spqrSancus

OOC Application Minecraft Name: spqrSancus Discord: sancus.hau#9556 IC Application Name: Avern'athri Andria Race: Mali'aheral Age: Don't quite know anymore, I'll be honest. Time stops having meaning after a certain age. Previous Martial Experience: A lot, though I don't much like speaking of it. I've had a bit of experience in most martial fields, though that was all quite a long time ago. I've been rank-and-file, had a fair amount of time as a CO at one point, though I eventually resigned from that position, and I've more than my fair share of experience conducting guerilla warfare. However, I am best suited as a field medic, and it is also the reason I find myself applying, as multiple members of elVirarim have expressed to me that this may be of use going forwards due to an unfortunate lack of dedicated medics in your ranks. I would, however, note that, despite my previous combat experience, I recently lost an eye and haven't engaged in warfare for at least a century, if not more. So it's likely I will need to be re-trained. Aspects' blessings.

Application Name: Synalli Race: Mali'ame Age: 52 Occupation: Huntress Experience: None, I guess. Proficiencies (Archery, etc.): Archery, ambushes, tracking Place of Current Residence: N/A OOC: Username: spqrSancus Nexus Profession+Proficiency: Proficient Woodworker, Adequate Chef, Leatherworker, Lumberjack, and Farmer, Fair Fisher, Apprentice Alchemist, Promising everything else. Timezone: EST Do you have Teamspeak?: (Y/N) No, but I can get it if required.

((Might want to pin this, btw, for new welves and elves who move here. Especially since it's not linked in the mega-thread. It's sorta important, particularly the void mage laws and interbreeding laws.))

What are tomes of power, first off?

And so too fell Asul, in a strange way and form. Aelthus' death, one whom had treated him like a brother, one whom invited him into his new family's ranks, had fallen so soon. "You fool... I should have done more. I knew that you couldn't live without her. I should have argued with the chieftain some more."

And so the hunt began. The high elf rushed along the savanna plains, arbalest in hand. He searched high and low for suitable prey, and, after a few hours of searching, he found one. The lion in question was male, possibly a few years into adult-hood. This one lived a nomadic lifestyle, far and away from those which came to reside in their tribe-like prides. In hunting this one, he would not be condemning an entire line of lions, nor would he be chased down by the other members of its family unit. The elf checked the distance, lining up the sights on his arbalest. He squints, closes one eyes, gauges wind direction and speed. He thinks for a moment, reflects on the meaning of this life. It seems almost terrible to take the life of such a majestic creature as this, but alas, there had been great fortune these past few years. Much cause to celebrate. And a path, a dream, to follow. Death is a part of the Cycle. This, he knew. And so he loads his crossbow, slamming a bolt into place as he perches atop the branches of one of the acacias which line the hot and grassy plain. "Your sacrifice will feed us, our bellies, our dreams, our hopes, and the reclamation of mali history and culture... For this, llir, forgive me. May Cernunnos bless my Hunt." He winds the winch, drawing back the bowstring. He lines the sight up again, checks once more for wind speed, direction, adjusting his weapon's course. He breathes in, he breathes out. The lion settles into the shade of a tree, some 40 meters away... He breathes in again... The lion shakes its mane. And he breathes out. The lion quietly settles itself into the ground. And Asul pulls the trigger, and the bolt goes flying forth. Some found glory in the Hunt. But Asul hunted for sustenance, and for a dream he felt obliged to follow. There was no great battle, no adrenaline coursing through his veins. There wasn't so much time for even a roar. The high elf hefted the crossbow onto his shoulder, observing his handiwork. 40 meters away, the animal lay, a steel-headed bolt embedded in its eye. "... Ahernan, Cernunnos. Blessed be the Hunt." And so he claimed his trophy, all the Lion's head, and wore it's hides. And wearing those hides, he returned home, to the Seed of the Aureon. And there, at their manor, where he lay the corpse, he proclaimed to them all: "We will feast tonight, lliran. Let naught go to waste. The bones and the organs will be offered to the Aspects tonight."

((Woops lol yeah))

Before you is an elf. A high elf, by the looks of it. He's sitting in the tavern, scribbling away into a scroll. Peering over him, one might note the format, then the title - an essay being made. Upon finishing, he promptly stands and heads off to find his mentor, the Melody Druid Wendy.

Asul'athri, upon hearing the rumours, rushes over to the Aureon manor to check up on both Ayda and Leo.

