Sujamma Addict

♫♫♫ Golden-Fang’s Musings #1-3 “When we gaze up into the night sky, captivated by the spirits of light, we bear witness to the beacons that we once paid our admiration and worship. We do not forsake the great Metzli while we hold fire close to our hearts, we use our gifts to protect Her.” -Golden-Fang, Meditations on Existence “Superstitions have their ways of seething into the minds of mortality. Take comfort in the confines of monotony and discover the unknown to hold far more treachery than it should.” -Golden-Fang, Excerpt from the Chronologized Allegories Musing #1 Yesterday, at night I felt conflicted, but I couldn't determine what was causing it. I looked up to the milky sky through the open ceiling window... and I'm not foolish enough to think they aren't up there. Stars were more than spectacles to me when I was younger and full of energy. They were supernatural beings. Of course, I did not have the teachings of my elders during this time, but I maintain a cautious optimism. But, to my eyes, they could still see us, even in the deepest cave, couldn't they? Is this a case of superstition? Anyway, that was one of the things that bothered me. The clouds were a strange shade of grey, to put it that way. They seemed natural, but I felt a quiet, chronic grief when I closed my eyes to listen. Not in the sense of sorrow or death, but in the sense of how one would feel if they were hungry. Without a place to stay. As the rainless clouds blew over my oceans, there was nothing but emptiness. It reminded me of why the Mu'un priests were there in the first place. There were so many for Metzli to look at, so many Kharajyr who were lost in such a dark time... Perhaps the sense of emptiness was a cathartic experience. Or maybe it was just my innocent, sweet-clouded eyes, beckoning me to drift off into the darkness. But, as with all emotions, I'm certain that it will pass with a good night's sleep. Musing #2 Today is a very delicate and gentle day. The song is good, but it isn't kind. Perhaps coercive, even seductive. The drums start with a barely tapped snare.. bu'um—bu'um-buh-dr'uuh-d'um. There's a one, a two, and a three. Then, like a single dancer starting her routine on a quiet stage, a flute joins in with a peaceful melody. She comes to a halt, only to watch as a reeded pipe mimics her movements almost exactly. The drums build to a louder bu’druum, b'uum--buu'm-buh-druu'-du'm. A one-two, a three-four, and a four-five. A one-two, a three-four, and a four-five. The strings are pulled from rhythm, and the fore flute joins her companion in a waltz at the same time. They don't touch; instead, they dance in perfect harmony with one another... The melody is hummed by another string, a kettle drum, and a bass. It has been building steadily throughout the day, but not in a threatening manner. At a time, one instrument, one voice... It develops into a wonderful ensemble, with an unknown climax. Today will be a day for reflection. Musing #3 Tomorrow will leap with the rasping of claws on scales upon those with open ears. I have learned a lot more about... locksmithing in the last few months than I ever have before. From mathematicians and erudites seeking to outwit anyone who would outwit them, to the use of copper picks to bend and adapt to match various tumblers. It's been a long walk from place to place which I shall not name in favour of reducing suspicion. A lot of reading and practice is expected. However! One thing I learned from it is that not all locks are created equal. Picks are required in some situations, while spells are required in others. It's made me think about a kind of unyielding lock... one breathed from a touched trill. A lovely song, written to keep all those whose morals did not deserve to be exposed to old ways that we cannot remember. In my youth—and my youth contains much to reflect upon—I would constantly seek in the wrong places, and it wasn’t until consulting with one of the Mu’un priests, in one of the temples, that I realized my oversight. She spoke of tales long ago, where some would ‘lock’ doors by singing to them… by enchanting them, with poem and rhyme. Think about it! How many combinations of words and rhythms and notes are there in the world? Think about the kinds of locks that would have to match? Millions upon millions of tumblers, all switching around with one another, every which way… it is brilliant. The old ways are truly brilliant, although to why they were lost I do not know. Suspicion leads me to believe that perhaps the old ways were not as transparent as they may have seemed. As risky as it might have been, I had found myself in awe of some of the older beliefs. It's elegant, a crypt of voices, a reliquary of rhyme. Graceful is the term. Beautiful. I almost feel bad for attempting to solve this riddle and shed its light upon the world… like defiling a deliciously delectable dessert or smashing a hand through a perfectly smooth tuft of sand. But what lay behind that library door? Archives of preserved words for my kin? Unforetold magical tomes that could have saved our… no. It will be worth it, and its days are numbered. Hopefully, with this knowledge, we will achieve one step closer to that day where we will not have to sing any lullabies… but this door would make good practice. One day. Credits The topic represents In-Character knowledge that may not be used for metagaming purposes and must be discovered through roleplay.

