Knight of Elken

Greiret Elverhilin's palm weakly gripped the magical burn upon his face - the one that was opposite to his friend Sarrion's. ". . . NO! No . . . I knew not that he still drew breath, and now he is dead?! It was my presumption he had perhaps found a way to enter the Void itself. . . But this? Murdered?! . . . Lonelier do I become. . . Lonelier, indeed. What misery this earth has become. Some day. . ." ". . ." ". . . Some day I will see you again, my friend." Despair, grief, sorrow, misery and anxiety was hidden by the stench of strong alcohol - vodka. A glass was poured for himself and another for the golden soul of his friend.

TO HIS ROYAL MAJESTY ALEKSANDR II, 6th of Snow's Maiden, 168th Year of the Second Age ____________________________________________________ With utmost respect and sincere reverence do I extend this open letter to His Royal Majesty @Mio, Her Royal Majesty @sarahbarah, and the rest of Your Royal Family. I wish You unyielding health and spirits indomitable upon Your triumphant return and Her Royal Majesty’s graceful retirement from the courts. May peace, progress, and prosperity boundless in nature grace Your reigns endlessly. I grow less a stranger to Your beautiful country, people, and courts with each passing day. My heart boasts deep love for this Kingdom, with its honorable, trustworthy people. For within, I have found a place to call home. In this light, I humbly seek audience with His Royal Majesty, Her Royal Majesty, and any individual deemed appropriate. For no longer am I able to withhold my silenced voice regarding the egregious defeats under the leadership of the Lord Marshal Ser Leonid Kortrevich @erictafoya in combatting the Shadow Harrower menace whom demonically parades, harasses, and murders so freely in the country I love. To establish my position, and create some intention of good faith, one cannot write a letter such as this without giving due credit. The burden shouldered by Your Lord Marshal in combatting the monstrous Shadow Harrowers besieging Castle Morteskvan is a responsibility akin to bearing the mountains upon one’s shoulders, and bears mental duress equal in measure. Efforts to shoulder this responsibility are admirable. Yet in such a light, it is equally imperative that we not turn our eyes blind to the outcome of the Lord Marshal's recent operations: failure. Failures occur in warfare. Men will always die. Yet never in my four hundred years have I appallingly witnessed the lifeless bodies of my comrades shot out of catapults like ammunition. It was of my own volition in which I painstakingly discovered key vulnerabilities in the enemy’s defenses, corroborated by Ser Audo Weiss the Raven @Frostdrop1(who bears no involvement in this correspondence). Consider then the dismay that befell me upon the telling of the battle plans for Operation Bloody Gate which blatantly disregarded these vulnerabilities. In disregarding this critical intelligence, Your forces were directed by the Lord Marshal to instead engage the enemy up an icy mountain fraught with traps (ones against which I had detected, and vehemently cautioned). Despite my warnings, the Lord Marshal recklessly ordered Your army to charge directly through this deadly path. The disastrous assault bore grave fruit, and saw many of Your army beset by pitfalls, spike traps, and ultimately consumed by an avalanche orchestrated by Tyr, the enemy. My comrades and myself narrowly avoided being consumed by the mountain, whilst suffering a now embarrassing third retreat from an enemy whom should have been easily defeated. I count myself fortunate that the honor and lives of the valiant men and women under my command, and myself, were not taken by snow. It is my profound concern that further avoidable misfortunes are to be shouldered by my beloved countrymen. Whether that is being launched from a catapult like Venerable Armsman Vasili Vanrov @Helios_ (may GOD rest his venerable soul), capture and vicious execution like Valorous Dagfinn the Squire @Youngie5500(may GOD rest his valorous soul), succumbing to an avalanche as in Operation Bloody Gate, or even fates worse than what my imagination can produce. It is not my intent to create slander. It is not my intent to play politics. Only to rip out this thorn from our sides, and to ensure peace unending. I seek no blood from Your Lord Marshal. I believe that he is a good man with a good heart, and no quarrel do I seek. Yet I cannot remain silent when he has displayed a keen disregard for the safety of Your troops, my comrades, produces flawed battle plans ending in consistent defeat, and has so far made no progress in his responsibility to dispose of these animals. The continued deployment of the Lord Marshal’s plans, developed without critical intelligence in mind, will see avoidable follies bear more grave fruit and allow for the persistence of the enemy. I strive to express to You my well-founded concerns. Should You give my humble self the honor of Your presence, it is my wish to present and explore solutions which myself and my own counsel have produced. In an extension of good faith, should You permit such a meeting, it is my hope Your Lord Marshal will be in attendance so that he might provide what input he has, as well as say what he will to me. It is my hope You will grant me the honor of speaking man to man. For You will find that my way brings fire, steel and death to the enemies of Your Kingdom. Signed, Greiret Malviser Elverhilin-Finnigan-Faean Governor of the Province of Esterwick, Immortal of the Kingdom of Gladewynn, Annilir of Malin’s Virarim, Supreme Battlemage of the Gladewynn Company, Knight-Enchanter of the Enchantry and Partiarch of the Elverhilin Family

