Wand

Art by Jia Ming In the dimmest reaches of Urguanite Axios - in Malin's Welcome, 1625, was born en Elvish boy, whose father held him aloft. So the father proclaimed to his fellows - clerics, Dwarves, and Ascended of the Order of the Mongoose - "Fëanor Sylvaeri has been born! Rejoice, for he shall lead you." The child had nearly not been born - nearly slain within the womb at the ill-will of malignant Gazardiael. Such an omen would surely forebode the grim fate of the Elf. Despite this, despite the raids at the will of angered Descendants and dark forces, the Elf would live to suffer through Caras Eldar, marked seemingly forever with the ethereal glow of the Aeriel-blessed. To enlist at the age of twenty was unheard of for most Elves, yet where the Dominion of Malin called for the Elves, the Flameborne would answer. It was through the Virarim, he would come to understand Elvish for the first time, and understand the responsibilities of doctrine, law, and order. Where a threat to the realm of Elves was declared, his blade was given in answer - even though the Elf himself would know no peace, for this was his belief instructed to him: give service to the Elves wherever his people made their home, even though he troubled, knowing he may never be truly ‘Elf’ within their eyes. Time passed, and the Flameborne was made officer by thirty. He had faced down with his allies against the War-Nation in the Orcish Wars of Atlas, against a gluttonous Archprince-Zentharek who commanded legions of undead and wicked Inferi. He had nearly perished at the hands of malflame personally, and given his life to the cause against the September ‘Prince’. Duty was purpose, yet this was not love. Yet so, when the King-slaying fell upon Caras Eldar and sundered the Elves in twain, he was torn. Despite his youth, he was made standing House-Lord of Sylvaeri and designated heir of his respective kin. In the following years, he would ascend to the Dominion Council as Praetor, to become Annilir under Mortal Queen Renn. This cycle of responsibility and duty would prove to repeat itself, and the shadow of his progenitor hung over the young heir like impending rainfall. With the formation of Caras Aegrothond, migrating into Arcas, he was made Prince of all Aegrothond. Arcas would not be kind to the Elves. Shortly following the Compact of Lethadlen and the Elven Union pacts, the Renatus-Marna and the Silver State fell upon the Elves, seeking surrender of the signatories under threat of death. Nearly all of humanity came for the Elves, and very closely, they had nearly severed the younger Flameborne’s head - failing to take his, though they had taken that of his allies. Had they done so, perhaps this is where the tale of Elvenesse would have died. Silence followed for a time. The Almenodrim would come at last to rejoin their kin in Aergrothond. The Voidal Incursion would come and pass, and soon after too would arrive Siramenor. Beneath the ebon curtain of night, the Elf swore upon the stars to offer a home to the Woodland Faithful. This, promised to the late Awaiti of Aureon, then Sirame. Together, a great home had been made, and over time stone walls would be slowly chipped away, for the Almenor and Siramenor folk to see equals in each other. Such a union, though blessed, was not without tribulation - for there is no such thing as a love not worth drawing steel or blood. The Flameborne’s old enemy arrived upon the continent - the Inferi, whose wicked malflame was direct and wicked contrast to the long-lost majesty of soulflame witnessed in his youth. The Sea Prince had been to one of their war-claimed planes, and knew the capacity for war. His last war had arrived - a testament to his old grudge against the daemonic foe. This would be a test of all his knowledge against the Inferi, and a test of himself to inform and lead the peoples against this wicked foe. This Inferi War would nearly break Aegrothond and Siramenor, which withstood only with the assistance of the whole of the continent. Eventually, the Inferi would be pushed back to Korvassa, and there the hands of the prime mover exposed: the wicked Gazardiael of his youth, who had nearly slain him. At last, the Descendants had done what the Holy Orders could not - slaying Gazardiael, at the cost of the continent and the Realm’s safety. Amongst the declarations of prophecy and holy war on behalf of Courage, wicked other omens would come to afflict the royarch. Signs of the foul Dagnir had surfaced, and so the Elf was sworn by blood to seek this god-weapon. Led far down Shadow’s road, he would come to awareness of a cycle, teachings which ominously led into beliefs of the natural cycle. All that would grow and live was bound to return to the earth. It was clear that in a matter of years after, the Elf’s time would come. The exhaustion of the decades wore upon him - an Elf then of barely over a century and a half, yet he had ruled for over eighty years. The prince and all the folk of Elvenesse were soon beheld with a lush, coniferous woodland upon the new continent, and blessed with an ‘Arm’, a blessed sign of the potential these new lands bore. Over time, his Council would be drafted - the law, faith. The Flameborne was never certain when he knew his time would come. Perhaps it was the prolonged threat of war, that which would be his fourth in his time. Perhaps it had been the death of Awaiti, or the royarch’s understanding of the Wild Faith. In further consideration, however, it was simply that he came to realize more than half his life had been given to princeship, and yet the Sylvaeri was not even two centuries old. To raise a child into rulership from a young age was assuredly a mistake. While a sustainable measure for human monarchies and Empires, an Elf’s life was long, and moreso bound to the consequence of a cycle - to witness war again and again, an inherent madness was to be found in recognizing the patterns of an age. Just as a sailor was bound to sense and read the sky for rain and ruin, so could any long-lived Descendant learn to read the signs of war. There was a mercy and wisdom in knowing when one’s time has come, much as one knew to relinquish duty over that which they no longer had the resources to maintain. A crown, a rulership, ought be like that among Elves, he realized: lived in love, and ended in its time. As to the future ahead, the Elf could ne’er again help but seek the horizon in search of inclement weather, but one thing was certain: somewhere out there, his final challenge would one day arrive upon the shores of Elves, seeking him. On that day, gladly will he march to face this Nameless One - and on that day, he would see at last the meaning of his name.

