ThumperJack

It was an early morning for the bearded mali’ame known as Eònan Norväyn, rising out of bed to don leather foot wrappings, gambeson, and a dark half-robe over deep green half-plate. His mind awash with thought and worry amidst this practiced armoring ritual, muttering prayers to his wild gods and his creed as he fitted his robe on, deciding to leave his ilmyumier-marked arms bare. His eyes drifted to the sleeping form of his partner, the Bruin. Worry mingled with pride in his gaze of burnished gold, a reluctance to leave her and their newborn child’s side. However, tradition demanded he take to the wild. He leaned over to press his lips against her temple, murmuring softly, “Rest well, my loves. Oh Bolomormaa llean, ehya llytan, nae’leh ahern kae illera.” He spoke in a gentle hum as he spoke the single line of prayer. He gripped the edge of the covers to pull more snugly over her shoulders, turning to step out from the room into the main living area to very quietly prepare a stew of chopped beef, vegetables, and various other spices he had slowly collected in his travels over the years. He has never before had a reason to stop and cook a hearty meal for more than himself before now. Once the stew had been set to heat over the fire, he picked up an ironwood spear from the wall with a brief flourish to test the weight of his old weapon. He had become accustomed to carrying his thanhic polehammer, the bec de corbin named Mordu Fer’bilokina, into combat. Despite his growing adoration for the larger weapon, he relished this chance to pick the piercing polearm as his primary. His favored recurve bow and quiver of broadhead arrows were slung over his shoulder, followed by a tomahawk and shortsword strapped to his belt. Eònan made his way out from the village with his spear used as a walking stick, coming to a halt just past the massive, overgrown log that served as the Vale’s bridge. He swept his gaze from the dire wolf that waited for him back toward the looming, floral and fungal walls of the Vale itself. Reluctant to leave, he unclipped his helmet from his belt and dropped it onto his head, eventually turning to mount the wolf with a small huff, “‘ey buddy.. What kinda’ shoe does a bear like ta’ wear?” He asked of the dire wolf named Liam, who simply snorted out a butterfly from his nose. Unphased by this lack of a response, the Norväyni warrior continued: “Heard she prefers ta’ go bear-foot.” The pair traveled for the better part of two days into the deep wilds, traversing the great forests of the realm in search of their specific prey. The trip was becoming one of nostalgia by the end of the first day as they bedded down for the night, finding a decent outcropping of rocks to nestle into. Liam curled up against the stone wall as Eònan, still wearing his helmet, laid back against the wolf’s ribs, gradually allowing himself to slip into a nap. Liam’s attentive gaze kept vigil over the sleeping warrior, occasionally nestling his snout into the crook of the Mali’ame’s neck before immediately lifting back up with ears perked in the direction of one sound or another. A few hours pass until Eònan’s eyes flutter open beneath his T-shaped visor, reaching across his chest to pat Liam’s shoulder. The wolf laid his head down more firmly in the soft grass beneath them, drifting off to sleep while Eònan took up the next watch. His golden eyes slowly fell to watch the resting canine, a gentle smile coming across his lips. It had been many years since he and the loyal companion had traveled in such a manner, yet the routine came back to the both of them with ease. Eònan allowed himself to indulge in thinking back to simpler times. Times when he had no need to worry about darkspawn burning his home down, nor if his kin were outfitted to the best they could be. His expression had become one more of tired stress, further heightened by each new issue or threat that reared its head. In summary, he enjoyed the reprieve. It was on the third day of travel that they had finally found their quarry’s lair. Another outcropping of rock in the midst of a thick forest gave way to a small cave in the center, nearly filled with leaves and natural debris. Prints in the leaf-strewn mud that surrounded the rocks gave Eònan the impression the bear had been coming and going recently, so he and Liam shacked up in the bushes nearby to watch and wait. Hours passed by and there was still no sign of their ursine prey. The pair of hunters settled more comfortably into their hiding place while they waited for anything to happen, canine eyes staring out into the brush alongside a T-shaped visor shrouded by deep green steel that melded with the surrounding vegetation. Another hour passes and drops of precipitation begin to fall through the canopy, giving only a minute’s warning before the become an utter pouring rainfall with thunder rolling in the distance. Just as the noise of rain and thunder began filling the forest, Liam’s canine ears perked up as his head whipped toward the rocks they had been keeping vigil over all this time. A low growl emanated from within the wolf’s throat, causing Eònan to slowly rise up from his seated position with his spear gripped in hand. “Think so, llir?” He asked quietly back to his companion who could, in fact, not understand what he said but gave a huff anyways. Eònan reached back to pat his shoulder to ease the beast, “Right then.. Stay here. I’m about ta’ do somethin’ stupid.” With that said, he crept out from their shared hiding place toward the rocky outcropping where the bear’s den lay. Raindrops pattered constantly against the green steel of his helmet, the beat of his heart picking up speed as he crested the first rock that overlooked the den. A chill ran down his spine and the face beneath his visor paled. The den was empty. Not a moment passed as the discovery hit him that the sound of a wolf’s howl filled the air and the bounding, heavy falls of paws were heard coming from behind and straight for him. “Ffffo- AGH!” Eònan’s deep green and black figure is thrown out from the rocks, landing unceremoniously in the thick mud and leaves that surrounded the den as the roar of a grizzly bear sounded from where he came. Groaning, the Norväyni warrior picked himself up with a stumble and a near slip across the slick, muddy surface he was thrown into. His left arm ached from the awkward landing and he already noticed the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He squeezed the digits of his right hand, only to realize with a start that his ironwood spear was no longer in his grip. The weapon stuck out from the mud a few too many meters away from where he had landed, the onpour of the storm making the journey to retrieve it more and more hazardous. The warrior broke into a run anyways, skidding and sliding across slick mud for his lost spear just as the large grizzly came trudging out from its natural fort. Spotting the fast, stumbling form of Eònan as he moved across its muddy yard, the bear broke into a charge. The muscular ursine shoulder rammed into Eònan’s body, knocking him flat to the ground with a loud OOMPH as the air in his lungs was released upon impact. The grizzly was on top of him in an instant, great paws slapping against his helmet and chestplate and pressing him deeper into the mud with its weight. Claws slashed across his exposed arm, hooked under his robe and gouged a hole through his gambeson. Blood was beginning to leak and mix with the rainwater and muck as Eònan struggled beneath the bear’s onslaught, the strength of his left arm waning. Just as the struggle began to feel hopeless for the trapped Norväyn, another howl rang through the storm. Out of the corner of his eye and through the debris that covered his visor, he could just barely make out the running form of Liam moving through the treeline. The grizzly’s attention shifted momentarily from the warrior to the dire wolf, paws lifting up to settle into the mud in preparation to meet the other animal. Yet the wolf never approached. Eònan took the chance to roll away from the bear’s mass, churning up more mud and aggravating his already hurting arm more. However the grizzly was not so easily escaped, whipping back toward the fleeing Norväyn to swipe its claws across his less armored leg, tearing three long gashes that reddened with ichor quickly. Luckily, momentum gave him the boost he needed to reach his spear, grappling onto the weapon for support with a gasp of pain. He ripped the weapon out from the mud and leafy debris that it had been stuck out from, spinning it in his grasp with a brief flourish while the grizzly ripped and tore through the mud in pursuit of Eònan’s bleeding, battered figure. The Norväyni warrior spun around to face his ursine adversary, eyes behind the cracked visor settling on the bear with a glint of stoic acknowledgement as his heels dug into the mud, his arms pulled his spear back into a prepared thrust. Only a few words left his bloodied lips when he finally leapt forward to strike. “Narnsae ito iyl.” Three more days passed until the hunter and his canine companion returned to the wild walls of the Vale with the corpse of the grizzly tied and dragged on a makeshift sled behind them. Eònan released his rope to rest a moment while waiting for one of the Greenblades to enter the gatehouse, leaning onto his spear with a low, exhausted huff. He was almost reluctant to step through the rising gates, a hidden yearning for the road and the wild tugging at his heart. Yet, that yearning disappeared as the second gate lifted up and his muddied, bloodied, and wounded figure limped into the main concourse of the village where other mali’ame went about their day. His cracked visor stared ahead at the short form of his partner and their son in her arms, then to the kin around them. That scene is why he stayed. These people that he loved and watched over like the father he had become. His chest rose and fell in a soft breath of fresh air and immense pride, and he murmured with a smile. “Narnsae ito iyl.”