Sir Milonir of Whitehall missed the man he called friend. Day after day, after day after day, and his comrade, his liege lord, was not to be found. Days turned to months. Yet with each day, strength returned. Yet with each month, clarity, confidence was restored. His resolve to develop his strength was like an endless fire. All in the name of being worthy of the title he had disgraced with his laziness, his gluttony, his stupidity. Bodbmakos was right all those years ago. Yet, he too was changed, like Walter. He too was malleable, like Walter. He would become the First Sword that House Weiss needed, their pillar of strength. Walter had given him motivation - a thing more valuable than gold. He was the fuel for his fire. The living legend, the First Sword, looked to the horizon. He awaited the day of his return. Walter would find a pillar of strength upon which he could lean on when he returned. A friend.

Sir Milonir of Whitehall's blood curdling howls, like the wolf's, could be heard echoing down the cobbles of Valdev upon hearing the most dreaded news. "NIEEEEEEEET! VE KOENAS EES DEA-" A kind passerby explained to him that the queen was in fact not dead. "Vait. She em niet dead? YEZ! VOOHOO! Oh. She em niet be ve courtings-ledy? Okei. Thet em meaning ve can go for rides on ve horses. Ve go to elfski lends and make them geev us BEEG beers soon." The kind passerby told him that he should probably bring money to pay for those 'big beers.' The kind passerby, who was an elf by the way, was stuffed in a locker. "Ea must go see mea friend soon now thet she em hyaving ve free tiems!"

Greiret Elverhilin, upon the walls of Morteskvan, could not keep his gaze away from the exact spot where Dagfinn had been taken. His safety had been assured, were they only seconds faster. This shame was his to bear, alone on his watch. He hadn't come to known Dagfinn in his time, yet in the squire's death were his true colors revealed; his unwavering valor. The valor of humanity he had come to respect over his hundreds of years of life. The cold wind blew hollow over his still figure as he prayed for the Skies to take him.

Sir Milonir of Whitehall heard the news within the Brotherhood's barracks, shadow and doubt taking his fellow brothers. Ever-bold, he chortled at the missive he could hardly read. "HAR HAR HAR! Finelly. Good fight-mens tiems boys. Boney guys em thinking they vey tough guys now, ooo. They em forget eet ees coffin tiem, niet valking on ground tiems. Ea em put them beck een they bed tiems now, okei." And with that, he polished his regular, ordinary steel bardiche. He would not need aurum for these flies.

