TwilightWolf

"What is a L'EERMITTAGE?" Titania says poorly, the new and strange high elven tongue proving foreign from her usual common or elvish speak as she sits around the fire with Laetranis and her kin. She scratches her head, narrowing her eyes further onto the picture on the pamplet. "And where's Paris?" She reads it over a few times, the elf recalling Aegisian days where the press was either much more quiet or far more interesting, she couldn't recall at this point. She did remember the lack of a silver city, though. Either way the pamphlet ended up in the fire and she donned a happy look of contentment in the heart of Amaethea.

((As a note, this is an event that overlaps my IRL birthday! I can't actually go anywhere special due to my line of work even if I am vaccinated, so I thought I'd just lump mine and my character's big day together so I can have some sort of party this year. This year is also my tenth anniversary in the community, so I think it's a cool way to celebrate with the whole community! Come have fun with us!)) An invitation is left at the mailbox/taxbox of every registered home and seed hall, with a formal address to the blessed Seeds and Houses of Elvenesse. The House of Hawksong cordially invites you to attend a very special gathering to celebrate the golden years of our House Matriarch, Titania! It is with great pride that we do celebrate her life, but we wish to celebrate the blessed long years of Mali as a whole as well. Therefore, a grand gathering in the Elvenesse throne room will take place in one elven week. There is no requirement of gift-giving, but party contributions from the great families of Elvenesse is greatly encouraged so that we may celebrate in the blessing of the long lives of all elves and the ageless bounty of each house and seed. The Pamphlet contains a mock painting of a real portrait of the Twilit Matriarch, followed by a short biography for those unfamiliar As an Aegisian War veteran, Titania has had a long history of allegiance with the elven people from the old city of Laurelin to the Great Halls of Amaethea today. She has been a mother, a Malinorian High Princess, Teutonic General, Dominion Princess and faithful servant of the Crown since her departure from leadership. Many of our cities have been crafted in whole or in part by her hand, and currently she resides in Elvenesse living out her sunset years as the Head of House Hawksong and the Rochirran. What to expect at the event! Community Games Food Artifact Raffle (no cost to play) Drink Music Dancing Additional, personal invitations are as follows To the Esteemed House of DeNurem The descendants of the Legendary Hochmeister Mirtok are invited to reminisce and reforge bonds once shared so closely during the age of Anthos and the Fringe. To the Snow Druid The Mother of her Beloved is invited to celebrate, and any additional party of which you desire to bring. To the kin of Artimec, the Blessed Seed of Caerme'onn The blood of one of her closest friends are especially welcome, for the bond between Hawksong and Caerme'onn is old and unwavering To the Oracle, Awaiti Sirame The once fellow ruler of the elven people, and teacher of the brother of the Matriarch is invited to celebrate their roles in history To the Proud Hawk-kin of Seed Tahorran The masters of the river and sea, whom have embraced a ironwood-strong friendship with the House of Hawksong are invited to liven the event with their spirit ((Time 7 EST Saturday the 27th of February))