A bearded mali'ame scans over the contents of the missive, lifting his head to stare into the eyes of onlookers with a vaguely confused expression.

A Norväyni mal stood vigil over his kin as they rested from the sea-side battle, his armor blasted with soot from cannonfire and dented from debris. His head lowered as a soft sigh was released, "Solace for some, at last.".

The Iron Druid pauses as he receives word about this guild of druids, his blind and good eyes both scanning the information before releasing a great, LOUD laugh, "HA! FOCKIN' ARSE LICKIN' DONKEH DINGEHS! T'ey've ain't read their historeh, tha' wee babes."

A Wild Chief squinted at the contents of the missive shown to him, "Dishonorable idiot." He muttered to the other pair, "Let'em try. I've ne' intentions of lettin' some personal grudge endanger my kin."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Through our duty, we find our faith.” Chapter I. The Beginning The Norväyn trace their roots as far back as the earliest recorded histories in the First Age and when the earthly king of Elves himself, Malin, walked amongst his children through the leaf strewn lowlands of a vast woodland realm. They were devoted to serving the Elf-King’s word as soldiers in the most trying of times during his reign. Much of their bond grew in the ancient Ibleesian conflicts where their leader, Torr, led his wolf-mounted cavalry deep behind the lines of undead advances to attack supply chains and burn equipment meant to siege the strongholds of Elvendom. They were known only as El’Chirran in these early days. The Wolves of Malin. Grey Riders. Dogs of the Frontier. Bes’bevar. Their green striped banners flew high above their heads and the howls of both dire wolf and Elf would soar out long before their arrival. For them, few could match the pride with which they handled their duties nor the strict adherence to the orders they were given. Honorable acts in the presence of their Elven kin went hand in hand with ferocious violence in the company of the enemy. As the years went by and the war against Iblees dragged on, the Wolves of Malin began to lose their shining Elven steel armor and began wearing the bones of their undead foes, the chitin of large insects, and pelts taken from their hunts. Their banners would be used as robes, bandages, and other substitutes for cloth as their time away from home would go for much longer and their rations dwindled further with each excursion. War took its toll on the Wolves and by the time Iblees had been defeated, the Elven warriors returned to their woodland home as strangers to their people. Chapter II. Family Time passes on and the war of Iblees faded into history for the younger lived races of the realm. Yet for their leader and harbinger, it was a memory of yesterday. Torr found himself wracked with nightmares that forever reminded him of the horrors he witnessed in war’s embrace. The dreams grew so terrible that he began to believe them to be omens of a coming calamity for his people, rather than the vestiges of trauma. He confided in his closest friends, Galfast and Eowyn, about what he saw and the trio agreed to rally their warriors in preparation for whatever was to come. Alas, what Torr feared would come was not an enemy of flesh or dark magic but one of circumstance. Their beloved lord and liege, Malin, disappeared without any trace to follow and sent Malinor into chaos. Unrest spread like a rampant disease before Elves began to depart from their once serene kingdom into the world to seek out a purpose beyond their forefather’s creations. The Golden Pools, the Ancestral Spirits, and Irrin Sirame. Yet Torr, Galfast, and Eowyn refused to depart from the site of their liege’s throne for many years. It was not until the final remnants of Mali’ame began to trickle from the city that Eowyn convinced the others to accompany the nomads. They agreed under the perception that they were protecting the last of Malin’s chosen in his absence. Into the deep wilds of the realm, the Wolves met with Irrin’s flock and became entranced by the faith that she had discovered. It was Irrin Sirame and the Mali’ame who taught the three leaders of the Wolves the value in living not just for Malin’s legacy but for a legacy of their own. With this in mind, they turned to each other and their warriors to create a new bond amongst themselves with a new name: Norväyn. From then on, they began to learn to craft and create things that would last beyond their long lives. Weapons that depicted the battles of their youth, armor that melded Elven steel with bonemold and chitinous accouterments. They honed their natural mind for tactics and warfare to suit the needs of hunting and providing for their new home in the wilds. The Norväyn took their striped and reused banner cloth and turned them into a badge of identity. For the trio of captains turned chieftains, their lives took new turns. Galfast became known as a war hero of epics, becoming so enthralled by the status that he delved out into the world months at a time in search of new beasts to slay and new tales to tell. Torr and Eowyn, however, turned to one another and found love. They settled down with the rest of the Irrinites to have a child that they named Ellewyn. Chapter III. The Fall from Grace Calamity would strike the hardened kin of the Norväyn once more in the form of Garthon, an archdruid of considerable renown and dark ambition. Since the disappearance of Malin and the fall of his kingdom, Garthon had coveted the newly opened seat of power that had been left empty in honor of the Elven forefather. As history would tell it, the archdruid wished for the mali’ame to ascend to a status above that of their golden and ashen brethren and for himself to claim the Elf-King’s seat above them all. Through the means of deceit, murder, and blackmail did the snake writhe his way into a position of power amongst the Mali’ame tribes. He began to quietly rally support of his upcoming campaign until the likes of Irrin Sirame and Taynei’hiylu, the Green Dragon herself, caught wind of his affairs. They began, with their own manner of subtlety, organizing what seeds they could to convince the others and Garthon to not go through with this. For the Norväyn, they were unaware of any such stirrings amidst their wild home until Garthon himself approached the trio of Elven veterans. He pleaded toward their love of Malin and the kingdom they once served, telling them that by aiding in his quest they would have Malinor restored. Torr and Galfast reluctantly agreed that it was worth the risk even as Eowyn slowly pieced together the lies in the archdruid’s story. The Norväyni men told her that it would not come to civil conflict and that the other Mali’ame would understand the desire. Oh, how wrong they were. On the eve of winter’s embrace, Eowyn stepped outside her home to find the followers of Garthon rallying with weapons drawn and armor donned. They claimed that the Irrinite loyalists had done the unthinkable and begun attacking. The Norväyni chieftess knew that this was not right and sent Ellewyn away to find Galfast, who had departed for another of his ventures only an hour prior. Eowyn hurried to find her husband. Torr was already at the front of the Garthonic force alongside a host of confused Norväyni warriors, adorned in their bonemold and steel and asking their chieftain questions that he had no answer to. He told himself that he was still a soldier and that soldiers follow orders. This was his way. This had always been his way. So then, why did he feel such fear in his chest? Where did this guilt that clawed through his heart come from? He did not have an answer for this either. Only after, when the forest wilds of the Mali’ame burned and both Garthonic and Irrinite peoples wept over the dead did Torr realize what had happened. Only when he found his wife, his Eowyn, laying dead with a Norväyni blade stuck from her chest did his questions find answers. They were, all of them, deceived. Chapter IV. Exile In the aftermath of Garthon’s uprising, the Norväyn were pardoned and forgiven by Irrin Sirame for their part in the ordeal. She saw them for who they truly were and understood that the price they paid for trusting the Archdruid’s lies were more than enough. The Norväyn did not see it this way. Torr disappeared into the deepest reaches of the wilds out of shame and regret, Galfast embarked across the sea in search of a tale that would bring some measure of redemption to his soul, and the