I'm going to just bandwagon off of what everyone else has said here. I really, really like the addition of these new spells! They are very cool! They give a lot more flavor, variety, and power to fire evocation. I was actually considering writing up some new spells after I relearned voidal magic, so thanks for beating me to it haha! It has been my personal opinion that, over the years, the general mood about voidal magic has been to gimp it into oblivion. After all, it is very accessible, and fairly common even to noobs. Hence why I am in favor of buffs like this which do not make the magic insanely overpowered, but give it a needed refresh and slight boost in power with appropriate costs associated (2 magic slots). A big part of me finds the addition of an optional 2nd slot very cool and immersive. I like the idea of magical specialization. Feels like being one of the masters at the College of Winterhold in Skyrim, one of the reasons I even got into magic in the first place. Specializing in a certain magic is something that simply doesn't mean anything on LotC. Sure, you can call yourself a master of fire evocation once you reach T5, but aside from saying "I am a master of fire evocation," there aren't any special abilities, or tangible benefits from focusing on only that magic that which would set you apart from any other T5 fire evo dude. Under this lore, considering yourself a master of fire evocation actually means something, and comes with special abilities too. For that, I give my lil ol' +1. However. That being said, my only concern is that the additional abilities being locked behind a second slot don't really have the weight and power associated with an entire magic slot being taken up, in my humble opinion. They breach into almost like, a half slot of magic being taken up? They are powerful, but not powerful enough to take up an entire magic slot I think. Instead of having a few additional abilities, I could have an entirely different magic to cast, which, to me, doesn't feel appropriately weighted. If there were additional abilities that truly made it bear the same weight as something like transfiguration's 2 slots, I would be more in favor of the optional 2 slot. Sorry to point out a problem I have in mind and not give a suggestion on how to amend the problem, but the area of creativity is generally not my forte 😔

Sir Milonir of Whitehall prepares for battle!

Deep in the forests of western Almaris, Greiret Elverhilin, son of Lhindir and Immortal Knight of the Dominion of Old, cast his gaze to the fireplace in the refurbished, once abandoned mage's tower he called home. Funny, he thought. Once he was capable of casting blazes which made this one before him look like a jester's worst joke. Fire's light danced off of him, as he reflected upon the past - and his current dejected state. He thought of the Enchantry's invasion of the Inferi realm. He thought of his duel with Lefkos outside of Linandria. Cheza. The Bronze Rebellion, Gladewynn and the Dominion. Kairn. Lhindir. He grew uncomfortable, anxious even. This place was not home any longer. Indeed. Home was not solitude, not this place. Not this empty shell of the past. "I require pen and ink."

The Duel to test Vikomit's Mettle, Grand Harvest, 117 ========================================= The grease-ridden, pagan heart of Sir Milonir of Whitehall, the First Sword of House Weiss, swelled four times that day. Immeasurable pride gripped that young warrior from Whitehall. For he and his battle-brother Ikumak, son of Ikumak and father of Ikumak, had been bested by the new Vikomit. The brand new Vikomit had proven far more than just his worth in prowess of arms with that victory. For here was the man that would lead House Weiss to glory aplenty, just as his father did. A man worth following. A man worth his respect. Milonir winced in pain, healing in his bed chamber from his injuries - a reward from their duel, he thought. He'd muse to one of his Raevir house guards, "Mei first utter defeat. Fitting eet ees by the new Vikomit." Gaze remained skyward, meaty brown orbs shutting in thought as beer was swallowed by hoggish lips. Candlelight danced upon his face in the dark of night, serving to illuminate the smirk across his maw. Laughter, jubilant and rich filled the silence of his room in Zvaervauld. "There ees a lesson en theese defeat, mei friend. Thet ve must train harder, and stronger. To be vorthy of our posts - vorthy to our Ancestors. Let heem be challenged no more. For theese battle vill be our bond for all time. He valks vith hees Ancestors, and the Spirits guide heem. Vhether he knows eet or niet." "Make a prayer to vy GOD. For long life to the new Vikomit. Ea vill ask mine to bless heem vith the longest life possible." With status affirmed, Sir Milonir prepared to follow the new Vikomit to death's door and even further beyond. His resolve returned. Conviction unshaken. For he would do everything within his power to bring glory to House Weiss, and the new Vikomit Audo Weiss.

Sir Milonir of Whitehall's scouts, the Fat Boys, reported to him the size of the cake the wedding was to have. His eyes grew as wide as dinner plates upon hearing the news.