Evanuri

sylveon is a fairy type. the image has it as ??? because it's from before the fairy type was revealed, as a teaser anyway espeon supremacy if u picked umbreon.. ur house is millenial gray

–════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– Know that I understand my words here could be better reflected and approached personally. But I have never been known to, and have never wanted to, do better to those who would not do as much to me; So I will meet others where they are, without conversation, on a public forum. Balance is described as all things being in equilibrium and harmonic comportance. Balance thrives when give and take, light and darkness, life and death, are in equal measure. From Balance and dedicated to Balance, rises Order, found when all constituent parts of something are in complete agreement. Given that all Druids or Aspect-devout people know well the meaning of balance and order, I beg the reader to imagine my vivid surprise when I beheld a publication regarding the behavior of Creeds, and the new laws by which they mean to govern us, all without a word spoken to me, or several other Heralds who are newly beholden to these rules. Rules which I understand to have, by technicality, been erected by Prophets Awaiti and Valor in an era bygone, rules which have over time withered away and been replaced by new traditions, new ways. This lack of conversation I find to be startling, but above all, comical, given that the codified laws that they mean to instate are given the moniker of The Creed Pact. A resurrected concept of old which, by the time I write this, seems to have been decided on by only two. Certainly The Ichor Way, the most populous Creed, and one half of the originally made pact, ought to have been brought into the conversation, in addition to the Ways of The Sage, and the Sanguine Fire; The latter of which, I observe, to be second in terms of greatest following. Unfortunately, I am unsurprised. This is not the first time my sister in duty has overreached and attempted to implant her assumed authority over the order and those affiliated with our faith and goal. –════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– To the rules and considerations themselves, My distaste primarily lies in the principle of the thing, rather than the specific laws you have written. Overall, I would be more amenable to these rules, if they were not re-imposed without conference. However, I do take umbrage with how you’ve represented my Creed, originally professed by the Prophet Valor Caerme’onn- that which I have written, re-written, taught, and spread farther and better than the hands who wrote the publication I am responding to. It shows how little attention you have paid to my work and my progress, and it is insulting. Granted, I suppose writing the Ichor Way as you did suits your sensibilities, and your desire for Creeds to be as dissimilar as possible. And I much doubt you’ve spoken to members of the Sanguine Fire, or the Sage way, in regards to the descriptions you wrote of them. I am sure Heralds would have been willing to contribute their own writing and descriptions to this project- or at least would have been willing to be consulted over the information you use to describe us. My final word on the matter is this, wayward Sisters, my advice; Stop reaching. Focus on something that matters. Your last three, greatest endeavors in the name of auld Mother and Father are summed up as this; Planting trees for mages, and two failed attempts at imposing your authority. Foster new growth. I am not the only one who has noticed and grown far-tired of your obsession over the late Oracle Awaiti Sirame, may she rest. You exult yourselves at every given opportunity, never failing to mention how you were her contemporaries. You are not the only one. The disregard you have for the present and future are appalling. I am regarded as one of the more stubborn, traditional men of our faith, and even I know this is a bridge too far. - THE BUZZARD.

