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About TwilightWolf

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    Queen of the Argh
  • Birthday 02/26/1995

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  1. [!] Invitations have been sent to all registered citizens of Elvenesse, with formal letters arriving at the halls of the many elven houses that reside within the nation. [!] The Ceremony of Winter Starlight You have been cordially invited to attend and participate in an ancient tradition passed down by the alder folk, from Almenor and Malinor past. Don your most festive winter garb and bring your kin, for we are to witness the retelling and reincarnation of our grand heritage, almenodrim, wood elven and dark elven alike. In ancient times when Malin's children were plenty, the first sons and daughters would erect a sturdy pine, grown from the earth with the guidance of the Green Mother, and let its emerald limbs drape proudly in the great hall of the Elf Father. These ancient elves adored the light of the stars, even more so for the line of Sylvaen. The winter air blessed the sky with a brilliant shroud of glittering diamond-like stars, and the constellations the elves had named were most clearly visible this time of year. The young children of the elves would gather around the tree and gaze towards the sky with wonder, for those stars hold memory and meaning everlasting... just like the alder folk themselves. As each House gathered with shining, colored glass orbs, fantastically bright lights and golden silks, the elves adorned the tree with the likeness of their most beloved constellations and stars. With each ornament hung, new memories were believed to be sealed anew into those far-off stars above. Malin's halls alighted with the laughter of children as fine gifts were laid at the foot of the tree, waiting to be opened near winter's end. These were fine days indeed, where merriment and the love for the elven people filled the air absolutely. Now we are here at the present, in a new, strange and yet majestic realm... Let us capture the memory of our ancestors and create new ones in merry celebration and liven the winter air of our Elvenesse. May each House and Seed create their own ornament from any material best suited to their family, sealing in those beloved memories of family, love, children and life, and come to the lighting ceremony. To keepers of our faith, bring forth a decorative tree skirt embroidered with images of our Wild Gods, for the faith is the foundation of our unity lies within our dedication to our patrons. At the conclusion of our ceremony, a grand star that will complete the Mariner's constellation will adorn the top of our tree, forged from the heat of Malin's flame itself. May our new gladed home be filled with the winter spirit, I hope to see you all there!
  2. An elfess squints, bringing the small piece of parchment closer to inspect before turning to her giggling dark elf friend. "I'm sorry, I thought I read something vaguely decipherable but I'm not sure... Care to help out an old timer?" she says, passing him the note.
  3. “Have you heard of the tale of the monsters within the sands? Shapeshifters, they say they are, of mortal men who have defied our curse by striking an unholy deal with some foul power… They seek the souls of the damned, for it is said the value of a sinner’s spirit is irresistible to the Lord of the Dead Realm. Better repent often, son.” The Men of the Sands and the City of Gold Long ago when the four brothers walked among us there existed children of the Father of Man that were blessed with a terrible hunger for knowledge of the world. These men even in the early morning of existence envied Horen’s brothers… they were to be the inheritors of the world, and scorned Malin’s beauty, Urguan’s wealth and spat upon the strength of Krug. While they dare not bare their fangs yet at their kin, a seedling of hate set into their hearts. Fueled by their pride and unyielding loyalty to the Father of Man, they sought to travel the world and steal the wealth of the world for their own. To the forested halls of Malin the Patriarch of these unnamed peoples traveled, feigning a kind curiosity for all of the splendors of that tranquil place. The men delighted in the beauty of those who commune with the natural world, the forgemasters and musicmasters of the first sons of the Elf Father. They studied their way of carrying themselves with nearly ethereal delicacy… and savored in the mannerisms in which the elves delighted in their life. And so they departed… To the stone-pillared halls of Urguan the Patriarch of these unnamed peoples traveled, concealing his mad love for all of the Dwarf Father’s gold, jewels, and silver fountains with a desire to learn his ways of creating such beauty from the earth. There, too, they sealed away the lust for precious metals and jewels of the world in their tarnished hearts. And so they departed… Finally they traveled to the savannah hold of the mighty Krug. The strength of his children was a feat that no spoken or written world could accurately describe. In spirit and in body Krug’s folk were truly powerful, and their code of honor was something that perplexed these ambitious men. Why extend the same respect to the other descendants when there was an entire untouched world ready to be conquered, no, inherited by the strongest peoples. Was this world not created for those with the power to impose their own will upon it? Indeed, even these children of Krug had conquered the barren savannah and desert, yet do not desire to rule absolutely? They could not comprehend the way of Krug, and departed his hold with a sour taste upon their tongues… Many years had past and the children of the Four were plenty. Man had made fantastical castles and farms, Elves had unquestioned rule over the forests and nature, Dwarves had made the most grand halls from the mountains themselves… but Krug was humble. His people lived not in splendor, but in harmony with the other descendants, even despite their supreme tenacity in the harsh heat and their superior strength. Ptolemeht claimed himself as the first Lord of these wandering Men. He was tall in stature and had long, dark hair and ferocious eyes that hungered for domination over all. While his brothers settled in their castles and reached the clouds, his heart demanded he display why the children of Horen would conquer this world and rule as intended… for they were the superior beings blessed with just ambition. He would show his kin the light, by sheer splendor in doing what few could. Ptolemeht would challenge the people that