Shoi

Aveli Modern History of Aegis Aveli is a fictional elf scholar responsible for decoding much of the Orc's culture through myth, in his writings. The accuracy of these stories to the actual lore doesn't really matter; because, for the most part, those living in the "modern" world aren't educated or even aware of the beginnings of the world. Aveli is an over-ambitious, (relatively) young historian who takes on the task of decoding orc culture and history in hopes of fame in the later years of his life, or after his death, for his work. He is relatively elitist, racist, and arrogant; but still believes in the value of history. His character progresses over-time as he becomes more accustomed their culture. Aveli, The Travels of Aveli, Bk. 1; 1322 I. Preface In the year of 1322, I upped from my home to study the curious orcs of Krugmar for several months. I have what many would consider to be a mastery of orc culture - over seven years of study of this strange civilization. I set out to write a series of books describing their culture and history. These are the researches of Aveli of Laurelin, which I publish in the hope of thereby preserving from decay the remembrances of what the they have done; too often have the obscure been allowed to vanish from this world without a trace. One should understand the difficulties I have gone through in order to translate this myth, in hopes that future generations may look upon the orcs as a fascinating species of study; after they have long been extincted by their own self-destructive behaviours. In fine, I have written my work, not as an essay which is to win the applause of the moment, but as a possession for all time. II. The Legend of Kragor In my travels to Krugmar, I saw two orcs fight, with gleaming iron swords, to the death over a petty dispute. I stopped to speak to a shaman-in-training, who explained to me that one orc had not shown him the respect he deserved and had thus challenged him to a duel to the death. The small quarrel had left the accused in four different parts; his face peeled off and worn as a bloody mask as the winner paraded the arena, mocking his dead opponent. The shaman-in-training went on to recount the legend of Nub'osh. He tells of the orc, who lived many generations past; but his name had been immortalized. Nub'osh was the chieftain of a very prosperous orc tribe. He was loved by the members of his tribe, and envied by those of other tribes. Legends of his deeds had spread among the tribes of Krugmar; he was depicted a god walking amongst mere mortals. He considered himself to be both the wealthiest and most fortunate of orcs, favoured by the gods; that his legend would live forever. He would, in fact, find that his legend lived forever; perhaps not how he had expected, however. One day, the elder shaman of a poor tribe visited Nub'osh - this was not uncommon - to see the tribe of the god-like chieftain. Nub'osh showed the shaman his tribe, his beautiful farms and diverse livestock, and his collection of gold artifacts. Nub'osh interrupted the tour to ask the shaman who he believed to be the most fortunate orc. Expecting his name, he was astonished at how quickly the shaman responded, "Kragor". :"Why do you say that?", Nub'osh asked, trying to hide his anger, in respect. Or rather, that's what the orc would have said, had he not had a ghastly tongue which perverted the words which came from his mouth into misconstrued monstrosities; but I digress. :"Kragor was a peasant who worked in the mill, over his life, for fifty thousand days; took up arms to defend our tribe; and died doing so.", the shaman replied. :"A peasant, you say?", Nub'osh could no longer hold his anger,"Then, tell me, shaman; how fortunate do you take me to be, if not as fortunate as a peasant?" :"While the wealthy orc is better able to content his desires, and to bear up against a sudden buffet of calamity, I cannot say. Call him however, until he die, not fortunate but happy." With this, the shaman was expelled from the village, and given a single loaf of bread and cut of meat to make his trip back. And as the tribes that were at present powerful, were weak in the olden time, and as the formerly great tribes fell to his own, becoming insignificant; such a fate befell his own tribe. Nub'osh, however, did not take up arms like his brethren, convinced his army was unbeatable. And while no army is, or ever was, invincible, he had foolishly believed otherwise. Nub'osh was dragged by his hair from his tent to the town centre, where dozens of orcs took their turn spitting and urinating on him. He was burned alive, as he cried the shaman's name,to be eaten. His brother, Bub'osh, however, had fought most valiantly; slaying three invaders before being subdued; and was rewarded as such. His body honoured by the invaders, his soul blessed by Krug, and his name immortalized through legend. (Based off of Solon and Croesus) III. Hirka Legend tells of a female orc who was cursed with abnormally long hair. The Elder recounting the tale says that the hair spanned the distance of three long-swords; but I discard this as humbug, seeing as how an orc with any amount of hair is considered to them as obscenely long hair. In either case, the orc, Hirka, was considered to be "normal" at one point in her life. She had won the affection of a particular orc who later became her life-mate. Of course, from what I understood of what the Elder had explained to me, a certain shaman was jealous that Hirka had selected this orc over himself. He cursed Hirka, to be disgustingly ugly, vile smelling, and rancid beyond imagination. I must, however, interject with the notion that what the Elder described to me as being "ugly" and "vile" to be the exact opposite of what they are. It is things like this that fascinate me about this particular species of creatures; or mammal, more specifically. In any case, Hirka morphed from a beautiful orc into some sort of vile creature; apparently so ugly that it is not even within one's capacity to think it. Among other