CONTEMPLATIONS IN HOARFROST Anxious toes stood on the precipice of rimestruck lake, teetering on the edge of the waters. Already, an errant elf could feel the chilling burn on the soles of his feet. To the side his belongings were laid- a hat and a simple bag, his linen shirt folded neat and dry inside. With boots clipped under-arm, the errant man waded into the water with a hitched gasp as frost ran up his spine. The water welcomed the elf with all the grace of innumerable frozen pins boring into the bark of his bones, each stroke a step deeper into torture. The chill was a weight on his chest, chilling his lungs and stoppering his his ragged breath. His goal stood in the center of the frozen lake, a dry bar where he was to sit. After his labor through the bitter, biting water, panicked fingers grasped for frozen earth, clawing to remove himself from the agonizing drink. All the while, the question he was bade to consider rang in his mind. He was to wait to ruminate until he’d reached his perch at the water’s center, but the elf was taken by a wandering mind. He had given thought to the Um’ei his entire journey, during each stroke across the water. He had mulled over countless answers to the given question; By the teachings of Eresar, why are we? “To endure?” he thought, introspective of himself, huddled and freezing on an islet. But endurance is part of the journey; Asioth was a destination. The man knew one thing for certain; He knew nothing at all. Not what he was, not what he would become. Often, he saw himself as ‘journey’ incarnate, always moving but never coming to settle. The thought clawed at him nearly as much as the biting air at his wet skin. How terrible, it would be, if his tale ended here, if he could do no good by anyone, if he could not be the warrior-erudite he once envisioned himself as. ‘To suffer,’ murmured he, clutching his freezing and soaked form tightly. A bitter laugh fell from his lips as he attempted to make warmth of what breath remained in his lungs. But suffering didn’t feel like Asioth, or what he had read of it. If suffering was Asioth, he had attained it, as the tundric air made his eyelids hang low, each blink longer than the last. Barely could he bid flingers to flick, or arms to lift, only the energy to ponder remained in him. ‘My form will be rendered a block of ice, and I will shatter,’ he thought. The tundra would take him, and he would perish with no amount of pride in his accomplishments. Would he die a novice in all of his pursuits? Would he be broken, and never rebirthed? A chill ran through the elf. Not of ice, but knowledge. His jaw went shifted and went taut at the notion he remembered, glanced betwixt vellum pages; Strange liturgy that seemed to be an auld sage’s nonsensical ramblings. Their mere thought seemed enough to bid his extremities to move, and feet to support him as he stood. The elf leapt back into the murky water with abandon, a pair of boots left lingering on the floating islet, becoming a figment in the distance as his pain wracked body fjorded the water, and pulled itself agonizingly to the snowy shore. He began a limp across a frozen plain, headed towards sweltering stone. His answer would not be spoken to the air, unless first-heard by a waiting master.

THE SEEKER’S QUERY An Errant, faith-seeking Elf walked up to a group of High Elves in the Principality of CELIA’NOR and asked, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW’ They ignored my query as they nailed an Ibleesian’s head to a spike. The elf traveled into the White City of NUMENOST, where he met the Adunian Queen and a Knight. He interrupted their conversation regarding the slaughter of demons, undead, and dragons to ask, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’ The Queen asked in turn, ‘Are you attempting to get me to draw my sword on you?’ in response to the question, while the Knight said ‘I do not hate the shadow itself, but the one who casts it.’ The Queen then said ‘Yes’. The faithseeker found himself between the coppershelled rises of URGUAN , where he saw a lone Dwarf hammering white-hot metal. To the stout one he asked, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’ The Dwarf responded, ‘Depends on the Shadow’, in his brogue. He became too uncomfortable to produce an answer to a question of Canonist faith. Then, he walked betwixt walls he ought not venture into; He found himself in the Wood Elven hold of NEVAEHLEN, where he encountered a Dedicant of the Druidic mission; A librarian, and former apprentice to an Ownyst Lectorate. He asked him, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’ The Dedicant responded, “Nay, we should pity it.” He continued, “We should slay The Shadow where it is found, but not hate it.” The elf took his query to REINMAR where he found a child, who insisted he ask her the question, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’ The little girl answered simply, “Yes we should - Because they are spawns of Iblees.” She thought he was Darkspawn for asking. Onto HOKHMAT he went, where he found a pair of voidal mages he had met several times before, along with a talking tome. He looked between the two familiar women as the academy beyond loomed over them and, gleefully, rendered the question unto them, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’ The first mage asked, ‘The Shadow of What?’ The second said ‘No. The Shadow is the unknown. We may hate what is within the Shadow, but not the Shadow itself.’ The speaking tome answered with confusion, ‘The world was dark, before it was light. There is no reason to hate the Shadow, for it came first.’ The first mage, upon hearing of the querying elf’s travels spurned the people of Reinmar, agreeing with the tome when it said their people ought to be anointed in Voidal Flame. Dwelling deep in the desert, after a sweltering journey, the elf found himself beyond sandy cliffs in the home of THE IRON HORDE, where he stood before a group of Orcs who looked upon the seeker strangely when he asked, ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’ The leader of the group said, ‘If you refer to Darkspawn, then yes. Kill them all.’ The Orcs reported to the elf that all Canonists were to be killed by them. The seeker felt relieved to have been allowed to leave. After seven groups, and seven holds, the errant elf- exhausted- found himself back within the lands of HANSETI-RUSKA, where his journey began. He stared around himself, at a quiet city until the hoof-falls of an impending stampede beckoned his attention to the front gate. There came a glittering force of the faithful, the honored Patriarch among them. The errant elf thought to himself- he’d queried Aevos’ people, all but one. So he would ask, staring at his reflection in a puddle. ‘OUGHT WE HATE THE SHADOW?’

