Monkee

By way of a raven's dark wings, word is sent to each of the respondents; dropped from its talons, a simple parchment. "Meet me in-person, by the square or tavern of Ikur'fiyem, and we shall discuss your enlistment. I await you there." -Signed, Vytrek Tundrak

Beneath the sun's golden rays, dulled by cloudy skies, the snows of Fin'hesin melt away to their lowest point of the seasonal cycle. Though all is still covered in powdery white, the layer is thin, and green pokes through the unforgiving cold. The days grow longer, and for a time, the sun refuses to sit - instead lingering upon the horizon; a midnight sun, to cast the grey skies in gold and purple. It is a time of peace and plenty; within the Fennic Remnants, the Svarling attacks have withered, and the Mali'fenn know respite. Thus, they prepare for the Solstice of Peace - a rare time of merriment and laxity. Missives are thus spread throughout the Fennic Remnants. "Mali'fenn - With summer's arrival, I invite you all to celebrate the Solstice of Peace with me. As many of you know, this is a time of revelry, when we might enjoy some rare comforts. In our tavern, we shall drink, eat, tell stories, and jump over the flames of our cooking fires. This rest is well-earned." Signed, Vytrek Tundrak ______________________________________________ [[OOC]] This lil festival will be held Saturday at 7pm EST in the tavern!

They made their way to the gates. The Laughing Hag, cloaked and pale, carried him upon her shoulders. Bound and bleating was their vampyric prize, that darkspawn who had sullied an Archvigilant of Wyrvun - assaulting and corrupting her before that most sacred of wayshrines. He raged at the Vigilants who surrounded the pair with weapons drawn. Mention was made of the impermanence of what was to come, yet it was a lesson to be remembered; lest, they vowed, they hunt him down for a thousand years and return him to the dust each time he reformed. He pleaded with his captor, for they were two of a kind. What warranted such an act of betrayal? "You make too much noise," was the Hag's response. Upon stone and snow was he laid, before a roaring pyre that had already burned for one hundred days and one hundred nights, fed by a flood of Svarling corpses. There did the Laughing Hag perform her work, before at last, he was turned over to the Vigilants. With a cold indifference stepped forth the Vigilant of Hope, uncorking a bottle to pour seawater upon the darkspawn. He writhed and screamed; "What is death without a little pain?" the Vigilant mused. Reaching down, a gauntleted hand wrapped around the vampyre's throat, and lifted. Steel-clad digits held a vice-like grip upon his gullet, until only air lingered between feet and floor. "Wyrvun sends his regards," was the utterance, and shortly, the vampyre was tossed upon the flames. Screams pierced the night sky as he boiled and hissed. Flesh melted to bone, bone melted to dust, and all fell silent. Ash lingered in frigid air, mingling with the falling snow. The vampyres had bought peace. For now.

A missive is spread throughout Almaris, reading as follows: To the blood-hunters, or "vampires" - We know what you did. One of your kind called "Ludovici" attacked and corrupted an Archvigilant of Wyrvun. There is no greater sacrilege. We know where you live. Your covens have been uncovered. Your identities are known. We are coming. End this "Ludovici" and bring us his corpse, or we will annihilate you. The paladins may break bread with you and forsake their divine task, despite the will and bestowed powers of their "Xan" - but we will not compromise the will of Wyrvun. -Wyrvun's Vigilants

Vytrek makes for home, a few hairs singed. Two more wounds to add to his collection; three more kills to add to his count.

Arsenios, though not a man of particular faith, scratches his head.

♪♪♪ For nine days and nine nights, the Ivae'fenn wall of spears and shields had held against their far more numerous foes, and in near constant fighting. Often did the combatants drop of wounds or fatigue, to be dragged out of the formation and replaced. By battle's end, only half remained standing. But they had held, and though initially pushed back towards the keep, they drove the Svarling horde straight into the Norlandic and Haensetic hosts. As the snow settled, it ran red with blood, and an exhausted Vytrek could only stare on in a daze.

Arsenios Mareno greedily stuffs his pockets full of raffle tickets, only to find that all but one are used tissues! Yuck! IGN: MmmMonkee RP NAME: Arsenios Mareno

At long last, light peeks above the horizon in Fin'hesin. It bathes Ikur'fiyem in long, golden rays; the thick blankets of snow wither, beginning to mist away. From beneath the powder, buds of vibrant green begin to poke through, dotting the once barren landscape with color. At long last, the deep winter is over; spring has arrived for Fin'hesin. As the world begins to wake, the Mali'fenn prepare for a joyous festival - the Equinox of Birth. Missives are spread throughout the Fennic Remnants and beyond. "Mali'fenn, and friends - With the coming of spring, you are invited to celebrate the Equinox of Birth. As Wyrvun's lands are reborn, so too are we. You are all invited to celebrate this festival of life through a dance, to be held in our keep these coming days. Attendees are strongly encouraged to bring a partner; before the festivities begin, those who are single will be brought together to pair up as many as possible. Dress in white and green is also highly encouraged. I look forward to seeing you there." Signed, Vytrek Tundrak, Prince of the Fennic Remnants Special invitations are sent to the following: Miven Caerme'onn, Archdruidess of Nevaehlen, and her people @WestCarolina His Highness Evar'tir Oranor, High Prince of Elvenesse, and his people @Bhased His Highness Vival Velulaei'onn, Prince of Stygian Hollow, and his people @ColonelKuehl1 His Majesty Sigismund III, King of Haense, and his people @Xarkly His Majesty Vane, King of Norland, and his people @_pr0fit ____________________________________________________________ [[OOC]] Dance will be held Friday, September 24th and 7pm EST!

Having already spoken, this enlistment is accepted and filed away.

By way of a raven's dark wings, word is sent to each of the respondents; dropped from its talons, a simple parchment. "Meet me in-person, by the square or tavern of Ikur'fiyem, and we shall discuss your enlistment. I await you there." -Signed, Vytrek Tundrak

Vytrek Tundrak stills as his silvery gaze takes in the contents of the letter; by its first few lines, he surmises the fate of the Drakon elder, and his former comrade-in-arms. How quickly that generation of 'fenn was fading away, he marveled; yet, how long their memory would linger, he determined. Carefully, that parchment is set aside, and plans for a funeral are made. The soldier would receive his due rest.