This guy has gone and started doing so much in the server recently that it’s insane. Firstly, congrats on the move to the Story Team man. Read this lore and it’s looking really solid so I’m excited to see what comes of it. +1

A sagely, old Arlen nods in approval of the act. Finding himself often praying in the mosque for safety and blessings for his family, Arlen awaits for his son's return while offering his assistance to his granddaughter.

Sultanate of Haria The Second Passing of Haria + Warband Hero + by Bhansith 4th of Amber cold, 1619 ☪ Issued and confirmed by His Grace the Sultan of the Sultanate of Haria Arlen Kharadeen ☪ With a reign passing from early Vailor to late Axios, and the control of over four cities it has come the time for the people of Haria to see a new leader who ascend to the throne. As of this day, Arlen Kharadeen will have passed the sword of Haria, a peaceful transition that is symbolic between both Sultan and heir. It is hereby declared that rulership of the Sultanate of Haria will fall to the wise and caring Fakhri Kharadeen, firstborn of Arlen and Irsia Kharadeen. May his just reign be guided by the hand of Allah, and present the people of Haria with a fruitful harvest of peace and prosperity! A wiry figure steps out onto the steps of the grand mosque, his beard trimmed, and mane groomed. He walks with a cane in one hand and a camel hide scabbard with the golden trim of a sword’s pommel and hilt peaking out. He stood to the right of the Imam Faiz Kharadeen who stood in between him and a young Fakhri Kharadeen. Off to the sides stood the Amir along with the royal family and several Mubarizun guardsmen. “As-salamu alaykum. For several decades I have held this sword with honor and a sense of duty to my people. Since the founding of the Caliphate, the first Caliph Faiz Kharadeen had taught me the virtues of what makes a man a strong and wise one… My time has passed and as the great Caliph had done in the past, I will be passing over the title of Sultan to my firstborn son, Fakhri. My time here, however, has not yet seen it’s end and I will be there to provide counsel and support where needed. I, Arlen Kharadeen had dedicated my life to serving Allah and the nation we have all come to establish. I will continue to serve until He sees befit that my time on this earthly realm is over.” Facing the city, the old Qalasheen lifts and extends the sheathed saber with both hands, those boney fingers hooking around and squeezing his heirloom for one last time. Then he shifts to face Faiz, a proud smile strewn across his wrinkled face. He passes the sword to the Imam who then ushers a quiet prayer before presenting it to Fakhri. - Fakhri looks to his elderly grandfather with a small glimmer of pride within his eyes. He kneels before the Imam and carefully places his hands beneath the delicate saber. His fingers wrap around the decorated scabbard. With the royal saber within his hands, he rises steadfastly back upon his feet. He turns towards the gathered crowd at the bottom of the Masjid’s stairwell. “My fellow countrymen, Harians, travellers from far and wide! My father and grandfather have seen our lands in turmoil, in dreaded wars, disasters and more. However, we Harians pulled through, we Harians managed to survive, we maintained under their guidance. I have learned from their experiences and I know what will be expected of me. I may be born into this position, however I am a servant to Haria and her people like my father before me and I will uphold this duty till my body fails to do so.. ” ☪ With the second passing of Haria, may Sultan Fakhri Kharadeen be rightfully guided by Allah. ☪ Basmala, His Grace, Fakhri Kharadeen, Sultan of Haria, Emir of al-Khaleed, Defender and Follower of al-Iiman Rashidun, Son of the First Sultan, Imperial Sultan of Aethermore, Barrowhaven, Farfolkia, Tyravik, Springs Grove, Mt. Sofia, Hibat Allah, Protector of Khalestine and Sword of Allah.

Muja discombobulated.

"Bork." Meanwhile, no one hears from the current Sultan because of meta gaming!

The sultan declines the summons.

The Tigrasi was in no place to question Kharajyr authority. His opinion stood. This wasn’t a place for him, but he had grown too far apart from his kin in recent years that he had begun to realize that perhaps he was becoming like his own father who had taken off when he was a cub. He saw what left of Mukar remained on the pike and felt sickly, a bitter disgust with himself — the same way he felt after aiding in his grandfather’s demise — for he had known Mukar long before he was able to walk. Where he was now, the Tigrasi did not know for his faith was weak. “Another home lost.” he murmured, then turned to follow after his uncle. Arlen Kharadeen considers lifting the ban on walking and talking cats, but in the end decides against it.

"Freeeeedoooooom"

Sultan Arlen Kharadeen has earned the Gluttonous trait

"Agreed, call upon the Easterners." "They'll build a wall that no one will forget."

MC name: SidNasty What group are you from: Haria What can you do to help new players: answer questions, teach them how not to break the rules and be smart.

An eldery Qalasheen sits nearby, seen making use of a hoo-kah as listens to the melodious tunes. He hums along quietly and murmurs, "This lad is gonna be popular with the ladies, all right."