rest of the seed split up amongst their inner families to wander the roads aimlessly on the backs of towering insect stilt striders. In this time away from all others but themselves, they began to rely heavily on the values learned from Irrin Sirame. Legacy became not just a want, but an absolute for their people’s survival. They began creating traditions of storytelling and honed their crafts further to relay memories of the past in an effort to never let the next generation forget the mistakes of their ancestors. Each Norväyni youth would know the story of Garthon by heart and could tell even the most foreign of passerby the epics of Galfast without skipping a beat. Ellewyn became the de facto chieftess of the seed in the absence of her mother, father, and uncle. She took upon her dire wolf and spent the next hundred years traveling between Norväyni families to keep the seed in touch with one another. She wished to remain alone with her grief and her duty to the seed until meeting a Mali’ame craftsman by the name Arondir. The two would marry and begin traveling in their own caravan as the rest of the Norväyn did. Together, they wrote their own history and spun tales upon the road that even Galfast would laugh or cry at hearing. Ellewyn would have a child later in their lives, naming him after the mother that she had lost: Eonan. The boy grew up being taught to spin stories and survive by his mother, how to craft and create by his father, and how to live for himself by the both of them. Only a few decades after the birth of his sister, Euphemia, would the young Eonan strike out into the world to write his own story and add it to the annals of Norväyni history. Faith and Practice Religion Ever since their initial meeting with Irrin Sirame and the rest of the Wild Faith’s first followers, the Norväyn’s religion has been based firmly in the pantheon of the Aspects and in Morea, the Wolf Prince. They view the Aspects as ever changing forces of nature that may appear as Man and Woman. Beast and Plant. Wind and Rain. Cernunnos is revered primarily as the force behind one’s instinct to survive and persevere through hard times. Cerridwen is expressed as a warm embrace, filling all those devoted with a sense of loyalty and love. Morea is the focus for all these views. The Wolf Prince hones the Norväyni faith into a more singular worship that best shows their most treasured values and traits. Another part of Norväyni religion is the concept of ancestor worship. Unlike the ancestor spirits that the Mali’ker give themselves to, the Norväyn praise their ancestors through more mundane means that are intended to show respect for the trials and lessons learned in the past as well as providing proof that their legacies lives on. To be draped in Wolf's Fur Art by nikadonna The Norväyn carry a very distinct and recognizable appearance apart from their other Elven kin. While any type of Elf may be seen wearing Norväyni attire and markings, the most common would be Mali’ame with dark, chocolate roots that uniquely fade into an almost sandy or golden blonde at the ends of their hair. Their eyes tend to be either a piercing topaz, evergreen, or woodland brown hue. Their apparel tends to be less tribal than the rest of the Mali’ame, more often than not sporting the dark green striped robes, sashes, headbands, or any other cloth adornment known as alii’gai [ah-LEE-guy]. The wolf-mark ilmyumier that is carved into the flesh of every member is characterized by a grey-green wolf’s skull printed upon either the shoulder or the forearm. The snout is surrounded by daubs of color and the top of the skull grows into a canopy of interweaving branches, growing up the arm and shoulder before creeping along the chest and back. These branches are intended to be added onto throughout a Norväyn’s life, leaving permanent tales of their life upon their very skin. The Bestiary The first and more docile of the creatures would be the towering Stilt Striders that are used as beasts of burden and living carriages. Most Norväyni families have had the same bloodline of Stilt strider since they were first acquired on the seed’s first excursions into the wilds, more particularly the arid regions of the world. Upon learning that the beasts could survive in most climates and were quite accepting of the elves cleaning them of acquired moss and vegetation, the Norväyn took them on. Each time the striders produced new spawn, the family would keep one of the young to replace the parent when it died. When the strider did pass on, its shell would be used to craft armor, tools, shelter, and other sorts while the meat would keep the family fed for many days. The second would be the Dire Wolves that serve as spiritual and living companions to the Norväyn. As a part of a young Norväyn’s trials, they are to raise a wolf pup and train them to be a lifelong companion. However, the wolves live a fraction of a fraction compared to the lifespan of an Elf. This led to the concept of companion bloodlines. A companion bloodline is an ancestry of dire wolves that have all been born from a Norväyn’s previous wolf and raised to take the parent’s place when they pass or grow too old to ride. It is said that the spirit of a Norväyn’s first wolf travels from descendent to descendent, always remaining beside their rider. Wolf's Tongue Storytelling is an integral part of the Norväyni culture. As one might expect, the need for legacy means that one must tell both the legacy of their ancestors as well as their own to be passed down to the next generation. Forever teaching the lessons, triumphs, and failures of the seed. Some Norväyn choose to do this as simple storytellers, be that through word of mouth or written upon parchment. Others decide to pass their stories on through song or more material artistry like painting or craftsmanship. The Rite of Song A tradition created by Eonan in the twilight hours of Almaris and fleshed out in the morning dew of Aevos. The Rite of Song references the Caerme’onn tale of Faeinn and the Tree Singers. It is a ritual that Norväyn may conduct during sessions of craftsmanship or artistry as a means of connecting with their ancestors, their gods, or simply telling a story through their passions. The ritual can be as simple as singing a prayer while one works or arranging an entire ceremony for the craft with candles, participants, and other parts. The Fledgling Trials Ellewyn’s Welcome For the youth of the Norväyn to begin their trials of adulthood, they begin with experiencing the rounds that Ellewyn once made to each of the wandering Norväyni families upon the wide roads of the world. The fledgling will seek out different members of the seed to greet and get to know, learning about their place in the family. Garthon’s Folly Before a fledgling may go any further into their trials, they must hear and understand the story of Garthon and the tragedy that the Norväyn faced at his hands. They will then use what they learned from the story to commit a deed that rights a wrong in another’s tale. It can be as grandiose or as mundane as they wish. Galfast’s Epic With a wrong righted, the fledgling may now prove that they can tell stories as compelling as Galfast’s epics. They will reach into the lives of their ancestors or their own experiences to find a story that teaches a moral or lesson that may be passed onto newer generations. The Companion’s Tale Now that the fledgling wields the strength of stories, they are given the opportunity to raise a dire wolf companion of their own to share in the experience. They will be taught the meaning behind the companion bloodlines cherished by Norväyni riders. Torr’s Proving The final step in a fledgling’s journey to acquiring their wolf-mark ilmyumier is Torr’s Proving. They will take their grown companion, their kin, and their wit into the wilds to perform a great hunt that will feed the Mali’ame and provide material for the coming weeks. After which, the fledgling will compile a new story in the form of a campfire tale, a poem, or a piece of art that depicts what happened. Once the story is retold, they will be taken to receive their wolf-mark ilmyumier and take the oath as the Wolves of Malin did under Torr’s eyes. Sons and daughters of the three captains, We are their legacy, they who served the earthly lord. Through our honor, we prove our fidelity, Through our patience, we best our quarry, Through our duty, we find our faith. We are the will of the Wolf, Malin’s favored hounds, The harriers of invasion.

