the fabric, nor shadow or gleam. A figment of something that was not really there. “And so the gryphon drew close,” Her mother said, narrating the written words, “Nestling tight with the knight after the victory had been won, and at last his eyes shut, the strain of war dimming to dull relief.” Their wander continued forth as her thoughts returned from the depths of her mind. Feet tapping along the peacefully quiet streets of Caras Siol, a city of immeasurable warmth. Training Grounds Wood scraping against wood could be heard from, the clamour growing louder as both mother and daughter walked hand in hand to the sparring grounds. The girl buzzed with excitement, her toy dragon clutched firmly in her chubby clutch—a symbol of dominion, a gift from her father. As they reached the entry, her mother turned to the girl, kneeling at her side with a proffered hand. “Give me Barnabus, Siru,” She cooed softly, smile as affectionate as could be. Her golden eyes were a welcome respite, as they’d always been for the child. She nodded, once and then twice, in the eager way a child would, the small creature extended to her mother, dangling loose now from her grip. “Van’ayla,” The child chirped to the toy as it transferred hands. Nestled within her mother's grasp. At that, Siru was ushered forth from her mother’s guard, “Find your maln!” The woman called her daughter, stumbling forth into the training grounds. Her shoulders hunched briefly as she shuffled forth. The girl’s pulse continued to rise, eyeing the children about her in dismay. She was reminded now of her size amidst the others on the sparring grounds. Beads of sweat dripped down from her forehead as the welcoming rays became a harsh glare. Her excitement had faded into a dull anxiety. After a few heartbeats had passed, the girl wandered forth. Heart panging in her throat, feeling similar to the sound of a war drum. Her footfall was quiet and filled with trepidation; she wandered now without the shelter of her mother’s frame. Shrunken to the size of an ant in the view of those she did not know. A heavy hand found her shoulder, the loud chatter dulling. Siru’s eyes lifted to find a wrought iron chestplate, the green surcoat familiar. It was her father, or so she thought. An unfamiliar voice came from the enormous figure, “Andria, your oem’ii is here, Siru,” He called, pitching forward to look upon her. White hair bound in a braid slipped over his shoulder. Gleaming eyes of silver shone in the moon’s light. He smiled a crooked smile, his features warm with an affectionate regard for the child. Her eyes widened as the unfamiliar became recognisable. It was her uncle, whom she’d only known with his helmet on. “Ibar!” She squealed, smacking a hand against his chestplate in a joyous glee. “I want to spar, haelun told me I could!” The girl’s father emerged from behind the mali’fenn, holding loose in his grasp a new sword, made of wood and fitted to her height. Her eyes brightened with glee, as if the anxiety she had mere moments before was an affliction of a distant past. She outstretched her hands to grasp it. “You’ll be sparring Nyros,” He informed, his words firm and without room for question. A boy around her age, though taller and lithe. He donned a tunic of green, his raven hair bound by a ribbon much like her mother's, and pale eyes like a lemony cream. He was familiar to her in a despicable way. An arrogant brat born of a proud father. She bared her teeth at him in disgust. And in turn, he stuck out his tongue. A mocking gesture that enraged the girl. Siru’s emotions were an odd thing, so young, they waxed like the phases of the moon in any given situation. This was no exception, especially not in the face of a miniature tyrant. Her father’s hands grasped both shoulders, tugging them forth towards a spare area where they may spar. Nyros followed with glee, whereas the joy and excitement once shown by Siru had faded into a feral indignation. Her feet dragged along the soil, displacing it. Only when she’d been dropped on her hind did she rise and prepare herself—a grimace formed upon cherubic cheeks. Standing as her father had taught her the night before. She grasped the wooden handle with her small hands, eyeing Nyros in his stance. She sought to adjust accordingly. The girl’s golden eyes were duller in spark, her nerves commandeering their earlier stillness. Barely had the word “Commence” sounded before Nyros’ feet could be heard against the dirt. Within a second, her blade rose to defend against his encroaching strike, only to miss. His wooden blade struck her in the left side of her abdomen. “Agh,” cried the girl as she hit