TwilightWolf

Aerendyl begins fashioning his legendary Rhinestone Cowboy git-up. Elvenesse had not been graced with his shiny, white ten-gallon hat for too many night.

Merida exits the crimson warmth of the Grandaxe hall not with her usual trot of jolly cheer and a smile, but in an orderly march towards the heart of the Mountain. The mighty forges of the Dwarves drank deep of the prospect of war, glowing bright with the red fury of an unsettled grudge. The percussive song of falling hammers and hissing, hot metal welcomes the inspiring voice of the Red Banshee of Urguan: beloved highland pipes of Dwarven might and pride.

I like the mission statement a lot, good job. I think a lot of people are going to resonate well with a more DnD approach and literary focus for conflict. Please bring back goofy and potentially inconsequential events involving conflict, I'd love to see some more accessible adventuring that can also be done again and again for many people!

"To deny bright minds their voice is to turn those same bright minds against yourself." _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ It was the first time that he had even seen the fruits of his wife's progress, to feel her particular way that she sways the song of nature in her own way. Sister Lynx was kind, observant, yet stern in protecting the limits of her student, his beloved. It reminded him so much of Orison, her deep love for building up those around her. It was what he had hoped that his own students would be able to experience and share, the greatest blessing of wisdom: the heart to share. Aerendyl looked up to the Winter Raithean with hope that he had not felt since Awaiti had seen promise in him, enough to guide him along her path and teachings. The elf-lord wanted to know more of this Circle's way. "I should think I would like to teach, here... and learn." He had discovered another druid knowing as much as he did in a long time. It was invigorating, and spurned his desire to learn and serve the Aspects. "I wouldn't count on it... but I'll bring it up with them." The Winter Lynx said. That was enough, for him. Hope. The familiar sense of hope that burned deep within his soul when he was still walking beside his beloved teacher, legend of the mali'ame. It was if a rekindled sense of faith from her bloomed from her memory to life within him again. His teacher believed in him until the moment that she was taken away from this realm. For this feeling, he would destroy himself to maintain. And that, he thought, was enough to see him through challenges again. She gave him Hope.

