Catostrophy

You can enchant objects to emit light. Not as Gandalf-y, but it works.

"What's a platypus?"

"The Maheral speaks true. One of many important qualities a leader must have is a first name. This humble citizen would suggest making it known before proclaiming candidacy. It would be as if I were to challenge the Sohaer, even when I speak only through parchment. Considering the controversies that surround this leader however, I wish you luck all the same." -Aetahir.

"Better that they studied my works instead of murdering one-another. Typical of this new generation of savages."

Another leather-bound tome waits upon the desk of the librarian. Though you recall the author of the last one, so in all likelihood you do not read this one, and simply leave it upon the desk, undisturbed- no wait you are absolutely going to read this one. Tilruir of Death Written by Aetahir In the Mali'aheral cities of old, violence was deeply reviled. Physical aggression of any sort was declared Uruk-like and impure, and those who engaged in it found themselves shamed by their fellow citizens. The blessed isolation of the city lead to the slow disappearance of able guardsmen, until the original High Elven military force, then called the Legion, was entirely depopulated. Despite the debilitating raids of the Flay and Orc bandits, and even the short-lived terror of the Warhawk tribe, the isolationism and pacifism of the citizenry increased. This changed significantly during the time of Elysium, Kalos, and Anthos, where the ascent of Kalenz Uradir deeply shifted the ideological boundaries of the citizenry. However, the Uradiran policies and politics are not to be analysed within this tome, but the concept of violence itself. The analysis will instead be the place of aggression within the Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya. "Wisdom and health," being the most direct translation of our philosophy, can also muddy it in vagueness. Wisdom can refer to the pursuit of learning, the experience of age, or even the patience of forethought. It is a staple (at least in older times, and in theory) of elven people to have a greater appreciation for the currents of the future. This leads to the idea of liquefying impure individuals (those of mixed-breeding) to remove their bloodlines from the land. Those of impure birth can be capable of hiding their natures carefully, and bring their sullied bloodlines into our own. This nullifies our people's inherent traits, and would make the pursuit of the Maehr'sae hiylun'ehya impossible for future generations. Obviously, the fear of such an end frightens many citizens, to the point where they would commit the most heinous of acts in order to safeguard our civilisation's legacy. This is but an example of expedience and impatience coming before forethought and thoroughness. Executing the impure, though certainly efficient, is immoral and counterracts the ideals of the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya. To end life aggressively puts us at the level of a wild beast--a giant spider or an Uruk. More so, if the method of destruction is as cruel and needlessly horrendous as the acidic pools so beloved of the Uradiran regimes. Some time ago, this writer was witness to a most grisly sight in the very centre of our citadel; a bladed nightmare of execution, concocted by a remnant of evil that was thought to be expunged. That it was not immediately deconstructed and its pieces scattered to the winds shows disturbing evidence that Uradir haunts us still--as if a phantom that lurks in the darker places of our collective minds. Expel it, and be done with its taint. The punishment for impurity should simply be the confiscation of property and banishment. All within the city would, and should, detest such an insult to our culture. Expel them as you would the Uradiran presence. However, always make note of those outside our walls who wallow in their own mediocrity. Impure Mali'aheral should be recorded to safeguard the pure bloodlines. A short trip to the various havens of inequity, though unpleasant, makes their outright murder redundant. We must endeavour to refrain from unnecessary slaughter, as its corrupting influence has lead us far too astray. Should any Mali'aheral advocate aggressive violence of any sort, it is for the citizenry to look upon them with the righteous judgement of a civilised society. Fear the descent into the void of the Uruk.

A small passage is written somewhere in the vicinity of the Wood Elfy conundrum. How your squirrely hands got hold of it is a mystery, but written upon it are the words of Aetahir, the old High Elf. The Wood Elven reforms remind me of the early days of Haelun'or, when those who denied the Maehr'sae hiylun'ehya slowly drifted away. In their place remained a solid core--the seeds of the fruit, which in turn bloomed into a beauteous tree. The path the Wood Elves follow is not an easy one, and will be beset with danger, great hardship, and even times of dreaded immorality that betrays its creators. But they will themselves bloom in turn, should their seeds be protected and nurtured. The path they walk is their own, but it intersects with older ones well-trodden. As vain as it may seem, I hope one day our peoples may see one-another on their paths, for it is a winding road that can be perilous for the lone traveller. Worry not for the flakes who abscond to distant shores. For they wanted not a nation, but a tavern.