he simply could not match, the children of Krug, and prove that even Men could make the barren sands submit to their will too. The human lord’s resolve was like iron. His children would dare not refuse him this birthright, and began to construct a city-stronghold like the world had yet seen. Where the sands would blow harshly and scald the skin of the weak, he commanded his kin to heave the earth into submission in great towers and pyramids. Every aspect of the city Ptolemeht commanded to be created took great inspiration from the halls of the Elf Father and the Dwarf Father. But he knew he could not best nor match what Krug and his children had… and despite the magnificence of his creation, his soul seethed in anger at the lack of total perfection his body was given. Gilded peaks of sand arose like mighty crystals, and a desert throne was built atop the chieftest pyramid. Ansach-Ra had arisen as the largest and most complex city ever recorded in ancient times. The Curse and the first King of Sands Prosperity flowed like mighty rivers from the gilded city of Ansach-Ra, and many of Horen’s children flocked in to delight in the example of their superiority over the land and other kin. Horen himself was shocked at the determined ambition of his kin. Somehow Horen could sense a dark omen at the creation of Ansach-Ra, for his children had a demented sense of what the Father of Man wished for his children. Horen did not share in their beliefs of total supremacy, but he also could not and would not deny his children revelry in their magnum opus. The years chiseled away like the architects of Ansach-Ra onto sandstone, and in an instant their progress towards a perfect society came to an abrupt and unfortunate end. When Malin, Krug, Urguan and their father Horen struck their final blow against Iblees… the curse ripped through the people of Ansach-Ra like a great wave against a quiet shore. Those who had lived far beyond what their new ailment would allow withered to dust and nothing in the hot desert wind. The city erupted in a screaming pandemonium. Mothers… Fathers… All were subject to the unyielding power of the curse. Like the pathetic remnants of a dying fire, their people disintegrated with agonizing screams into ash. The people of Ansach-Ra were decimated. The cries of the people who ruled the sand were abhorrent, for they wept not only for their loved folk but for the loss of their supremacy. The city of Gold and Sand grew nearly empty. In the wake of Lord Ptolemeht’s death, he left a single son that he cherished almost as much as the splendor of his home. Osmundah at the young age of thirteen inherited a city that dwarfed his stature like a single ant upon its mighty hill. Witnessing his father crumble into dust upon the height of his throne bore into his mind. The pain of the first deaths spurned a loathing for this existence. Why must it be Horen’s folk who are denied the luxury to see their work come to fruition? To see the work of their and their children’s hands before being ripped from this now mortal plane into an eternal prison. For that’s what the afterlife was, to the folk of Ansach-Ra… a place where scheming gods place their playthings to entertain them for all eternity. None can escape this fate, and by living a good life one might only lessen the burden of the afterlife upon them… for sinners might indeed suffer in endless, agonizing torment, but was not the stagnation of an eternal existence at the behest of some self-righteous beings torment too? Osmundah knew as the last brittle pieces of his father carried away with the breeze he would devote the limited time he had in this world to finding a cure. A cure that would ensure their ever-lasting life in this plane as supreme monarchs of the realm. Over other men, dwarves, elves, and the now deformed and ugly orcs. Yes, those disgustingly proud children of Krug certainly received their just reward in Osmundah’s eyes. The remaining folk of Ansach-Ra fastened chariots, spears, and legions of infantry to march upon the confused and distraught orchish peoples. In a single, bloody night, Ansach-Ra drove the orcs in a frenzied bloodbath from their homes and into wandering caravans. The desert belonged to Ansach-Ra, and now there was none to question their authority. Osmundah gathered the remaining orcs in chains and brought them broken and dispirited to the city where he presented his captives to his priests. There, the boy issued his first decree as ruler of Ansach-Ra… “Take these beasts and barter for a cure with whatever power resides over this accursed realm. I refuse to suffer the same fate as my father, and with this I will ensure I rule Ansach-Ra, no, the world undisputed. Do not give these mutated beasts any quarter, do what you must to appease the gods and find me a patron who will do this for me!” The boy ascended the golden throne and declared himself not lord, but King of Ansach-Ra. With their numbers few, now, there were no dissenting voices. Osmundah’s desire for immortality was too tempting, too… for risking a lack of obedience to the Desert King would surely destroy any hope at restoring their robbed years from them. Akerohtep, Shepherd of Souls and the Charnel Sect Two decades since the desert was secured for Ansach-Ra the priests of the city worked diligently to perform dark rituals on the misfortuned, the forgotten, and the damned. Osmundah collected many wives and children, spurned by his fear of the shadow of death upon his legacy. He was ferociously protective of his harem, and would seize any wife suspected of infidelity and etomb her alive, and send any competing men to his sect devoted to twisting the souls of men into prizes as bait for any willing entity, god, or patron. The Charnel Sect was the body of all of the King’s priests tasked with finding a cure for mortality. Within the sandstone and dark temple of the Sect evil rituals were performed involving the maiming, torture and wicked epxeriments upon the living in hopes of drawing out the essence of life itself to offer as a gift to the gods. The temple had deep crypts of entombed victims, but also served as the mortuary home of the venerated dead as well. Those loyal to Ansach-Ra were given a resting place of splendor and clothed in fine silks and cloth for when the solution to death might be discovered. The first experiments offered souls to the Dwarven Brathmordakin, for the thought of everlasting life and wealth was very tempting indeed… But these offerings proved most destructive and fatal to the Charnel Sect, with the worst outcome involving the unintentional deaths of three senior priests. The dwarven gods