It was all over the ground. Splattered against the back of the stable door and coagulated on the ground like some sick mockery of moss, the blood of the beloved Sire, Dam and firstborn of the line of the Rochirran's legendary steeds drench the ground and overflow over their bedding. Where there was strong, determined life in the eyes of their companions now there was only the reflection of fear in their final moments. Butchered. Mangled. Nearly unidentifiable if it were not for the unfortunate stumbling of Aerendyl and Onas. "...I found them like this, mal'onn." The younger elf stammers as the twilit elder turns the final key to the stables. The herd had backed into a corner, scarred and riled into a frenzy instead of proudly greeting the Rochir. His senior's pipe dropped to the ground and extinguished in the sodden, bloodied earth beneath him. The veterinarian knew every bit of anatomy that was mangled in front of him... and the longer he looked to soak in the carnage the more pain tied knots in his core. It was too much, and it boiled up his throat into a rumbling cry that shook the upper knoll of Amaethea. "RHOAM, ISHANTE... LADY BET!" "I saw no signs of forced entry, or lockpicking..." Onas says lowly, grimacing at the thought of his next conclusion. "Whoever did this had access. What can Mali do against such reckless hate?" Aerendyl listened indeed, but his normally golden voice was tarnished with the roiling anger and sorrow of his soul. He shakes beneath the hand of his brother poised atop his shoulder, and the elder falls to his knees in the puddle of gore with a sickening 'splish', abandoning his usual care for presentable attire. His trousers stain in the equine's blood and his hands snap to his scarred face in a poor attempt to cage the rare display of raw, tortured emotion. "I... I haven't any babies of my own... These ARE my babies, Onas! It hurts so much..." He stammers nearly incoherently. He winces in pain and throws his arms into a hug. The Rochir's soul felt like it had been severed with a knife and thrown to a pack of wolves to tear apart, and all semblance of composure was futile. "I should have locked the doors better... I couldn't protect them, I couldn't-" the scarred elf sputters, cut off by the guiding hand of his worried brother. "Come." Onas murmurs, lowering himself to a knee and wrapping his arm around his elder friend to guide him out of the scene of death and carnage. "We needn't stay here in this... miasma of death." "NO!" Aerendyl cries out in desperation, ripping himself from the embrace of his kin and nearly throws himself atop the body of his favorite companion. He splatters his body atop the puddles of blood and flesh, and weakly reaches for his knife to place it to the lifeless husk of his once proud and powerful equine companion. "I'm so sorry, Rhoam... My friend," he says, sawing a length of the stallion's murky mane between sobs. He clutches the length of mane to his chest, wailing and grimacing at the pain in his chest. "My partner, my soul-warrior..." The two linger in the stable as the twilit elder rocks himself to a state of being able to stand, finally. He shuffles to the door, glassy-eyed and unsteady like a poorly inhabited husk. Onas speaks up with a frown, following after Aerendyl as he pushes past the doors with his shoulder, not daring to let go of the last piece of his equine friend. "Heya kae ern'omediere, Aerendyl?" "Ito Machana kaean chul'maillerae." he responds, his hand and lock of mane glued to his chest as if it were literally a part of him. The pain overcame the Rochir in waves as he paced away from one of the last times he would ever see his beloved partner. Even still, a fire alight in his heart. One of hatred, confusion, and vengeance. He swore to himself whoever dealt such pain to him would have his body broken, mangled, and experience more fear in his last moment than those poor souls in the stable. He will feed his soul to Morea.

This is not made to be taken seriously lol

Hi I made a dumb comic about an inside joke that Zilldude and I have have for a while. I put it to paper. Enjoy? You may need to open up the image fuller since the canvases are large. Source media

IGN: Discord: Twilight#0595 Character Name: Titania Hawksong Position: Artisan Art: Textile and Painting

Somewhere in the docks of Elvenesse, in an unassuming little home, Titania grips her chest as a sudden palpitation ruffles her old soul.

Twilight's Illustrations Welcome to my LOTC specific commissions page! I've been doing art as a hobby for a while, and while most of my portfolio is physical I have come into possession of an art tablet that will allow me to create digital art as well. I have a heavy background in traditional oil painting particularly in landscapes and pet portraits, so most of my work is done in a painterly style. I can do just about all that I offer in pencil and charcoal, however, so if you'd like an alternative medium I am happy to accommodate! I recommend viewing the source image, as I tend to use large canvases for detail! Full Character Scene Have your character(s) painted in a setting and background of your choosing! This is the largest illustration for characters that I can create. We can discuss the setting and theming of the piece, and a rough sketch will be provided prior to beginning the painting. Animals and additional characters can be added with negotiable price. Base Price 75 USD Without scene/background standalone character 65 USD Landscape Illustration From fantasy to still life, I'll put it on paper. If you have a project that needs some concept art, I'd be happy to help! I am also able to convert Minecraft screenshots into landscapes. If you'd like a place on LOTC illustrated, I'm your gal! Base price 60 USD Heavy architecture and or monsters/dragons/animal life 75 USD Character Bust A painting of your character from the shoulders up. I can do with or without a background for PNG junkies! Animals and various effects added for negotiable price. Base price 30 USD For a more detailed background 40 USD Pet Portrait 30 USD (Photo required for obvious reasons) Miscellaneous art such as flags, heraldry and weapons concepts are welcome, as well! I price these according to the amount of work required. BONUS CONTENT - MEMES I love memes, I love drawing... let me draw your memes. As long as it's not too complicated, 15$. No questions asked Thanks for stopping by! You can reach me at my discord Twilight#0595. Please forward all inquires there!

Fantastic job! Thank you for your hard work!

I did attempt to reach out in the tech chat, but was forwarded to your post. I have discovered that the hub in the east grants a very generous maximum of 3 sea lanterns that are possible with the node setup. So that means I can wait a collective 20 hours if I don't sleep or work and the job will be done! Alternatively, I have also discovered that Alt accounts can mine the same node and get the same materials. So that cuts my collective time to 10 hours! Suppose then I could go ahead and buy a THIRD account and get it whitelisted and lessen my time some more, which might be a better investment than giving this server another red cent with the way things are going.