here's to hoping more gogurt doesn't get on the keyboard, stay frosty rift

The Sword of the Shadow was sheathed - Held taut in trembling grip, the Red Lord's breath Quivered and bled his life upon the wicked blade. Again had it tasted blood of its Shurad, a Mimicry of His murder long ago by Four crowned In ensorcelled helms to fell their mighty king. Now, this reddened man had become a scabbard, And bore in his breast proof of paradox, stood Unharmed by the draining blade of the Trickster. At once, this deep blade of Shadow had met Great resilient light, and for the first time failed To drain the flesh or essence in its bite. This new Shurad took the Broken Blade, And recalled the words of its previous master, Knowing now the Flame would be forever, within. ∞ Melting (Jordan Cameron) [!] Upon the dawn of the new month, seven blackened signs burn upon the hands of their marked - offering no direction, and only a pulsing pain, to remind of what they were denied.

Conciliation of Mali’ 14th of The Sun’s Smile, 16 SA ~ Overview ~ The tumultuous political climates of Almaris have bred unrest and unease, heightening tensions across the continent. In turn with the accord struck between the Silver State of Haelun’or, and the Crown of Elvenesse, this apology and pardoning has been issued by the High Prince. ~ Principle ~ The Crown of Elvenesse formally recognizes, and apologises for the negligence of its citizens, and of its diplomatic cabinet. The hostile actions of any citizenry of the Crown of Elvenesse against the Silver State of Haelun’or are disavowed and considered a severe blow to the diplomatic apparatus. The Crown of Elvenesse recognizes the due process rendered upon the uncoerced assailant for their heinous crimes attempted against the governance of the Silver State. Efforts to contain such have been increased tenfold, as well as the branding of any unsanctioned attempts at diplomacy to be labeled as treason, committed under the individual’s own volition. In addition, The Crown of Elvenesse understands the poor precedence the diplomatic cabinet unintentionally set forth, and continues to seek to rectify mistakes with proper conduct now, and in the times moving forward. Furthermore, the Sillumiran forces of Haelun’or are pardoned for any and all wartime actions perpetrated against the Crown of Elvenesse and its citizens before and during the time of conflict. However, this shall not constitute continued diplomatic immunity in any way, shape, form, or notion, and all Haelun’orians shall remain subject to the Indor Tiran as is written into the constitutional writs of the Crown while within the borders of Elvenesse. Signed, HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, Fëanor of House Sylvaeri, High Prince of Elvenesse, Wielder of the Crown of Malinor, Protector of the Almenodrim and Irrinites Cullas “Blackstar” Sylvaeri, Exarch and Diplomat of Elvenesse

