_Sheylo_

Favorite Soris/Grace interactions? Just in general.

can i join mod team with a ban on my record? 😁

You're not allowed to be upset about things. You are not allowed to have an opinion on things. You are not allowed to criticize groups or staff teams. You are not allowed to be happy. Full stop. Now log back in and get back to doing those mining runs and that witch trial rp. Try otherwise and I swear to GOD we'll find a reason to raid you until you submit. 😈😈😈😈😈😈

"This one is righteous. Yet I do not know what he calls for.." The High Elf, one of many whom had quickly evacuated stated upon reading the letter that had quite easily found itself in his clutches. A faint, azure shadow followed in his grasp of the letter, as well as the folding of it and setting it neatly away, rather than the usual casting of it into flames. "Though may he gather those of the blade an expedite our wait." "He will come to realize soon enough, that the only battle is with patience." A hand wafts up, that same azure shadow following as he gestures to his very close friend nearby, offering her the letter.@WizardWhisper"Within time, they will eat themselves as they have before. 'Tis a cycle for our safety net. Once it is safe, we will come together once again. - In the mean time, let us search more on what AEVOS has to offer rather than petty squabbles between the descendants. - That is what you like, no?"

"Flash-flooding on a mountain...?" A look of confusion crossed a countenance. "The city could be drained and what little dents be rebuilt in less than a month.." So stated an Elf upon hearing news of the recent destruction, visions of a similar past washing over him. A small snort was held from the man as he shook his head. "Such little damage and yet still they'd follow their false prophet.. It makes no sense for we to grace them with our presence any longer. We are still Haelun'or, despite their most threatening wishes." A flick of a wrist was had, a small translucent shadow following after his action as he looked at those nearby that had easily escaped elsewhere to bypass whatever treachery the humans sent their way due to warnings of a few whom had escaped the entourage of diplomats they had slaughtered without proper political etiquette. The High Elf, true to his own kin, yet still followed Larihei's teachings, taking a lesson from history that rebuilding, despite great efforts, can occur. "One might think them Urukhim, parading around as humans.. With all of Iblees' curses, violence was not meant to be theirs.."

Re-implement settlements. Regardless of 'politics' and 'wars' and 'conquest' and countless other arguments. At the end of the day, it is a roleplay server, that, yes, is to tell a story, but also it is meant to be enjoyable, and with some of the systems implemented; is impossible. I can often see how being strong-armed to be apart of a group that does not align or mesh well with viewpoints IC OR OOC can be seen as problematic. Yet player count trumps literally everything and can seem detrimental, especially when it is conquest for a large group that likely does not care for the community they are 'conquering' at all. It's either land grabs or ploys to disband communities, personal experience leads me to believe that assimilation never really happens. There should be space for player communities both small and large. If I'm going to be honest, the fantastical air the server used to hold for me kind of just doesn't work for me anymore with the state of what nations exist and/or are left. "Unique cultures" that are left have more blurred or vague things than ever. Elf nations feel like human nations with pointed ears, human nations are medieval peasant to lord larp cultures. Orcs atleast have their whole clan, klomp thing & shamanism. Dwarves are like, uh, venture capitalists or something. We're focused on conflict, but we're also not really focused on server cohesion. Virtual gangs formed via staff, and the same goes for most things around war in character. It's all kind of feels like a glorified factions server. BUT, that's just my two nickles, since pennies are no longer made. Nations are whatever, people who have them pay upkeep and the cost to form, especially when tile upkeep prevents nations (mostly) from expanding across the entirety of the map. It all sounds fine to me. Those that exist can easily afford it. And those that want to make a nation have a hoop to jump through. I see no issues there. Yeah, the signature thing is an issue, but what do we even constitute as active, two hours a week? Just make at least 2/3'ds of those signed be keeping up a certain amount of activity time per week for however long and then who cares afterwards?? The big thing is unique groups that actually DO things different from other groups that currently exist, and do it well. If every nation is a turkey roast with only a slightly different blend of seasoning, at the end of the day.. People are still going to get tired of turkey...