spat on the revolting desires and culture of the Ansach-Ra peoples, they were far too tainted with evil lust to even be auctioned off in their afterlife. The second experiments offered souls to the Orcish spirits, who roamed the desert freely and frequently. They too would scorn the Charnel Sect with even more ire than the Dwarven Pantheon, for the murder of their orcish kin would only earn them bad voodoo and unfortunate hexes indeed. More priests met untimely ends, most unable to be explained with any reason at all The final experiments offered souls to the animal spirits of the elven Wild Gods. There is one very prominent Wild God that roams the harsh desert, and its interest had piqued since the first Ansach-Ra people landed in the oases. The cunning Coyote, vision keeper and silent guardian. The Coyote God does not give answers, but instead gifts visions of the past, present and future. A perhaps critical mistake by the Coyote God, but nonetheless visions of life and prosperity were granted to the priests in hopes that dedication to the natural world would grant them peace… The visions caused an uproar in the Charnel Sect, for no rituals had produced any promising results. Would further devotion to this unnamed god grant them the everlasting life they sought? King Osmundah himself stood watch over the next ritual to the Desert God. By some stroke of very poor luck, a lesser daemon of Iblees that hungered for worship and power watched over the ritual that dark day. Where the Sect was trying to call upon the visions of the Coyote, a demonic voice from deep within a shadowed realm responded and usurped the Coyote’s claim over these people. He appeared to these men as a corrupted mockery of the Wild God. He knew these humans’ fear of death would commit them to anything, even worship of a Daemon. “You who seek everlasting life… I am Akerohtep, Lord of the Dead Realm. I will strike a deal with you, persistent ones… In exchange for more souls for my domain, I will extend your life indefinitely. Serve me, and savor riches and life beyond measure. Refuse, and savor a rotting tomb for all eternity!” The Daemon’s intuition was right, the threat of death brought the priests and King to their knees in prayer. The being smiled a wicked smile, and presented a scale of onyx and gold. “Bring me souls of the wicked, the murderer, the thief and the evil. If their soul weighs more than a feather, they have much delicious regret and blood on their hands… they will serve me well as tormentors of unfortunate travelers to the realm of the Dead. Come… bring me my first gift.” The First Amonnti King Osmundah was ruthless in his response. He did not for a moment question the Daemon’s request, and offered his most loyal and senior priest to be slaughtered before Akerohtep. This priest had committed countless atrocities, and his soul was heavy indeed… The Deamon swallowed up the soul in its sharp-fanged maw and descended onto the King like a murky, black shadow. There, the King began to twist and convulse in transformation… he was taking the likeness of this Daemon’s coyote mockery. His head erupted a long doggish maw, and his bones cracked and crumbled into a body that towered over his human kin. His skin turned leathery and black, and his eyes burned a deep hateful crimson. His screams silenced all of Ansach-Ra, and the Beast-King finally stood after much anguish in his new bestial form. A wicked laugh rumbled within the temple’s painted stone walls. The Daemon was pleased, very pleased with his new followers’ promise. These humans have long hungered for power, and they would get it this day. He named these daemonic children the Amonnti, beasts with the power to rip the souls out of any mortal husk and offer it to their Daemon Lord for extended years of their life. And so Ansach-Ra depleted their own population, for they were the children of tainted hearts and ambitious killers. The souls of their own people proved quite potent for satiating the hunger of Akerohtep, and more men were transformed into the servants of the Lord of the Dead. In this, the fabled city of Ansach-Ra buried beneath the sands, her ever-attentive servants disappearing in the night, and all of its riches lost to the desert forever to be guarded by their dead. The Amonnti: Form, Abilities, Traits and Features, and their Patron The Ammonti is a human that has been cursed with the form of the Deamon Akerohtep in exchange for adding years to their life. The Charnel Sect is rumoured to harbor and propagate these monsters, having hidden lairs in forgotten ends of deserts where they commune most closely with their God. An Amonnti is able to shift from his or her human form into the beast, though the process is incredibly painful and terrifying to behold. Provided that the Amonnti has been diligent in providing souls of particularly undesirable characters, their Daemon God will prolong their life indefinitely. That is not to say that they cannot be killed, for it is quite possible to slay these creatures. Akerohtep is the patron of the Charnel Sect and the Amonnti. Though it is a Daemon, it was initially unnamed and merely placed its demand for worship and patronage to the people of Ansach-Ra in hopes to strengthen its place within the pantheon. In times prior to be known as Akerohtep, this Daemon was simply a ferry for evil souls from the mortal plane to the realm of Iblees where the souls would suffer for eternity. With new power and status gained from gifting what small dark energy it had into King Osmundah and his sect, he named himself Akerohtep and became the Daemon that decides the fate of all souls who depart their mortal husks and do not have a god to accept them into their rightful afterlife. The form of the Ammonti is like that of a bipedal, digitigrade, monstrous coyote with long, perked ears and red eyes. Often described in old wives’ or children’s stories as the boogie man that comes for the souls of sinners, the beasts are very real indeed. They can be both female and male and have either leathery skin or a short coat of pitch-black fur. The more twisted and demented the personality of the Ammonti is, the less fur it tends to have. The smell of ancient tombs and dry rot clings to the aura of this beast, and they bear golden glowing markings on their skin or fur to denote status within the Amonnti pack. They can wield weapons and light armor, but often choose not to as their body lends them potent claws, fangs and muscles. Their claws and teeth are very potent for causing infection should someone survive an encounter. Sustaining this form of the beast can be very taxing for long times, and will