Treshure

Markus is unsure of what claimant to support!

A cool breeze ran between two lone elves upon the bridge. Despite the sunny disposition of Elvenesse’s warm forests, their minds were filled with death. Just an elven week prior, Thexan Ithelanen’s challenge had been answered by the Silver City. There stood Kaius Visaj; alone in a foreign country, with none by his side. “Have you prayed to your Gods?” Thexan passively asked, trying to ignore the presence of the massive crowd to their rear. Kaius dipped his head in affirmation. The Ithelanen turned towards the gatehouse-turned arena, undoing the straps of his helm. “And so it begins.” - Thexan’s blade ripped across Kaius’ breast, bearing into his plate and freeing the flesh from his chest. With a cry of manic ecstasy, the high elf crumpled to the floor. He knelt beside the dying ‘aheral, watching the stars fade from his iris. Thexan looked down onto the dead elf. “So that I may free your head from your shoulders,” he echoed in cruel mockery. With a swipe of his blade, it was Kaius’ head that was freed - thrown upon the marble stone for Elvenesse to bear witness. A priest of the druidic faith flanked the victor’s side. “Do you wish to be present for the rituals?” he asked, glancing towards the sunken corpse. Undoubtedly, it involved the use of several organs. Thexan shook his head. “I have a letter to write.” - A missive is sent to Haelun’or. “I have killed the champion of Visaj. I have freed his head and spilt his silver blood on the stones of Elvenesse. Come and see. I have sewn his blood into my roots, as I have promised long ago. Come and see. I have strung his mangled corpse amongst the trees. I have seen his ichor - the fabled silver blood is as red and thick as mine. You may have your dead, but first you must retrieve it. I soon will march on your gates. I will tear every stone from your wretched walls and return your citadel to the dirt. I will leave you alive - only to remember the cost of leaving your ivory prison. But before I arrive, come and see.” Thexan Ithelanen

In my youth, I was prescripted alongside my brother to fight in the wars risen for Humanity. A war at the time that was entirely necessary. He lost his life, and I my leg. I stand with many other kin - injured by the winds of war, and entirely aware of the cost to wage it. And yet it seems that toll has been lost by this age. The recent conflict against the Elven Union has shown our ease to march and suffer for causes we know not. With little known aggression towards Imperial lands, we summon men from their homes and fields - to don armor in lands foreign, and to suffer mortal wounds at the hands of an enemy that posed no threat. As an Empire lives, war has been its necessary fuel. This is no more criticism than a fact of life. But there are other battles to wage, and other ways to feed the dominion of Man. When I had penned word against the ‘Imperial Fascist League’, I warned that I would form opposition if the trend had continued. With this needless campaign, it has. Our veterans wilt, Our wars grow, and Our Empire is besmirched on the absence of merit. Parliament wanes as the will of those who built it fade and the people’s voice dampen. The internal focus of our Empire remains neglected. This ends now. Thus I do declare, THE IMPERIAL PACIFIST PARTY, to prioritize the internal success of the Empire and deter needless conflicts that do not threaten the sanctity of Our Imperial union. Gwyn **Detailed document of party & registry coming soon.

Thexan received the notice, walking amidst his home glades in solemn retreat. Despite the aggressive exchange, there was a melancholy to his gait. Dancing with death demanded a certain respect. His eyes wandered to the blade rested along the roots. “Let us talk with this ‘Kaius’, then.”

A missive is sent to Haelun’or. The declarations of hegemony, “purity”, and dominance from the silver city become increasingly annoying. It is no well kept secret to the realm that you, silver elves, render your strength from Imperial allies. Without them, you would stow away wordlessly within your citadels – as you have for centuries prior. Let the record then show. My name is Thexan Ithelanen – son to Valkorion and favored blood of Kairn the Conqueror. I have written the many documents that have embarrassed this war effort throughout the elven weeks. I’ve received little parry. The blood of silver is weak. I challenge you to a duel within the woods – that whosoever falls, the monks shall not revive. Let us settle what blood reigns stronger. Bring one of equal stature to mine so that I may slay him and sow his blood among my roots. You have one elven week to reply. Thexan Ithelanen

“Yes” thexan say

whatever you do, do not rep this post.