Somewhere in the Wilds, a Druid Cowboy gives a MIGHTY laugh

The path of the Aspect's Chosen is not paved with fame and fortune. It is a quiet, woodland stroll, of silent suffering and wordless joy. The service that druids provide to the Balance, and subsequently the Aspects, is a long, storied, and arduous tale. There have existed druids so dedicated and steadfast in their attunement that we continue to pass their teachings on today, tomorrow, and ever more. There have existed druids so disturbed and troubled by their attunement that we pass on the story of their struggles in tandem. This is as it should be, for there is no great spiritual harvest without there also being a great spiritual winter, and the fulfillment of the complex flow of Balance is unachievable without equal portions of joy and lamentations. It is not without great caution that the Verdant Path is offered, yet it should be equally so that great caution is taken when withholding the path from the inhabitants of the realm. In this belief, perhaps the small yet industrious bee may offer their wisdom. The duty of the bee is immense; without the support of its kin the bee would die without the products of the hive. The flowers would go untended, their plants withering without the careful attention of their striped friends. The bear would never know the sweetness of the hive's determined industry, and the bird may never take nourishment that is the sacrifice of the bee. For the continuation of this harmony that is Balance, it is paramount that the role of the Student, the Druid, the Guide, and the Grove is defined to the best of literature's means in which it may serve as the pillars of the Druid's values, goals, and purpose. The Student The King and Peasant are not so much unalike, for both may thirst for the rivers of spiritual knowledge. To take the path of Dedicancy is that which is truly sacred: it is the agreement to learn, to submit one's self to strife and challenge in the hope of achieving deeper understanding of our tumultuous world. The Students are those among us that may make great discoveries, face indescribably challenging conflict, and learn lessons in which they foster a great desire to share. The Student's role is to learn, but it is also their sacred, unsung, and perhaps unintentional role to teach their Guide. To assume that a Student's Guide has experienced every challenge and hardship is not only irresponsible but demeaning for both. The seed is the representation of the potentiality of life, such as the student is the representation of the potentiality of great knowledge. Guides need only to foster their growth, and learn from their journey so that the next seed, or Student, may be just as enriched as their elders. The process itself of becoming a Student is very easy, and can be taken by anyone of good character and pure intent. When a seeker has discovered the inspiring acts of a druid and gained a thirst for deeper understanding, they may beseech the druid for their tutelage. In this gesture, the Student may be unknowingly granting the greatest honor achievable for a Druid: the affirmation of the value of their teachings and a desire to learn from that Druid. From there, their path may begin through a series of tasks and lessons that pertain to real, current duties of the druidic community of the time. The Student will immerse themselves in the realm of Balance's struggle, and gain valuable insight before the Student is attuned into the Great Family. These tasks may range from challenging, quiet, cerebral and physical. In preparation for the Student's body and soul to serve a the greater call of nature, they must incorporate themselves in the daily struggles of existing Druids. This should not be a path unhappily followed, for should a Student find that there is no value in that which is being taught it is just as vital to allow them to stray from the path or seek another Druid. While the desired understanding can and has been attained by a single Guide's teaching, it is an unnatural restriction to expect it totally from each Guide and Student relationship. The Seed, or Student, must be allowed to grow in accordance to what answers they seek, and secrecy will stifle their potential growth to an unknown severity. The Student is the Spring season of the cycle of the Druidic cycle. The Druid To willingly suffer on the behalf of those that cannot speak is to love purely and justly The baptism of a graduated Student in the energies of attunement is a right of passage all within the Great Family have taken. The great equalizer of druids is the process of Attunement, for once the path is taken and endured, they join a family of those that can see, hear, and feel that which was previously unknowable. Every druid, newborn and elder, hears the same voices, delights, and anguish of the natural world. It is the light of perspective that shines upon Druids and allows their individual strengths to blossom, and give a kaleidoscope of culture and meaning to an otherwise overwhelming sense of perception. Elders have often said that the culmination of all hopes, fears, struggles and bonds they have nurtured and severed bombard the mind of the newborn druid like a great tidal wave. Here, the Aspects are presented the soul of the Student and examine the dedication of the oath they have sworn to nature. All unsung accomplishments, the quiet deeds of kindness, and grand victories for the preservation of the Balance are seen and heard by the Mother and Father. If the Student has satisfied the tenets of each Aspect in Balance, they will bathe the Student in the first and most important gift of all of the gifts: Perception. Emerging from Attunement, which is often but not necessarily done within a quiet and secluded pool in a grove or the wilds, is akin to second birth. Where there was silence and lack of life now there is song, color and feeling. Attunement is never ceasing, for it is an eternal state of awareness in the delights and distress of all living things. It can be maddening, even fatally so. This is where the Great Family emerges like the eye of a hurricane for their young brother or sister. Druids have been acutely conditioned to recognize anguish, and some have mastered the arts so finely that they may enlist the help of that very thing they protect to support the newborn druid in kind. Even where druids may not possess the means to sway the song of the world so potently, they may possess other skills or acts of care in which to comfort and support the new Druid. As a mother and father of the physical world would hope that their children care for each other, so too should we assume that the Aspects would hope that their druidic children would care for each other. This is the core concern that arises when Druids murder or maim Druids: it is as symbolic violation of nature itself. The Role of the Druid is to practice. Attunement enables the Druid to reach for the Gifts that have been freely offered to us by the Aspects. While the Gifts can make the task of the Druid easier, it is not that which makes impossible solutions possible. The acquisition of the Gifts does not place the Druid in any state of higher or lower authority over Druids that do not possess the same Gifts, they are truly and simply Gifts. The beauty of receiving a gift in the physical realm is the sense of gratitude and appreciation for the self, and even so the desire to share the Gifts persists among the Great Family of Druids. Abuse of the gifts is an unfortunate reality that most