yes... finally.. backpacks that look like minecraft

+ 20 approve it NEOWWWW on a serious note this fills, however small it is, the niche i've been wanting in druidism with the meteorology spell alone. i've been waiting and wanting for the day that druidism isn't just plants and animals because the sphere of 'nature' encompasses so much more. i'm very excited to be a part of these if this gets passed

"I have grown more than ill of lucent justice. Those who stooped to help them have done all they can - But the blood of Paladins does not tip nature's scales." Spoke the Buzzard 'ere he returned to the crushing of pigments, with which he will ink-etch more parables. Perhaps the outcome of this would be another.

i've been waiting for this moment they're based on vibes / mandibuzz for his totem, 'the buzzard druid'

An errant elf, one of a humble and polite demeanor looks upon the missive, focusing his remaining eye on the words with some quiet difficult. The corners of his mouth twitch into something softer as he regards the words curiously. He hums his consideration, remembering his time in service, and the injuries he sustained which brought upon his wandering. He hopes that, with a new regime, come a place that people may prosper.

+1 give the people pretty fire

I think they all use AI :<

if any aethers want to downgrade i'll take your rank <3

why would you show this to me. now they're going to have to fix it or i'll lose my mind.

i've loved rahar ever since i found out about him. it was sort of an instant click into ghilean as a character, so i'm very excited i get to use him in this lore piece. i'm glad to pleasantly surprise :)