An old, red bearded dwed perks up his nose into the cold, mountain air that he wandered through. His lips curled into a wide grin, "Heh heh heh.. tha' lil' dwedki still beh kickin' around. Mrmrmrm.. vereh proud." He rumbled to the mountain goat idly chewing grass nearby, waving a dismissive hand, "'Ey, fock yeh! Whaddye' know, ye're ah GOAT! Barharhar!"

A Wild Chief clad in the newly forged armor looked proudly upon the rest of his kin as they donned their own, setting his hands against his hips as he released a cool sigh, "If only y'could see me now. Ye'd like this." He snorted softly, nodding to another Greenblade as they approached to receive their uniform.

Beautiful stuff! So happy to see my old passion project still being used <3

Miklaeil, the Leopard Druid, receives the letter as he and his wife wander the wilds once more. With the pull of civilization lost to him now, he sends only the briefest of letters detailing his disappointment in his son's actions, but the pride he felt in Xodorin stepping up to face the consequences.

Creed of the Orriran'taliiyna Igne'onn “True Balance is found only in the Wild.” Wrote by the Leopard Druid, Miklaeil, in the 4th Year of the Second Age ___________________________________________________ Forged in war and passion, tempered by insight and honor, those druii and devout who follow the teachings of the Orriran'taliiyna serve as armored warriors, scholars, and craftmasters in the name of the Wild Gods, the Mani. In their infancy, these teachings were created as a means to combat corruption with a show of force and ferocious devotion to the Wild Gods, meant to emulate the fierceness of a wolf or the power of a bear protecting her cubs. As the creed grew and its followers pondered on the deeper meanings of the Balance and how to best safeguard its fragile beauty, it evolved from a simple set of beliefs into a lifestyle for one to abide by. The history of the Orriran'taliiyna is a short, bloody tale beginning in the twilight years of the First Age with the Leopard Druid, a veteran of several wars and current combatant of several more at the time, writing a tome detailing his beliefs on the Aspects, the Mani, and the ways he and his students worshipped them and their creations. This first tome was known as the “Creed of the Sanguine Fire”, a name meant to invoke feelings of deep passion and strength in those who followed it, led to a small following of druids, warriors, crafters, and a mix of all three coming together to learn from the tome and fight with its teachings. Early sightings of these druidic warriors could be noted in battles involving the Hunger Tear during the Voidal Crisis of Arcas, or perhaps more recently in the great Inferi Invasion at the very end of the realm with wearers of the Sanguine armor including such names as the Phoenix Druid, the Hummingbird Druid, the Caracal Druid, and the late Constellation Druid who gave her life in service to the Balance. ___________________________________________________ The Aspects, the Wild Gods, and Worship “With passion, we devote ourselves.” The followers of the Orriran'taliiyna believe in the Aspects and the Mani Spirits as most other druii and Aspectists do, only the creed’s vision on the matter alters the commonly accepted views. To the creed, the Aspects are not gods to be worshipped but instead are vast, conceptual forces of nature that create and take life according to the natural cycle. It can be said amongst the Orriran'taliiyna that the Aspects are merely two halves of the cycle, Cerridwen representing the side that creates and sustains life while Cernunnos represents the other that takes it and forces it to adapt. The Wild Gods, or as they’re commonly referred to “The Mani”, are the true recipients for the creed’s worship. They are known to have physical forms and known to grant blessings or curses upon those deserving of them, the work that only divine beings could be capable of doing. Thus the creed offers them tribute and worship, usually in the form of rituals and deeds done in the name of certain Mani. It is imperative to never ask the Mani for anything more than the most simple of blessings, for the Wild Gods are temperamental and it is hard to know whether they will give a blessing, a curse, or simply attack those who dare bother them outright. However, in the case that circumstances are so dire, it’s not specifically forbidden to seek the Wild Gods out personally. Only discouraged for the sake of one’s own well being. ___________________________________________________ Allegiance and Circles “Where life goes... So too should you.” So wisely said by the Autumn Druid once upon a time, these words serve as a proper example for the stance that the creed takes when it comes to nationality and the various circles that make up the Druidic Order. As the Orriran'taliiyna is not an organized circle itself, its teachings carry no bindings on what circle those who heed them choose to take part in, barring the ones that the individual places upon themselves. Ultimately, the allegiance of the Orriran'taliiyna is to the Wild Gods. If you study and follow our ways, this unspoken law of our lifestyle applies to you wholly. This isn’t meant to discourage any follower from committing to one circle or another. However, it does advise caution and makes the expectation that avoiding conflict amongst the Order known. So long as that simple expectation is met, you will still follow the creed as it is written. ___________________________________________________ Duties and Values “With honor, we serve the Balance.” I. Balance Adhering to the creed means accepting the duties that come with the armor each follower dons. The list begins with the highest priority of any druidic warrior- The protection of the natural Balance. Protecting the Balance means that anyone who calls themself a warrior of the creed’s teachings must watch over the wild places of the world, those untouched by civilization and the corruption of other planes and tainted magics. It also entails guarding the Wild Gods should they ever come to real harm. Harm to the Wild Gods is often connected with greater, otherworldly forces that could threaten the Mani rather than Descendent threats. The latter, lesser threat of Descendent involvement with the Mani is typically handled by fair warning given to those foolish enough to attempt to find or summon a Wild God. Maintenance of one’s inner balance is also highly valued. An imbalance of the mind or heart could have unforeseen