When once he saw her, the elf was younger than thirty. There outside the Lofty Woods of Caras Eldar, the Virarim came to her aid - and Sister Hurricane lived. Years later, as an officer, the elf had met her. Her name was Sister Hurricane, and she spoke with a frightening serenity in time with her Sisters Owl and Autumn. She was a fellow elf, only decades older than he, yet it was as if she had found peace. Proudly did she speak of the Emerald Way, a path which would elude him for the many years to come. The certainty of it had frightened him, who knew no such thing as peace even in slumber. That night, he would worry his thumb over the wooden coin with Malin's visage. If this was how she lived, perhaps he could, too. When he came to know her, they were at odds. Opposing sides in pointless feuds, squabbling over an election which would not matter. Two elves so very young in comparison to their kin, yet each sought only the best. This was how they fought. Decades later, they came to lay the spears down. The wars of Arcas had been awful, and the woodland elves sought only peace and refuge. Together, they witnessed the sky, and saw the expanse of peaceful waves. Here before her, they swore together to found a great place for the mali'ame. This request, born of love for each of their respective kin, would come to form Siramenor. This is what they swore, and for many years to follow, how in small ways she would come to teach him. Now, the elf stood beneath a pinewood, listening to a dwarf asking for her body. It was as any other day within the hinterland city, yet it was this which had ignited some spark in his soul. Later, gazing upon the wooden gift he had received, the elf felt the sensation again: a torrent, a gale, kept in check if only by a calm center. Perhaps it had been her secret all along.

i don't even know what these are but hit me, ill ask my jojo friend what they do

Important: do you still have the chair?

cute balloons

hello ark, how is your day

Finally thank you, now I don't have to poke the ST every day about vaults.

Please release the vault information soon – no one wants to see the travesty that was the Atlas-Arcas vault transition. And while a month seems like a lot of time, folks will be deservedly upset if they only have a week or two to gather up all their items on multiple personas/accounts.

cashew?

I am interested in the boogeoisie.