Sure, that's fine, but what about the people that don't have easy replacements? I have yet to see a sensible reason why blocks on the server are being locked up tighter than fort knox.

Hey there, I don't know where else to put this and my patience for this plugin/iron fist economy is going to make me have an aneurism so I guess it goes with nexus vortex debate??? I've been here for almost a decade. I don't complain too much provided that I have SOME sort of solution or alternative accessible to me in regards to rescources/needs serverside. This will be my first post frankly b******* about something as I feel it is completely unacceptable for the standard of the server that has been since since AEGIS. I've been working on some cultural events for the elves in my spare time since I have a life and a full time job, and was stoked to start unveiling my plans for the new map. For anybody that has run an event, however, they take careful planning, time management, and more often than not decorations or materials. The server does a great job of giving us access to obscure heads, and in the past has been able to provide the playerbase with the impossible or hard-to-obtain items in the cloud temple. And if that doesn't solve the issue, I have in the past been able to make a reasonable trade with a staff member to get the material that I need. Then comes Vortex and this bizarre change of mindset that I simply haven't seen on the server in all the years that I have been here. Enter Twilight on the eve of Dec. 5th, building the Elvenesse Christmas tree with the leaves that I have (no joke) been trying to collect myself for the past two weeks from the measly bush nodes we have in the back of our city. Every day I have logged on, spam clicked the leaves and braved the mines to make the necessary tools to harvest said leaves. Who knew that my character's hands weren't good enough to snap some twigs off a bush! Thankfully the players of the elves were kind enough to take time out of their day to help me collect the rest when I came up short. Eventually I get around to finishing the shape of the tree. Hooray! Time to put the lights on! Or so I figured. I (foolishly) assumed that if I had harvested the equivalent resources that are actually obtainable for the redstone lamps that I would be able to exchange or buy the whopping 31 lamps that will serve no other purpose than to add light to a tree. They are not part of some extravagant redstone strobe-light trap and they are not being used for some grand elven heist IRP, so what's the problem? Come to find out after a modreq that there are no exchanges or buying. Alright, certainly there is another method for obtaining these simple blocks, yes? Evidently not, and I am now experiencing in full the absolute madness that is the state of the server at this point. It should be said I have nothing against the staff grunts that are just doing their job. So as it turns out, there is no solution! There has been no system to support the decorative and building feats of the players on a MINECRAFT server! A game that literally revolves around building and making fantastic structures! This is where I'm getting a bit steamed at this server. Are you meaning to tell me that after you half-implemented a plugin that makes it intentionally difficult to get the resources needed for building to try and drive up their value, and after you released it in that state on a build that has been going on for literally months, WITH some communities getting LITTLE TO NO SUPPORT during transfer so that they could have a nice place to RP, you didn't provide an alternative to meet player needs even if they put forth the effort to meet YOU halfway, whose supposed to be helping US? Are you f****** kidding me? Is this server driven for the staff or the players? I am really starting to absorb why so many people are ticked off at the server right now. Frankly this launch has been a complete and utter management disaster. You ought to be d*** ashamed of yourselves for shafting communities that don't have a nation to umbrella over them. We have NEVER taken this harsh of a stance on the community since I have been here. EVER. This is a bit bigger than me missing out on my christmas lights. The point I'm trying to make is that the lack of action, very EASY action to remedy similar problems other players may be facing is outrageous. Open up the resources and give the little man a break. Additionally, you are doing the developer of Vortex an absolute injustice by allowing it be halfway released and setting the staff and creator up for failure. I honestly think the plugin would be exceptionally cool if it had been released in full, the output of gathered resources was hiked, and the playerbase had been given more informaton. I actually LIKE the way resources are gathered now, despite being meme'd on after the fact by the ridiculous hoarding of meaningless materials. But that all is on the backburner while there are people in the community that have problems that dwarf this minor inconvenience that I am experiencing. It's disgusting. If there aren't even events going on the server that are sponsored BY the server with full access to what they need, why are the people that are trying to fill that void being punished? That'll conclude my feedback, but seriously... If I need to make some sort of blood pact with an admin that I will return the whopping 31 lamps after Christmas so they're not circulated into the economy, I will. If I have to pay 200 minas for the batch, I will. At the end of the day I am here for an experience of MINECRAFT with roleplay flavor. If you prevent me from playing Minecraft in the process, it's essentially degrading the experience to glorified forum RP in a game engine I can only partially interact with.