consequences on actions taken going forward. Zeal in our work is encouraged, but it must be tempered with patience. Passion in the heat of battle, cooled by honor amidst the aftermath. Orriran'taliiyna are not savages bent on war and death, they are both warriors and healers who wield the fires of death and the gentle touch of life equally. II. Purity Following the theme of Balance, the maintenance of purity in nature is a more grim but necessary part of the creed’s duties in life. The ever repeated tale of careless or malicious mages wielding voidal and dark magics to harm, knowingly or unknowingly, the Balance is something that must be swiftly stopped before it can be told again. This often means the hunting and killing of mages, simply put. To enjoy this work is heavily frowned upon for the Creed teaches that it is a necessary evil, knowing that not all mages are the gaunt, pale sadists that they can be painted to look like. Some are simply that of the curiously inclined with no harm meant toward nature, of which the Creed must be understanding enough to offer the chance of redemption before drawing steel. Following this theme of purity, it is an accepted truth that even the attuned druii that follow the creed’s teachings are still Descendent and are inherently unnatural and impure to the Balance. This simply means that, as impure servants to the Wild Gods and the Balance, we must never assume our right to anything. Our right to life in the natural world, and to death in the Eternal Forest, must be earned by proving ourselves to the Wild Gods. III. Honor To serve the Balance as impure beings requires a certain degree of humility and respect given toward the flora and fauna that we meet and protect. The creed teaches that one must always offer apology and reverence for the actions taken in nature. To hunt and kill a natural beast for food or material, never sport, must be followed by proper thanks given to the fallen creature for its death and its bounty used to the fullest possible capacity. To always offer proper offering and care when taking from the flora of the wild. ___________________________________________________ Traditions in Life “Clean your armor as you clean your kills.” Rituals, rites, and traditions are not in too high of a number, most Orriran'taliiyna simply attending the gathered rituals and festivals of the greater Aspectist religion while showing off their chosen beliefs in the form of physical traditions in their attire and decoration. The first of these and perhaps the most notable being the signature style of armor that most who follow the creed wear, both casually and in times of conflict or hunting. The pieces vary from person to person but all follow the same general style with T-shaped visors on the helmets and body plating that often is segmented on the chest in the case of half-plate suits. Trophies can also be spotted adorning this unique armor in the form of pelts or other such memorabilia from past successes and trials. These trophies, when taken from creatures of natural origin, are worn as signs of immense respect for the fallen creature and worn as a means of carrying their spirit with the creed warrior as they succeed through yet more trials of faith and life. Another tradition involving the armaments and appearance is that of Kuila. Kuila crystals, coveted by druids for their interesting reactions and storage capabilities for natural mana, can be crushed in a fine, crystalline powder that may be infused within steel amidst the forging process of weapons and armor. It offers no boon to the metal except for the dim glow that will radiate from the infused metal when a druid communes near it. These kuila infused weapons, and in some cases armor pieces, are given to newly attuned students of the Orriran'taliiyna as a gift from their teachers. As most Aspectist sects do, there is a tattoo that comes along with one accepting the ways of the Orriran'taliiyna into their life. This mark follows one design and is placed at the back of the neck, often covered by hair or helmet and the dye used to make the mark can be mixed with kuila dust to allow for the tattoo to glow just as one’s weaponry does. For the attuned druids of the creed, the mark is etched with their chosen totem as a personal touch. Once this mark at the back of the neck is made, many members both attuned and unattuned continue to add onto it like a sapling growing limbs. Experiences, age, and achievements are often marked into this beautiful tapestry of time. Tattoos designed by the wonderful Numirya! ___________________________________________________ Death and Burial “With this death, let new life spring forth.” Death is an acknowledged part of the cycle for most sects of the Druidic Order with the Orriran'taliiyna being no exception. While it is a somber occasion for most, with many followers being closely knitted in the pursuit of balance, it is also a cherished passing. The duties listed in this tome are dangerous and those who commit to them lead uncertain lives while seeing them fulfilled. When these brave individuals, druid or not, fall on the creed’s path, they are given an honorable, respected, and grateful funeral in the hopes of ushering their spirits faster into the Eternal Forest. This somber event begins with a hunt in which the participants remain silent and utter not a single word and in full, traditional armor until their return to the site of the feast and burial. Once returned with their prey, the feast is held where the fallen is remembered with cheer as well as with sadness until the time comes to burn the body of the fallen warrior. The fire remains lit until the body is burned to nothing but ash in a natural stone basin where the burned remains may be gathered up. Once gathered, the ash will be used to fertilize one of the surrounding Miruel’ame trees that make up the burial forest of the Orriran'taliiyna. This forest, hauntingly beautiful with the fog produced from the Miruel’ame that make up its woods and the bright red leaves that fill the canopy, serves as one of the most sacred sites to the Orriran'taliiyna. Rituals and lessons of a more serious or dire nature are meant to take place within the shrouded confines of this forest’s hold, with the center being the great burial ground of the creed where the spirits of the dead are free to pass on to the Eternal Forest beyond. OOC: Special thanks to TwistedFries, Endaaron, HeftyDonut, and Numirya for help in all areas of the new tome! Thanks folks 😄