effects, she was cursed with long, thick, hair which would grow back onto her head after cutting it like a weed; "like da 'umies", according to the Elder. Hirka was exiled from her tribe, with her new-born baby, to live alone in the desert for the unsightly creatures of the night to pretty upon. But Hirka was resilient. The first night, she used her hair to fashion a tarp, in order to make a tent to sleep. The second night, she used her hair fashion a cradle, for her baby to rest. The third, she used her hair to fashion a blanket, to keep the baby warm.The fourth night, she used her hair to fashion a rope for the cradle, and slung it over a high branch with the baby; as she was subdued by the relentless creatures of the night. Hirka was later found, and her baby, still alive. The baby later grew up to become a great warrior and the chieftain of the tribe; and Hirka was worshiped as a goddess for her long hair which kept the great chieftain alive. IV. Virenti Cuttitus I've read through many dozens of orc epics; most poorly written and ridiculous - not worth my recognition. However, after having read the Chronicles Of The Ancient History, one particular legend stood out to me as conflicting with that of The Wandering Wizard. It has long been accepted that the Wandering Wizard be the most valuable source of ancient history to Aegis; although, were he to be wrong, I may very well find myself in his place... The real conflict finds itself in the middle of a different legend, one of war; which I will not discuss, but rather the conflict in histories instead. The legend states that rather than Krug having been turned mutant by Iblees, the opposite was true. It tells of an age when all mortals who walked the land bore a certain colour skin which corresponded to their valour. The children of Krug, most pure of them all, took on the colour of green, as did the great trees and grass. Of them all, green was the most pure, black the most corrupted; the colour of darkness and rot. Among others, pink was also a colour of treachery; as the parasites which ate away at beings and mushrooms which ate away at trees and disrupted the balance of nature. As the children of Krug continued as the supreme race of valour, the other races slowly become more and more envious of the skin of Krug's children. Ironically, their jealously slowly turned their skin pink as the other races plotted against Krug; and even against each-other in order to get the upper hand. Eventually, the humans, elves, and dwarves had all lost their valour and purity through envy. Such is the argument presented in the legend,and whether the former or the latter be true, I will not discuss. V. Grogak There lived a goblin, Grogak, out in the desert because he appreciated the solitude. One day, however, he saw a dwarf digging through the snd in search of some treasure. Grogak was displeased because he was disrespecting the desert. The young goblin approached the dwarf and attempted to reason with him that there were no diamonds to be found under the sand; but to no avail. Grogak then puffed out his chest and demanded that he leave; the puny dwarf complied. Some years later, an elf came along, who sought to turn the desert into a forest. The goblin demanded that the elf leave, but he had too much pride in his work. Grogak then reasoned with him, and convinced him that the desert must exist to bring balance to the world. Some years later, a band of humans arrived in the desert, and set up camp. They began to dig aimlessly, and as with all human actions, it is unclear if even they knew what they were doing. Whatever the reason, the humans dug with up the sand with zest and purpose. Grogak was outraged, but he knew that the humans were both too proud to stand down, and too irrational to be reasoned with. The old goblin approached the humans and said, :"Oh how I love the way you till the sand and bring upon new zest to the stale desert. I will pay you 50 minas if you return to do the same tomorrow." The humans gladly accepted the offer, as they would have returned regardless. The next day, they worked with more vigour and enthusiasm than the day before. Grogak paid them, and offered them the same for the next day; only this time they would only receive 25. This continued for a few days; Grogak asked them again to return for only 5 minas. The humans disagreed, saying it would be foolish to accept this amount of work for so little pay. They packed up their camp and left. Aveli, Contemporaneous Histories, Bk. 2; 1326. I. Warook ca. 1326. Warook was a born as what is considered to be a weakling orc; weighing only slightly more than half the weight of a healthy orcling. This was reflected throughout his childhood, when he was outperformed physically by his peers. Disgraced, his father, Eh'rog expelled him into the desert for ten years; only upon returning home from the treacherous desert would he be re-accepted into society. Warook was sent off to the desert with two melons, and a pack of tools. Contrary to their beliefs, Warook thrived in the desert; motivated by survival, and burning desire to prove his worth. Over the course of the years, his body and mind had become stronger than ever. No doubt, he had encountered brigands and bandits; none of which were a match for our hero. After one hundred moons, he returned to Krugmar, with a sense of worth and hard-baked skin. Much to his surprise, not a single orc was there waiting for his return. Warook spoke to some orcs; none of which recognized him, nor his name. He wandered Sanhar for days; no one recognized him. Frustrated, he turned to leave Sanhar, when a merchant approached him. Warook immediately recognized this merchant as his father; who also recognized Warook. Warook boasted about his accomplishments and the countless humans he had slain in the desert. Eh'rog chuckled, addressing his only child as "softskin", and walked off. Warook, in his rage, shouted a challenge for this disrespect. Eh'rog turned around slowly, in shock. The two orcs made their way to a bloodied arena, each