the ground with a thud. Tears like pin pricks rose from her eyes, only to slide down her cheeks and mingle with the tracks drawn by sweat and grime. She attempted to rise, only to be hit with a well-placed kick to the nose, sending her head back towards the soil. Hitting the dirt again, a cloud of brown speckled the air, settling on once pristine attire. Her eyes welled with tears, blurring her vision, mingling with the blood that wept from her nose. Absent was her mind from the murmurings of her father to her adolescent peer. Andria watched on with a glint of worry settling in a typically dull gaze. Though they bore a hue similar to the setting sun, rarely did emotions show so strongly on the thill’s visage. “This is how you treat your allies, tiny ser?” Came his lowered voice. At first, the boy's features spasmed in discomfort, a grimace forming before he nodded. Pale gaze shifting to the girl. Waiting. Nyros’ attacks had ceased for the time. Her bruised skin strained with discomfort, eyes heavy from tears. With a groan and a gasp, she forced herself up into a seated position, ready to resign if not for the words spoken by her father. “Rise up, child, like the Knight.” And so she did, her pretend sword held within shaking hands. Nyros’ gaze, which had held the ire of an impetuous brat when first he swung his sword, was filled with a mixture of regret and embarrassment. Nonetheless, he drew forth. Sword arcing towards hers, a gentler swing. Allowing her to shunt the strike. The End Many more strikes would land before the two grew weary, muscles strained, and sweat dampened their tunics. Of course, Nyros had won the spar, but not without a modicum of grace for his smaller peer. Siru sat on the ground with a thud; the dirt already displaced by the many scuttling feet bore one more mark from her rump. Her cheeks flushed from exertion. Hair flattened to her head and dirtier from grime and sweat. She sat for only a heartbeat before two hands brought her into the air, golden eyes meeting with a crown of white. Soft like feathers. Her head lulled to the side, resting on his shoulder plate. His throat vibrating as he hummed a hymn. The pattering feet of Nyros trailed close behind, accompanied by the heavier boots of her father. They engaged in small talk of little relevance to the girl. Her attention transfixed on the ache of her earned bruises that she did not realize they’d gone indoors. Only when she was placed upon a seat, did her gaze find her surroundings. Ibar had busied himself with a wall of herbs, each labeled by symbols she knew not of. Swinging her legs from the side of the table, she found her attention drawn to the brooding Nyros. He stood beside her father with arms crossed over his chest. Peering at her no longer with the disturbed look of hubris. “The two of you did very well,” Her father murmured, Ibar’s hands beginning to work their way across her bruised skin with a dry rag, to dab away at the dirt before cleaning it properly. Though she winced from pain, her mouth curled into a wide smile. Author’s Note The curious thing about children is how they act as sponges and spectators to the world. Every word, action, a lesson to teach. It is my daughter that taught me this when she was young. A warm little blessing, a spark to kindling that had long cooled. She was as Siru is, a joyous, spritely thing. At first, a sponge, a story to be written, and the very pride of my heart. From Nyros, she will learn mercy, from her mother, she will have stories and guardianship, Ibar will teach her compassion and tend her wounds, and her father will teach her to lead. Signature,

Class A Reports Class B Reports: Class C Reports: Class D Reports:

Vihai’sae Valleian Whispering Waters Caras Siol, Caurost Date 24th of the Deep Cold Year 283 of the Second Age Publisher Isilmelire ‘Aduiladyr’ Acal’Turrii & Lyonwen Ilumrin “Have you been the well one?” Lys Vincrute Year 283 of the Second Age As my darling niece asked me earlier this week, I hope you have all been the well. Though this missive is later than intended, the three submissions we were given in response to the libraries competition have been read and judged, by myself and Lyonwen Ilumrin, a boon to her family and wise beyond her years. For the first of the two competitions, the submissions must be written in the tongue of their kin, and they will be passed through a chosen council for judgment. As the mother tongue is quite an arduous task to write with at length, the winners will be given a variety of gifts. Those who partake may write as they please, poetry, stories, or philosophy. In first place, for the elven competition, we