[!] 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!

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.

Neat! Didn't know there were a thing. I'll take this down in a bit

“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!

[!] 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.))

“...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.

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.

Name of settlement: Caras Eldar Peak time: We see a steady flow of activity during all hours, but our peak is quite noticeable between 8PM and 12AM EST daily. Populace density: Almost entirely elven. All three subraces. Brief description: Caras Eldar is the capital city of the Dominion of Malin, a unified nation of elves coming in many shades of culture. The city rests on the northwesternmost portion of Atlas, enveloping a forest, harbor, a natural grotto, and a coastal bluff all within its walls. The wood elves and their culture are most prominent within the forest district, the dark elves and their own in the harbor, and the highest district is dedicated to developments in the arts and magical achievements. Within the districts you will find groups such as the Virarim (the elven military) and the Naelurir (druidic priests), among smaller groups. List of players able to assist: GaiaLotC, Veist, iMattyz, _Fid_, TwilightWolf9012, Dakirennis, oblivionsbane, Treshure, Tahmas, shimmeringbliss, LeoWarrior14, ThatGuy_777, Ebonsquire Directions: From the Cloud Temple Road follow the signs that say ‘Dominion’. It will take you through a good amount of plains, going over the Living Bridge and following the west side of a mountain range until you reach a forest recognizable by their tall trunks and umbrella-shaped canopies. Keep following the road, it’ll wind through a shallow gorge in the forest before plopping you right in front of the gates to Caras Eldar. Useful Information The Virarim, military of the Dominion The Codex of Law The Naelurir, Druidic Priests Happy Roleplaying! Screenshots:

Scrolls are sent forth from the highest district of Caras Eldar and delivered throughout the lands of the Elder Kin bearing the Seal of the Dominion and fair, practiced elvish caligraphy. In conjunction with the recent ruling regarding the previous Lord Arcanist’s hold over the High District, the High Court of Caras Eldar has ordered control of the district to be transferred to Princess Titania Hawksong. Whilst direly needed repairs to the tainted caverns are underway at the behest of Artimec Caerme’onn and the esteemed Naelurir, the District will be subject to the following and immediate changes: 1: The length of the moratorium regarding magical activities within the district will be utilized henceforth to destroy and relocate the research facilities located within the northern cliff structures. If and when an appeal to the High Court is made after the enforced three Elven weeks, the library will be reorganized to accommodate the replacement at a reduced scale where any and all magical research will be under scrutiny of the High and Low Councils and public eye. 2: The district will be subject to a thorough sweeping inspection by the Virarim to eliminate any lingering facilities suspected of harboring dangerous voidal experimentation. Should it be found that any such facilities are knowingly withheld from the inspection of the Virarim, the citizen(s) involved will be held accountable to the full extent of Dominion Law. 3: The recreational facility known as ‘The Bedevere Theatre’ will remain under the management and operation of the current owner, Azoth Hawksong. The space itself will remain subject to the aforementioned sweep of the district. 4: The district-specific officials assigned by the now defunct Lord Arcanist position shall be revoked of their position. A replacement court will be chosen at the Princess’ discretion to aid in the administration of the reclaimed district. 5: In light of the changes to the district, the name Norseth’onn meaning ‘Land born of the Void’ shall be discarded posthaste. The district will bear the name ‘Valleinor’ or ‘Land of Water’ in likeness to the great river that flows from the district’s cliffs and in reverence to the vast ocean they overlook. Furthermore the head of House Elverhilin is summoned to speak on the behalf of the family before the Princess within the coming elven days. ~*~*~ The Dominion Prospers ~*~*~

Titania nods a few times after finding herself a pamphlet of the theater. "I wish you the best of luck in your efforts with this, cousin. I expect to see many productions to keep you busy, too." the elfess says to nobody in particular.

OOC: Very much unsure why the original image sourcing was not available, though I did use google docs this time since this was an extended project time-wise and may have gotten borked during pasting. That aside, you can find links between hypens beneath the footnote.