MUSIC: –════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– SHRINETENDERS OF ELD Among Malin’s children was Seldras the First, who parted ways with the rest of his siblings. He traveled to an ancient weald far removed from the Eaves of Malinor. There, he toiled, carving into the massive redwoods which thrived within the forest, and chiseling into the stones which bore their way from the earth. Seldras’ devotion, year by year, gathered more of his wandering, clanless brothers and sisters in that heavenly wood. To his growing number, Seldras taught the values of the written word to portray their spiritual beliefs. Their community attracted those who desire the role of shrine wardens, protectors of holy lands in which those of the Wild Faith place their worship. Those who seek to stand before the sanctums of both Aspects and Mani, willing to lay their lives, became known as the Alhanavir; Dedicated individuals who used their expressions of faith to provide liturgy to the ancient culture in which they maintained. As their shrines and faithful creations amassed, they dubbed their sacred weald ‘Dhru’an’dahlen’, or in common ‘the temple-woods’, for the towering redwood trees that housed countless shrines; massive murals and prayer tablets carved into the trunks of the sacred trees, and the proud, scattered Menhir– Standing stones, in which holes were carved in such a way that they would sing when a breeze passed through them. Through the wood meandered a mighty river, dubbed Lan’dahlen, Blood of The Forest. This river was considered a giver of prosperity, of which the Seed sought their very livelihoods, the food they ate and water they drank sourced there. And, as such, developed a culture of river hunters. The Alhanavir were, by all accounts, the holy guardians of the Dhru’an’dahlen. –════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– W A Y S O F L I F E An elder with a mane that measures as tall as he is. DIET & EXERCISE The Shrinetenders were and still are extremely in tune with where they settle and what is available to them. Foraged plants and bread are staples, with simple farms set up to harvest wild grain for the time that they would stay in that one place. The redwoods were home to plenty of nests within their high branches, in which foragers precariously scale up to emptied or abandoned nests so as to not steal brood from the avians. Such was rare, making eggs a delicacy and important to the Seed as they were thought to house the secrets and intricacies of life itself. Hunting was often the most important part of building community as well as gathering food. Young Alhanavir on the verge of adulthood would attend these hunts to both provide for their families and hone their skill against the brutal nature of the world. Spearfishing was the preferred way of obtaining fish, whilst larger hunts were organized to take down the likes of large boar or wolves. Deer were considered a sacred prey as they are kin to Amaethon and were typically only hunted for special occasions, such as coming-of-ages. GROOMING & HYGIENE As a people, the Alhanavir have always put value in their presentation, partially to pay tribute to the imposing mantle of antlers of the Stag. As such, the ‘crown’ of their head and their heads in general are extremely important to them. Hair is a holy part of the Alhanavir as it is said to contain all the experiences and memories of the body. Hair ornamentation and personalization is highly encouraged as it allows each member of the seed to express themselves whilst still paying tribute to their Patrons. Braids, beads, patterns, and hairstyles are all practices that are emboldened to make each member stand out on their own. As such, one’s physical upkeep and expression was considered their own worship to their Patrons and to the world around them - groups of Alhanavir would have joined together as a community by the riverside to take care of each other, typically reserved between family, partners, or close friends. Oils were also used as their version of ‘perfume’ - rubbed into the hair, temple and skin. These oils were often derived from plants and trees in the area, both meant to smell more appropriate as well as mask their own scent while hunting, blending in with the forest to bolster the element of surprise. Elders typically wear their hair the longest - a symbol of their experience and their longevity. In times of tragedy such as death, or mourning, their hair may be cut as an offering or sacrifice - offering pieces of themselves along with the dead. –════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– EXPRESSIONS OF FAITH FAITHBOUND Among all the revered parables of the Mani, under the sight of the Father, The Alhanavir value the tiger, Rahar, and Amaethon the Stag above all else. From the Tiger, they derive their sense of strength. Many Alhanavir are said to carry a ‘holier than thou’ mentality, in a literal sense. From the Stag, they derive their cause. To the Alhanavir, Amaethon is known as the ‘SHRINEFATHER’, defender of all sacred places. MARKED SENTINELS Among the Alhanavir, no artistry is more exalted than the creation of scriptures and parables. They are, after all, a codified way to walk along the Aspects’ will, stories to strive for and abide by. However, due the advancing oppression of humans, their expansive nature, and propensity for destruction, the Alhanavir were severely limited in the amount of tomes and scrolls they could carry with them. It was from this necessity that they devoted themselves to skin arts, stamping their flesh with the liturgies and parables they lived by in the form of markings. Script was etched very finely into the larger designs and images of their many tattoos, barely perceptible. Ghilean, current ‘First’ of the Alhanavir The Shrinefather’s Hand AV’IN AMELAN The scrolls passed down among the remaining members of the Alhanavir have been difficult to decipher. One may note that their strange words are written in a language far removed from typical Elvish. A sharp, deep script formed of straight lines and dots that arose from the etching of letters into wax and wood, before they were marked in ink. Tender’s Cant was devised by the Alhanavir to communicate with one another without the prying eyes of humans who had learned the greater elvish speech, the same humans the Seed viewed as the cause for the gradual decline of Mali’ame ways and traditions. While it doesn’t have an official name in the greater Elvish language, they have prescribed themselves their own title - Av’in Amelan - Tongue of Keepers, referencing their sacred duty of the Keepers of traditions and the ways of eld. GREETINGS, FARWELLS, CONVERSATIONAL An'daran Atish'an - greetings, ‘the place you go is a safe place’ [used with anyone; formal] Tuelanen i'na - ‘creators be with you’ [used with anyone; formal or informal] Enan'salen - blessings [used with anyone; formal] Savhalla - salutations, hello [used with anyone; informal] Dar'eth - ‘go safely’ [used with anyone; informal Sal sura - ‘be here again, come again’ [used with anyone; informal] Tuelanen ama na - ‘creators protect you’ [used with anyone; formal or informal] Sule sal harthir - ‘until we hear of each other again’ [used with acquaintances; informal] On dhea'him - good afternoon, Good day [used with anyone; day/afternoon] On dhea'lam -good evening [used with anyone; evening/night] On nydha - good night [used with anyone; nighttime, evening, informal] Thu ea? - ‘how are you?’ [used with anyone; formal or informal] Ir abelas - ‘i am sorry.’ Ma serannas - my thanks, thank you [formal or informal] Serannasan ma- ‘i thank you’ [formal] Nuvas ema ir’enastela - ‘may you have great blessings’ [used to say ‘thank you so very much’, extreme gratitude.] Enaste - ‘grace’ or ‘blessings’. Can be coupled with Aspect/Mani of choice (ex. 