of course draw very undesirable attention, and often the maximum duration of the Amonnti form is a few hours at most as it is assumed their prey has already reached the soul-scale by that time. If they procure too few or no souls, their body will begin to wither away like dust in the sand until there is nothing left of the beast. Amonnti possess no inherent magical casting abilities, but they do bear gilded teeth that have the capability to rip the soul from its victim and send it to the soul-scale of Akerohtep. The process is incredibly hard to master, and often requires its victim to be near death or unconscious for strong spirits can resist the call of Akerohtep, especially those devout in worship of Holy or Druidic Gods. They are incredibly fast and strong, equalling or slightly exceeding the strength of the average orc and able to keep up with the canter of a horse when on all fours. While the Amonnti are indeed twisted themselves to have descended to such a state, their God demands evil souls… therefore, the Amonnti must be cunning in their victim selection. No soul will do, only those heavy with regret or with troubled conscience. The Ammonti will often infiltrate courts, churches and militaries seeking those that abuse their power or needlessly torment descendants. Therefore in an odd twist of fate, they make excellent witch hunters. For such bestial monsters of death, they do heed to an ancient hierarchy of the Charnel Sect. One Amonnti oversees the cult, and there have and never will be more than seven living Amonnti at one time. The reason is that there must be a balance maintained to control the beast within, one Amonnti to oversee the soul-scale’s balance, and three Amonnti each for matters of Life and Death respectively. Some very exceptionally ambitious humans might here the children’s tale of the monsters that seek out the evil men of the world and covet their power, in which the High Priest Amonnti will determine if he is worthy to receive into their cult by tasking him with procuring especially nasty individuals for sacrifice. If successful, he may be granted the power of the Amonnti and join the Cult of Akerohtep. When an Amonnti dies, his or her soul bypasses the spiritual scale and is sent directly to the Realm of the Dead to serve Akerohtep for eternity. While their Daemon God promises eternal riches and luxury, the comfort of their dead realm is quite questionable… In the mortal realm, a sarcophagus is made and the dead Amonnti’s belongings in life are buried with it. SUMMARY AND RED LINES The Amonnti are NOT immortal. They can die if they do not give their Daemon God souls, and they can be killed just like any other creature. They can be healed if someone wishes, but the features of their physique would prove very difficult to heal. The Amonnti are curiously immune to gold, having teeth made of it themselves. They are however particularly sensitive to ALL holy magics, resulting in serious injuries with even the slightest contact with them. If an Amonnti has their teeth removed, they cannot send souls to the afterlife and will wither away and die. The Amonnti are neutrally affected by druidism. It is neither potent nor ineffective. The Amonnti have exceptional strength and speed, but must not exceed that of the AVERAGE orc and speed of an AVERAGE horse. These creatures are not the incredible Hulk, and are more cunning in their ways and typically do not pick random fights unless they are infuriated or are fighting for their life. An Ammonti transformation requires 3 emotes to complete and is very painful, often causing short-torm fatigue and discoordination for the first few moments before the creature settles into its own body. An Ammonti cannot spontaneously appear in the world, they must receive the curse of the Daemon Akerotehp under the supervision of an ST. The Ammonti are absolutely loyal to their Sect and do not and will not break off into their own sect, for it would sever their connection to Akerotehp’s deal. These creatures are meant to explore the dark side of LOTC humanity including the envy of other longed lived races, a sense of supremacy, and a physical manifestation of these ideas. The Amonnti are meant to be very twisted and troubled people that are also doomed to live forever in delivering the souls of people like them directly to the mouth of hell. Sound fun? Send me some support and feedback!
  4. [!] Letters detailing an event have been pinned across Elvenesse with the following information... [!] The Autumn Harvest Festival and Gathering To give praise and thanks to the Aspects and Wild Gods for the bountiful harvest and to celebrate kin, camaraderie and the blessings of autumn. "Long ago when the first leaves began to turn and the wind stripped the trees of their green, the Aspects saw fit to assign their wild children, the Mani, to bring forth unfathomable boons from the natural world. Morea and Norra hunted, Amaethon and Bolomormaa gathered, Kholibrii gave color to the trees... Nemglan caught fish, Machana danced, and Kar'nath offered the remnants to the Father and Mother. The Green Lady and the Horned Lord smiled, for the first elves would know their blessings and praise them." - Unknown Greetings friends and kin! The wings of our trees have begun to gild and a chill has possessed the wind, so soon will our folk celebrate the heart of autumn. Let our kin dance, feast, and give thanks this year especially: for it is not without great strife and sorrow that we have arrived here. Let us gather and remember our trials against the Inferi, mourn the wounds to our natural world, and celebrate our triumphs. In keeping with the excerpt from the legend above, the celebration will require cumulative efforts of our kin. Take on the role of the Mani and bring the offerings they provided at the first harvest with your brothers and sisters and gather at the table of the Green Lady and Horned Lord for a final feast, dance, and offering! Don your festive garb of auburn, gold and umber, and weave autumnal wreaths, bouquets or corsages! All are welcome at the final festival! ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Taking on the role of the Mani For those that wish to participate more closely with the event as the Mani avatar, please send a request as soon as you are able and with which Mani you would like to represent. Bear in mind, there will be some responsibility for leading your group of three to four in whichever duty the Mani avatar is assigned. You will be provided with a mask to designate your role, and will present an offering from your task before the feast. The Mani roles are as follows: Nemglan, the Fisher - Represented by Laetranis of Tahorran The avatar of the eagle will lead an expedition to the salmon and trout run of our rivers and procure the blessings of the wild autumn rivers. An offering will be made from the rushing waters. Bolomormaa, the Gatherer - Represented by Miven Caerme'onn The avatar of the bear will lead her sisters to the sweet honey, berries and fruits of the season. There in those tangled vines and trees, an offering will be crafted. Morea, the Hunter - Represented by Sonna Sirame The avatar of the wolf will lead his brothers on an expedition into the wild to bring back a clean kill of venison, rabbit, or what the aspects may provide. The inedible portions will be offered to the Aspects. Machana, the Dancer - Represented by Titania Hawksong The avatar of the horse will lead the musically gifted in sweet melodies for the gathering. A coordinated dance will be offered to the Aspects. Kholibrii, the Festive - Represented by Karnath Taliame'onn The avatar of the hummingbird will lead their kin in ensuring the event site is full of the life of autumn, and the designated site is prepared for the arrival of the feast. The first pickings of the table will be offered to the Aspects. Norra, the Huntress - Represented by Lya the Violet The avatar of the Panther will lead her sisters on an expedition into the wild to bring back a clean kill of venison, wildfowl or what the aspects provide. The inedible portions will be offered to the Aspects. Amaethon, the Harvester - Represented by Sea Prince Feanor Sylvari The avatar of the Stag will lead his brothers to the grains and field-crop of the season. The most grand of the harvest will be offered to the Aspects. Kar'nath, the Worshipper - [SPOT OPEN] The avatar of the Vulture will oversee their kin in the provisions to be offered to the great bonfire they will keep for the festival. It is their duty to cast the offerings into the flame and guide prayer before the feast. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Participating as a Mani follower You may choose to assign yourself to a particular expedition prior to the feast proper and assist the Mani in their assigned duty. All you need to do is inform the celebration coordinator or the Mani avatar to ensure they are not overwhelmed with a large crowd. The ideal group is 4-5 members. You will be given detailed information about the Mani assignment the day of the festivities. It is best you come prepared, some are labeled as expeditions for a reason! For the rest who wish to simply celebrated, feast and dance... Welcome! But please, be respectful and bring something to our table. This is a time for us to celebrate what is in plenty, and know that the Aspects provide. Forward all inquires to myself! ((This will be hosted on Nov 29 AFTER map change. Mani roles are First come first serve! There is also an event discord for coordination the day of. Please contact me at Twilight#0595 for information.))
  5. “...for what left is there for us but ash and devastation if we do not stand? Nay, do not stand my kin, but charge! Charge forth as strong as the stormy seas, and as proud as the eagle’s scream! Chase away the night’s final curtain!” Faorarr Tahorran’len of the First Rochirran at an ancient battle against the Ibleesian Insurrection The Esteemed House of Andaeren The House of Andaeran consists of the collective children sired by their founder by the same name, the fourth son of Malin. In the ancient tongue the house is known by Tahorran’len, celebrating their gifts in beast mastery and joyous musical accomplishments. As many centuries have passed and the common tongue became the ultimate culmination of peace between the descendants, their common name of Hawksong is much more widely known in and outside of Elvenesse and her kin-nations. The Twilit Folk have endured even into modern history as Princes, High Princess, Lords and Ladies of the elven population. Their mark upon the more recent memory of Elvenesse has largely been in support of the Crown and their friendly relations with their kin in Sylvaeri and Silma. The Hawksong Bloodline The Lady Titania Hawksong, Matriarch of the Twilight Folk and former High Princess of Malinor carrying the house relic lance and banner into battle. The folk of Hawksong are very consistent in their appearance: silver-gold hair that glitters like waving grain, kind eyes that range from the common twilit gold to the occasional blue and the rare jade, and fair ivory skin that almost never strays towards the complexion of their wood elven cousins. The deep dusk-touched color of their gaze is always a sure sign of a direct line to Andaeren, and seems to be a dominant trait among them. Long, kempt hair with or without braids is preferred especially in the older kin of both the elves and elfesses of the House, for it is seen as a mark of wisdom and beauty. The demeanor of the Hawksong line is that of pride, joy, and an intense dedication to their duty within the forest halls of the Elven nations, past and present. Patience comes naturally to them, as it is a required trait of any Hawksong who has come of age and mastered both beast and music. A tremendous amount of zeal for the elven gods also runs through the blood of this House. They are generally a kind and gentle folk, lovers of song and dance and stewards to the horse and other creatures of the realm. If their gentle ways are taken advantage of, their kin threatened, or the Crown endangered, they however will show no hesitation in ensuring a swift and passionate retribution. Early history of demonic wars and magical blight has soured the family’s stance against any foul sorcery or evil temptations; they abhor and actively seek their destruction. These elves strive for purity in spirit, and to be a light in dark times. Hawksong garb is a dichotomous example of regality and utility. They take careful consideration into their outward appearance yet must be free enough to ride, dance, play music, or present themselves to the Crown. Often a combination of light leather armor over fine clothes of reddish burnt umber, pale gold, or sunset oranges are seen. They may opt to adorn light or heavy plate during times of conflict or anticipation of a battle in which they will ride. In times of peace, festivals, or special occasions traditional dresses with long wings and robes of fine embroidering are displayed in colors of white, gold, umber and reds. Some of the Twilit Folk may wear fine circlets, floral wreaths or braided-leather decorations upon their head and within their beloved long locks. The Rochirran Between Ancient Malinor’s forests and the pillared sanctum