[!] To the supply lines of the Firewatch and its allies, letters are stowed among the rations, addressed to no particular man or woman. It bears the royal insignia of Aegrothond and its whole. Further contextual reading allows the reader to grasp the purpose of the letter – an address to the common man, to those at the front, and those who prepare for war. To You, I write to inform you that the naval front gathers and proceeds as planned. I shall not elaborate on the details, but know that I am thankful. Without the help of you, this would not be so. What is a city, my friend? Perhaps it is a flame, and a leader is its keeper. To tend to the flames is to offer light and hope to kith and kin. By the fire may a candle be rekindled, and the cold be warmed. Fire perhaps is one of our greatest gifts. I write to you to tell you of the False Flame. These Inferi are forever doomed to a cycle of treachery. They live with meat-sweet hunger, craving all that they are denied, and readily betray each other for a grasp at power. All that they are is stolen from another, and so they can hold no power, and never truly create anything. They do not truly understand how to keep fire, for they cannot learn to keep anything - only take. I have been to their realm, and I have fought against them before. To the many, Aegrothond and its lands are known as a place of Sea Elves. Our mastery hails from the shipwright Eleron Sylvaeri - the last true High Prince of Malinor, and my ancestor. It is a legacy few grasp: the legacy of The Firstborn. Now it is a legacy of far many more Elves. It is a great Flame, to which many lives seek respite, and it is known not as Aegrothond, nor as Siramenor. It is now and forever only Elvenesse - and much as the Flame, Elvenesse prevails. Once I was a child of Light and Soulflame. Once I was a soldier, Praetor, Annilir, Prince - but in this moment now I am a keeper of fire. I have learned to forge the fallen star. I have uncovered the meaning of our soul’s flame, and the secret was never in its taking. Ride to the shores of Almenor, to the Elven South, for the woodlands will welcome your steeds. Sail to the bay, for your vessels are welcome. Take up your blade and flint. Champion not the flame of the Beast, but the flame in your soul. As for those who seek me - call me Flameborne. -Before the Gods of Wood and Stone: Fëanor Sylvaeri [!] A simpler notice, attached, but not addressed to any Descendant, distributed only to Korvassa. Judging by its contents, it is suited not to any prince or leader, but to any Inferi. You who bear False Flame, I tell you now. You know not the meaning of Fire, nor the Sword, yet you chase both. I know the secret of the Hammer, and I know the secret of the First Blade, and so I say that you are doomed to serpentine consumption: an ouroboros, the self devouring serpent, for you cannot understand anything but internal strife. I know that many of you were once Descendants, and I say you cannot fool anyone. Wear as many trinkets as you like. Every single ‘prince’ which rises from your ranks is doomed to be usurped, for that is the logic by which you live. Not a single prince among you was original, and every single one is similarly doomed to be felled. Send as many chained things as you wish. I will break them all. Long live the Free. Long live the Descendants of Man. Sea Prince of Caras Aegrothond, Prince of the Crown of Elvenesse. Bearer of the Crown of Storms, Keeper of the Arm of Aeriel. Descendant of the Firstborn Son of Malin. Flameborne.

“Those fools just told the Dwedmar where the Hammer is,” the Sea Prince mused, arranging for a copy of the missive to be relayed to the Grand King, before moving off to pen his own missive. @DixieDemolisher

RP Name: Fëanor Sylvaeri MC Name: wandiferous Discord: wanderous#8112 Nation/Group Affiliation: Aegrothond Purpose for Coming: Provided in detail to Epiris via sea-faring gull. Seeking the history of past lands and to uphold various oaths for family and friend. Skills for the Journey: Familiarity with military and tactical knowledge (see September War, Voidal Incursion, etc.), smithing, mundane healing, familiarity with the undead, morale* *Willing to refrain from poor jokes to maintain morale

@Fury_Fire [x] Somewhere a concerned elf considers procuring cleanliness and haircare products. Perhaps Lorealf shampoo...

To take it one step further not a lot of younger folks these days understand how easily their online actions can be recorded by total strangers. It's often overlooked because cameras are everywhere, and social media celebrities, advertisers and everyday YouTubers and streamers are looking for ways to reach out to younger audiences to build trust in these young age groups. While I'm sure not every emote or message is recorded, similar things could be said of Discord. After all how many bans, warns or other punishments have been made based off out of context messages?

If any roll backs are had, ensure they are done right. No one wants to end up with a corrupt map.

Anyone’s goal with a magic or ability regardless of aptitude, manapool, etc. could be finding the creative limits of their spells or abilities. The less utility or creative freedom people have when casting a spell, the more likely I find they are to seek out boons, artifacts or other means to raise their own raw power. Granted how starved the community seems for creativity in magic these days, perhaps Voidal magics should be written with this in mind. Otherwise, you will end up again with folks picking up magics not for the roleplay or the creative potential behind the magic but because it has spells that stack well with other magic they already possess or are aiming for.

The other problem currently is that paladins are the only active distinctly holy group to my knowledge. Ascended have gone inactive, Clerics are shelved. Each of these three groups were meant to have different identities – clerics being at some points largely faith based but unfortunately some groups succumbed to rampant dark-mage hunting. Each group has their bad PR. This gets into another point – it’s easy to criticize the holy man who doesn’t do just enough good whilst forgetting the soul-stealing mage in the corner. Kind of like how people relentlessly focus on Catholic priests or other figures in the Church due to the rampant issues of questionable morality. Though that’s a bit of a problem with people entirely.