have Thaelyra Valmyr. A studious scholar and one that brings pride to their kith and kin. Their entry was submitted as a missive, and being the only one of three to be in the tongue of our mother. It has been transcribed below. "Ame’ito Llum" Eyha ame’ito kae narne, llum ito taeleh Ker ito enet, karin ito perith Kae andria ito uhier, ut sirame ne divu Valah laureh ito kae oment. akaln ayal ito lae, liewyn ito sulii Lae san ayla, lae mal’leh nor kae perith, acal ne ayla Lae eyr akaleh, lae vull kae’taeleh Res taelu ito lae, lie ito san Ullral ito taliyu, ata ito tayna Kae eteh sul ito kae’leh Asul ehya sulirrin tae kae Ame ehya ceru, sirame ehya evar Ullral eth Akal divu Sul var tae ame Eyha kae narne’ento, maelu tayna Lye ito ame." Thaelyra Valmyr | The elPuerithn The second competition will allow for a more willful interpretation of the aforementioned topics, as competitors will not be required to write in the elven tongue; they will have greater free rein. They may write stories, poetry, engage in a debate on philosophy through their writing or compile the history of elves as they’ve seen it. The victors of such are listed in order below; In first place, Althanis with his account of The Fall of Haelun’or, he will be awarded the title of elParsaern. His entry detailed the beginning and fall in depth. He is deserving of first place for the work undertaken. Not only for writing, but seeking out peers that could aid. Following him would be the kind Maeth Galdissiel, her entry depicted the virtues of our people. For each of the entries, we are grateful. It is our hope, that these three souls influence the growth of their fellow Caurosians. Each entry will be found upon the shelves soon for the perusal of peers. Signatures,

Okay at least each update isn't 20 or 30 dollars extra.. And the blocks are adorable

Many pigeons were sent forth, a missive carried with their taloned grasp. Addressed to those of Acal’Turrii lineage, close and distant. The parchment smelled of incense and the ink was smeared as if droplets of moisture had landed upon the surface. A Gathering of Lambs 8th of the Deep Cold Year 281 of the Second Age We will meet in ten saint’s days, in Caras Siol, the capital of Caurost. A gathering has been long overdue, the head of house requests that all who bear the name Acal’Turrii or share our blood make their face known. Let not another pass while estranged from kin. As I do not know all of your names, I will call for only a few. Though the others are still welcome, mixed blood or pure. All of the children and descendants of the deceased Aiyeis Acal’Turrii; Luthia Acal’Turrii and her brood Heleanna Acal’Turrii Vivian Vincrute and her youngling, Lys. Metanoia, once ward of Mae’Ralin and honored kin. Mircalla and the Dralguna This extends to the nameless bloodborn, and wards of my late brother, Mae’Ralin Acal’Turrii, seek me out in the home of our kin and kith. The capital city of Caurost, Caras Siol. This invitation excludes Midas Athri’onn Acal’Turrii, and the vile Elias Acal’Turrii, if they still draw breath. And for those without sanctuary, if you are of pure elven descent, you may seek out such warmth with your family. We will provide you with a place to stay, and food to fill your belly. Res’narn ito, anh nae’leh talonnii Should the road turn perilous, trust your family Signed, Isilmelire Acal’Turrii Shepherd & Head of House

For those who are going to participate, forgot to include this, bird Yanaylf of Kian or reply to the post

Vihai’sae Valleian Whispering Waters Caras Siol, Caurost Date 6th of The Grand Harvest | Year 280 Publisher Isilmelire ‘Aduiladyr’ Acal’Turrii “To be a good king is to command the hearts and minds of your people. This is to say, to be a good king is for them to believe in you with both their emotion and their faculty of reason.” Malin, King of Elves, Year Unknown The Vihai’sae Valleian Library requests that the denizens of Caras Siol put their quill to parchment. Write of our ways, and nourish your minds. Two competitions will be held for the most scholarly of our kin: one for those who can write in their mother tongue, and the other, a creative show of their cultural understanding. Description For both, the topics will consist of our culture and history as a mali society. Feel free to stray from the most recent history of Caurost itself, write of our ancestors. Of the King, Malin, the silver maiden Larihei, or any other that holds an integral part of our history within their palm. If one would like to focus only on recent history, one may refer to the many illuminating missives shared previously. [Culture Guide] - The Caurósian Beliefs