given an especially sharp gilded ceremonial sword, typical of death matches. Warook stared down at his former father with a menacing look; but menacing looks don't kill, blades do. Warook was outperformed and struck down within only a few moments. He lay on the ground, bloodied but still alive. Eh'rog lifted his head, and smiled, staring into his only son. He ran the edge of his blade along his skin, from the chin, skinning his face off; but his screams were drowned out by the laughter of the crowd. Eh'rog donned the mask in parody while he, and various members of the crowd, urinated on the foolish orc. II. Wargoth ca. 1320. Shortly after an attempted Undead assault which heavily damaged the city of Sanhar, the Wargoth Mogroka'Gorkil gave the funeral oration to those who had fallen in defence of the state. Though the attack is repelled, the outer city has been pillaged, and moral is low. The bodies of the dead are placed in large pits, separated by clan; and friends bring to their relatives such offerings as they please. Among these is one empty, signifying the bodies of those whose bodies could not be recovered. Only orcs participated in the procession, with the exception of one particular female human; which I suspected to be some sort of slave. The following conclusions have cost me some labour from the want of coincidence between accounts of the same occurrences by different eye-witnesses, arising sometimes from imperfect memory, sometimes from undue partiality for one side or the other. "Many external forces have pushed that this speech should be delivered at the burial of those who fall in battle. For myself, I should have thought that the worth which had displayed itself in deeds would be sufficiently rewarded by honours also shown by deeds. And I could have wished that the reputations of many brave men were not to be imperilled in the mouth of a single individual. For it is hard to speak properly upon a subject where it is even difficult to convince your hearers that you are speaking the truth. For orcs can endure to hear others praised only so long as they can severally persuade themselves of their own ability to equal the actions recounted: when this point is passed, envy comes in and with it incredulity. However, since our ancestors have stamped this custom with their approval, it becomes my duty to obey the law and to try to satisfy your several wishes and opinions as best I may. Our society does not copy the laws of neighbouring states; we are rather a pattern to others than imitators ourselves. Its administration favours the many instead of the few; this is why we are a nation. If we look to the laws, they afford equal justice to all in their private differences; if no social standing, advancement in public life falls to reputation for capacity, class considerations not being allowed to interfere with merit; nor again does poverty bar the way. The freedom which we enjoy in our government extends also to our ordinary life. There, far from exercising a jealous surveillance over each other, we do not feel called upon to be angry with our neighbour. But all this ease in our private relations does not make us lawless as citizens. Against this fear is our chief safeguard, teaching us to obey the superiors and the laws; they belong to that code which, although unwritten, cannot be broken without acknowledged disgrace. The humans and the dwarves serve a king; one who does not serve them. The throne is carried down from father to son as if one's merit is determined by the colour of one's blood. But, I can assure you, from experience, that all humans and all dwarves bleed red. The crowd cheers. The elves, even when given fair leadership, will take any available chance to distance themselves from one another, not as if to perform well in their own rite; but rather to ensure the demise of their own kin. I stand before you here, today, as living proof that the Orcs of Krugmar are infact, the greatest of them all. I stand before you here, today, as living proof that we are one in the same. We are the quickest to extend a hand to brothers and a blade to our foes. In short, I say that as a nation, we are the school to all of Aegis; while I doubt if the world can produce a man who, where he has only himself to depend upon, is equal to so many emergencies, and graced by so happy a versatility, as the Orc of Krugmar. And that this is no mere boast thrown out for the occasion, but plain matter of fact; we have been through more hardships than any other, and we have overcome each one with our heads high and our foe's head's higher!" The crowd cheers wildly. (Note that this piece is not original; it is modified from Thucydides' Histories - copyright exp.) ((Written by Alex_Pan))

The Life Of Aris Snowbird Human Pages A Sad Start Aris Furrowbrow, who later renamed himself Snowbird after his great uncle who often visited the family during Aris' birthday, had a rough start to life. He was born to a new land full of turmoil over the falling of Aegis and the rising of Asulon. He was born in what is now Oren to a single mother. His father, he later found had died in the bloody war with the undead. It was not easy to get food on the table and Aris' mother often sold her body to scrape by. When Aris was the mere age of twelve he was sold by his mother to an up and coming mining company who were getting rich off the need for armor and weapons by the upstart nations. As a Halfling; Aris' small stature was used to mine deep into the earth and sneak into collapsed tunnels. Eight years after Aris was fist sold to the mines a revolt broke out within the company between the two brothers who owned it. This destroyed the company and in turn the "workers" were allowed to leave. A Bright Future Aris snuck into the galley stealing a small amount of food. He then ran -to his good luck- south away from the camps toward The Vale. Upon crossing south and around the snow caped mountain range. Unknowingly he stumbled into a cursed forest known as the Queen's Wood. As he slept atop one of the