of Almenor, these elves thrived in the plains and valleys of the first world where beasts would roam freely. The children of Andaeren are rumored to have been blessed by Machana, the Wild God herself, with uncontested mastery of the horse and cavalry within the known world. Elves born into the house are trained in the husbandry of the stock of the family and the Crown from a very young age. They will eventually join the house mounted warriors known as the Rochirran, and they themselves earn the title of Rochir. To assume that this would be an exclusive mercenary group or freelance cavalry would be entirely misguided, for the Rochirran are oathed in their final trial to the Elven Crown and to the chief military of their ruling body. When an elf comes of age, their first and longest of many tasks is to rear a first foal of spring in their care with its dam. The beast will remain with the elf undergoing trial throughout the training process and even through the beast’s end of life. This trial is cherished, for it is believed that through the rearing and bonding of horse and rider Machana ingrains into the elf patience, diligence, fairness and determination. Upon completion, the elf will craft their own lance engraved and decorated with memorials of his or her trials and the mark of the House. A hallmark of a truly practiced and established Rochir is mastery of their unique riding style known in the ancient tongue as rochannyer, or a way of riding involving bonded souls and wardance. When a Rochir and their steed ride it is both a work of art and a terror on the battlefield. The rider is able to complete highly complex maneuvers both in utility and in dance with the trusting, guiding hand of their animal companion. Piaffe, pirouette and sliding halts are but a few of the myriad of exhibitions the Rochir is capable of. The Rochirran charge into battle without fear, for the ire of their Wild God patron rumbles in the clouds above them and within their hearts, granting them swift strides and true lances. Should a Rochir and their steed meet their demise on the battlefield, the two bodies are ceremoniously prepared upon a pyre as an offering to Machana and the Aspects. Musical lamentations and treasures the elf held closely in life are presented during the burning, and the remaining ash is scattered to the wind during the final hour of daylight. Music and Art of Hawksong A three-portioned performance of only a few beloved relic-tunes of the bloodline: Machana’s Ballad, Horse Lord’s Flight, and Sundance The heritage of Hawksong is deeply interwoven with music, dance and art. Young elves of the bloodline are given the choice to learn their instrument of choosing, which often lean towards stringed instruments such as the lyre, harp, and violin. It is not rare to see a skilled flutist or drummer, however, and skilled vocalists are very common. Even during war, there is great music to be shared from the children of Hawksong. The House believes that their musical blessings are nothing to hide away from the world, but rather delight in teaching and sharing the ancient tunes and their own songwriting. To bring together descendants in joyous gatherings, recite an amorous lullaby to their love, or perform for the elven courts is believed to be a gift greater than any physical commodity. Dancing, too, is greatly celebrated and involves the traditional roles of the elf couples, superior lone footwork or group dancing. In tales of their forefather Andaeren, it was said that he had no skill with forge-fire. Instead their family learned to create talismans, leatherwork, tapestries and rustic pieces from the world around them. Hide, horse-hair braid, simple branded medallions, feathers and uncut gems are often used in Hawksong creations. Amulets to Machana and other Wild Gods are made and worn and given to friends or offered to their respective shrines and are always carried into battle. Trials of the House While the boons of the House are the birthright of elves born into the House, all must face and conquer some trials to truly be considered Hawksong and most certainly Rochir. At the apex of many tasks in reciting heirloom music, animal mastery, rochannyer, the creation of art and a trial in devotion to Machana the prospect Hawksong is presented to the head of the House and is ceremoniously initiated. Further trials through the sometimes intense methods of the Rochirran will fully beknight the elf, and a final Oath of service is recited to the Crown. Banner and Symbols The Hawksong Family banner bears the rising phoenix on crimson backing rising over a green gemstone. The phoenix symbolism was assigned to the family in ancient times when their forefathers discovered their true calling, but has since featured the addition of a green stone. It celebrates their strong sense of justice, fiery dedication and honors their father Andaeren who rose from his brothers’ shadows and found his own way in life. The green stone is a direct calling to the Heart of Malin, a legendary piece reclaimed in Anthos during the dusk of Malinor when their own bloodline ruled before their Sylvaeri kin and serves as a memorial for the doomed state. Commonly found engraved into armor, saddles, talismans and on war banners is the image of a pawing white horse. This is in tribute to their main patron of the Wild Gods, Machana. Battle prayers and songs are often played in her honor in both times of peace and war. Very rarely one may find this symbol permanently engraved onto the skin of a seasoned Rochir. The mark of the family name is typically burned into their leatherworking once it has passed their scrutiny and deemed it of quality or onto documents requiring officiation. The style of woven knots remains consistent when animal imagery is crafted, specifically in braided leather jewelry or onto wooden medallions. Relics of the House With such a rich history of kinship and accomplishments, the House of Hawksong has retained artifacts of past legends and elves of note. Minor pieces are plenty as it is in the nature of a Hawksong to create instruments, songs, or talismans during their life, but there exist a few treasured pieces to the Twilit Folk. Mane of Machana Believed to have been woven from strands of the Wild God’s hair left from her appearance before Andaeren in ancient times, this white cloak shines in impossible colors of gold, silver and bronze. It has been embroidered with silver thread in floral patterns that details the tale of Machana’s Challenge. It is rumored to give the wearer an ethereal presence, like that of a phantom, and glow with the light of dawn. Amulet of Lauriësúr There is