Territories of Caurost That which is written needn’t be limited to mere history. You may craft tales of high repute to elucidate the culture of our people for the younger minds, or engage in debate through your word to encourage deeper thinking. Competitions For the first of the two competitions, the submissions must be written in the tongue of their kin, and they will be passed through a chosen council for judgment. As the mother tongue is quite an arduous task to write with at length, the winners will be given a variety of gifts. Those who partake may write as they please, poetry, stories, or philosophy. These resources are included to aid scholars in their task, Recovering the Ancient Tongue of the Elves Elven Translations Elven | Wiki Elven Sentences The Winners will receive these rewards. For the gift of books, all winners receive ten from the library's storage. First Place: Title of elPuerithn 150 mina Books Second place 100 mina Books Third place 50 Mina Books The second competition will allow for a more willful interpretation of the aforementioned topics, as competitors will not be required to write in the elven tongue; they will have greater free rein. They may write stories, poetry, engage in a debate on philosophy through their writing or compile the history of elves as they’ve seen it. The Winners will receive these rewards, First Place: Title of elParsaern 150 mina Second place 100 mina Third place 50 Mina Kae san’ito saner | Tell me a story A final word to those who participate: know that your words will be a blessing to our library and the people. It is with your creative spark that we seek to provide a place for our young to grow. Their minds nourished and their wits sharpened. Deadline Those who wish to participate must do so by April 25th; feel free to confer with peers and historians about what it is you wish to write. Those who turn in late will have until May 1st. By May 2nd, at 6 PM EST the victors will be announced. Following this, anyone who submits writing that can be debated may attend a gathering of like minds, wherein their work will be displayed. Depending on how these competitions turn out, this date will be decided soon after. If you wish to participate, pen a response to this missive and place your submissions OOC Note: Please feel free to write these as missives (posts) - especially for anyone interested in debate, and as books, anyone who provides books will have them displayed in the library. Signature,

Aurinia Wick & Aiyeis Acal’Turrii A forgettable footnote in history. One that is best left forgotten. Death offers no release, not for those bound for hell. A foolish woman in life, sickly and infirm from youth to maturity. She saw little more than the slick walls of her captivating well. Aurinia Wick Sleepless and maddened, this raven haired Wick wandered into the forest never to be seen again. Only known by a handful and born under tar. She had not aged in the many decades spent amongst her kith. Aiyeis Acal’Turrii Likely forgotten, a remnant of an embarrassing past. Aiyeis Acal’Turrii was no victim to the scourge of beastly things that hid in the dark. From youth to maturity, this woman indulged in the intoxicating world that offered her some semblance of power. She knew what others did not, she watched like a rat in the gutter. Though she sat in the lap of luxury, Aiyeis had been little more than a servant. A sniveling rodent with a bowed head. A loathsome gluttonous shrew of a thing. One that painted herself the victim, enamored with her own self image. It began with Haelun’or, the girl who had been gentle and naive, never wandering too far from her home, the illustrious silver city, or from the library that served as her education of what was outside of the walls. Much like a blight, curiosity brought pain and suffering to this simpering fool. Had she remained in city walls where her ego may have been nourished instead, the woman may have survived for many more years. It was outside of those walls that she encountered more vile things, the very same malignant rot that stirred beneath the surface of nigh every city in Almaris. Vampiric beasts, and their masters, that was the first taste of putrid refuse. Decades were spent groveling to beasts, and many more were spent attempting to become such. She had been naive, but as time went on the cancer spread. First it was shown in her neglect of her children. Then in her apathy to those that surrounded her. Rare few held her attention and heart, Meredith, her sister. Llewelyn, her first love. Both red of hair and kind of heart, much like her favorite children, the first girl, had ginger