massive oak trees a spider with huge furry legs climbed from it's nest in search of food. The nest was right next to Aris' sleeping spot. Hew awoke feeling a brush against his leg and as he saw the spider he screamed. This surprised the spider who bit Aris' leg and then scurried off. As Aris continued south his leg began to fester oozing yellow puss and forming a large, dark, squishy circle around his knee. By the time he had gotten around the Snowy Mountains and into the woods of the Vale his leg was nearly twice the circumference it had been before. He would have lost it if it weren't for the healing prowess of a fellow Halfling by the name of Ms. Averroa Dewhurst. Aris fell in love with Averroa at first sight though he hasn't expressed his feelings yet. Eventually Aris obtained a burrow in the Vale and worked happily as the miner and blacksmith. Eventually, as the same with all miners the coal dust and other foul things in the mines got to Aris' lungs. After a long while with a bone-rattling cough he made up his mind to quit mine work once and for all. He now spends his days with a furry flock of sheep. A Newfound Friend Soon after Aris' a rival to The Vale one of the most well known and revered events of Halfling history occurred. This of course was Branfest where many Halflings invite other races to see their town and of course party. Many contests were held that day including one of the more memorable ones, the story telling contest. Many grand stories were told that day but one of the most loved was told by a headstrong, talented, rising star of a halfling by the name of Bili Hollowmead. He told the story -passed down to him by his father- of The Ghost Of The Singing Maiden (See http://www.lordofthecraft.net/wiki/wikka.php?wakka=The_Ghost_of_the_Singing_Maiden) After witnessing this grandiose tale Aris confronted Bili later at the drunken sheep over a mug of ale. They discussed their own stories and many other things and after maybe just one to many drinks they had become bonded in friendship. They would later share many adventures including Ferocious Wolves and Gigantic Spider nests. Achievements Along with being an active member of The Vale here are some of Aris' other attachments. -Aris' mining skill helped supply The Vale with much needed earth materials -His Skill as a Blacksmith privided the members of the vale with jewlery, fine tools and decorations -He is an active member of the Better Burrow Club -Started by the Legendary Bili Hollowmead- and has helped privide many burrows for new halflings. -Along with the fabled Bili Hollowmead he helped rid The Vale of both Deadly wolves and spiders -Much more to come I'm sure :D

Andaer Alean'ndar MoriQuessir Pages The actual date of Andaer’s birth is unknown. This is because no one knows he real name so searching for a birth record would be impossible. No one knows heis real name because no one knows who his parents were. Andaer was abandoned when he was just a new born, around 5 years old in Human years. To this day he doesn’t know why he was abandoned but it still makes him bitter to think about it. Young Andaer was found by Alean’ndar slaves in the compound’s side garden. Gelolin took pity on the poor infant. The Patron knew for a fact that a unattended male infant male would be sacrificed to Immortal Mother without a second though. So he passed the boy off as a cousin sent to live with the family from a distance Mori outpost. Andaer grew up along side Gelolin’s children and looked up to them like older siblings. When Andaer was in his adolescence he would tag along with Tathyraen when he would go race across the city room tops for prize money. When Andaer wasn’t a runner himself he would often participate in the betting. He would observe each contestant closely and make the most logical choice. That was however until he discover that the races were being rigged. He warned Tathyraen of the danger but it took a near death fall to make him stop. In addition to joining Tathyraen, Andaer would sometimes lounge all afternoon on the walls of the courtyard watching Suspavin, the oldest heir, practice with the blade. He would study his movements and after a few years asked to become his sparing partner. Andaer realized after watching a particularly brutal arena match that just running fast won’t guarantee one’s survival. That was why he wanted to learn to fight from Suspavin. Suspavin being bigger and more experienced than Andaer would constantly knock Andaer down in practice. But Andaer reasoned it was far better to be hurt in training and around brethren than on the streets around enemies. Andaer would also sometimes help the youngest heir, Vieraen, carry supplies to the city library that the family ran. It was there that he could enjoy a few moments of quite and learn something useful from the thousands of books. When Andaer reached adulthood Gelolin gave him the job of bartender, a job Anders wholeheartedly enjoys. The business aspect of organizing the supplies in the bar Andaer found extremely stimulating. Plus as Andaer does his job he can sit back and listen to the bits of news and gossip that spill from the mouth ale covered mouths of his patrons. Andaer has had no real experience with other houses besides the Alean’ndar. The Alean’ndar is his adopted family and he feels a very strong loyalty to it. Currently Andaer has a small relationship with Tathyraen with whom he likes to go gambling with. He also enjoy listening to Vieraen sing or play music in the compound or at the Bardic Collage. That time is probably the only in which he lets his guard down. Later it was discovered that Andaer really was an actually blood member of the house. A journal discovered in the compound library reviled that Andaer was hidden by his father because he was born sick and his mother wanted the baby killed. So his father nursed him secretly back to health then planted him in the side garden where he was discovered by the rest of the family and taken in. Now Andaer oversees most of the family has the head family Adviser.

