SteppeNomad

___________________________________________________________________ Before Our Silver Forums ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Old Speech papyri circulate through the cihi* You know me, and gathered we are, here in our great forums, where song is sung and slots are played. I offer to those who listen, my service. I am a Mali of the community, through my spike I have given you sweet honey from the source, and reached forth to bring many gifts and wonders to Haelun'or. I dream of a vision that all of Haelun'or benefits from. It is thanks to our blessed lives, and the Toil-of-no-Toil, The LEISURE that we may focus on all the aspects of High-Life. Arts, philosophies, sciences both natural and super, Athleticism and health. All these aspects of ourselves are subject of ever increasing perfection. There is a common saying. That it is better to be a warrior-poet than simply one or the other. Enjoying The Fruits of our City, The Symposiast is free to gather amongst comrades with our vast leisures ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Iron Temple -Not Just 'The Lads' Gather To Heft Biggly! I labor, hours so as to show my beautiful neighbors of our most splendid state the ways of The Iron Temple, this branch of which, I have been spearheading. Moved am I by the efforts displayed by those Truly Beautiful mali'aheral who reach forth to grab with their hands and sculpt their forms into works of art, finer figures, more blessed than can be represented in any marble carved by the most skilled hands. We are beautiful people, why wouldn't we work out? It is a place to gather, where silver tongues and bodies are tempered, and truly, all live in ascent. -A pair of coconuts are spiked on the bar And no longer can excuses be made, I have perfected a tool to offer resistance to even the most voidally drained Magician so they too may enjoy max toneage. My Warlock Weights! Truly, we are most blessed for the freedoms to pursue arts ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -A Hoplite Returns to his Marbled Citystate After Winning Glories It is often I return from my voyages over the sea, where I represent haelun'or well, and strike out great benefit and privileges. When I come across those silver seas, I often I witness the greatness of Haelun'or, of our mother city, cast there over the bluff! Her great temples and spires striking high! But with all this great opportunity to progress, we must organize and manage the cihi's direction! Support me, lliran, Pamphilos of Haelun'or, as ElOkarir'Mali! It is my greatest honor and greatest privilege to serve our great Mother-City, Ay'Haelun'or! Ay The Republic! Ay her Colonies! -Pamphilos Callidora of The Hyptos ((Come to a speech Ill be holding on saturday 26! Let us dialect!)) __________________________________________________________________________________

*A bronze masked High Priest of Of The Sea peers out over the dry Krugmenistani river. May it one day flood, and ships cast to colonize again*

"Sulian! For these mali seem to have taken much from the MYSTERIES of the lesser spirits, may their higher orders bring them to esoteric truths, and forumlate a true way of life!" A high elf high priest beams below the bronze mask of a terrifying elven ancestor

"Oh? A worthy vessel for us, the Ladliest of sailors?" The bronzed hoplite smiles, nudging the others near them as they test their recently plundered treasures "Tsk, they're Haensetian. Well, one canne expect it all from a patron, eh?" He passes out the missive to the other lads!

"Truly, this bortu, PINNACLE amongst Ironguts! For it is by HER bravery, and HER TRUE GRIT, was that ladly Fellowship, that BAND of heros able to surpass the darkest of temples, that most ancient Antediluvian challenge. The Labyrinth... Emerging as champions, noticed by Qarkah. May she live eternally! In song and memory! For her name, carved forevermore upon the Stele of Sulianpoli!" Extols the High-Priest of the Temple Complex there in the bronzed citystate, wearing that brazen mask of a terrifying elven ancestor! "May she guide her people well! For I shall bring gifts to her, may she share them amongst those worthy!"

"Sulian! May our High-Walled Cihistate sate the needs of our youth! Truly is the successful state one that guides their youth forward with great intent! Perhaps I shall show them some philosophy and physical education..." Hefty Pamphilos says, rolling up a scroll written in high elven hieroglyphs

-1 no shamanic fruit no reason we cant have our fruit and eat it too, we already curse the land. Otherwise its a good rewrite, but removing fruit is unnecessary and detrimental actually!