hair, like the fur of a cat. The next, Ambrosine, had hair like wine, and served as a calming balm, like honey in tea. Her other children resembled her far too much for any true affection to be placed, they were to her as games and books were, tools and amusement. Ac’Sullii, a star dimmed by her mothers suffocating embrace, had been molded perfectly to her desires. She deserved more than had been taken. Named for the wretched naivety born within her cat-like eyes, a reminder of a past self the elf sought to escape. Aiyeis remembered her much like a prized pelt. Her son, Len’ii, so sickeningly like her, had sought to escape the silver cage he’d been placed within, and as such, he’d been driven from her mind. Name, memory and all. A disappointment. In the tongue of kith, Aiyeis was a chikr. A virulent infection best rooted out. Many others that held a place in her heart were treated with a more sickening affection, she cared little for their hearts, driving some further into their own demise, Dominyk Wick, for instance, had been both a healing balm and victim to her obsession. It is a blessing that she was as craven and lazy as she was cruel. And like a diseased leaf, she was cut before the rest suffered. Aiyeis Castington | Aiyeis Acal’Turrii | Aurinia Wick

I was excited and now I’m sad, damn it diamond tag

I’m not going to continually feed this as I’m also an adult, ten years your junior, but still. I was not arguing with you; I was just expressing my opinion on why this entire thread could have been handled by coping harder. My wording was iffy, since I had only been awake for 10 minutes, but I still agree with my main point. Sure, his response was “immature,” but who gives a ****, excluding nitpickers. He wasn’t feeding into a very obviously angry child; he was showing that he didn't care, and that’s where it could have been dropped. That was him being mature. You can be a people-pleasing nitpicker, or you can be a troller. He did the latter because the first is tiring, and he is not paid an hourly wage to deal with bullshit with a smile. The player you’re defending is 16. Yes, that doesn’t absolve them from fault; they began it negatively. They met trolling. It’s not a take-and-give. That’s where I end my ramble, as I have work. Final note: this is me being slightly rude, and while I’m apologetic, it’s mineman I want to place blocks and roleplay made-up characters because it’s fun, as I’m sure is something shared by every player, Werewolf, yourself, and the kid included. I hope you have a wonderful time when this thread loses everyone’s attention.

I would like to point out that his way of responding to the child’s belligerent behavior was by not really giving him a response? His lack of maturity was maturity, he did not engage in bullshit. Excuse my language. He also did not drag this out or post a forum post about the behavior exhibited by this player, he was ignoring the situation rather than feeding it. I can understand that the kid is a kid, I did dumb shit at his age, but he isn’t being mature by attempting to blast the forums. Werewolf is under no obligation to coddle a 16 year old just because he’s in his 20s or 30s. He’s not obligated to sit him down and discuss the errors of his ways. Not saying there are any. The kid didn’t start it in a proper way and when it went wrong, he came to the forums to pitch a fit. This entire thread is a case of, @could’ve been kept to mod chat.” And of letting bygones be bygones. Now as Werewolf is not a friend of mine, my defense of the internet stranger ends here.

Given what you said before he started 'trolling' he is by no means in the wrong to respond as he did. Quoting from Unwillingly as you did not include it in your demonization of his behavior on a forum post. I do not know Werewolf personally, but he is a player, he's not obligated to behave in any sort of way that's more mature than you. It's a minecraft server, he plays a good antag that affects a lot of players. There is no gentler way to say cope, but cope. You'll encounter players you hate, but you can't try to drag their laundry out onto the forums to get them flamed. That's no more mature than him saying "shut up". He is by no means holding the server hostage irply as communities will handle the empire's approach as it should be handled, but he is not being harmful to players on an OOC level. No character on this server is owed peace just because we want it. Just live and be happy, play mineman, get hurt in mineman, it doesn't affect you unless you allow it to affect you. + His roleplay is neat, he plays a scary powerful dude pretty darn well. Learn to enjoy it.