a tale of an amulet that had been gifted to him by his beloved brother, Sylvaen, made of silver thread and precious opal and diamond droplets. During the legend of the first ride upon the Horse Lord, Lauriësúr, Andaeren was blessed with his twilight features and that same amulet too bathed in the light of dusk and sealed away that somber, golden bloom into each stone. Pure memory has been sealed away in the largest jewel, and the bearer can hear the voices of ancient elves in ages past. The House Father himself was the last known wearer, who in legend ascended to remain with Machana as her attendant in another life. On clear nights, particularly where the clouds and mountains chase dusky shades across the sky it is believed that you can hear the Amulet’s somber song in the final minutes of the sunset. Lance of the First Rochir When the first waves of demons and foul magics bombarded the descendants in ancient times, Andaeren’s folk rode out like a tempest. His first son, Faorarr, wielded a lance that shone like the sun and could pierce any hide, even that of a dragon’s plate… Or so it has been rumored. The lance never returned from the Ibleesian war, but a replica remains within the House. The Lyre of Andaeren A lyre wrought from fine gold and silver, whose strings produce a sound so pleasant that it was said to induce fae-ring like euphoria. Legend describes the sound of nature’s own voice in thousands upon thousands of natural aspects like the gargling of rivers, songbird chirping, and mountain wind. So incredibly enchanting were the first songs it charmed both descendant and beast, eventually invoking the wrath of Mechana to demand Andaeran to bury the Lyre within a forgotten mountain. The Heart of Malin Of all of the relics within the House, this stone is the youngest to come into their possession. The stone is a dark green emerald that bends and tricks light, fooling the viewer into seeing images of ancient forested halls that never appear the same no matter how long one might gaze. It was discovered in Anthos, when the stone was seen being torn from the statue of Malin’s chest in a violent typhoon and carried to sea. A massive search by the Arcane Delvers ensued… yet, by an odd twist of fate the late Haelphon recovered the gemstone after being thrown into the surf by a sea serpent. There, he expunged the stone from his lungs and passed into the next life. Ancient History and Foundations These are the common tales told by the Twilit Folk of their creation, their patron, and their relationship with the elves of Malinor and Almenor alike. The Twilight Father, Andaeren Andaeren was the fourth son to be sired by Malin. Much unlike his portrayal upon tapestries and art, in his early years he took much of his appearance after his elder brother Sylvaen, whom he loved dearly. He too was touched with hair like the wings of ravens and eyes as grey as the seafoam of cold shores. Andaeren was his brother’s shadow in youth, always striving to live up to the splendor of Sylvaen’s stature, skill, and wisdom. Yet fate would not see that he would share in Sylvaen’s boons at all; Andaeren found no delight in the forges of Almenor and the sea seemed to scorn him. He could produce no beautiful star-dewed chain nor cut opal and diamond. Whilst his brethren grew in the light of their father’s eyes and crafted great halls, he could not help but feel that the shadow he followed as a youth began to swallow him from the view of his kin. There was no grand tale of accomplishment to regale to the Elven Father, no beautifully jeweled things to give his kin, no feats worthy of historical recording. It consumed the elf’s heart. Thus Andaeran began to wander from Almenor. He turned to the wilds for answers as his father, Malin, oft did. It is said that during his longest expedition he spent ten moons atop the highest peak of the first world. The turmoil within his soul roiled, and he lamented to the empty sky around him. “Shall I simply wither away the years as a reflection of what could be?” There was no answer but the wind. “Shall I remain the ambling, naïve younger brother of fairer and wiser kin?” There was no answer but the song of birds. As each moon passed there were fewer lamentations. Another moon rose, and the young lord listened. When the last morning broke, the world answered. It was a quiet response. Something where, perhaps, long forgotten elvish or druidic magics were at work. Andaeren could hear the wind whistle and rise like the gentle tide at sunset. The songbirds warbled an enchanting melody that enraptured the elven lord. Indeed, he felt the subtle magic of the song of nature herself. He arose from the peak with the first smile in a long, long time. He returned with a new glimmer in his grey eyes, imploring his brother for guidance in the creation of a golden frame. Then, long and thin silver-spun cords were secured by his design. The young lord and his kin would not produce any fine crown, jeweled carcanet, nor blade. With the sooty labors of the forge still upon his brow, he seeks out his sire and presents the First Instrument. Father of Music The elf-lord approached the Father bearing a tool not yet seen by descendant eyes. It was not a thing to shape rock or slay beast, rather a peculiar device bearing four strings made of glittering gold and silvers. While it paled in comparison to any true Sylvaen work, its beauty lied therein the unusual strings. It is said that when Andaeren played the first song for the elf father, it invoked the very soul of nature to echo the earth’s ethereal music. So delighted, Andaeren too unshackled his golden voice to rise higher than the clouds and dance like fluttering swallowtails. Malin’s halls hummed with tranquility. The Fourth Son of Malin’s blessing would not be forgotten, for that day the first song crowned Andaeren as the father of music. Machana’s Challenge No longer shackled by despair, Andaeren traveled the world with his lyre. He charmed animals and descendants alike, for few could resist his musical mastery. Captivated animals gleefully pranced alongside. Songbird, stag, wolf and even bear paraded after his footsteps. His tune only ceased when an impossibly white steed charged forth at the elf. His lyre fell to the forest floor and his animal companions fled. The horse snorted and stomped the earth with an ire the elf had never felt before. Her mane was so ivory that the light danced upon her fur in iridescent gold and silver colors, and her hooves were gilded in an astral, otherworldly shine. “Do you think yourself so entitled to the will of the forest beasts? Your claim is false! You are an insolent fool