'Amaethon enaste') Ara melava son’ganem - ‘my time is well-spent’, you are welcome “O’ on’ala saes tiara, Ar’an nuven in var amelanelan, Ar’an myatha na’shivanal, Ar’an gluin’dhama enas var shivasathe, Myathem tarlen in lav'sal'inen, Ghi’la em’an aron ar’an na’nira, En'an'sal em’an aron ar’an sulena melinmar, Amaethon.” “O', great crowned one, We beg of your guardianship, We honor your duty, We kneel in our fealty, Honoured prince of the mantle, Guide us as we exult your patience; Bless us as we sing your name; Amaethon.” [A prayer to The Stag Prince, Amaethon] TITLES & HONORIFICS NUMBERING USEFUL WORDS AND PHRASES [By Brennan Massicotte] THE RAS’ADAHL The Smoking Tree, or more commonly known as Ras’adahl or Raell’vulsulin, is considered an integral part of the Alhanavir practices. Every year upon the day of the summer solstice, every member of their seed will migrate from their northern Redwoods and rivers to travel south, towards the scorched and yellowed grasslands. Here, is where the ame’lie tree is most common and most abundant. Each group of Alhanavir may have their own grove within a special part of the savannah, used for rituals or a graveyard for the deceased. There, they will spend a week in the warm climate, collecting the sacred bark and powder referred to as Alas’ala Nisathe, or Desert Powder in the Common language. During this process, they treat this opportunity to teach those about the effects of the tree and their significance to their traditions. The Alhanavir use the warping psychedelic powers of the collected powder in their seed trials and in the creation of stories, by using the visions as a guide to whatever tale they may spin. This powder is also used in their funeral rites, where the body is laid down on a bed made of the tree’s bark and is thoroughly coated with the alas’ala nisathe, before it is burned. There, the ashes are used in ink - used to scribe further tomes and stories pertaining to that who passed, so that their memory may continue to live on. This ink is also smeared upon the roots of the tree where the bed of bark came from, marking it akin to a headstone. The process is done and repeated for all of those who had died within the year as the pilgrimage only happens annually - should the true body already be too decomposed to make the trip, belongings of the fallen will be burnt instead. [By Gomer Lewis, courtesy of The National Library of Wales] A singing menhir, left standing in a deforested plain; Evidence of the Alhanavir having lived, and left. THE SINGING MENHIR Upon one’s travels, it’s not uncommon within the ebbs and flows of forestry and forests to find a lone standing stone, with holes bored into its features. If one listened closely, they may even hear that of a quiet song running through the hollow of the rock as the wind reverberated with the tall thing. The Singing Menhir, or in the Shrinetender’s Tongue, Sulena Turaan, is what was used by the Alhanavir within the Wilds to denote and locate each other, much like a compass. As much as it was used to locate other kin, other clans and seeds were able to find where the Alhanavir were, by coming across standing proof of their existence in the front of tall hollowed monoliths until erosion would come to take the stone back to the earth as all things must return. CALL TO OMENTAHU Given the ability for the Alhanavir’s singing stones to stay standing for such a long period of time, they were delegated with the responsibility of being the callers of the sacred ‘ame tradition of Omentahu. Due to the songs emanated from the many megaliths scattered across the forest, the wind blows through the stones like one would blow a horn - calling to those who hear it to follow the noise to the heart of the meetings. Due to such a method of summoning, the winds are typically the strongest in the springs, in which the Omentahu are to be called. –════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– T R I A L S THE PARABLE One of the core practices of the Alhanavir is the spreading, upkeep and preservation of scripture. Stories, myths, laws, legends, anything that could have been perceived as imperative information or tradition to the community was considered invaluable to their way of life. As their first stepping stone, an aspirant is subsequently tasked and tested with inscribing their own myth or tale unto a piece of physical media or craft, like a tapestry or painting. Both, to hone their own storytelling skills and their craftsmanship, as well as further contributing to the Shrintenders’ sacred collection of tomes and tales. [By Sadboi Illustrations] THE IDOL Ones of faith, the Alhanavir believed that within their Patron, they were able to draw upon the guttural strength of Rahar. The Wilds are a treacherous place and if one has no means of defending themselves or protecting themselves, their form will be forfeit to nature as intended. In order to survive, the Alhanavir live by the principle that strength must be not only utilized but revered as their own physical upkeep was paying tribute to Rahar and his own. Here, their trialgiver, or an elder, will offer them the same sacred idol from their previous trial whilst both stand in front of an altar to Rahar. There, the idol is once again lit as the inebriated aspirant must try and protect the idol from the other who would attempt to take it from them - a metaphor to the humans who would attempt to steal the Alhanavir’s faithful way from them, and the Seed’s sheer will that protected their traditions. [By Anato Finnstark] THE CHASE Above all, the Seed lived off the land and that which was available to them - plants and animals alike. Each had their own part to play within the community and must be able to provide to their kin. To test such, the aspirant will be given a sacred idol wrought of both bone and wood, resembling both Patrons of the Alhanavir. Within it, contained special dried powder from the ame’lie Smoking Tree, or Ras’Adahl in the liturgical tongue. Allowing themselves to be enveloped by the hallucinogenic smoke, they will have to give chase to the sacred prey, a deer. In their stupor, they must be able to catch and kill the animal whilst impaired to prove the steeling of their own mind. [By Anato Finnstark] THE GRANTING The final ‘rite’ of a trialgoer is to learn the most important art of all, that of marking one’s skin. Stories that do not fit on parchment are meant to be written upon the flesh in the form of ilmyumier and tattoos - one of the most important and distinctive traits of a true Alhanavir. It’s a deeply intimate process as the trial leader and their acolyte bond together over conversation and teaching, acting as a final fortification about the importance of the traditional and community values that were learned throughout the aspirant’s quests and trials. The name serves as both a ‘granting’ of the sacred skill of marking, but also ‘granting’ the aspirant themselves the name, the mantle and the tattoo of the Alhanavir. ILMYUMIER The truest mark that denoted a Mali’ame as a member of the Seed was known as the ‘Crowned Sun’, a bleeding and radiant glyph adorned with a rack of antlers and the marks of a tiger. Typically, it was worn on the back, but was able to be placed anywhere; On the shoulders and biceps, or even upon the stomach. Faint prayers were inscribed along the larger body of the marking in a pigment slightly darker than the mark itself, only able to be read standing extremely closely. The Crowned Sun Mark of the Alhanavir –════ 𓆩⟡𓆪 ════– CREDITS None of this would have been possible at all without the writing and conceptual efforts of @marslol and @Periphonics , who wrote large portions of this lore with me. Also, thanks to bioware for your language, I guess!