Vihai’sae Valleian Whispering Waters Caras Siol, Caurost Date 11th of Snow’s Maiden | Year 267 Publisher Isilmelire ‘Aduiladyr’ Glorenyl The Vihai’sae Vealleian was founded in Eldwyn, Caurost, on the 17th of the Deep Cold, year 216 of the Second Age. In accordance with the arrival on Azura’s shores, the library was reestablished on 10th of Sun’s Smile | Year 259, in Caras Siol. To meet the needs of el’cihi, a plethora of classes will be offered to the patrons upon the requisition of teachers. The Vihai’sae Valleian is situated two thresholds to the left of the Palace Halls at the bottom of a corridor and beyond a small grotto with a pond fondly coined the ‘Wishing Pond’. A Note Our world changed, we saw the end of Aevos at the hands of Orsathiel. Lives were irrevocably altered. Each community was left to pick up the pieces, to recover from the horror that our lives could be so easily displaced by the whims of a daemon bent by fury and spite. A cycle that our forebathers have bore witness to, and even our peers. Surprisingly, the writing on each end has been sparse, from word of mouth you may learn that Almaris, the land before Aevos fell at the hands of a people that dwelled beneath the earth. It is clear that the end will repeat, again and again. There is nothing that we as mortals can do to stop the battle waged unto us by beings that belong to another realm. As a library, our goal is to preserve the history that may be lost in this cycle. In that way, the goal remains fundamentally the same. May we nurture our mind just as we do our future. HIERARCHY & DUTIES —————————————————————— Head Librarian El’Maehr Saeir Spreader of Wisdom This is a role held by the owner of the library. They are in charge of all duties pertaining to archival, scribing, and tutelage. If the positions listed below remain unfilled, they will be tended to by the Head Librarian or Archivist. Isilmelire ‘Aduiladyr’ Glorenyl @Hergh Archivist El’Indor Okarir Guard of Books Only a trusted few and whoever shows enough dedication hold the role of archivist. Those who possess this title are allowed access to the storage and help stock the shelves with new tomes. If the Head Librarian is unavailable, the Archivist may act in their stead. Narquellion @Wand Scribes El’Indor Bilokir Book Maker The role of scribe is held by those who aid in a wide array of duties. From transcribing old tomes to new, recording current events, to writing whatever may strike their curiosity. This position is not yet filled, but it is open to those willing to write. Those who work regularly for the library in this role will be paid an amount of 50 mina per book by the library, but they may also have their own rate of commission custom to the length of what it is they write. Scribes may also aid in the completion of letters, or missives for the illiterate, the pay for those varies depending on the scribe. Whatever it is they pen, must remain private between the Client and Head Librarian. This position is not yet filled. Mediators El’Vul Annilir Clever Guide A remnant of the past hierarchy, the Mediators are a friendly and tactile group; they are to organize meetings between the head scholar and other libraries. They may also aid in seeking out educators and scholars. Those entrusted with this position are to be dressed in the proper regalia and endowed with a seal of authenticity. Mediators act partly as guides, and as such, they are to be knowledgeable of the aspects of the community they communicate with so that it may be relayed to their peers and the Head Librarian. This position is not yet filled. Nomads El’Maehr Linoronn Wise Nomad In tandem with the Mediators are the adventurers, paid in coin to bring their discoveries to the library. They will not be in charge of mediating between groups, but may accompany the Mediators. In addition, this role is meant to be held by those of both a scholarly and athletic disposition as the various areas to explore may prove dangerous for the unwitting. This position is not yet filled. Teachers El’Maehr Annilir Wise Guide Those that wish to lend their skill as teachers will be provided 50 mina per lesson, or more, if they provide tomes, written by either their hand or that of a Scribe. Unlike the other positions held by the librarians, this one is of a more fluid status, tending in specific to those who participate as part of the Schools. Many of the teachers may come and go, their status is not a permanent fixture. These positions are not yet filled, more than one teacher of each topic is permitted. The two roles listed below are more fluid than the above, they are meant to be a revolving door and function as proverbial point A to B. While a Pupil may aid the library, those who show proper dedication will be paid for their work, such is the same for Master Scholars. Master Scholars El’Maehr Oem Wise One This title is held by those who have proven their mastery of a specific field of study. For the ones that hold interest