Ambros ((WIP)) Early Life Little is known about Ambros’s early childhood, however it is known that his mother was forced to sell him into slavery after his father mysteriously fell ill and she could no longer pay the taxes the Lord collected every end of month day. During the time before his mother took up the role as his mentor and taught him the fine arts as well as other academic necessities.

Alistair Elric Information Full Name: Alistair Remos Elric Age: 35 Race/Subrace: Human Northerner Occupation: N/A History I. Birth of the First Born II. A Peaceful Childhood III. Teen Years IV. Deception and Loss VI. A Departure VII. ??? VIII. ??? VIV. ??? X. ???

"One of strength and power is now one of weakness and submission." -Abraham's Testament- An explosion of red energy, and flame suddenly erupt in the darkness. The red energy and flame illuminate the darkness and a hushed voice resonates into the soul "One of strength and power...is now one of weakness and submission." The 4 year old halfling awakes in fear and breathes rapidly while sitting up in bed. The halfling looks around and sees the sun slowly seep through the windows of the orphanage, illuminating the room and exposing the rest of the sleeping children. The Halfling hears talking coming from the room behind the door out of the sleeping quarters. The sheets are thrown off of the bed as the halfling springs up and creeps to the door to get a better listen. The voices grow louder, a well spoken man is heard "My wife Elrene is cursed with infertility but that does not mean that I will have this little pest running around our manor!" The orphanage caretaker's female voice is heard "Mr. Fenring the other children are asleep at this time, come back in the evening." The male voice known as Mr. Fenring was heard again but this time it was angry "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I AM TO LEAVE TO MY MANOR ON THE SALVIAN COUNTRYSIDE IN AN HOUR, WAKE UP THE DAMNED KIDS!" The caretaker's voice was timid and was heard again "...sor..ry mr. Fenring...I will awake the kids." The halfling knew the caretaker was about to come to the door so he tried to quickly scurry back to bed but he was too slow, the door behind him opened just as he was about to reach his bed. Elrene's eyes widened and she smiled wide as she saw the halfling her voice was in awe "Awww...Allistar look at that cute little boy!" The man known as Allistar now or "Mr. Fenring" looked at the halfling "You there, turn around." The halfling turned around and faced Allistar with timid eyes. The Carekeeper looked to the halfling and kneeled down to his height then looked up to Allistar and Elrene "Poor little guy, he was left here on our doorstep four years ago with a note that simply said to take care of him well, *sighs the poor guy is so much smaller than the other kids his age, maybe just give it time and he'll grow...but none of the couples that came here wanted a runt." Allistar knelt down to the Halfling's eye level and stared him right in his emerald eyes then took out a small gold coin with the engraved lettering "Abraham Fenring" strewn across it. Allistar sighed and put his hand out with the coin for the halfling to grab it "It was my grandfather's coin, Abraham Fenring...*deep sigh* my grandfather was the last member of the Fenring family to actually bring it dignity and purpose, he died in Aegis when the warriors went into Draucherim to fight...he was caught in the heart with an arrow while he was leaving the portal, my father told me that his last request was for his kin to end in a way even more honorable and courageous than his own...none since have fufilled that." Elrene patted Allistar on the back "Allistar...honey your grandfather would be proud of you." Allistar shed a tear as the halfling slowly took the coin from his hand and examined it, Allistar patted the halfling on the head "You will be the one to end in an honorable and courageous way...because you will bear my grandfather's name....I name thy...Abraham Fenring." Allistar hugged the newly named Abraham tightly and then rose to his feet as Elrene and the caretaker looked on in happiness. The Caretaker looked to Allistar with greed in her eyes "2000 mina sir." Allistar wrote up a quick mina note for 2000 and handed it to the Caretaker. Elrene, Allistar, and Abraham left the orphanage and took their carriage back to the Fenring Manor. Allistar and Elrene took great care of Abraham, Allistar taught Abraham how to act and raised him human. None of the parents knew that Abraham was a halfling until they enrolled him in a very top of the line school when he was about 10 years of age. Allistar and Elrene noticed quickly that Abraham was smaller than the other kids. This pained Allistar because he had plans for Abraham to live the life of a warrior like his grandfather and not the life of a tax collector like himself. Allistar was deeply dissapointed that Abraham was so small and the stress built up so much within him as the years passed and Abraham still didn't match up to the kid's his age. By age 13 Abraham had only grown an inch. Abraham noticed the fake smiles from his mother and how his father never had any time to spend with him. Abraham knew in his heart that something was wrong...and he was also deeply ashamed of himself for not being up to par with the other children's size. One night while Abraham was asleep Allistar and Elrene were in their bedroom getting ready for bed and