((History has been updated, this is mostly obsolete)) Ancient-forged and guarded within the emerald forests of Elves, the history of Hawksong remains a quiet whisper of ages past. Orgins, Echoes Lost in Time “...Integrity, Loyalty, Endurance, Strength in Spirit.... these shall be the foundation stones of my children, father, and closely in your shadow we shall follow and serve the Elder Kin until into ash we have returned...” Hawksong has been a name known throughout modern history. From lofty heights of shining city spires to flowing, stately signatures and feats of mind and blade bearing the mark of the phoenix, it would be of no surprise to find the name inlaid in books and casual conversation. Yet it is that which is left unsaid that holds the wealth of this bloodline’s history, and those diligent enough to uncover the long forgotten tales and songs would find that wealth of grand history indeed. History is, of course, of paramount importance to the Elder Kin, and all living Hawksongs cherish their origins greatly and defend their right to follow its teachings fiercely. Malin, King, Father of Elves, Eldest Son of the Firsts, walked first the ancient woods among his siblings. His eyes knew the great hidden wealth hidden among those trees, beyond that of the first ores and gems, temporary castles and ever drifting dunes of the sands. He understood the value of the natural world; the trees that grow ever tall, and the living things that carry the balance of the unwritten laws of nature. In turn, the natural world understood him and his place within it. There he sired his first children, Elves of many shade and in great number before the Curse. One such descendant would spearhead the foundation of this old bloodline. Malin had been the most fair of the Brothers, and in turn his children were fair in their own accord. One inherited his blonde locks, as golden as the first harvests, shining with the silvery light of stars and as long as the ivy twines. He grew tall, with fair skin like the shores against the ocean and even like ivory. His eyes stole the wondrous hues of twilight from the heavens and were bold and calm. Andaeran was his first gifted name, and he adored Malin, the forest, his people and the people adrift to the other ends of the land. To the Hawksongs, this individual is believed to be a direct son of Malin, and they still follow closely his teachings today. At what point the surname ‘Hawksong’ was placed upon Andaeran is unknown, however the nature of which it was given is a legend known well to his descendants and can be seen still in modern ages. Of all the teachings Malin had for his children, Andaeran took from him most the art of beast mastery, animal husbandry, erecting structures from the natural land, the fine product of song and literature, and love of language. He learned the swiftness of Malin’s blade, and became a warrior into his own. Malin looked to Andaeran, pleased, and gave him the name of Tahorran’len (or as known in the common tongue today as Hawksong) to honor his skills that had blossomed from Malin’s teachings. In old tales, it is said Andaeran had particular skill with taming and befriending raptors, equines, and displayed great valor in battle during the first ancient conflicts. Andaeran is said to have had many children of his own before the Curse, who shared his pride for his people and a strong heart to defend their land. It was during the first Ibleesian Crisis that Hawksong led by Andaeran pledged their own lives to defend their homeland, and established a culture of close familial comradery manifested in skill in combat. A code of conduct was instated, thus giving Hawksong more than a simple surname to bear; it was an honored duty to dedicate oneself further in servitude to the greater of Elvendom. After the conclusion of the Thirty Years War against Iblees and the Age of the Curses, Andaeran much like his father hid away into the deep halls of the ancient forests. Repairs were direly needed, and much sorrow had been inflicted upon the children of Malin. Hawksong developed a taste for intricate architecture then, and the years following the family honed their skill with song and story; this time became recognized only to those of the clan as The Age of the First Songs. Birth of the Oath, First Splinters Peace was short lived, as history likes to tell. Very little detail is remembered of the following war between the Hou-Zi and the Elder Kin within Hawksong knowledge, but it is of consensus that the family would have fought fiercely by Malin’s side. Once a long time of peace was achieved, however, a great shift happened within the family. Music and song thrived, works of artisanal wonder flowed out of Malin’s halls. In accordance with their skill of animal husbandry, the family produced a great deal of material and art from the product of their herds. Leather would be woven and burnt to create jewelry, equine tack, the holdings of armor. Hawksong enjoyed a time where finer craftsmanship could blossom - and it did greatly, for a cost. Where a great force of Brother and Sisterhood was needed, the hard-won peace allowed languor to seep into their minds. No longer was the feat of blade and valor needed to such an extent, and the family’s once mighty strength in war became less and less remembered. Enter Larihei, Mother of the Way of Silver and the so proclaimed Blessed Elves. Andaeran had aged much, and years of peace had made him passive to the arising dogma created by the Silver Mother. This was not to say that the ruling party of Malinor was any different (nor the populace for that matter), for all Elder Kin had little care for matters that did not directly threaten their earned peace at that time. Andaeran watched quietly as the Golden Pools were discovered and began accepting their first bathers. Once he and his children were asked; to bathe and join his brothers and sisters who also cherished knowledge and had ideas of entitlement for the Elder Kin. For an Elf who had become more watchful in his years, Andaeran gave no answer. Hawksong remained at the side of Old Malinor as more and more turned to Larihei for guidance. Elves of once pristine, natural beauty distorted and morphed at the mercy of the Golden Pools. Decades of almost-worship to them twisted physique into Elves of taller, spindly thin stature. Skin turned to shades of snow and sea-foam, hair into tassels in shades of precious metals, and eyes glimmering with a certain magic of things not yet seen. Twice Andaeran and his children were asked, to bathe and join a grand society reborn. The second offer was declined. Andaeran was