Druids are aware of. It has, as well, created a platform for heated debate among Elder Druids, Students, and every Druid in between. The voice of the Student or Dedicant should never be silenced in a flawed desire to pursue perfect dialogue, for they may offer the most valuable insight and perspective simply unavailable to those who have been Attuned. Allow Students and Druids alike to voice their concerns among the matter of ongoing debates, great or small, difficult or easy. The Druid is the Summer season of the Druidic cycle. The Guide There can be no preservation of the Balance without the guidance of Spring's youth, for Winter always comes for the old. The progression of Druid to Guide is much like observing the flight of the songbird, and knowing that at one point that bird did not know how to fly. Yet, it is still very much a songbird, an equivalent to the bird that is still within its egg, unborn and innocently naive. Much like the adult bird in this scenario, it is the role of the Guide to harbor growth and learning within that unhatched egg, so that one day a songbird may fly onto great things. It is also the duty of the Guide to ensure that a Student does not anguish unnecessarily or cruelly, but to allow them to face challenges in spirit of the Balance and in pursuit of ensuring the next generation may bring renewed sanctity to the journey of Druidism. Should the Guide find their spirit weary by the sheer amount of Students, it is the most honorable choice to refer the Student to another Guide. The Guide is a fount of knowledge both abstract and representational, but varying between Guides. It is not expected for a single river of the realm to offer water to every living thing of the world. Therefore we must allow many streams, or Guides, to quench the thirst of many kinds of students. Perhaps a callow teaching when pondered at first, but it is also of principal value to understand the innate wisdom of the Guide. For one who has lived and seen many things on their journey, it is also their discretion to deny a Student's request to learn. This should not be done without great consideration or reason, for it is an observable fact that when we stifle or prevent the learning from an otherwise valid druidic candidate we invoke the ire of talented minds upon ourselves. The ability to teach should never be conflated with an absolute requirement to teach. Additionally, most Guides are nominated to teach through great meetings between Druids called Moots, but it is by no means a requirement to begin passing knowledge to the next generation. The Aspects, through their notorious silence, have clearly spoken in disinterest as to what a descendant may refer to themselves before taking the Verdant Path. The Guide may offer the Verdant Path to peasants, Kings, men, women, elves, orcs, dwarves etc. The state of existence is of no matter to the Aspects that grant us our abilities. Their chiefest interest in this world is and has always only been the Balance, and it is also the duty of the Guide to ensure that other Guides may hold themselves to the standard in which the Aspects have placed faith into and expect from Druids. The Guide will teach the Guide as fervently and kindly as they would their Student. The Guide is the Autumn season of the Druidic cycle. The Grove The Grove will envelop the weary druid and comfort them, nursing their spirit back into vitality The Grove is perhaps the simplest structure of druidic culture, but has been long and unintentionally involved in political affairs that the Druid should not strive to mingle within. At the core, the Grove is a sanctuary of flora and fauna that provides shelter, nourishment, and physical rest for the Druid. This allows a great many of druids to mingle beneath great canopies and among fantastic creatures, as well as pool the resources of gifts into a convenient place for Students, Druids, and Guides alike to access. Where the more intricate function of the Grove comes in is in management of the site. Typically a grove is maintained by the permanent residence of one or more druids, with some taking on various jobs. Historically, these have been called Archdruids, but there are many names that one may give the caretaker of the Grove such as Raithean, Keeper, etc. Speaking in terms of relevant change that this grants the Druid, there is very little. The Archdruid is granted no additional gifts from the Aspects, nor does their state of awareness within the confines of attunement alter for better or worse. Archdruid, much like Guide, is simply the title of a very important job that facilitates the cooperation of all Druids among the realm. The Grove is a beacon for Druids and Students to come home to, but there must exist one or more to remain and keep the fire lit. Caution is taken when an Archdruid is selected, for it is something that must be agreed upon by many that the person in question possesses the ability to remain steadfast in times of quiet or strife. Groves typically hold vital structures within its suggested borders, including a library or information hub, an attunement pool, memorial grounds, and Moot room. Of course, many groves hold further spaces for other purposes needed for cultural ideas or otherwise, but most have generally followed this list. These give a great feast of tools for the Druids to utilize, particularly on the topic of meetings, public attunement, and historical archives. Arguably the most important function of the Grove is to facilitate the formation of the Moot, or meeting. Students, Druids, and Guides will gather within the Moot area and will discuss threats to the realm, coordinate festivals or events, and consolidate gifts to share with other Druids. There has been a need to discuss any potential harm caused by Druids, for there have existed and will continue to exist those that abuse or otherwise twist nature to serve their own desires. These accursed Druids are known as Draoi, taken from the elvish tongue as a title for an evil or otherwise harmful Druid. While genuine Draoi are fairly few and far between, it is important for Druids to convene and discuss potential conflicts of interest as to better understand how to prevent or rectify the presence of a Draoi. For the Druid, the Grove is a safe haven to rest from the tiring duties throughout the realm. It is not extended only for those that are on the Verdant Path, however, and frequently they have been used to offer refuge for citizens of natural disaster, war, or to simply offer food and comfort for the unfortunate. For this reason, it is a duty for all druids to protect and defend them wherever they may be constructed, be it in the wilds or in the nations of descendants. As nature has given us the means to survive, Druids will continue to offer that survival to all. The presence of one grove or many groves should not indicate a fracture in how the Verdant Path is joined, maintained, and protected. A Grove within the harsh desert serves the same purpose as the Grove within a glade of the mali’ame, a people historically very supportive of the Druidic Mission. Because the main purpose of the Grove is to support Druidic growth, the presence of many groves should serve as a testament to mission success. It should be the ultimate goal of the Druid to exist in harmony with all Groves, and allow the wayward druid to find their calling among all or none should they choose. Welcome, and indeed celebrate the Druid that serves many Groves, for the Balance is granted greater protection through it.

