The Media Wizard

"Closer." Amaesil Vuln'miruel sets the document aside and stares out to the west. "Much closer."

MC Name:

         Zilldude

Character's Name:

         Amaesil Vuln'miruel

Character's Age:

         45

What feat(s) will you be learning?

         Sycophant

Teacher's MC Name:

         Self-teach Altar

Teacher's RP Name:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep Story updated on the status of your feat app?:

         Yes.

Have you applied for this feat on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No.

Are you aware that if this feat is undergoing an activity trial and fails said trial, that you will lose the feat? And that if it is apart of the Lore Games, it might drastically change soon?:

         Yes.

Amaesil Vuln'miruel would read the missive and a frown would form. He'd then open his mouth, but it soon closes. He'd hum. "Rather fair depiction. We lost kin, but our will is unbroken."

"Should we respond?" Galan Brylynn asked.

"Eh."

3 minutes ago, __Clocky said:

Bugharz'Grat remembers that all orcs in elvenesse, peaceful or not, are kill-on-sight.

Amaesil smiles. "As it should be."

Amaesil wonders how the Uruks will spend his minas. Maybe on some ladders for their next attack on Haelun'or and Elvenesse. He smiles.

A letter is sent in response to the Uruk demands. It carries with it the sigil of a fox wearing a crown of antlers. The letter reads:

To the Warnation of Krugmar.

The elfess you have captured is Laltyl Arvellon-Ilkala. She is NOT a diplomat of our nation and has routinely exposed herself to capture from canonists, Uruks and Ferrymen alike. You have made no great capture nor have you accomplished some great deed. It is depressing that the Uruk swill must fall to these levels of depravity.

With that said, we will pay 100 minas for her safe return to the city. You will bring her to the outer gate of the Hinterlands and we will make the trade there. If you kill her, harm her or rescind your offer stated in this simple poster, you will further sully your honor and paint yourselves as the cowardly flees that you are.

Bring her to us now. We will bring the agreed upon amount.

HIS LORDSHIP, Amaesil Vuln'miruel, Lord Commander of Elvenesse,

Exarch, High Warden of the Order, Lord of Kindle and Brother Oak

I just aged 10 years in a second.

22 minutes ago, VeganNatureQueen said:

I will post the texture pack on planet minecraft when it is finished then everyone will be free to use it 😄

Hell yeah! Any idea when it'll be up?

I have genuinely never been excited for anything more on this server.

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel blinks. He had not been informed that the Ferrymen or Uruks could read; let alone write. He'd read the missive before nodding. "Seems fair enough." He'd toss the missive into the sea from atop the Warden's Keep.

2 minutes ago, Guest3 said:

We killed your pvp master (4 total) and u killed none of us, and then you ran into ur gates and cried for pvp off. When we were leaving you tried to halt one of us and when you were forced to halt all of us you wouldn't do it. No hate pls no lie

The battle was long, bloody and did not end with casualties and loss from the defenders; however, Elvenesse had stood strong against the onslaught with the aid of her allies. A red day, but a glorious day in the Woodland Realm.

They came once more.

The victories of Haelun’or had made the opponents of elves spiteful and eager. Their longboats were spotted moments before crashing into the Tahorran docks and splitting the wooden planks like tissue paper. The Ferrymen — seeking to redeem themselves for their past failed attack — cascaded from the sides of their longships like water over a cliff's edge.

A bell had been rung. The citizens of Elvenesse fled to the Citadel under the order of Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln’miruel; all except one elf who was immediately found and captured by the attacking Ferrymen. The Elvenessi sent their birds across Almaris and locked down the city. There they waited.

The warships of Haelun’or and Oren appeared on the eastern horizon. Their soldiers left the ships and marched through the empty streets of Elvenesse to the applause and cheering of the citizens peering out from the safety of the citadel.

A battle ensued along the cliffs of Elvenesse as the Ferrymen clambered up trees with the skill and grace of some of the wood elves themselves! Unfortunately, they could not breach the outer wall of the city.

The battle shifted to the front gate of the city. The elves held out for as long as they possibly could. Eventually, the Ferrymen left the borders of the nation! Few losses came from the Elvenessi and their allies. This was no victory of slaughter, but a victory of defense. The wood elves who had been devastated by every single raid on their soil for the past twenty years had finally outlasted the Ferrymen in open conflict.