Asul'athri Parir'taliyu, having come to the feast without knowing that there were plans for an engagement, had felt highly unprepared upon it's announcement. He frantically searched his person for a range of engagement gifts, as his kind were wont to give upon such an announcement. Settling upon a sparkling emerald necklace he had made due to the sheer excess of the jewels he had in his profession, and a bluesteel falcata he had just recently forged, he quickly made his way up to the couple to grant them their stunning gifts before he had to leave. Both accepted quite graciously, marvelling at the beauty of the creations the former mali'thilln had made and was now giving to them in celebration of the joyous engagement. As he quickly bade farewell and left, he bade them a fair many offspring and a happy marriage, leaving Ayda somewhat flustered at the insinuations. It seemed, that even in these dark times, the bright ones would shine brighter still. If only it might last. ((Description of the Sword - At Leo's Bequest))

Asul, having met with Katar on the way to the manor, downs an entire flask full of cheap, highly alcoholic wine. He stumbles his way to Linandria's tavern, in a drunken stupor, mourning for the sake of his friend. "I wish I knew how to pray..." He tries to drink himself silly, but seeing as the tavern is unmanned, he only manages to finish off a last few stray drops of wine.

Asul rushes to the Aureon manor, hearing the news. All manner of curses filling his mind, as he rushes to his friend, filled with concern.

Housing Application MC Name: spqrSancus IC Name: Asul'athri Parir'taliyu Race: Mali'aheral Occupation: Proficient Blacksmith, Adept Miner, Occasionally Scholar Additional Residents(Ic and their mc names): N/A Additional Resident's occupation: N/A Have you read the laws and obligations?: I have, and I plan to abide by them to the best of my abilities.

The high elf would approach the (kha?) sage to learn more of the other riddles.

In the predominantly wood elven city of Linandria, a strange happening occured. As a high elf reminisced to a young mali'ame, and a mali'ker introduced herself to a future prince of Laureh'lin, three wisps appeared from tjhe heavens, glowing with a strange, soft, light. Suddenly, the wisps, each of a golden colour, began to recite a rhyme. "Fruits of life do beg my pardon. Roaming astray my endless garden. My will sees metal turn to rust. And men grow tall from all but dust. Find me not in book or tome. For I'm the breath of life and home. Forge noble beasts and kings that reign. I do this time and time again." In this time another entered the realm of the observers, a young pregnant wood elven druid. But at the conclusion, the wisps emitted a single, numbing pulse of light. Those whom had been there at the time of the pulse felt peculiar, strange, as though some unusual force had entered and examined them. And promptly thereafter, the wisps then left. The high elf, whom had been until recently, a very devout agnostic, seemed frantic at the message, and the sighting. He frantically searched for parchment to inscribe the words he had just heard, and, quickly transmitted the words to paper from his mind. He copied the message three times, giving one to the druid, believing that the message was in someway connected to their beliefs, and the other to one of elsirame, a friend he had made as he had begun to stay longer in the city. This one he bade find his commander, for he felt the message was somehow foreboding. It seems something is soon to happen.

Music. Highly recommended. http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=jkpg887gIXQ#Big_Screen_Music-_Open_Your_Eyes_(Feat._Tori_Beaumont)_2015_Epic_Female_Vocals) The day is over, the sun has set. From the Silver City walks a single Elf, alone and melancholy. Donning his armour and wearing his blades, relics of a long gone time, he marches from his home to a final destination. He leaves but a box with his resignation and a final memoir while he goes. Asul'athri is gone. There is more than one way to die. Asul'athri has suffered all but one. In the twilight years of the Elven life, the Elven mind shall fold and crumble. This is the law of Order. This is the Way. Asul'athri, warrior among scholar, looks behind his back. He takes one last look at an empty city, dying, corrupt, and weak. There is a ray of light there. Among all of Silver's weaknesses, he sees strength in Orsino Acal'elor. He sees strength in friends and heroes unrecognized by its people. Alas, his has failed him. * * * He looks down to the campfire, burning hot and bright in the middle of the forest. He polishes his blades - something he has not done in decades, something he never needed to do, not since he put down his blade out of shame and fear. A fire which burns twice as bright burns twice as short. His life is the fire, the flame which burnt too hot, too quick... Too small. There will be no one to remember him, he supposes. Ah, well. He did his part, though no one else could recognize it. He sits back against the makeshift wooden seat he has made for himself, and closes his eyes. * * * The creatures run to him from every direction, and the Elven-Raevir arming sword which once served him well so long ago slices and swerves through their ranks. Asul'athri is untouchable, it seems. A zombie pushes through his guard and manages to smack a bit at his armour, but Asul simply steps away and swings the glowing blade down at it's side. It's rotten flesh gives easily, filling the clearing with the smell of death and decay. He holds up the blade, a golden, glowing beacon to the creatures before him, both repelling and drawing them. Yes, he has fallen. He was always fallen. But he fights anyways. * * * The sun rises, and Asul peeks open a single eye, from his resting place in the seat. In silence, he gathers the ashes of the creatures which fled before him, scattering their dust to the wind. He packs up, and carries on. * * * The Bronze were right. Silver grows weak. They forget the second Curse. They could be strong again. But the Elf was always stronger on his own - after all, wasn't that what they were made for? To sit in empty halls? To be alone, and slow their lives? Insanity comes to all in the twilight years. For those whom live their lives quickly, it shall come when younger. Only 337 years old, and already he feels the onset. He contents himself with the fact that he left while still sane. Though he is doomed, he left them the one gift he still could. The maintenance of their Purity. * * * The high elf continues marching forward, through the rainy day. He pulls his old cloak tighter around him. It is heavy, not particularly light - after all, it is woven with chainmail rings to protect him. It is almost more than his strength can bear, but then again, he has trained marching in such conditions before. He is a soldier. He will always be a soldier. The hood and the old mask are fitted upon his face. Passerby look at him nervously, for this elf wears the very garment of impurity. He must, he mused, look very shady to these passerby. Ah, well. It matters not now, when he leaves his life behind. So he keeps on marching. * * * This elf stands upon the bridge between new and old life. Not of Death. Simply the end to the old, and the start of a new. He looks down at himself. Does he really want to do this? He thinks of friends and people he has begun to know as family. Seth Calith. Avern'dionne. Abigail Massey. Most of all, Braxus Ni'leya. Is this how exile feels like? He feels lost. Somehow, though, he feels renewed. As though freed from his shackles, able to do anything. Is this the end? Or simply a new beginning? It's time to find out. * * * The elf sheds his cloak, his armour, his mask. He is safe here. This is where it all began. Where it all ends. And where he begins again. The elf looks up into a mirror, and smiles sadly. Van'ayla, thilln. Karin'ayla, thull. The elf stands up, his hair meticulously dyed brown, and spectacles cast carelessly aside. "Who are you?" a passing monk asks. "I am Jonathan Smythe," he responds, smiling, and shaking the monk's hand. Jonathan Smythe... A fitting identity for a new elf. A false elf. Or, perhaps, a new perspective. This is it. The descent into insanity. Time to open his eyes. * * * Elsewhere, a new one washes up on shore. This one is unknown. Confused. An amnesiac. He or she knows nothing about him or herself. He or she looks about, blinking, crying. Who is this mysterious, new stranger? It's time to open their eyes. * * *