“Hrm. The brainwashed will not take kindly to this…” His words were followed -tardily- by the faint, meek murmur of his afterimage, the soul-lag dragging a few seconds behind as it mimicked his posture: boots kicked upon the table, arms folding in cynical ease. The flickering image of himself only did well to further define the bitterness that curled within his lips. “They may try again, of course. They typically do. But I’ve found our kind to be maddeningly resilient... like a cockroach that refuses to die, no matter how many times someone tries to crush it.” His azure hues flicked toward the Mali’aheral that did well to brood in the corner, occupied with their taxidermy, likely to be hanging such upon the temporary wall, waving the missive in her direction @WizardWhisper- only for the translucent shade of himself, which was also that darker hue of blue in color, to repeat the same motion shortly after, hollow and delayed. “Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya… though it is not the course I would have taken for this..” He raised a wooden cup brimming with a murky brownish-greenish liquid - tea, of a sort. The ghostly, dark blue afterimage of his hand lifted its own phantom cup a heartbeat later, the cruel mirroring reminding him, as always, of exactly the sacrifice he had made oh-so long ago. Simply for the survival of his people, only to be reduced to this. The bitter Mali'aheral turned his eyes down upon the cobbled floor that was sought to only be temporary to their marble floors that they were graced with not so long ago. "Asul linte karinah'ento..." That same cup was placed down, the haunting of himself followed shortly after as he gathered his coat and threw it around his form, "Until then. We've our own survival to worry about, be it through manipulation or otherwise..”

One Mali'aheral, that knew better than to adhere to any demands or call to trial from Oren, glanced over the paper that was delivered unto him and neatly folded it. His hues lit up with a droopy, azure color, and after a moment a slight shade appeared, a rip in the fabric of reality. And just within it, did he place the letter away for safe keeping. Still alive, persevering, awaiting for his time to walk about a marble city once more.

A High Elf moves to deposit a mass lump-sum of coin into the tax deposit box. He peers over his shoulder at the muttering and bustling amongst the citizenry whom looked over the spread missive. Only a curt nod was to follow.

A High Elf nearby reads over the missive, providing a small hum before neatly folding it away. An azure shadow clinging to his every movement. “High hopes for this tenure, I must say..”

A familiar elf clad in his typical gambeson with blue fabrics waved a hand after leaving the citadel, "And so it may be."

And so a familiar elf hangs up his Sillumir gear once more, having retired from his temporary position as Okarir'sil. "Let us hope this one can maintain a firm grip, firmer than I..." A pause. "And to the rest, keep up the good work..."