Allistar's stress overtook him, Allistar picked up a vase and hurled it at the wall that seperated their room from Abraham's room. The vase shattered into a million tiny pieces. Abraham was awake the whole time and his Predictions were true...his parents hated him for his size. A tear fell down Abraham's cheek as he heard Allistar yell in the other room through the thin walls "MY SON IS A RUNT! I KNEW I SHOULD OF NEVER ADOPTED HIM! I FAILED MY GRANDFATHER AND I FAILED MYSELF!" Allistar was in a rage and Elrene tried to calm him but he back hand smacked Elrene in her eye sending her plummeting to the red wool carpet. Elrene cried hysterically while looking up at Allistar from the floor "YOU BASTARD!" Allistar looked into Elrene's eyes with bloodlust and approached her "IT'S ALL YOUR * FAULT! YOUR INFERTILITY IS NOT ONLY A CURSE TO YOU BUT TO ME ALSO! YOU DAMNED *!" Allistar proceeded to back hand smack Elrene in the face as she screamed. Eltrene lay crying and covering her abused face while Allistar rose up slowly and got into bed. While Abraham was laying down in his bed he bursted into tears and tried to keep his cries silent...and that was probably the only thing he'd ever be good at...never letting anyone hear him cry. The same hushing voice from the dream long ago whispered into Abraham's ear while he was silently crying "You are unloved." Abraham only cried more until he fell to sleep. The next day the family acted like as if nothing happened, Elrene's right eye was bruised and swollen and Allistar silently sipped his morning tea. Allistar looked over to Abraham as he welked downstairs into the family room and faked a smile "Morning Abe, sleep well?" Abraham felt utter disgust and sadness when he saw Allistar's fake smile, he was disgusted at how his father could just yell about regretting ever adopting him and then the next morning acting like everything was fine. Abraham walked over to the window and looked out into the Salvian expanse, wheat fields, homesteads, and the salvian city gates far off in the distance. Elrene mustered up all of the will she had left and tapped on the table to get Abraham's attention "Uhm...sweetie, your father hired a trainer for Close combat lessons, first session will begin at 10 so eat your breakfast." Abraham was suprised and he looked back to his mother, noticing the huge bruise on her right eye he chose to not mention it "Mother... what about classes today?" Allistar casually got up from his seat and approached Abraham, putting a hand on his shoulder. Abraham tensed up at the touch of his aggressive father's hand on his shoulder. Allistar sighed "Abe, you already excel in your studies, this is just a little side thing." Allistar smiled and gave Abraham one last pat on the shoulder then pulled his hand away "Well, eat up!" Abraham sat down at the table while contemplating what the session would be like. Then Abraham started to eat his breakfast. Abraham started the lessons, day by day, training with his master in the arts of close quarters bare knuckle fighting. The training went on for monthes, Allistar was starting to regain hope in in Abraham. Abraham was 15 years old, he has been training for 2 years now and it is his first official match with a Salvian 15 year old. Abraham walked into the center of the gravel pit, the much taller Salvian boy towered above him and laughed when he saw that he would be facing. The match started and Abraham pathetically tried to reach the boy's face but it was to no avail. The boy laughed and then kneed him straight in the jaw knocking Abraham out. Allistar's heart was heavy, Allistar fell to the floor...the stress was too much to bear. Allistar was taken to the local Apothecary where he rested and was taken care of. Allistar was in his bed and when Abraham walked up to the bed with a bruise on his jaw Allistar looked away in shame and muttered "...Why...is he so...little." The Apothecary that was treating Allistar heard this. The Apothecary looked over to his assistant "Take the boy into the other room...identify his...height problem." The assistant guided Elrene and Abraham into the other room where the assistant examined Abraham, checking his mouth, eyes, ears, and his feet. Once the assistant saw Abraham's ridiculously hairy feet she sighed and said "...He's a halfling." Abraham didn't know what it meant, he thought it was some birth defect. Elrene nodded and went back into Allistar's room. Once Allistar found out, he and his wife chose to not tell Abraham what a halfling was, instead Allistar gave up on Abraham being the one to die in a courageous way so he started to raise him into being what he was...a Salvian tax collector. Years of Abraham's parents forcing him to shave his feet hair and to learn the ways of a tax collector all just piled up and turned Abraham into basically a tiny human. Abraham was 20 years old. On Abraham's first night of being a tax collector he went to a man's home because he wasn't paying taxes and then the man said "A halfling!?" laughed at Abraham and brutally beat him down and left him bloodied on the door step. Abraham staggered to his feet and crept along the Salvian road with the stars shining bright above him, Abraham made it to his small home near the Fenring manor and he contemplated what the man said....that word, "Halfling." Abraham contemplated seeking out these "halflings". Abraham then decides that even if the man was a lunatic and made up the word then it would still save him from the shame of being brutally beaten, and having to live the reat of his life as a tax collector. So he travelled to the cloud temple and he took the small boat to the vale where he found his new home. Abraham's story is to be written from here, who knows what can happen. Abraham has yet to learn about the halfling culture and to assimilate to halfling culture. It'll take time. Abraham is 20 years old and still conflicted on whether it was wrong to leave his step parents or right. (This will be updated as I rp)