Victory, but with a price. The city would sleep soundly this evening.

An artist's rendition of the Musin's final moments before dying at the hands of the Sillumir member.

18th of the Grand Harvest, 25 SA

Victory.

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel was not a lord of a grand army or citizens of strong wills; however, his Wardens had never let him down. Month after month; battle after battle. The Wardens stood among their allies and broke foes on their shields and swords like waves on the Elvenessi coast.

Victory.

3 minutes ago, Elite_Snipes_ said:

Indeed it was such a battle, 10,000  Orcs against the mere 30,000 Elves and ISA combined. A majority of the party fell back to the city of Krugmar to regroup once more and prepare for more battles to come. Korgahk determined to not lose a second time summoned the Krughai as well as met with executive orcish leadership to prepare, ensuring victory over Malins kin.

The Lord Commander makes a note to even the odds next time a raiding party attacks their ally's city.

The streets of the Silver City were empty. The city was devoid of life.

Was this because the High Elves and their allies had hidden away when the orcs came to raid? Had the "twiggies" been so fearful of an orc onslaught that they elected to cower behind their walls? No, not one bit. The city was empty...

... because every elf was fighting!

High Prince Evar'tir Oranor, Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel, High Warden Aerendyl Hawksong, Warden Tadorn Kesereth, Warden Oryl Sirame, Warden La'io Valkryne, Warden Ievis Aedove, Warden Matthias Caerme'onn, Vallein Vuln'miruel and Briar Taliame'onn joined their cousins of the Silver State for the second time in a year. The Wardens had successfully held out during a short, planned training before the Orc warships were spotted on the southern horizon.

The Wardens of Elvenesse charged out of the gates and let arrows fly. The Wood Elves slammed hard into the front lines of the orcish hoard and tore apart any semblance of formation. As the combined forces of the Wood Elves, High Elves and Humans bore down on the warband like an avalanche, the fear was smelled on the air.

The same orcs that had previously executed CHILDREN on Elvenesse soil were seen fleeing the battle for the comfort of their warships and, then, the Warnation. Many were cut down, but many ran like the cowards we knew them to be.

As the orc warband fled for the second time, the Wardens stood among those victorious. A cheer rang out across the western world and peace was restored once more. The world had seen the dishonor of the orcs again and again. The world would never be the same. The thunderous march of feet in the direction of the Warnation grew louder and louder.

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel stood with a blood crossbow in hand as he watched the black sails disappear over the horizon. A smile came to his lips. They had won. AGAIN.

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel stood, once again, alone in the vacant streets of the Sutican capital. His armor clanked as he and High Warden Aerendyl Hawksong meandered through the streets of the city. No children were seen this day. Cobwebs and rats were plastered throughout the city. Had the Suticans truly abandoned this place? Had this been their wartime tactic? Had they fled to another place of refuge? No, Amaesil thought. My scouts have been all across this region. They are simply... gone.

Confusion raked the Lord Commander. Why had the Suticans declared a war and attempted to fight the combined forces of the elves? Surely they had known that their citizens held disdain for such an affair — what citizens they had left. Their only solitude was in mercenaries and brutes.

As Amaesil and Aerendyl came to stand atop the cliffside overlooking the bottom portion of the city, the two shared a deep sigh. A war this was not. No lives had been taken by their kin nor did they want to. Sutica had lost already. They were only picking at the scraps now. The two elves stood there for a long while before descending toward the warships that now freely docked at the Sutican port unimpeded. With that, they sailed home.

Never before had the Lord Commander felt so proud of his men. When Haelun'or called, Amaesil gave the word; when Amaesil called, his men arrived. The visions of elven unity were seeming more and more realistic in the gloom of the Orc Tribute War.

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel, High Warden Aerendyl Hawksong, Guardsman Gailien and Guardsman Tadorn Kesereth slid into their boats and sailed the seas toward the northern shore of the Silver State. They landed on the shore of their cousin's island and were welcomed with glee at the northern gate of the High Elves. With haste the Elvenessi sprang down the pure white streets of the city until they joined the host of elves at their front gate.

After hours of waiting, the call was given. A plan was devised and the Elvenessi would barrel down the orcs like waves on the rocks of Amathea. With a blow of a horn, the Wardens and Emerald Guard led the Sillumir out of the front gates and into the orc warband with a thunderous roar of metal boots on pavement.