"Laurir, I must agree with Seth. On the other hand... Whether this was truly traditional at the time or not, as you say, it is an interesting concept, one which I believe has many boons to elcihi - might I suggest that one takes this into some serious consideration, regardless of its questionable origins?" says Elokarir'mali Asul'athri.

((This does not include alchemy or Nexus enchanting, right...?))

No high elf would willingly be a servant to another - your best bet is to just jump in with either a conservative or ultra-conservative point of view, and try not to offend anyone. People think it's really tough to get in with we high elves, but it really isn't, as long as your character acts smart (big words!) and isn't so nice that they want to let in every character that comes by the gates. We're all nice OOC, no matter what people tell you. :P

I really, really hope this is a joke. If it is, kudos. If it isn't... I'll be blunt, what the **** are you doing?

As one strolls along the pathways of Haelun'or, they might pass by the inn and view the pitifully alternatively overworked or underworked stall, wherein an elfess struggles with a pile of paperwork (or finds herself in complete lack of anything to do). You go to help her or converse with her, and she would (if you were currently homeless or hadn't filled out citizenship forms) hand you a sheaf of papers of your own, which she tells you to fill out. She otherwise directs you to the office of Asul'athri Parir'taliyu, located at the town square to the right of the meteorite and town pillar. Nevertheless, one would see the following poster still hanging on the stall wall. A tradition held since the days of the first blessed city, elmali'aheral are requested to fill in the citizenship forms to allow themselves to recieve a home. Prior forms sent are no longer accepted, only a few have been saved since the previous cities, so all those who are not listed at the bottom need to reapply of documentation sake. Housing is granted to those who have been most patient and pure. Larger homes will be granted to those that need them, do state such in your application so that when houses are available, we assign you to the most correct housing at our disposal. Those who do not mind being partnered with another should note this also in the form. Those under the age of fifty are deemed minors and do not require citizenship but once they reach that age, immediate citizenship is required. Those who are not of Mali’thill blood, though have been granted permission to live within the city must inquire with the Okarir’mali or the Sohaer to discuss housing arrangements, for it is rare for such an event to occur. An application may need to be filled if requested by the respective authorities. The Okarir’mali also wishes to note that modification of homes is not permitted, and doing such will result in eviction. APPLICATION: (Minecraft Username: ) Name: Age: Gender: Will any others reside with you?: If not, would you opt in for a shared home?: How can you declare yourself mali'thill?: Are there any other details that you wish to relay? (Occupation, Past Allegiances, Past Homes, etc): Only those whom are denied or have questionable paperwork shall recieve a direct response in order to keep records clean. When a home is available you will be contacted by the Okarir'mali. For documentation reasons here are copies of the previous posters and applications: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/122191-haelunor-citizenship-and-housing/page-5#entry1205322 https://www.lordofth...nd-citizenship/ https://www.lordofth...p-applications/ https://www.lordofth...aheral-housing/