fearful of the effects of the Pools. Just as extreme as their physical transformation, their tune regarding the world turned pompous in his eyes. These new elves thought themselves to inherit the world’s knowledge as a right and exclude those that did not follow their beloved Larihei, for that which was not seen as perfect was of nothing but detriment to this new arising elven society. It was after some time, too much for any repairs to the climate of fractured unity, that chaos ensued. Tensions erupted between Old Malinor and the new High Elves, and any chance of reconciliation with them practically vanished in the following conflicts. Larihei and her brood, horrified and distraught, led the journey from Malin’s forests to a new land to start their own society away from their estranged kin. For many, a great decision had to be made. To follow the Silver Mother on her gray ships to uncertainty, or remain with Malin’s children in the forest. Hawksong would choose the latter. This was, as legend says, towards the final years of Andaeran’s life. He felt that he had indirectly helped to cause the fracturing of the Elder Kin. Where action was needed, there was none. He felt that his sloth on the matter had put his family name to shame, that which Malin himself have gifted to him. So, Hawksong would remain with Old Malinor, which in turn was more than happy to host. It was not enough to the Father of Hawksong. Andaeran took it upon himself to hold his family to a great debt; because they sat idle while society fractured, Hawksong would pledge itself to serve Elvendom closely in whatever means necessary. Foresight would warn the Bloodline of dark times ahead, and laziness was finally cast away. A balance was struck between blade and harp; they once again earned their honor of gifted surname (particularly in the coming War of the Undead). In his final days, when the Bloodline realigned with their ways, Andaeran established formally the family crest, guidelines to uphold their chosen path, a way for those not of his bloodline to earn the name just as Andaeran did himself, and a creed. The phoenix, ablaze with pride and strength, was chosen to adorn the flags and texts of the family; for from the stillness of dormant ash Hawksong had been rekindled to its former honor. Oaths were made and recited to the ruling figures of Old Malinor, of which in extension persist still today. “Be as strong as the seas are stormy, and as proud as an eagle’s scream.” Hawksong indeed upheld these self-made oaths, fighting fiercely in the War of the Undead alongside Modern Malinor until the last breaths of Aegis. The family suffered great losses due to the severity of the conflict, leading to their dwindling numbers seen from Asulon to Anthos. With the reignited culture of the wood elven seeds, the Bloodline has again found its place among Elven Society, where its numbers continue to grow. Curiously, like the their wood elven cousins they too highly revere the natural world as Malin had taught them, but abstain from the religious aspect that the druids are well known for and instead turn to the teachings of Malin for guidance. Modern Descriptions, Familial Findings Caras Eldar now houses the Bloodline. The following records the known and present children of Andaeran, but time has eroded a perfect documentation of all the eldest offspring of Hawksong. It may be prudent to mention that on the topic of marriage, inheriting the surname is quite different from pledging oneself to the way of the Bloodline as described later, but facilitates an easier path into the clan’s birthright should the spouse choose. Additionally, women that marry outside of the line typically choose to retain the last name, especially if they earned their place among the warriors of Hawksong. One will notice that the Bloodline does not name their children in the elvish tongue, but prefers traditional, strong elven names of older days. Much of their physical attributes have remained largely the same in the main family branch. Blonde hair ranging from pale gold to yellow ochre, rarely silver and sometimes very light auburn depending on lineage with more direct lines to Andaeran tending to be blonde. They traditionally keep their hair long as a indication of age and wisdom, and their eyes come in striking shades of blue, green, and amber. Hawksongs are reasonably tall but not as lanky as High Elves, and not as pale when stood in comparison. Due to their history they tend to be physically strong for elves, not to say this excludes the opportunity for the scholarly type to emerge nor does it imply they possess it of an unnatural degree.Their attire is composed of two types typically, armor and casual wear. To elaborate on traditional Hawksong garb, to look upon the Bloodline in their familial armor is said to be like looking upon a work of art and is worn only by those who have taken the Oath. By design the metal wrought is in dark of shade, and just as beautiful as it is functional. Pauldron, tasset and greaves are from metal forged in the likeness of their family crest, specifically the visual appearance of interlaced feathers. Typically restricted to one hand, some greaves bear what appear to mimic talons at the fingertips. Though usually only used in ceremony or combat, their helms range from headwear seen about most militaries or the more unmistakable visage of a raptor for particularly special occasions. On the topic of casual wear, Hawksong tends to not stray from traditional elven garb. Long, flowing cloth of many colors with an affinity for accessories of fine jewelry are very common. Travel wear incorporates some leather, but usually captures the humble regality of the Bloodline. To outsiders, the family might come off as fanatic with their outward appearance, taking time to groom very seriously. Hawksong, beast masters and devotees of combat, make for very skilled horsemen and value immensely the bond between rider and steed. While more common elvish blades might be seen carried as well, the weapons of choice tend to be polearms such as javelins, halberds, and glaives. Just one artifact in the family’s possession happens to be one such weapon, and the Voidmoon is prized dearly as an heirloom. Outside the turmoil of battle, it is customary that oathed Hawksong guard the High Council and serve the appointed military as needed. The family much like existing wood elven seeds holds a set of values true to themselves, even those who abstain from taking the burden of the Flame. These pillars are set to uphold the values of the family and to guide them in their way of developing desired character traits: Strength Loyalty Zeal Discipline Humility Honor Their art of leatherworking and animal husbandry persists today. Hawksong children are taught from early ages alongside combat to respect and create fruitful bonds with the beasts of the forests, and to burn and shape leather into trinkets, saddles, art, and tools and parts for armor and weapons. All product of Hawksong make bears a brand of their crest. Caras Eldar serves as their place to create their work, and from there exported from the ports with cooperation from the Dark Elves. Additionally noteworthy is their love for song, dance, literature, language and studies pertaining to many subjects. The favored instruments of the family tend to be string such as the harp, viola, etc. There exist some songs known to their members still in ancient tongues, and they often sing at occasions of many different purposes such as coronations, festivals, and funerals. Phoenix Rising, Ascension through Oath “...may your chosen path lead way and grace you with virtue… beyond the route-way’s end you’ll gain resilience, and weakness. The trials - the thorn in your side - becomes the greatest strength in you.” When a Hawksong comes of age, 50 years, those of the main Bloodline may choose to take on the Oath of the First Flame, that which Andaeran himself outline in elder days. It is possible for those outside the Bloodline to take on the surname outside of marriage, but is rumored to be quite difficult. Designed to be a test of worthy resolve, it can take years for an outsider to conquer the trials and earn their place. Even those of the Bloodline have to earn their place among the esteemed chosen, but if they are brought up within the family proper it is not often that they fail. For those that find themselves more bound towards the path of knowledge, they still find their place within the oath and often take up the task of guiding and advising the family en masse. The concept of taking on the duty of ‘Rochir’ or understood in common as Sworn Family Warrior, Beast Master and Horse Lord is to hold oneself to the Oath sworn by the founder himself; to seek to ascend oneself into a duty most noble, servitute to and protection of Elvendom over personal desire, to scorn sloth and seek spiritual strength in valor and dedication. Those that accept these as personal truths enter Hawksong’s most prized circle of Elves, and are seen as equal by all members within its confines. Within that same circle there exists a system of upheld allegiances called the Vestale. The first created was by Andaeran, who swore his family’s alliance to Elvendom after the first fracture, and is the highest priority Vestale to uphold. They are created to bridge a path to paying off a great debt to the family, and still to this day Hawksong works to pay the first eternal debt. Vestale can be forged also where no debt exists, but as a way to ensure an alliance between two parties (i.e Hawksong and the High Council). Elders of the Family are the keepers of existing and active Vestale, and ensure that Rochir of Hawksong uphold them to the highest standard. To break Vestale is to tarnish one’s own place within Hawksong, and punishment most certainly follows (of which the most extreme is often estrangement). Untested are also bound to these Vestale, as when Hawksong is called upon to fulfill a duty (especially in battle) the whole family is to answer. As an important note, while most contracts of marriage do not warrant the placement of Vestale onto the new side of the family, it is common for the Hawksong lineage to serve and defend the family in law in the same degree as their own. Among the trials intended for the Untested, to answer the call of Vestale and shirk not away from sworn duty is to fulfill the Task of the First Flame; this is a requirement to prove oneself able to carry the burden of the phoenix folk. Though it is kept quite secretive to only those that seek to join, it is rumored the remaining trials consist of a referral from an existing Rochir, a tangible contribution to the family, and a grand task or deed of accomplishment judged by existing elders. If an Elf or Elfess succeeds in all of the aforementioned, then a small ceremony is held within the confines of the Hawksong House, then in keeping tradition the member is presented to the High Prince or Princess for final initiation in keeping with the first Vestale. Traditionally, the following decree is recited to finalize a new Rochir’s ascension and finally presented with a set of the familial armor. (To the High Court of Greater Elvendom) “As I stand before you now - O High Prince(ess) - with woven crown above your brow, I swear to you and your court on high, these truths that I shall abide. To protect and serve Elvendom at whatever cost, so that peace in our forests is not lost, To smite the wicked and suffer not the dark, and on tainted spawn my blade shall find its mark. To uphold these Vestale I have sworn, lest my broken virtue I should mourn, And to take on the Path of Flame, yet not for power nor fame, To defend these truths I will yearn, until into Ash I will return.” (Followed by subsequent reply and acceptance of the Ruling Figure) It is then that the following statutes are expected to be upheld by the initiate. The safety and prosperity of Hawksong is paramount, and all her members shall strive to better the family. The safety and prosperity of the home of Hawksong is second only to that of her members, and all shall strive for its well being. Those of Hawksong shall afford all others of the family with utmost respect, and internal disputes shall be resolved without outside interference. Those of Hawksong shall honor the Vestale of the family, no matter the cost. Those of Hawksong will never act to sully the name of the family - they shall be the model of propriety. Those of Hawksong will shun the path of the Criminal and the Usurper. Currently residing within Caras Eldar, the current members of recognized Hawksongs currently consist of: Titania Hawksong - Family Elder, Rochir Azoth Hawksong - Family Elder Liave Hawksong - Untested Rochir Aerendyl Hawksong - Rochir Elodur Hawksong - Untested Rochir Ac’Aelu Tinuvial - Untested Rochir, married into the family And unaccounted for: Elrolas Hawksong - Missing, presumed deceased Leona Ba’ikana - Estranged, presumed deceased Titania II Hawksong - Missing, presumed deceased Current Vestale being upheld: Dominion of Malin and her High and Low Courts Tinuvial Family The path of the Phoenix is a difficult path to take indeed, but there exists no greater bond between that of family and oath. OOC Note And image sources