Renewal of Conduct “It is our initiative to make this nation stronger than it ever has been before. No idle hands will be of use.” -Silvyr Uradir Produced by Valazaer Calith 3rd of The Grand Harvest Year 245 of the Second Age By the glimmer of our silver heritage, by the sacred thread of Larihei’s own blood, I stand before you not merely as a soldier, but as a son of Haelun’or—our beloved home. Long has it been since the role of Okarir’sil was filled, and only for a short time shall it be. This missive stands as a testament to that truth, and to my own need to serve — that our people might survive the calamities already gathering upon this continent. When we have assured the safety of our people, then my service shall be finished. Kin, who hold the prestigious blood of Larihei, Mali’thill. I speak as one who has taken up the sorrow of the blade time and again — a soldier of the Weeping Blades. I speak in the hope of stirring courage in our people, safeguarding the sanctity of Larihei’s followers, and keeping the streets of our el’cihithilln unmarred. Within the marbled walls of Tahn’miar, as within the cities that came before, the order of stations is clear. There are the Laurir, heads of talonnii of highest prestige — such as the Uradir, Visaj, or Calith — whose name carries long years of respectable service. The Silver Council are the advisors to the Sohaer, each holding their own institutions and roles within. In terms of roles, the Sohaer comes above their advisors, the Silver Council, the Sohaer is who leads the people, whose voice resolves indecision, and an endless duty to ensure that our people may always have a home. And higher still, the Maheral — who simply is. The Maheral is a symbol amongst our people, it is he who is deemed purest within the city, and their voice carries reverence, it is absolute. Should they retire, they are still with their role, now titled as a Malaurir, whose presence still commands respect. Outside of these roles, every mali’aheral stands equal in station. This equality is not softness — it is a shared and solemn obligation to preserve the purity, wisdom, and dignity of our lines. Yet why is it such a pity that we must serve in elSillumiran? Because every battle, every action taken provides a mark upon the purity, the perfection that our peoples are meant to embody. Even still, we bear the sorrow willingly, staining our faces and hands alike so that the visage of Larihei’s children may remain untouched. This is our burden, our duty and our honor. Thus, by decree of decorum, let our conduct — soldier and citizen alike — be plain, precise, and without needless display. The Sillumiran shall wear no gems or trinkets in the line of duty, for a ring or chain draws the attention from the task at hand. Your armor must remain spotless, as it is your statement on your honor. No skin is to be exposed without necessity — let helms, greaves, and mantles remain fastened, for modesty is discipline, and discipline is victory. Your words must be deliberate and spoken with care, those who speak out of line shall break the formation faster than any foe will. Let your posture be a proclamation — shoulders square, back unbent, stride even, gaze steady yet courteous. Citizens of el’cihithilln, your charge is no lesser. Let fine silks be of the garb you wear, without trinkets or jewelry, as Larihei’s form needed no gaudy gems. Modesty is your armor, keep that covered, that of which is not for display. Guard your speech as you guard your gates — each syllable weighed as though the Okarir themselves stand beside you. Weave in the language of our old tongue into your daily speech, so that it may not be forgotten, teach it to your young. Watchfulness is your greatest ally, report that which is unjust and mars the sanctity of our walls and people. Strengthen the foundations of the ground which we settle by tending to a shop, a kiln, or by taking up some roles, while elSillumiran tends to that which threatens our bloodlines with justice and law. To those who would join the Weeping Blades: know that it is not for glory that we serve, but to safeguard our people. To take up the sorrow is to trade a measure of your own perfection for the continuance of our people. You will weep with us, stand with us, and be honored by every child whose sleep you guard. To the young Mali’aheral that should wish to join our Sillumir; know that it is not for glory, but instead to be guardians to our people, and that which we follow– Larihei’s teachings. To take up the blade, is to be drowned in sorry. It is a trade of a sliver of your perfection so that our people may continue. You will stand with us, side by side, you shall weep with us, yet you shall be honored by every citizen whom you protect. We are careful, and cruel, only should the punishment call for it. We are not proud for pride’s sake — we are guardians, so that the pride of elCihithilln may endure. Larihei’s blessing upon your words, your posture, and your hands. Join us in defending our home and our people; be a display of that which is the protectors of purity. Let the teachings of Larihei guide our steps, let her gift of pure blood give us strength. Signed, Interim Okarir’sil of the Silver City– Tahn’miar, Son & Sentinel of Haelun’or Maehr’sae Hiylun’eyha

Another missive hits a certain high elf's desk. And yet another does he mark up for its various misspellings, logic, and reasoning. Valazaer Calith, interim Okarir'sil, finally folds the paper and places it atop a growing piles of pleas, requests, and otherwise. With a long, drawn out sigh did he lean back and shake his head. "A plea for morality, yet they cannot spare my eyes from the improper grammar.. Haelun'or.." He clicked his tongue, "Placing the apostrophe in the wrong place completely butchers our language.." The elf had said to whomever was needing audience with him at that point, gently brushing a gloved hand over the birch oak, heavy desk that filled the office. "I've lived long enough to see the rise and fall of at least four mass human nations, this is no different..." That hand lifts, placing a single pointer finger to the side of his temple, tapping. "Involvement means our blood shed for others' cause. It is illogical. At most, I say we we might accept refugees, but that is all." Gently, the hand falls, "The preservation of our race is my concern, and that is final. Larihei would not have us cast ourselves upon pointed blades for others' disputes. - It is suicide, and I doubt I can be convinced otherwise." Finally, he presses himself in a stand, placing upon his coat and nodding to the one whom was in audience with him, ushering them from his office as he took yet another brisk walk that he found so cathartic as of recent, at least to clear his mind.

This is just LOTC ver 2025. Just gotta avoid the no-rp zone bubble.