The orcs fled and the Lord Commander stood with his longsword — amaelaurir — drenched in the blood of his foes. He looked to Gailien as the guardsman pulled their weapon from the corpse of Alog'Bazra the Vile. The two elves shared a glance. The lives that they had watched been taken by the orcs during their last raid on the Woodland Realm were on the road to being rectified. Today, no Wood Elves fell.

The orc raiding ships vanished into the distance and the Elvenessi — while small in numbers — stood alongside their High Elven cousins and declared yet another victory.

With a handful of final words to the Sillumir, the Elvenessi boarded their boats once more and began to set sail. Amaesil smiled as the sun began to dip over the horizon and the wind sent his crimson robes snapping about. He spoke words so soft that perhaps his own kin did not hear him:

"Today the orcs tried their ferrum against a true foe — and lost."

A short and simple missive is published. It carries the stamp of the Lord Commander of Elvenesse: a fox with a crown of antlers. The missive reads as follows:

Honorless. Savage. Pathetic.

I am a warrior, but only these past few years have I been considered a leader. The position of Lord Commander is a difficult one and I must endure regardless of the weaknesses of myself, my people and my Princedom. We are bloodied, massacred and dumped for sport by the Orcs and this is nothing worth arguing. We all across this world have suffered at the hands of the Orcs, but keep in mind what they fear.

Last Elven Day, the Orcs of the Warnation executed non-combatant elves during a time of slumber for most of Almaris. Those of us that could rally — Elvenessi and allies alike — could not combat the numbers of the Orcs. With a city full of civilians, I personally made the decision to protect those within our walls rather than face the Orc hoard. It is a decision I will live with for the rest of my days. The Orcs, however, acted in the most dishonorable of fashions. They executed Eradus, a high elf and member of the Sillumir, after stripping him of his weapons. He challenged them to combat for his stolen things back, but they took his life without honor. With the aid of the Ferrymen, they butchered him along with children and elves who had not seen a day of combat in their lives. I pleaded with their captors to seek payment in lieu of their lives: both 300 minas and sets plate armor; however, they denied it. For what? The joy of slaughtering children? These Orcs are pathetic echoes of their once great nation.

The Orcs pester our borders and decapitate our children for one reason — we are weak. I can admit this. These Orcs are weak, too. They could never face the armies of Oren, Norland or the Dwarves. Not in their current array. They are a pathetic, cowardly race that pick the battles they can win because they know they are only slightly more powerful than ourselves. They kill children because they could not slay a knight of Oren.

Cowards. Come to our borders and slay us if you choose. We will know you to be savages, not warriors; honorless and scum in green skin.

HIS LORDSHIP, Amaesil Vuln'miruel, Lord Commander of Elvenesse

Exarch, High Warden of the Order, Lord of Kindle and Brother Oak

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel stood alone in the empty streets of the Sutican capital. He watched the combined forces of Silver and Bronze march through the streets in their attempt to find someone — anyone.

The Lord Commander was relieved, in truth. He strolled through the vacant streets with a hand rested on the pommel of his elven longsword. Every so often he would catch a glimpse of terrified eyes looking out from behind curtains in the locked and boarded homes. He had no interest in harming the innocent; none in the ranks of the United Elven Army did.

He continued down the pathway before arriving at a large, empty garden. The elven warrior lowered down to a seat on a bench that overlooked the small pond. It was a peaceful, tranquil location during such an organized invasion of the city. He could still hear the marching, but it had become drowned out by the constantly ringing alarm bell of the city. Nobody came, though. They were afraid.

It was then that Amaesil saw eyes peering back at him from across the pond. Behind a small bush was a child dressed in fine blue and silver robes. The child squeaked as Amaesil took note of him and dipped down to hide behind the bush. Amaesil chuckled softly before rising up. The bronze-clad elf glided silently across the grass before coming to the bush and looking down toward the cowering child.

"Do not fear me." Amaesil reached into his robes and produced a small candy that his own son enjoyed. He extended it toward the child. "Here. Take this, oem'ii."

The child looked up in astonishment. After a brief pause, he accepted the candy and gnawed at it hungrily. "Are you here to hurt us?" the child asked with suspicious eyes.