"The least amongst lessers would read this and not understand that the Druii and those Beautiful and Purest of 'thilln of the Silver Citystate would need to at least recognize a wholesome Malinor to exist, rather than to see those Free and Ever-Perfecting peoples join this 'Malin'or'. May the Malinites have their temple, and may they know much victory! Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya!" A beautiful pure elf, Hero of The High-Walled Cihi, patriot, who kept his Citystate free, smiles brilliantly! "Saneyir, may your words be heard and actions bold!"

"BLESSED Sulianpoli! Oh my sacred Polis! GREAT Silver Colony, how you have stood high upon the hill! Shining beacon to what is Good, and True, and Heroic! May you shine ever more, as the notions of our great ancestors are carried forth! Anaxagoras, Philosopher-King, founder of many cihis! Gaze upon your child, Pamphilos, and smile for my deeds have wrought great KLEOS and brought about change in this world! Sulianpoli, land of The Blessed, Sacred Cihi of The Holy Krugmenistani fields! To you, I sing! To you, may they fly!"

"May our Eternal Democracy shine forever more! Ay'Larihei! Ay'Haelun'or! Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya!" A tanned and toga-clad Patriot smiles knowing The System works!

THE BALLOT DeepDarkSamurai Name: Pamphilos Callidora Hyptos Vote 1: Usamea An’asul Vote 2: Usamea An’asul

"Great Xatophon! Likely to be a notable Philosopher of Blessed Sulianpoli! May they pursue the spirits, which are righteous and truly part of eternity, AND the waking world, with fullness and all-encompasing understanding!" A brilliant philosopher, founder of The Cult of The Blessed Ways, smiles brightly! Setting this missive in the reliquary of The Acropolis!

"And so, the King of Dwarves, who had marched and rallied his arms to make Cruel War upon The High-Walled City, Bakir 'Girly-Voiced' Ireheart, has done enough for even his own people to see the folly of his ways. The vain pursuits to write his name upon the stones has not earned him his eternal Kleos, fame undying. Yet! His actions may not perish from this earth! Instead, they may cause the divergence of his peoples. May they remember it as the time they threw the shackles off of one who's name may vanish like dust in the winds of eternity!" A poet, colonist, and Hero of High-Walled Haelun'or maintains himself, gazing over silver seas! --- Meanwhile... A curious dwarf, skilled in the ways of the scribe, furious in his devotions, drums his mighty hammer and thumbs his clay tablets. May the Dark Ziggurat rise!

What is your name, hero-to-be?: Abraham The Blue What is your race? Man Where do you reside? DU-LOC What powers do you have to fight against this great evil? Wizardry What is the meaning of a free-spirit, in short words? Unchained, open, and liberated from all weights!

"AY'HAELUN'OR! Our home and blessed land! May we all, truest sons and daughters, hold ourselves firm! As our walls erect once more, and the great ages never dim! For we remember the Fall of The High-Walled Cihi, upon that isle blessed. And always will we remember, the fiends who struck to take it, with no true need and no true heed! For we must hold to ourselves, unity and togetherness for this, our polis, our cihi!" Valiant, the hero in his polished armor of bronze and silver looks out to those comfortable warm seas. "At least we stay close to the source. The Salt of our Labour"

A beautiful high elf, champion of The High Walled City, and her colonies abroad couldn't help but find this missive! "Ironic! That the Grand Betrayer himself would find himself so readily betrayed. Such is the case, when one throws his sword in with those least pure, one who would so readily betray even the most noble, finds himself at the wrong end of the stick of those the least!" Gazing upon the Splendid Acropolis, he clears his mind of the name!

A glorious Hoplite, Champion of Countless Blues raises his brazen spear for the opportunity! May all other Lads rise alongside him! Spikes in hand, and shields before them!