"Aerendyl Hawksong for Archdruid." The words broke him out of his long, daydreaming stare towards the moot with a rather potent shock to his senses. Was that sentence really what Aiden spoke so clearly and confidently? Of course, it was from a nomination card, and it was truly no great feat to read words upon a piece of paper. Yet, it was as if somebody had called out to him nearly accusatorily, as if he should have seen this coming, or at least felt more of a sense of duty for it. His dusky eyes dart around the Moot. The Circle was small in number, but even then their eyes looked expectantly towards him. A deep sense of unease gnawed in his gut. He must have let a surprised sigh exit his lips at just enough volume for Minto to turn around and offer a smile of encouragement. The hobbit's sense of brotherly bond that glimmered in his small eyes froze the elf-lord's thoughts into a gentle, worried stream. 'Archdruid? Can I even feasibly do that?' he asks himself in thought, looking around his family. They were his family, after all. They did not care for his time in Elvenesse, his troubled journey, yet loved him still the same as a druid among druids. 'Do these people even support me?' he continues internally, before Aiden's voice pierces the silence again. "Do ye accept this nomination?" the Archdruid muttered. Aerendyl's eyes snap back up to Aiden. That is when the realization hit him: somebody had put his name in that dreaded box, hoping that he would accept. It was a trickle of hope among a quiet, forgotten grove. In that thought, he dips his head and comes to a startling conclusion... Somebody had faith in him. Just like he had had faith in his first teacher, Awaiti, and his second, Emilei. His students had faith in him to guide them down the path of service to the Aspects, a pledge that may very well take their lives. Yet, they still had faith, and he had made a solemn vow to always do the best with what he had. How was now any different? "...I... yes. I do." the druid finally stammers out. He nods as if to reassure not only himself, but those around him of his certainty. Either way, he would know one way or another if this was some silly joke played upon him. Then, the tallies came in. Aye. Aye. Aye. Abstain. Aye... Before he even had time to process what great change this would ultimately mean for him, he was at the flank of Aiden and Malii, his sister Archdruid elect. The chatter at this point had been greatly quieted in his mind. He thought back to Awaiti, of what sort of guidance he would have imparted onto him on this next stretch of his journey. His mind wandered to what Emilei would expect of him. Would they rather have seen him back down from the challenge that they had all prepared him for so genuinely in order to avoid embarrassment, or strive to test the merit of their teachings and offer his best for the good of the druidic realm as a whole? The alternative would be to let them all down; to give up without even so much as giving half of a decent try. To Aerendyl, this was unacceptable. Before long, he had emerged from his deep contemplation to answer the call of any final words. There were many, but he needed to keep his tongue and his mind from racing; there was much to do and little time for error or wasted energy. "...My previous teacher, Awaiti, before she parted us for the Eternal Forest would often share the wisdom of the deep forests of the ame. Like some trees may create a root network to communicate with other trees, so should we with our kin. In this Moot, we see our numbers frail and fragile. Yet, the threats to the Balance are never ceasing. It is a cunning, dangerous threat that will impart doom upon us should we continue to neglect action on our part while our kin work tirelessly to ensure that the fears of our predecessors never come to pass. I promise this to you, Circle of the Spring Mother: I will rise to the challenge. I will work to ensure that a mutual, healthy cooperation is forged with our brothers and sisters in the realm, wherever they are. They have continued to support us even in our winter, when our spirit has faded and our verdant halls are quiet. We must, indeed it is imperative to our cause, that we extend our hand in kinship, in dedication to the Balance, and in spirit of the idea of druidism as a whole; to offer our lives for those voices that cannot voice their own. In this pledge I will hold myself to do no harm to this order, and I encourage you to support me in this self-anointed clause. Spring is here, kin, and so shall our spirits revitalize among the welcoming arms of our kin." There, the TimberWolf departed side by side with his kin. There were many druids to speak with, many details to arrange, and many paths to tread.