"Not at all," Amaesil replied. The Lord Commander lowered down to a seat in the grass beside the child and looked out at the streets covered in silver and bronze. "We are not hungry for anything but justice, little one. We are not brutes such as Uruks; glory-bound fools such as humans. We want justice for the crimes permitted to occur to us — in a city far, far away from here."

"You started this," the child protested.

"Perhaps we did," Amaesil admitted with a soft hum. "It was not our intention, but perhaps we did. We intend to finish it, though, little one. Justice must be served. Go home, now." Amaesil rose up and offered a gentle wave to the child before the little human sprang up and rushed into the side streets of Sutica. Amaesil looked toward the sky.

Yes, he thought. Justice.

A smaller note would be added to the statement. It would be stamped with the sigil of a fox bearing stag antlers: the sign of the Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln’miruel. The note would read:

To all.

It brings us elves no joy or satisfaction in provoking this conflict. In fact, the inciting incident that occurred was heinous by all accounts and we intended to aid the Federation of Sutica in dispensing proper justice to those involved; however, the false threats of war on behalf of the Silver State of Haelun’or by the elf known as Markir were an abysmal display of foreign diplomacy by one who referred to himself as “a brute.”

It is our purpose and intent throughout this conflict to bring about a conclusion. We leave it in the hands of politicians and Princes to decide our fates.

HIS LORDSHIP, Amaesil Vuln’miruel, Lord Commander of Elvenesse
High Warden of the Order, Lord of Kindle and Druid of the Oak Totem

Amaesil Vuln'miruel regards the note from atop the Keep of the Order. Coming to the end of the missive, he would neatly fold the parchment and tuck it into his red robe that draped across his half-plate armor. Raising the odd device Celiasil had gifted him long ago, he would peer half a world away and spot the black billows of smoke that constantly spewed from the Warnation to the north.

He lowers the telescope and sets it against the old, stone railing. Gripping the rock, he'd exhale and his breath would catch in the frigid morning air. He was hardly battle-tested and was now flung headfirst into multiple conflicts of epic proportions. He was young, inexperienced and — more than anything else — naïve. How could he expect to win against such odds?

A smile comes to his face. He tilts his chin upward and glares northward to the black pillars. A song he had once heard began to play through his head; a song he had heard in travels along the Orenian roadways. He sang the tune softly to himself as he marched on: to victory or defeat.

"... Glory, glory — what a hell of a way to die..."

MUSIC

The sun began to rise over the woodlands. Warm rays of golden light slipped through the thick canopy and ignited the underbrush in an almost ethereal manner. No rain clouds lingered in the skies on this day — only blue skies.

The Emerald Guard — warriors and guardsmen of Elvenesse — awoke from their homes and donned their steel armor. They marched out into the morning air as their steel-toed boots kicked up puddles of dew in the grass as they walked. Eventually, the guardsmen exited the inner gate of the city and made their way up the nearby mountain. Within the hour, a dozen elves in gleaming armor gathered in straight lines beneath a cliff side. They looked among themselves: confused.

Then, they heard the footsteps. Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln’miruel stood atop the cliffside. He was wearing the gleaming armor of the Wardens with a long red sash haphazardly strung over his left shoulder. His signature circlet shone in the morning light. Behind the new Lord Commander stood a stag of immaculate size. The beast reared its head upward and caused the sunlight to trickle through its antlers.

“Draw your weapons.”

The command was the first that the Lord Commander had given. The Emerald Guards looked among one another for a moment before drawing their weapons reluctantly. The singing of ferrum on leather rang out sloppily across the Hinterlands.

“Look at them,” the Lord Commander continued. “This will be the last time you will see your weapon not stained with blood; the last time you will see ferrum shine like new; the last time.

For too long have we elves lived in fear. No more. We may not be victors on every field and we may not fly colors to fear — not yet. We will always fight, though. We will always be there and we will spill more blood than the rivers and lakes can hold. We will be baptized in the smell of iron and emerge as elves of a new age: a Golden Age. This army will be like none you have seen before, lliran. Rise today as my Emerald Guards — defenders of the Woodland Realm and Warriors of the High Prince. Ay'elame!”

A resounding chant of shouts and grunts rang out from the gathered elves. As the chant continued, it became single and unified. The war-chants of Elvenesse echoed across the Hinterlands and roused elves from their slumber. Something has changed.

Then, the loud and violent bellowing of a stag. The Emerald Guard was reborn.