with the library at current; that may include: Alchemy, Religious Theology & Philosophy, the Arcane Arts, and the others listed under “the schools”. If the scholar wishes to produce a tome for the library, they may write it themselves or commission a scribe. Pupils El’Maehrii Little Wisdom Pupils are the first and lowest rank held within the library; they are no less important than their peers. Pupils will be provided a diverse education and recommendations to educators outside of the library, should they desire. Their duties may consist of aiding with transcribing, tending to patrons' needs, dusting the shelved tomes, and filling the herbal supplies for alchemy lessons held within the library. Similarly to the Schools & Scribes, no task will go unpaid. Pupils will earn a weekly allowance of 45 mina. With enough demonstrated dedication, the pupils may move on from one position to the next, as long as they show skill for that role. Current pupils would be; Tanith Vursur @Urahra Lorinthia @SwampWitchIRL Naeris @maebinogi Wei @meowmaxer Honorifics Aside from the titles, there is little need for the use of honorifics, excluding of course the below. Those who maintain the dignity of the library and serve in at least some aspect are considered members for life and in death. As such, the deceased will be referred to as Ah’(name) in passing. For example, Ah’Minuvae @Gnomeh, a scholar that passed many years ago, before the fall of Aevos. The Schools Okarn’sae Oasis of Progress As with all libraries, the desire is to foster a passion for further education. Amongst the mali’kin that have been their duty for generations, upheld first by the cihi’thilln and their library, wherein many lessons are held and books adorn each shelf—an almost idyllic reality for those who consume literature as steadily as the longer-lived. To honor the lessons of our past and current, the Vihai’sae Valleian will serve as a passage for the future. Medical It is a field of study that has proven necessary in times of war and peace. While the Alchemical arts have proven priceless in times of need, the base knowledge of medicine remains essential. These lessons will remain free-form, depicting herbology, the manner in which wounds may be treated and the anatomy of the mortal form. The library will maintain a storage of medical supplies should the nation ever fall victim to an epidemic or war. Alchemical A useful art and curious topic, this is an essential part of every life. Whether it be through the tonics and salves used by the medics and alchemists, or the treatments that can be applied to clothing for warmth or stealth. The library is intent upon studying both the more mundane uses of herbs outside of the alchemical field and the prospects of symbols. Similar to the medical school, the library will maintain a stock of alchemical herbs and recipes. If a need for them is found outside of the lessons, then they will be donated. Religious Theology & Philosophy In many ways, Religion and Philosophy have shaped our societies, laws and customs would not be as they were without the morals that bind them. Therefore, the topics remain a curiosity for discussion. Lastly, proselysation is prohibited in Caras Siol. Those found blurring the line between education and conversion are to be held to the same standard as any other. Monster Hunting | Educational Resources Monster Hunting is perhaps a field that one needn’t have much of an introduction. There exist many scrolls discussing the nature of unholy beasts and more who have battled them. As a militant culture, it is our duty to preserve and maintain the same spirit in education. The elHileia’evaran may request for any journal on the blighted scourges that have been penned by the dutiful Scholars of the library. These journals are expected to remain up to date. Similar to that of reports filed by the Evaran in their duty. Magical Theory | Moral Debates and Queries Many magicks have found themselves interwoven with each culture. The void for instance, is both a harbinger of disasters and a granter of dizzying delights, it has brought about many historical events. Such as the fall of Ando Alur, and many more. Aengul & Daemonic | The Fundamentals of Creation As children we are told tales of Iblees and his curses, of the progenitors of our peoples, and of the daemons that seek to corrupt sacred and holy teachings. To remember history, through both word of mouth and book, the library will maintain kessons. Caurosian Culture Though young, the history of Caurost and its culture is as diverse as any long-standing nation. The many bloodlines and souls within are lives worth innumerable lessons. The topics held will detail not only the lives of those who have lived, but also of wars, treaties and forged friendships. To summarize, the Library of Caras Siol is open and functioning, for those who wish to partake or have questions reach out to the Head Librarian, Isilmelire Glorenyl (__Hergh) by letter. Signatures,