Shoi Age: 195 Gender: Female Race: Elf Status: It's Complicated Description Height: 5'2" Weight: 100 lbs Body Type: Hourglass Eyes: Aqua Hair: White laced with silvery gray Skin: Porcine pale Markings/Tattoos: Black Dragon scar across her back, right arm, and chest. Health: Healthy Inventory: Leather bounded book Personality:Extremely curious, often taken as shy. She is quite and takes in details before speaking. Often avoids confrontations. Often acts motherly and kind. Life Style Alignment: Chaotic Good Deity: Aeriel (Currently) Alliance/Nation/Home None Job/Class: Ex-Ascended Preceptor Profession(s): Healer Special Skill(s): Herbalist, Cooking, Farming Flaw(s): Tries to save all, even the wicked. Soft spot for others weaknesses. Magic Current Status: Silenced Weaponry Archery: Amateur Scimitar: Journeymen Daggers: Journeymen Biography Parents: Arathyn [Father Deceased], Mizuki [Mother Deceased] Sibling(s): Considers Aleryn and Urasept Children: Latsi [Adopted Son], Arathyn the II, Danur [step son], Tara [Adopted Daughter] Pet(s): Buster the Wolf History Childhood Memory: The sounds of yelling, shouts of threats sounded through the walls almost deaf to the small white hair'd girl. Men and woman gathering, their torches raised high. Her pale green eyes opening, seeing dancing lights on her wall. Sitting up in bed she tried to hear the muffled words. Slowly crawling from her bed, her right hand clinging to a small worn teddy. Another young elvan girl lied in the same bed, undisturbed. Her bare feet tiptoeing across the wooden floor of her small bedroom. Standing as tall as she could with her tiptoes. Her eyes hardly able to see over the window seal as she peered out seeing the angry faces. Her gaze wondering over them as they were still trying to climb over the wooden fence her Father built two summers ago. Only a child, her mind pure and innocent. Untainted living in a small home on the edge of a human village. Her Father built their home from the ground up, a few sheep and chickens in the yard. Why did they look so angry... She didn't understand. Her father, Arathyn, would burst through the door, causing her to jump slightly and gaze at the tall Elven. He swooped Aleryn up, and took her hand and lead her wordlessly into the living room were her mother, Mizuki, was hurrying a small bundle of supplies. The creases in his face looked determined and worried. His long blonde hair slightly burdened over his eyes, messy. Very unusual for him, a slight stubble on his jaw. His eyes sunken in dark circles under his eyes were even seen against his pale skin. He was always to clean and cheery. Now dark and distracted, something must be wrong. Shoi was scared seeing the worried looks on their faces. Her teddy held close to her as Arathyn set her down and grabbed her by her shoulders. His bright blue hues looking into her pale eyes, a very weak smile of sadness crossed his face. The creases only more apparent with that sad smile. He tossed her long white locks with a almost shaken hand. His lips were dry and cracked with worry, his words were almost heart breaking. But his eyes still holding a love for his daughter, fearful of her life. His only offspring. "Shoi, always remember I love you. You are a special girl. Never forget that. Always remember who you are." He would hug her then tightly, standing and kissing his wife for the final time. He would not be following but attempting to hold the angry people off. Shoi's hand would be grasped as Mizuki led her out of the door. Her teddy landing on the floor. She struggled to keep up with her long lagged mother, her own long white hair swirling behind them. Shoi tried looking back, her Mother's face said everything. Aleryn was swooped up by her brother Urasept. His darken skin conflicting as he darted ahead of them. Mizuki telling him to run. The sounds soon died, leaving behind. The tree's weaved by as she tripped and struggled to keep up. Falling face first into a mud puddle. Her mother lifting her up and sadly wiping her face off as mud stuck to her hair. Shoi's mother lifted her up and carried her for a short while. But turned into a large willow tree as horse hooves were heard galloping sound echoing through the forest. Her cloak wrapped around Shoi, holding her for dear life. Her Mother's finger trembling as she placed a locket around her neck. Kissing her forehead she hid Shoi the best she could pressing her into the small hole of the willows roots. Her face was pale, strucken with fear. She knew she must die in order to save Shoi. Her back pressed to the tree hiding the hole with her body and cloak. "Shoi, your father and I love you very mu-" The word froze, a silver blade before her face. Shoi's eye swelled with tears. The blood... Ran down the blade, and dripped onto her night gown. Her small body curled back into the tree clinging to her locket as she heard the humans cheer at the death of her mother. The tears fell