"The deer may pant for water even after it has drunken its fill from the river." These were true and wise words, in her mind, spoken centuries before even her birth. The elder had indeed drank her fill from the courts and cliffs of elvish legacy, ever thirsting for the purest, spiritual quench. Yet, it is the second, lesser known curse of elves that rots Titania's soul: the perpetual limbo of watching her people rise and fall in a cyclical hell of prosperity and stagnation. Gone were the days of Laurelin, the triumphs of the Undead Wars, the great cities of Normandor and Leumalin, the united banner of elves. She had served, and led, with her best efforts with the circumstances given to her. And yet, with crowns and titles to her name, she thirsts. Titania easily ceded the empty halls of her kin to the Crown. Where there was another family in need, Hawksong would forever provide that which is not absolutely needed for their survival. She couldn't help but look to the paintings of her kin that she had neglected to see in years, to the dust atop the mantle of the great hall with a sinking sense of doubt: this was not survival. This was the Dusk of their cause: an oath that had been sworn before her birth. "...and our lances will ever point to defend the shining legacy of the ancient father. The House will live and die for the throne of united Mali." Atop the back of silver steed, the Lady of Twilight looks remorsefully towards the city she was leaving behind. What could have been, what is, and what may yet come to pass. Even in her age she felt the intense pull of emotion, as if the city literally shone with the cherished memories of her mind's eye. To the veil of temptation shining against the waterfalls and verdant trees, she turns her head away and sheds a tear, addressing her kin. "The cost of spending our labor, love, and loyalty has become too much to bear. We waste away, our culture rotting so that our folk may uphold an oath to a nation that no longer exists." the golden voiced elder speaks. The wind blows upon their backs, like a sacred blessing for what she was about to convey. To those that had gathered upon their beloved steeds, she finalizes their unanimous decision. A single lance had been placed in the throne hall of the Woodland Prince. An old and storied weapon, with secrets among the tattered red tail of banner fabric beneath the spear-tip. A scroll of fine parchment is tied to the weapon with golden thread. There, it waits, ready to share its quiet proclamation. "On this evening, the children of Andaeren's line, fourth son of the Elven Father, have retired from our sacred charge; the service of the heirs to the one elven throne. This is not without regret nor remorse, for there is no greater pain than understanding that a cause that one has faithfully served since time immemorial no longer exists. It is the curse of long life: to see many dusks without dawn. While the kin of elves prosper among those new ideals that their banners fly for, our own has faded into distant memory. To what cost do we allow ourselves to rot for pride in an oath for those that have passed from this world? For our House, that cost has become too expensive, and out of love for service and duty, we depart for greener pastures. We depart for purpose not yet known."