In the words of a common elf, The Imperial mind mistakes itself. There is no Great War. There is no strife of value. This is no coalition set to depose an Empire in faith that we would instill our own. We have brought together the free minds of Elvenkind not to retaliate, but to break the yolk and tether bound across every Elf. We have sought to live a life that is not aligned to the whims and wars of any Man. Verily, to our expectation, the Imperial mind is displeased. There is indeed whisper of an Age of Elves – but it is none to rule over others. We yearn of an age free of wars that are not our own; free of the political bondage bound due our communion with other races. You will see then that your challenge falls on deaf ears. You have invaded our forests five times, in most occasions to tear the life of our Princes and render our children leaderless. And yet we stay, tending to the life we have always known. We do not raid, we do not rove, we do not reave. What blood do you then thirst for? Is it a rebel’s? We have not rebelled. Is it an enemy’s? We do not seek you in battle. Your proclamations announce our crowing and craven ways; letters from the Imperial Capital tell of a foe far in evil and sewn in their wretched hideaways. But you dare not tell them the truth - that Imperial forces invade peaceful cities, incite death, and pretend that they are wronged. My people have died before, and they may die again. Fenn has been sacked. The Mali’ker have been butchered in excess. Malinor, a home of all wood elves, was put to the sword by Humanity’s best. But we find life again. The winds of war wash across this world for ages over - and yet, nothing is ever truly gone. At day’s end, I weep for Horen’s children. As we live and die by these ancient woods, so does Humanity by the sword. Wars are a season to Elvenkind, but Man will be fighting them for as long as they live. When all is done and the sun sets on quiet glades again, I will rest. And that is something worth dying for. Thexan

“Why do you care about elves?” asks Thexan. “We’ve made it clear this is a defensive effort. There is no interest in waging conquest. Yet, it seems you thirst to fight.” He mulls over the words for a few moments. “Yes. They’re thirsty.”

now you have more time to focus on middle school good job

“Not an impossible task,” mused the elf back through mutual telepathy, pulling an old document over across his desk.

The Imperial body is one that has repeatedly interfered with Elvenkind in manipulative and malevolent nature. Spanning from the Sack of Malinor, Human monarchs have sought to involve within Elven affairs, burgeoning conflicts and asserting dominance over the race by that rite. Our grievances span centuries of monarchs, regimes, empires, and nations. Only one variable has been constant. With them, the Mali’aheral (despite their self-proclaimed hatred of violence) have frequently abetted war as their most common interaction with Elvenkind. Let the ledger be laid bare for all to witness. Sack of Malinor by Imperial and White Rose forces in Anthos. General persecution and mass murder of Elves committed under Horen V’s reign in Anthos. Imperial backed high elven regime subjugated mali’ame and mali’ker into apartheid slums – banned from practicing their own culture, intermarriage punishable by death, the Fringe. Fenn is sacked by the Third Orenian Empire in the Fringe. Several coups are initiated against Leyulin by Haelun’or during Athera. Oren funds and supplies troops to the sack of Leyulin under the high elven regime during Athera. Human planted elven leader Tristin Tresery takes power for many years during Athera. Haelun'or militarizes under 'The Vigil', begins raiding innocent civilians and inciting violence in Vailor. Haelun'or rebels against the Dominion in Vailor. The Dominion remains an appendage to the now revived Empire in Axios. Repeated Fenn persecution occurs throughout the years in Axios. Threat of war against the Dominion as scapegoat and fear of elven consolidation in Atlas. Crusade declared against Dominion in Atlas. Imperial raids against Elvenesse due to alliance of disparate elven states in Arcas. Let there be no mistake by this ledger. We are not aggressors. We are persecuted not for our actions towards others. We are not used by the Imperial host out of mutual friendship. It is a parasitic attachment to rend our sovereignty, our power, and our use apart. The Imperial mind has implanted itself in Elven politics for centuries, issuing violence whenever the wayward elven states wandered too close in friendship. In peace, they nurture Elvenkind so that they may grow dependent and weak. In war, they align and position elven states against one another in an effort to maintain a fractured race. There is one thing the Empire fears most: a united Elvenkind. I will shed my prejudices towards my elven brothers. I will band with their blood as we did under Malin’s umbra. Our world is a soup of chaos, one only remedied by the unions we bring together. In light of this Imperial incursion, one thing is certain in my mind. I will never be a slave again. Thexan