A book is left by the librarian's desk. Its cover appears new, and the pages pleasantly unwrinkled. Curious as you are, you hazard a peek before the librarian squirrels it away and is lost amongst the innumerable dusty tomes. The Old Coin -Written by Aetahir Asulon, blessed continent, was the place of our civilisation's birth. Within the halls of the first Eternal College, we learned of our ancestor's brilliance and foresight in crafting the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya. What was at first a guide for law and morality transformed into something more--a phrase that resounded deeper within ourselves. It became a clear light in the darkness of the world and did more than shape us, it made us who we are. A philosophy unlike any other. So did this philosophy change our citizenry and our mannerisms. Mali'aheral who were once prominent and influential slowly slid to the wayside, and faded away. The old orders were gently uprooted and cast aside. The most prominent fall from grace was not an individual however, but an item that is greatly beloved by those beyond, and perhaps within the walls; the coin. Being a long-term citizen of Haelun'or I was both a contributor to change and changed by it myself. During this time, one of the more profound instances of my life, I experienced the reaction of a citizen who lived during the reign of the coin, and then after it. The individual, if memory serves, was named Khalzett. During the time of the coin, he considered himself the "richest Elf in Haelun'or." This was something that was afforded a great deal of respect in those times. He had influential friends, one of the largest towers the city had produced, and possessions that dwarfed the city's coffers. But in time, Khalzett disappeared for a period spanning decades, in which the coin became redundant. The citizens produced what was needed out of comradery for their people, and reverence of the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya. When one day Khalzett returned, he returned with the same mind he had before the change. Great domiciles were awarded to those who contributed to their city with matching grandeur, and no longer sold or bought. Preening like a proud goose, he walked around the city and requested to purchase the greatest building in the city as his home; the long-abandoned Mage's Tower (mages being very rare amongst our people at the time). When he was declined his offer, he made an even greater one, posturing his vast quantities of wealth like the feathers of a peacock. Yet still he was denied it. Though his wealth was great, he had few volumes to his name in the library, and he offered little to the city in materials, labour, or its learning. When citizens approached him for donations he demanded coin in compensation, and when denied he gave nothing. To satisfy his need for lavish domiciles, he was given his old tower and proceeded to pour his wealth upon it. He decorated it with every luxury he had, and garnered the scorn of all those around him. Though it was his property, in the eyes of the citizenry it was unearned. In times past such behaviour would have bought him favour, but now it brought only infamy, and distrust. As time drew on, he complained that all his money was worthless in a city that needed none. It was but useless metal in the hands of a useless individual. He would not, and could not, advance the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya. Time passed, and so did he disappear into obscurity, with no memory of his existence save for crumbling pages in the citizenship records, and perhaps this story here. What has been occurring, at least to one outside the workings of the Triumvirate, is a slow reversal to the return of the coin. Such is a frightening prospect for an older Mali'aheral. But it is not that coin is being used--most of us have used it occasionally, even during Asulon's time. It is that it being accrued in dismal ways. The greatest of which was the "mandatory tithe," a pathetic gloss over the word "tax," that ought to be illegal as it is immoral. To explain why state-sanctioned theft is a hateful act would likely insult the reasoning capabilities of those reading this work. Though, it is not as if the reasons behind the forced gathering of wealth is itself entirely despicable. The oldest written laws give credence to such allowances, after all the Okarir'akaln has the right to levy taxes. It was reportedly taken to expand our borders-- but why was this necessary? Did we not have dominion over this island? What is important aside from this citadel and its surrounding farmland? Do we need resources outside of the farms and mines at our disposal? Such queries go unanswered. Donations have been the standard method of acquiring necessary coin after the last shop in Haelun'or closed. A slower process to be sure, but without moral quandaries. Citizens who give out of desire rather than through coercion are true Mali'aheral worthy of their bloodlines and the magnificent privileges it affords them. Those who don't may not love their people as they may claim; more likely, however, that they have no coin to give. Over such things, the state has no right to decide for their people. It is a sick Haelun'or that necessitates taxation. Though it is not lost upon this writer that the issue has passed by, and that the taxes are now consigned to the memory of the disgruntled. A true elf is patient, and contemplates what they see before speaking their words--expedience is the desire of the infant. The rolling of eyes, and snorts of derision are in the future of many readers, no doubt. Citizens, remember what your leaders are, and who they represent. Remember that they are what you make them, and what you allow them to be. Remember their faults, follies, and never let them forget. Otherwise, line yourself behind the shame-bringing bell-ringer, and chant in tune with its tolling; for yours is a merry betrayal. Maehr'sae hiylun'ehya.