Merida's usual cheer and rosey smile fades as she hears of the missive. Even she in the spring of her youth felt the accursed draw of glitter and gold, and muttered a thankful prayer that her dedication to her Clan saved her from a similar and all too possible path. "Es a damn shame. T'ere's nuthin proidful en watchen' our lads fall tuu tha curses o' our people. Me 'eart es with those tha' be 'urtin from this."

See you later, friend

Trying to read this black text like But seriously good read. Some solid points made here

Merida reads the missive among her new kinsmen in the Grandaxe hall. She shovels food at an obscene pace the further she reads, like watching a juicy joust that was bound to get ugly. "Ah picked th' roight time t' 'ead home!"

MC Name: CornerianArwing Character Name: Merida Discord: Twilight#0595 Timezone: EST

Aerendyl adds another tally on a chalkboard in his home. Above reads 'Reasons it's probably not a good idea to go paint in the Vale'.

"Holy hell." Aerendyl murmurs as he looks up from his reading, catching a glimpse of the chase from his easy rest in the Mother Grove. He watches the chase with a feeling of curiosity that suddenly melted into a gnawing, nauseating feeling as he realizes what was transpiring. "Holy hell..." He adds again, disturbed, as the glorious wonk falls at the shining spears of Miven's favored. "I don't think it's a good idea to follow through with that suggestion to visit the Vale to paint..." the druid murmurs to himself, looking back down to his book. It was a suggestion from someone he trusted that had come and gone from the Vale freely, and promised that the people were welcoming. He genuinely did plan to visit and bring his easel, but the idea that even an easygoing creature is eligible for such a gruesome, hateful death left more than a sour taste in his mouth. "Even the high elves would be more welcoming, I'd wager."

I actually really like the plugin, it just needs work. For the collective 5 minutes I played, it was fun.

The elder elfess reads over the missive provided by her close friend in Vuln'miruel, thanking him as the Prince-heir went about his way to spread the news. "Perhaps I was wrong to judge this 'aheral princess initially, for in their determination they have allowed Haelun'or to show their own wicked hand. Shame on them. May my heirs of the old mali state of unity support her in purging the rot that has festered in what is left Larihei's legacy." Titania prays, taking a moment to linger her dusky gaze over each flag in her home. Malinor, Laureh'lin, the Dominion, and Elvendom. She places the paper on a nightstand and extends her hand to the very Heart of Malin itself, the great emerald wonder that she has often turned to for some connection to her ancestors and ancient guidance. "I wonder if this will be the age of the great mending between elves." she murmurs to herself, pacing towards the grand window of the Hawksong manor to gaze out towards the grey, shimmering winter sea. "Time will tell. It always does... I have faith yet still."

"They speak so much about how to raise this child right, yet I can't help but question why they are instilling hate of fellow mali into their own young with such venom." Aerendyl mentions, trekking back from a recent sermon beside the Prince.

"Oh shit." the Lord of Dusk says, reading the letter written by his daughter.

Does nobody remember HappyShackles' shenanigans about taking literal *** slaves IRP in Asulon? Is that not like the biggest red flag? Who unbanned him?

Aerendyl takes a flier and notes the jewelry options. He mulls over the text with a whiskey at the dinner table, and nods to himself. "My wife may very well enjoy some of these..."

The cool warmth of gilded leaves has been whisked away by winter's blanket, and while most of the realm tend to their hearth and food stores the most wonderous of traditions emerges from the silvery heights of elven spires. The newborn city of Caras y Tennallar alights with a timeless tradition of the oldest kin of elves; ethereal song that pierces the very heavens themselves in joyous celebration of the season. Voices of ancient lyric, bells of silver and gold chime, figures of the choir dressed in near ghostly robes of white, ruby, and gold. Indeed, the elder children herald the coming winter not with dread nor sorrow, for this is a season of hope and joy for all. And so their voices loft high and echo the great bells of the elvish home... "Hark! How the bells (Hark how the bells) Sweet elvish bells! All seem to sing (All seem to sing) Cheer will we bring! (Cheer will we bring!) Winter is here Let us rejoice! For all the world Lend them our voice! Gaily we sing While our kin sing songs of good cheer Winter is here!" Like frozen specters do the elves of the coast float from town and city, bearing wreaths of holly, decadent sweets and treats, crowns of mistletoe and glittering gifts from the heart of elvendom. Like leaves on the frozen air they dance and sing merry tune and exaltations to the natural order of the world, to peace among descendants, to new life and life lived, and in reverence of those now beyond reach of their heavenly voices. With gentle smiles do they accept new voices to their procession, until like a great lapping of sea foam do they descend upon all nations of the world spreading the news of love, of family, and of the spirit of winter's hope. Seek out the voices and figures, children of the world, for the elves have come to herald all that is good and wonderful in the world! Let your hearts be light and lifted with their song, and may your hearths burn with the firm surety of hope this season. Receive treasures, gift your own, relish the rosey smiles of the youth among us, and celebrate your kin.

Aerendyl eyes the article in the latest edition of the Almaris times while seated in the Warden keep. He settles his fingertips along his stubbled chin and murmurs. "I ought to see if they might provide me a gift for my wife..."