I've been having the same issue for about a year now. Llir tried to see what was going on with no success. I'd be VERY interested to see if anyone could find a fix to this issue as it quite literally cuts me off from playing the server unless I thoroughly nuke the chats of everyone on my friend list.

The Arvellon Seed Watchers in the Autumn Woods _________________________________________ “From our trees of red, gold, and orange do we watch.” The Autumnal Lore _________________________________________ The Arvellon Seed is one of the smaller and lesser known tribes amongst the first migration of Mali’ame. Whilst others adorned themselves in unique and colorful markings and apparel, the Wood Elves of the Arvellon were only identifiable by their shared physical traits and their name. Yet even this left them confused with the seedless brothers and sisters. However the Mali’ame of the Arvellon did not mind this for centuries to come. They enjoyed the ease in which they could meld within the rest of their tribal society, watching and listening as the Wildcats of Felixii do. Little is known concerning their worship of the Wildcat Princess, as is most things with the feline mani. Similarly shrouded is the seed’s later adoption of worship to Kwakwani, the Trickster Raven. Though they took to these new ways and meshed them with that of Felixii’s, creating the unique and unknown culture that they are in the modern age. In the times of Malin and the nomadic Mali’ame, the Arvellon were led by a man known as Carsul’il. Known among his kin as the Laughing Lynx for his hearty attitude and his peculiar style in hair. Carsul’il was the first to take on the name of Arvellon, and the founder of their ame’lie, a grove considered to be only myth and named the Harvest Wood for some said it was a place of perpetual autumn that was always bathed in a copper and gold light from the rays of sun shining through the canopy. Many thought the grove was a legend for rare few knew of its name, much less of its existence. While most of the tales sprung from this age, and of Carsul’il specifically, are considered myth and the true events that happened are lost to the winds of time, the more modern era of the Arvellon is easier to recollect if similarly unknown to anyone but the Arvellon. Carsul’il eventually disappeared into the wilds as most ancient mali’ame do, leaving behind his ways for his second child, Merriel Arvellon. Unlike her father, Merriel did not have many daring adventures. She preferred the quiet and watchful side of their ways, living her life upon a simple farmstead with her mate and listening to the breeze for all manner of news and secrets until the day she had her first and only child, Miklaeil. Miklaeil was bound to take after his grandfather from the day he began to walk, always grinning and dashing about from one adventure to the next with the clever wit of a cat. Only his mother could truly tame his lust for the thrill and unknown, until the day he came of age for manhood. Miklaeil gathered what few things he owned and set off into the world, leaving a supportive but deeply saddened Merriel behind. Years passed and the young Arvellon found himself in what was known as the Dominion of Malin. It was here that Miklaeil decided to first attempt securing a steady life after thirty or so years of travel, though doing so cost him the identity of his ancestors within him. He donned bronze and silver platemail, shouted cries of war in the name of various princes and princesses, and even took on the name and beliefs of another seed entirely in his patriotic vigor. He began to look less and less like that of Carsul’il, and his letters to his mother grew less and less filled with wonder and joy but instead with grim and dark experiences. It was about this time that Merriel Arvellon died, caught in an accident with farm equipment. Years passed and Miklaeil gradually fell back into the old ways of his grandfather, Carsul’il. His constant grin and cheeky quips became his trademark, and his vigilant and cat-like eyes always watched with a certain mischievous glint. Twas long after the Dominion collapsed when he became a Lord upon the council of Aegrothond, then yet more until he met the lovely Empyreal Princess of Alderyn, Layla Le’Cai. It was not long after noticing the same playful glint in her eyes that he fell in love and returned fully to the ways of Carsul’il. Between the two of them, the Arvellon seed’s history and culture were reborn into something both new and old. Several decades pass and the Arvellon are now grown and changed beyond what they were upon Miklaeil’s reclamation. It was around this time that the seed was begrudgingly convinced to join the fledgling Forest Realm of Irrinor. The reluctance of the seed’s chieftains to take such a step proved correct when the Aspectist nation fell to infighting, leaving the Arvellon to flee back to the Talus Grove. Disillusioned with the politics of greater elven nations following the fall of Irrinor, Miklaeil declared the rite of Maya’meracahe to prevent more misfortune befalling the Arvellon. Several families were born and brought into the seed’s warm embrace following its departure from Irrinor, allowing the group to spread out and diversify amongst themselves as they chose according to the rite of Maya’meracahe. Despite this rebound, Layla and Miklaeil were left tired and in need of a respite from the civilized places of the world. A moot of the seed was held in the Talus Grove where Eretria and Nerrin were chosen to be the next chieftains, allowing Layla and Mikaeil to delve into the deep wilds of the world for the next decade. Beliefs and Values _________________________________________ The ways of the Arvellon are deeply rooted in Aspectism and the Mani pantheon, basing most all their various styles and values upon that of the old ‘ame teachings. Religion _________________ “Given a wink from the Wildcat and a grin from the Raven, Carsul’il set off into the wood.” Aspectism and the Mani pantheon are both well-cherished parts of the Arvellon culture, most everything about them being divined from these practices. However, like most other Seeds, the Arvellon worship a select few Mani in particular. Those being Felixii, Princess of Wildcats, and Kwakwani, Princess of Ravens. Both of which heavily influence the day-to-day lives of the Arvellon, making for Elves with an odd mixture of secretive yet colorful personalities, flitting back and forth with words and actions like a cat or bird at play. Oftentimes these Elves make offerings to both Mani in the form of tricks and pranks upon those deserving of it, or merely for the fun of it. With regards to Felixii, the Wildcat is seen as the head of a lesser pantheon of her own that includes the other feline Mani gods. The Lion, Tiger, and Panther Mani all fall into this grouping though are not quite so revered as the Wildcat herself. Many decide to incorporate the teachings of these individual Mani princes into their worship of Felixii. Those Arvellon particularly devout to Felixii tend to tread through life with care put toward their own actions, yet are not afraid of the spontaneous. Witty, clever, and watchful are the best descriptions for an Arvellon Wildcat follower. It is taught that a proper Wildcat follower should remain ever vigilant for what knowledge they can collect or what whispers they may hear. This is usually referred to in regards to one’s own pursuits or craft, meant to encourage learning and growth in the mind. The Trickster Raven teaches her followers in the Arvellon the ways of artistry, beauty, and fun-loving attitudes. Those devout to Kwakwani are often the most playful of the seed prone to pranking their family and friends when it is least expected, or developing skill with their hands in the way of arts and craft. Many Arvellon take up trades in things such as painting, jewelry, writing, or even blacksmithing and woodworking. Their work is done with the intention of creating beauty with their very own hands, worshipping the Raven in the act alone. Appearance _________________ “Touched by the season of Autumn in body as well as mind.” Elves born of the Arvellon