like rain. And then lightening would wreak the skies, and small droplets fell from the heavens. "The girl must have ran further into the woods, FIND HER! The bloodline of this elven woman must die tonight. Eye for and eye, child for a child." Shoi would hide in the tree for what felt like a forever. She finally would emerge, hearing Urasept's tone gasp. Her mother's dead body shielding her from death. Shaken at the sight of her mother's dieing body. Her tiny frame crumpling over her mother's body and wept. With her small bare hands she dug a shallow grave for her mother with Urasept. Placing small stones to mark the grave, and in small pebbles she wrote "Vien" Which means Beautiful Mother in elven. Always waking at this moment. The sweat dripping from her brow. Then the tears of the loss of her parents. Alone the actions of ignorant humans broke her family and heart. Shoi judged humans that day. Her mind and heart became fearful of them. Urasept was forced to leave Aleryn and Shoi in a orphanage to keep then safe while he left to find work. History: She may seem like her head is always in the clouds, a book in her hand. A satchel always at her side. She lost her parents at a young age, never finding a place. She spent hours in the library reading anything she could get her hands on. The pages making vivid pictures in her head. She could almost see the words painting scenes. She grew older and found her interests never ending in the book she read. After reading a book on dark elves, she fell in love with daggers and arrows. Shoi spent a lot of time learning how to hold and wield daggers, how to string and fire a bow. It was a blur, being jerked from her bed. Her head was spinning as she was only a child. Her mother dragging her by the hand. Stumbling and falling her mother pulled her close in the roots of a large willow tree. Heavy foot steps following, pounding past them. Shoi's mother covering her with a large cloak hiding the girls long white hair. That sound. Would never be forgotten. The sound of death, the blood falling past her eyes. Then deafing sound of silence. The feebling hands of her mother putting a small silver chained necklace with a small locket around her neck. The night burned into her memories. Never to be forgotten, her fingers played with the locket around her neck. Her emerald eyes pouring over a book, leaned in a chair. Legs over the arm rest. Other children would pull at her long white hair and tease her. Pushing her book into her face or pours juice and drinks over the pages. So she would wait till everyone was asleep and read the bend, broken pages. Like she was in them, wishing they would take her away into their lines of history of old days. At the age of 16 she was shipped off finally to work a herb farm, learning the properties. Learning to write and draw out the effects. The way they felt. The words came naturally to her. She felt more at home with the cows and the chickens then the people she was around. She hid in the stables learning of weapons. Wanting to learn more, to visit the great libraries of the world. She paid close attention to how daggers were easily used and concealed. She found favor in them. The old owner of the herb farm gave her a bow saying every elf should know the way. She merely smiled and studied the art of archery though without a proper teacher it seemed harder then daggers to master.

There was a player whom was offend hence the reasoning behind it. You have to keep in mind that with Native American there are not just one group of people but many tribes and cultures, and someone found something insulting. As for horses. I just don't see pig being a legit replacement or wooden horses that do not move. Elements of minecraft kinda do effect the lore. So may I suggest boars! Since their closer to pigs. And I do not know of any Javanese lore that's accepted? The only one I know of was denied, and still hasn't shown itself on the server.

I understand your reasoning, but just because you are one does not always give you a reason to backlash on them. When I mean Backlash I mean how you label them as scum of the earth, then turn them as weaklings whom no idea how to fight, to grand warriors with a complex society doesn't have a flow that allows and understanding. I have spoke with Urasept and Danny over this and I do stand for it. I'm denying it for now, but you can still work it. But it cannot be implement till it's more ironed out. And I can see how this may offend other Native Americans.

After reading this thoroughly. With lore so similar to cultures in real life you have to be careful with how you word things. Sadly though some of this lore IS good, yet I find quite a bit of contradictory parts that do not fit together. Broken parts of the lore that do not quite make sense in the origination and it jumps around a lot. Ballista really doesn't fit, how would they have made it and hauled the massive thing around, it would take months for even Native horses to haul without an army behind it. Also with the lore leaning heavily on horses that still yet to exist in minecraft would break most if not all of the lore, since they rely so heavily on them. I have to deny this as it might offend some Natives, if you're determined to do this type of lore you should really consider rewriting a lot of the beginning, though different it still back lashes and slanders Natives. If you have any other questions feel free to contact me by PM or on TS.