"The following is an account of my memories, fractured and swimming, from the final trial of The Green Priesthood." "The High Priestess has only just now left my side. I can still taste the bitterness of that dry, dusty concoction of what I can only imagine must be a nauseating quantity of hallucinogens. My head is still reeling from my trip here, staring at the shadows of the cloth over my eyes and bumbling through the forest after her. Alas, I am here, at the precipice of failure or success, and the wheels of fate are in an uncontrollable snowball of motion. Oddly, fear of either option is gnawing at my stomach. There is nothing left to do now but offer myself to the Wild Gods for judgement. May you see your strength through my spirit, Morea." "It was somewhere between Amaethea and the edge of the forest when the drugs began to take hold. When I look up to the treetops, they have become like stretching, ominous fingers. They reach up and far away into the sky and swallow the sky. I feel my soul sinking. As if nothing but some spiritual web is holding my body and my soul together, my body lags behind... like a wayward kite behind a trotting toddler. My skin has become feathers. No, more like clouds... Light and free, as if I could think about it hard enough and will myself to blow away with the breeze. I'm smiling. I don't mean to, but I just am. Even still, I smile, and there is a flash of concern within me that this is somehow unbefitting of me to react this way. But, then again... The worry isn't so bad. It would be easier for me to truly fly away from this place than to focus on worrying. In fact, it is hard to think about one thing at once for very long. I is hard to think about one thing at once for very long. It is hard thinking " "At one point I must have rolled over, for now I find myself among unfamiliar trees. I do not know these faces, they are all strangers to me. They do not speak like I'm used to. Though, the earth has begun to chatter in such strange ways, now. It used to sing to me, wordlessly, and I understood it. So why the whispers? My hands feel like flippers as I crawl about on my knees. My stomach has lofted itself in my throat, hungry and aching... I found myself trying to pinch at the dirt after a longbug. Sentillpedee. Cen-ti-pede. There's a disturbing crunch as I bite down into it, but by the time my mind realized the nonsense I had consumed it. Twice." "The animals in the treefinger shadows have begun to taunt me. I see the PackLord's children dashing among the sunrays in packs around me, as if I am some downed prey animal. I don't think I'd mind being torn limb from limb. So here I am, writing the experience of a mauling, obviously." T ---------- S d ~ l -- r . . . "I've awoken somewhere without any of my previous possessions. The strange wounds on my body don't indicate foul play, for I look like I have just unearthed myself from a premature grave. I reach to my side and panic briefly, before I recall passing my staff to my wife before submitting myself to this trial. I breathe a long sigh of relief. I must not have had a sip of water the entire time. My throat nearly stuck to itself as I swallowed down hard. My head throbs like the fury of a stone giant's pulse. I've begun wandering my way back towards the sound of a distant river. I can already feel the chill of the water rushing down my throat and into my belly. I've forgotten the pain of hunger, but my body aches as if a carriage had barreled over me at some point. Or perhaps I really was at the mercy of wild animals. I suppose I'll never know. The visions are strange and haunting, but their meaning I must ponder upon more. I am here, however, between the borders of the nation and these bewitching wood. So I shall go, now, and recount my tale. What a beautifully strange world this is."

Letters are delivered to the Crown of Haense by way of familiar birds from the Crown of Elvenesse, delivering invitations to their courts and military! There are tales told of a grand soccer game held in the heart of the Fringe even during the heat of those famed conflicts, where two teams clashed in a show of friendship and solidarity during trying times. Now, new friends, do we cordially invite you to a game of lighthearted fun within the heart of Amaethea - a game of running bases, pitching and batting. Indeed, we invite your nation to elect nine members to partake in the First Almaris World Series! VS TBD You need only to supply your team's name and the members on the day of the game. Please provide a logo in advance! There will be 3-5 innings depending on length of the game, mercy rule inforced if needed. The game will be hosted in the courtroom of Elvenesse, with admission provided to all that are not expected to cause trouble during the event. ((Time currently set for 8/21 SAT 7:30 to go over mechanics via roleplay 'warmup', then 8:00 game start)) The following nations and political bodies are officially invited to the event The Druidic Order The Holy Orenian Empire The Grand Kingdom of Urguan The Jade State of Yong Ping The Fennic Remnants Stygian Hollow