typically share the same set of physical traits, depending on the circumstances of their birth. An Elf carrying the traits of the Arvellon would be bronzed or tan in skin tone, usually a warm hue of some sort. Their hair tends to be curly or unruly in varying shades of red and brown. This coupled with brown or green eyes make them quite suitable for their favorite season, Autumn. Although, not every Arvellon is born from the autumnal bloodline. The modern generation of the seed is a wide variety of adopted members and members who married into the seed with the proper rites taken. This means that one could find most any Elf of any mix of traits donning the autumn paints of an Arvellon. Their apparel tends to reflect the colors of Autumn- Red, gold, yellow, and orange in various shades- to symbolize the changing and colorful personalities of the Arvellon and to acknowledge the natural cycle. Values _________________ “Live your life to the fullest, my child. Raise your boy, love your family, and see them flourish as I have.” - Carsul’il to his daughter, Merriel Arvellon When the Arvellon realized that the world is much too dangerous to face alone, they began to stick closer and closer together to ensure safety and prosperity despite the ordeals that the Descesdent world is prone to endure. Thus their ideology grew over time to incorporate values based upon the creation and protection of family. Family is treasured above all else to Arvellon. To protect and provide for one’s family is the highest priority and one that each Arvellon is expected to see done. Providing for the family also includes having children with which to fill it and continue the legacy. Due to the elven curse of infertility, adoption is not unheard of amongst the seed and is even considered honorable. With family comes Love. It is a sacred emotion connected to the very soul of a person that shapes them as it grows and evolves over time’s passage. An Arvellon couple is accepted as an eternal bond and a testament of passion and loyalty for such long-lived people as the elves. To break off that bond is a break of trust that many consider to be deserving of no less than a shun or, if the cause of division is so revolting, death. Love does not extend only to romance either. An Arvellon finds love in anything that they wish to look for it in. Some pursue trades and crafts to pour their passions into. Trust is built through experience and time together. An Arvellon without the trust of their kin is an Arvellon surrounded by the hounds of darkness, bound for an early rise of elven madness. Along the same vein of thought, Unity within the seed is expected by all its members to uphold fervently. According to the rite of Maya’meracahe, the Arvellon should never allow the frivolous squabbles of greater elvenkind and the Descendent world as a whole to divide them. Cheer and light-heartedness are seen as desirable traits among the Arvellon. Being a fun-loving people, they seek it out with a Lust for Life that goes unheard of among many other elven cultures and even in the mali’ame themselves. Adventure, pranks, good fun amongst their kin, all this and much more are the deep thoroughfare to an Arvellon’s heart. Traditions _________________________________________ Tradition in the Arvellon seed is developed over the course of time and experience, its members learning new ways to adapt to their environment and adding to their ways to fit. Ilmyumier _________________ Tattoos designed and drawn by the wonderful Numirya A recent and modern addition to the rites of the Arvellon is the ilmyumier, thought up and designed by Layla. The tattoo implements three of the most prevalent parts of the Arvellon’s unique culture with the head of a Wildcat, the wings and feathers of a Raven, and the colors and symbols of their beloved season Autumn. Along with the primary ilmyumier that is found on the dominant arm, Arvellon of this age are known to wear a stripe of paint across their eyes as a sign of luck to attract good fortune for them and their families, or during times of war and unrest in the world as a whole. Miruel’ame _________________ The “Red Trees” of the Arvellon forests that once served as the living, subtle guardians to their ancestral ame’lie known as the Harvest Wood. The cultivation of these trees, once a closely guarded secret held by the main bloodline of Arvellon, has since been passed down to the seed to reintroduce the tree into the world. The tree releases an ever present fog that surrounds its immediate vicinity and is considered to be the reason the Arvellon remained wrapped in mystery in the early eras of the world. Maya’meracahe _________________ “The bonds of family wave no flags.” In the ancient times of the Arvellon, when they lived in the depths of the Harvest Wood with their homes safely hidden from the turmoil beyond, the autumnal elves practiced what they called Maya’meracahe. This ‘redeeming balance’ was put into place by Carsul’il after a near disastrous confrontation within the seed between two brothers living in separate nations from each other. Carsul’il decided that the Arvellon seed would not serve as a political entity among the rest of Elvenkind, though it would not limit its individual members from taking part in what nations they chose to reside in. Mallir'hiylun _________________ “To be an Arvellon man is to have only half a mind. His wife has the rest.” Love is sacred and precious to the autumn Elves of the Arvellon, an emotion and act held dearly since the days of Carsul’il and the Harvest Wood. Making such a declaration toward another Elf is a grand and life changing event for the Arvellon. To them, there is only one such person to be found in their lives and it is an irreversible, unbreakable bond through both mind, body, and spirit. While not used until later in the seed’s existence, there is a binding ritual used to cement this connection between two Elves. Before an altar of Felixii and Kwakwani, the two would arrive in secret during the height of a Harvest Moon. Both would wield ceremonial aurum blades to cut the others palms. After the blood flows from both hands on either lover, the bloodied blades are laid crossed upon the altar before the two clasped hands to mix the blood of their palms and in doing so, intertwining the essence of their bodies and spirit. Once the ritual is complete, it’s said that the mates develop a true and absolute bond. While it’s not known whether this is merely firm belief, or if something truly binds the souls of the lovers, it works. These Arvellon lovers remain together until death, and even then it is said that their spirits pass on as one. Hunt of the Harvest Moon _________________ Every year during the Harvest Moon, when the night is bathed in strong orange light, the Arvellon host a ceremonial hunt that begins at moonrise and ends at sunrise of the next day. While the setting is an ominous and foreboding one, filled with shadows cast by the Harvest Moon’s light, the Elves who partake in it are filled with a playful vigor in their hunt. Typically, they will hunt until they find the largest game that they’re able to fell and bring it back to wherever the others are camped. There they wait until all the other hunters return with their prizes, to which a grand feast is held in honor of the peculiar phase of the moon. Rite of the Karin _________________ When an Arvellon comes of a certain age, or is adopted into the seed, they are allowed the gift of a twin-tailed, crystal antlered Karin cat. All Arvellon have one of these friendly cats as companions, given as mere kittens before they eventually grow to their full size of about a cougar. Due to the lifespans of these cats being much shorter than that of the average Elf, an Arvellon may have multiple different karin companions over the course of their life. Typically each new companion is a descendent of the previous, making for different bloodlines of Karin amongst the Arvellon. Interested in joining? _________________ PM DrinkPesticide#3970, Mewliet#6297, Numirya#5929, or ThumperJack#1536 on Discord if you’re looking to join the seed! They’ll explain how it’s done and what may work for you!