"Burn, little wood, and may your ashes feed your next of kin," spoke the Buzzard, sorrow held only in his eyes for the burning wood. "We will replenish when peace returns. For now, to the Boar's side; To victory."

she was a fairy 🧚✨

Nehnis Prince of Hares [Aubin Cortale] Swiftness, Agility, Abscondence, Youth The Prince of Hares is a flighty and elusive character who, above all else, values his own hide. Being among the smallest of the Demi-gods, he understands best that survival cannot always be achieved by ferocity. Sometimes, it is the meek who prevail, and those who hope to be swift enough to escape harm’s way look to Nehnis, praying on his celerity. When a hunter’s quarry escapes them, the cunning Prince of Leporidae is said to be to blame for granting his favor to running prey. As such, it is not uncommon for a hunting party to pray to the cunning prince, that they might be blessed with agility rather than their game. The Prince of Hares may be a skittish, nimble thing, but he is no coward. He is a testament to the tenacity of the small, who must triumph despite the many rigors they face. Nehnis also shares a strange relationship with the Princess of Turtles, Llan’sae. Where the terra-backed sovereign favores wisdom and preparative foresight, The Hare favors instant action. As such, he has become a symbol for the excitable, and oft-times reckless. Ilmyumier THE HARE’S JAUNT The Hare’s Jaunt is less a marker of standing among the Mali’ame, as it is rather an expression of one’s exuberant joy. It is not uncommon for one wishing to ascribe more depth to the tattoo to stamp a new rabbit’s print on their body for each encounter they have survived. Rites OFFERINGS Ginseng, Rabbit’s Feet, Carrots, Hay, Clovers, Verbena, Tulips, Mallow, Wildberries GAMES There is no simpler way to venerate the Prince of Hares than to engage in every day merriment. Foot Races and other such games are a way that Nehnis is worshiped every day. THE HARE MOON There is a more traditional rite to honor that of the Prince, typically done in the dead of night under the light of the full moon - when the veil between the mortal realm and Fae realm is the thinnest. Gathered within a field of flowers and grass on a clear night, a child who has come of age will go out into the wilderness with their family and loved ones to celebrate the last night of childhood - spending the evening collecting offering flowers in the field under the moon’s guidance. Once a substantial amount of flowers has been collected by the group, a simple pyre is constructed in the middle of the field where the flowers are to be burned, to symbolize the discarding of childish whims and the first step towards adolescence. The rest of the night is spent with their family in the field, savoring the last day and looking forward to the next. PRAYERS Common “Nimble Nehnis, prince of the agile, Whose swiftness carries kin home. We give to you our devotion. We show you our respect for your kind, O’fast and abounding Nehnis, show us your blessing.” Elven “Hiuwan Nehnis, Ellauru’leh resiyueriian Heya vulhiuwan myumier talonii lin. Kaean’leh tilrun nae illerae. Kaean’leh Sirame aynae’leh lye myumierae. O’hiylu marnkaeleh’ehya Nehnis, nae’leh ahern kae illera.”