The seas of Axios held no same comfort of past waters our People have sailed before; the path of the Elder Kin laid across lofty whitecaps, through wicked storms and against misty winds of gray. Cleaving through the watery, murky abyss below Elvish ships of bronze and emerald swept from the despair of lands doomed to a frozen tomb to stranger, sweeter shores. One treaty, Adriante, Our Last Hope, shines still as the sun strikes our new tides, for our sanctuary has been found. A new land has been graced to us, filled with good and green fields, long rivers, and a pleasantly rich air. Atlas is the name that has been laid upon it. The blade has been exchanged for the chisel, the hammer, the staves of the druids. Rich soil beckons the growth of elder trees, tall and regal. Walls will be molded and carved from the rich stone of our mountains, wrought from the living rock and stood as a bulwark to those that would hinder our progress as the Elder Kin. The time of bloodshed has ended, and from adversity a brighter sun shines. And with choir long not heard since elder times, heavenly song fills our forest halls once more. Linandria, A Leyulin! (Linandria, Leyulin) Lye llume! (Llume) Nae il’fenn fetaehya ullre (Ullre, feta) Ito eltennallar lye avere (Tennallar, avere) Nae’leh ker’ante suliere Ehya Atlas, A Caras Eldar! (Atlas, Caras Eldar) Lye len biloke! (Len biloke) Taliamean’tahu iheiuhanmira’ehya ito nae (Iheiuhan’mira) Eltennallar’onn lye avere (Tennallar, avere) Biloke fikarin! Linandria, O Leyulin! (Linandria, Leyulin) We mourn! (Mourn) You wither with ice and cold (Wither, cold) To the Ocean we wander (Ocean, wander) Seeing your last sunset! But Atlas, O Caras Eldar! (Atlas, Caras Eldar) We sing! (Sing) Your trees are tall and winds warm (Warm winds) From the Ocean we wander (Ocean, wander) Forging a sunrise anew! A new capital stands tall, with a forest worthy of inheriting the residence of Malin’s children. A forest that glimmers with the light of a cloak of starlight beckons. And it shall be named... Caras Eldar ~*~ City of the Elves ~*~ Jewel of Elvendom on Atlas