Norik Grandaxe (The Fringe to Athera), Vosirk Grandaxe (Athera to Present), Miklaeil Arvellon (Axios to Present),

Doing great work +1 The builds are lovely and the idea behind them absolutely perfect.

Yes PLEASE. This is everything I’ve wanted for a long time now. Dungeons are absolutely what we need for consistent, varying events that could satisfy everyone. Not to mention having the choice to get some friends together and go on an adventure outside of the massive world events would be amazing.

when am i getting the cyrene and mik team-up of the ages And- got any projects you’re working on? New character, lore piece, whatever really

2500 minas Also hello handsome wood elf man 😼

Truthfully, the treatment of heralds by their Azdrazi counterparts looks to be more something you rectify in-character rather than something wrote down in lore. Also not sure what the difference is between your typical Azdrazi and the proposed Ordained Herald is beyond one looking more draconic than the other.

Option C please and thank you

RP Name:: vosirk grandaxe MC Username: thumperjack_/southernwhiskey Discord: you have it What Nation Are You Affliated With?: none. alligned with druids Why Do You Wish To Come?: because i was told to What Skills Can You Bring?: axe. nature stuff.

ThumperGiri dew it u wont

Miklaeil rumbled quietly, tales of such beast-men finding their ways to the ever-watchful and ever-listening Leopard. The recently retired ‘ame decided to take a trip out to the Marshlands, his antlered helm donned with the blood markings daubed across its visor, the autumnal hue of his glowing, druidic gaze piercing from behind it. He stood silent on the very edge of the marsh, merely staring ahead as he communed with the trees and various creatures milling about within. His form grew tense the longer he listened, his gloved hand falling to his sword pommel and gradually wrapping its digits about the handle with the crackling of leather. The wildlife of the marsh were uncomfortable, thusly he was uncomfortable. The Leopard wasted no time as he strode off down the road, veering off from the trees until he was well away from the marshlands, then disappearing into the brush to return home.

Hunters of Blood and Flame Followers of the Sanguine Fire Since the birth of the Creed, it has remained an unknown and quiet addition to the culture of Mali’ame and Druids alike. Its teachings reserved only for those who were thought to be wild in their heart and strong of body. That changes now with the creation of this group, our ways becoming open to any who seek to learn the ways of the Sanguine Fire. As the ways of the Creed say, those who follow it are the apex predators and guardians in the Wild. They hunt the corrupt and tainted of the natural world and cut them out, they purify the debris left behind through blood and fire, and they do it all with the very spirit of a Mani in their souls. The Hunters and Warriors Devout Followers of the creed who show their devotion to the Wild Gods through hunts and battle alike. Typically found in the professions of bounty hunting and tests of battle prowess in the ongoing effort of collecting trophies and adding onto their lists of grand testaments. They are not hard to pick out in a crowd due to the common theme surrounding Sanguine dress and armor. Usually found in padded and studded leather or half-plate, covered in trophies and adornments. Another giveaway is the crimson daubs of paint (or perhaps blood) marked upon their varied armor pieces. Heralds of Blood-Fire The Heralds are the attuned druii of the Creed, wielders of kuila-infused black ferrum weaponry and natural communion with the most wild places in the world. Their duties are mostly the same as the Devoted, spending much of their time as hunters and warriors, only with a more spiritual connotation added to their work along with the added duties of watching the Balance constantly before leading the Devoted to purge any taint threatening its sanctity. The Heralds also act as guides for the rest of the devoted Sanguine. There are only ever allowed seven Heralds within the Creed, for too many may cause an imbalance in the strength of the Sanguine just as too many predators tilt the natural life in the wild. When a place opens up in the Heralds, a current Herald takes on a student from the devoted Sanguine to be taught. Current Heralds The Leopard The Raven The Fledglings The uninitiated of the Creed are those not yet tested by the Wild Gods, and thus have yet earned the right to their Sanguine armor and weaponry. They are encouraged to accompany the initiated and the Heralds on their hunts in hopes of being tested. Once tested, the Heralds will decide whether or not the Fledgling has earned their place among the rest of the Sanguine. OOC This group is essentially mandalorian druids. Bounty Hunting, Taint purging, a lot of event seeking and RP! If you want to join the Creed of the Sanguine Fire, come to Irrinor and seek out Miklaeil or Layla Arvellon IRP! IGNs are ThumperJack_ and Numirya!