who thinks he can command the Aspects’ children with vile enchantments!” The Wild God raged, her voice quaking the forest and shuddering the soil beneath her. “I am Machana, Princess of the herd, and I challenge you, Son of Malin. Abandon this accursed lyre and dedicate yourself to my sons and daughters, and in return I will bathe you in my blessings!” With her final shout, the figure of the mare flashed with a bright light and departed from the realm. Andaeren, realizing the unfair potency of his instrument, cast away the lyre within a stone cavern of a forgotten mountain, never to be seen again. No song made therefore by the elf-lord ever strayed again towards the enchanted nature of the Lyre, but he created instruments responsible for the joys of music we hear today. Lauriësúr and the first Rochir In Machana’s wake, a murky brown stallion stepped into the world. He would become known as Lauriësúr, one of the five Horse Lords under Machana. His mane was light like a dusky moon, and his eyes pierced into the soul of Andaeran. The elf-lord would spend unknown time with Lauriësúr in the wilderness, discovering the intricate balance between elf and beast as the Aspects intended. There was no request that was not disputed with hoof, muscle and spite and there was required an understanding with this creature. It would not come until many seasons had passed. Andaeren became wise to the ways of the wild beasts, and understood the respectful care he must take towards the stewardry of the Aspects’ creations. The delicate balance required tenants, for the presence of the descendants would forever make that very balance unstable. Then and only then was the elf lord able to mount Lauriësúr, not as master and servant but as connected souls. And so Lauriësúr ran. The stallion ran so fast that the earth disappeared beneath their feet. His flight took them towards the horizon, and there they chased down the last light of twilight with the swiftness of the setting sun. Andaeren bathed in the dusky light of the day’s final hours and emerged with the light of the next dawn with a new blessing. “You have learned much with your journey, youth. Go now with my golden blessing, the first rider who conquered the ground and showed me the true meaning of haste!” The last words of Machana echoed through Andaeren’s mind as he emerged anew. Where his hair was like dark ash, he now had locks so delicately golden in shade the dusk itself envied the lord. His eyes shone like the glittering clouds clinging to a young evening sky. “I am Rochir, brethren, steward of Machana’s children and lord of beasts. She has blessed me with her mark, and the sovereignty over her kin. The hawk sings in my reverence and the herd runs proudly beside me. I am Tahorran’len, and so the children of my house will be named.” Lauriësúr remained with Andaeren, for the bond between them would remain past their stay within the realm. He did not lean upon the enchanted lyre again, and his new ballads would become the foundation of the songs we hear today. New instruments of joyous celebration he would create, and many praises to Machana and the Aspects he wrote. Departure The Twilight Lord departs from Almenor proper with grand ambitions, but a somber heart. For as much as he loved Sylvaen, the forge and the sea offered no comfort to the Hawksong Father. Andaeren and his wife Imryll depart to the valleys and plains before the great Almenor, for it pained him greatly to stray too far from the vicinity of his kin. He would sire many children and a great herd of silver-steed, and his own humble hall established within a great valley. Of course, darkness eventually besieged the first world… and Hawksong too would come to the defense of Malin’s folk. “Arise! Arise, Rochirran of Tahorran’len! Do you give the horse his strength? Do you cloak his neck in a fiery mane, or make him leap like a locust? He laughs at danger, afraid of nothing! He snorts proudly, pawing at the earth and striking terror. He rejoices in his strength! He does not shy from the sword, or quake at the rattling quiver or flashing lance. In frenzied excitement, he eats up the ground… he cannot sit still when the trumpet sounds!” Andaeren Hawksong to his troubled children during the formation of the Rochirran When darkness clouded the ancient skies, the first Rochirran formed and answered the horns of war. When the first charge of the cavalry crashed against the legions of demons, legend tells that the Hawksong Father pierced clean through the lines of evil, and ascended into the clouds atop Lauriësúr into the next life as Machana’s chosen steward. Andaeren was no longer needed, as their battle had been won and his children would carry the fiery banners well into the history of ancient Malinor. As the descendants of the elves splintered, House Hawksong remained at the side of Malinor until its crumbling, rebirth, and final death in Anthos. While their numbers have dwindled and the stories forgotten, those who remain have a rich memory of grand and ancient tales indeed.
  6. Elvenesse 8.0 Trailer Hey there, long time no see! I’ve made a special preview for the 8.0 build that our team has created after much planning, many late nights, and a lot of teamwork. I hope you enjoy what we have put together! Note: The video will be updated shortly as a portion of the video at the end just continues with music and no footage. Don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything! Just a little trimming error on my part.
  7. Time for RBC indices, woo.

  8. I'm going to drown in Anatomy homework… Get me a shovel!

    1. MamaBearJade


      *Throws in a giant inflateable wolf into the homework*

      Gotta learn to swim first. Shovel will only weigh you down.

  9. Tried to go to the movies but the weather was so bad the theater lost power… 2spooky

  10. http://imgur.com/IvwVvvP proof of gm aboose!!11!!1
    1. Show previous comments  3 more
    2. Merkaken


      IT's not a funny joke.

    3. iTzShambo
    4. Cloakedsphere


      I laughed too. Quit being so sensitive.

  11. Poor quality because of my less than great ceiling fan light, but I did this today http://imgur.com/6lfpmwC Overall productive day, I'd say.

  12. Second pokemon fusion illustration, part of an evo line. http://imgur.com/rLpE3Iy This was the first-http://imgur.com/GWwZMbU. The final will be done tonight or tomorrow!

  13. Pokemon fusion illustration because I was bored. http://imgur.com/GWwZMbU Might do the rest of the evo's.

  14. ...Somebody stole all of the doors from my house?

    1. Nug


      happened to me too

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