Name: Pamphilos, First of Haelun'or Allegiance: The Silver Colony of Sulianpoli! Race: High Elf Competition chosen (Just say both if you wish to participate in both): The Klomp! Minecraft Username: DeepDarkSamurai

"These are all logical conclusions drawn from study, and innate internal truths held by our own very Blood-memory! Our blessed selves, our silver souls, and sacred blood point plainly, for the silver maiden held all before all so that we may live these blessed lives, our society maintained eternally!" A beautiful sailor, Hero of the citystate holds his bronze mask of a terrifying bearded ancestor, his fingers traced upon the features of that ancient tool. The mask of the very ancestor who strode alongside the Silver Maiden, and bathed in those very pools "Anaxagoras, father of many citystates, father of my bloodline, your true intentions shared, your very Will of Silver, to pursue the ways of Blessed Maiden, it was you who had brought all after you to blessing by bathing with her, by maintaining the very will of those mighty Mali in that most ancient antediluvian age" "Ay'Larihei! TAHU'LARIHEI!, for we hold her as the truest way of ourselves. Imprinting upon our world the very epitome of perfect purity!"

RISE, RISE GREAT PYRAMID KNOW WE ARE NoT BUT SERVANTS, AND THE TEMPLE OF FLESH IS OUR WAY TO SALVATION YOG'YLKMASH, YLK'OTHORTH THE PYRAMID RISES, THE WIZARD WEEPS, WE ARE ALL AS ONE

A man of Hyperborea, a horselord of great worth, with three quivers of arrows tied to the flanks of his two sturdy mares, gazes upon the open steppe with glee. At last has the eternal war upon those lost and forgotten souls seem to have come to an end. Endless Scydria, that place of glory, where the corrupt horsemen of the Conchuk had met their end in a decisive feigned retreat, their women and children taken for Scydria, found itself once more home to the herds of those beautiful steppe men. May the sun shine eternal before The Open Sky, The Skyfather has heard the calls of sacrifice, the blood spilled upon the Skullpiles. Now it has begun once more, the growth of those herds, and the Horse Tribe

A Haelun'oric Statesman reads this missive with a placid brow. He looks over the waters of his Splendid isle and he muses "The realm of Valah, those men Blessed and Cursed, know only pain and strife, but not for the fault of others, but the very 'monarchs' and 'royals' they so cling to for their guidance and leadership. For it is not the will of the creator to make war upon creation, it is not the will of the creator to bring terror and strife to those people peaceful and blessed... But it IS the will of the Great Defiler, he who goes forth to take, not for need, but for greed, for lust, for his shallow desires. It is the will of those 'monarchs' who seek to despoil the blessed peoples of the world. And it is the men, who act, used as the Defiler's tools, sent forth by those 'monarchs' who never see a lick of combat, who never know the pain or strife. Enslaved not to build their homes, but to toil and build the castles of their masters. For masters they are... And it is the very people who shall suffer the fruit of the Iniquity of their masters. This is The Struggle. They will be beholden, until repentant or not, those masters are splayed before all." Gazing now over the stuccoed and fine marble of that High-Walled City he quietly resigns himself. If it is strife they so seek... Well, who is he to deny them

Some extremist scratches his head seeing the missive posted. Though he wears a sacred mask, his features obscured, he couldn't help but find himself in agreeance "This is our Struggle. To maintain truth, and our blessed ways, whilst the men of the world openly degenerate. Seeking to only further the forces of evil in this world. May the Valah crawl from their fiendish pits and find brightness in truth and mercy of the spirit, of the force above. For they do ne need to take the homeland of others, when so much space yet held for their own. For it is ne the general citizen, but the truly cursed men of their 'crown'. May they know they only bring what is to come upon themselves" Already are others who join this struggle armed. May their Sacred War be held true.

A blessed Hoplite, purest of the lads crosses his arms. He looks over the painting of the subject immediately recognizing him. "If only I had reached him, perhaps his ways would have been reformed... Though, despite this, My Silver Will brings me to heft my spike for this cause"