Gemini

In the mids of an afternoon tea, Usamea protested "Balance, the eternal constant, will rectify any imbalance. From the ashes of destruction rises creation. The recent defeat is but a precursor; the impending threat amplifies tenfold." She spoke before sipping her chamomile tea "This summarises exactly what I mean about bestowing immense power upon individuals who lack the wisdom to wield it."

Ayo what's the craic lads

Rights???? To gay people????? Girl never

(for legal reasons im joking I love gay people)

Issued as of 14th of Snow's Maiden

170 SA

Dear Celia'nor, 

In the realms of Aevos, both the mundane and the extraordinary, encompassing mortals and immortals alike, we refrain from entangling ourselves in political disputes. Our purpose is not to engage in the trivialities of political discord, but rather to uphold balance— balance in all things. When creation prevails excessively, destruction must inevitably follow, and when destruction overshadows, creation must rise.

Our observations span epochs, predating even the destruction of Almaris. We bore witness to the Haelunorian coup d'état and the subsequent attempt at genocide, prompting necessary intervention. Similarly, we observed the internal struggles of Celia'nor, witnessing the equilibrium achieved through internal forces, leading to both destruction and creation.

Yet, it is now apparent that the leaders of Celia'nor are embarking on another pursuit of dominance and destruction without demonstrating the necessary creation to maintain balance.

Therefore, we issue the following ultimatum:

Adhere to the principles of equivalent exchange to ensure the equilibrium of these realms. Cease pointless hostilities, for there shall be no unilateral conquest by any race, as we are all equals.

Should you seek to conquer, it is imperative to reciprocate with creation. Destruction must be accompanied by a corresponding act of creation.

We impose no specific timeframe, but compliance is expected. Failure to comply will prompt action, as we cannot permit your existence to undermine the delicate balance we strive to uphold. 

Signed, 

No one

I love meteor lore, I love meteor lore, I love meteor lore, I love meteor 

Only thing that caughts my eye is that you can only create one heath in a life time until it’s destroyed? What’s the thought process behind the redline 

The Murder of a mage

On what seemed like a rather ordinary night, the elven woman went about her errands in the enchanting realms of Aevos. She was an esteemed guest of the Hohkmati Enclave, a formidable mage, and her fatigue was clearly evident. An air of mystery enveloped her, as if some enigmatic burden weighed on her, beyond mortal understanding. Yet, her determination remained unwavering.

Physical tasks appeared to drain her, often compelling her to harness her magical prowess to ease the strain on her body. Her magical abilities granted her respite from the demanding chores. On this particular occasion, she had returned to her homeland, the lands of Haelun’or, to engage in a discussion with the new Maheral, who had taken over following the resignation of the Miravaris. However, the streets of Haelun’or remained eerily vacant, the city's white marble façade contrasting with its lack of inhabitants. The high elves were deeply immersed in their studies and work.

The elven woman sought out a skilled seamstress, an old friend, to ask for a favor. She was aware of a grand jubilee hosted by the Petran Queen, Renilde I, an acquaintance she had grown quite fond of, despite being human.

The seamstress crafted a magnificent gown for her — a pitch-black dress that seemed to absorb all the light around it. Golden embellishments adorned its seams, and a matching golden belt cinched her waist. The dress was modest, covering her from neck to toe, leaving no trace of exposed skin; even her hands were concealed.

The time came for her journey to the Commonwealth, initially by horseback. Yet, the physical demands proved overwhelming for the mage. With humility and respect, she decided to open a portal to simplify her passage to the realm of the Petran ruler. With a snap of her fingers, a shimmering white disc formed, and she gracefully walked through it, emerging near the entrance to the jubilee.

The jubilee was enjoyable, though it didn't quite meet the standards of this high elven aristocrat, who could be rather snobbish. She greeted friends, savored a slice of cake, engaged in conversations, and even treated the children at the jubilee to a magical spectacle. As all good things do, this too came to an end, prompting her to make her departure for some much-needed rest.

However, her exit didn't unfold as smoothly as expected. The exit was congested, with humans loitering and blocking her way. Her polite requests for them to move were met with hostility and disdain. Determined to avoid any violence, the adept mage resorted to her magical abilities. Ethereal white mists enveloped a troublesome lady, gently guiding her aside to create a path for the elf.

Yet, it took only moments for violence to erupt. A human bishop, consumed by rage and seemingly beyond reason, seized the fragile elf by the throat and began to squeeze. Witnesses were convinced that something had taken hold of the bishop, for his actions were anything but holy. The elven mage, weakened by her connection to the Void, could only stand helplessly against the overpowering human.

Eventually, the bishop's strength waned, for it was not typical for the elderly to resort to murder. He released the elf, who had already lost consciousness. 

Petran Court physicians would then rush to the scene to transport the elf to a clinic for examination. They discovered that the bishop had caused severe damage to the elf's trachea, and emergency surgery was imperative to restore her oxygen supply. The valiant medics, ever respectful, began preparing the frail elf for surgery in an attempt to save her life.

Unfortunately, it was already too late.

Her eyes grew dim, pupils dilated, and her body relaxed. The mission of the bishop had tragically succeeded. However, the elfess seemed at peace, her expression serene as if she had been smiling just before her life ebbed away.

Perhaps if she had not been alone, she might have survived, but none had dared to confront the bishop, a formidable figure within the Canonist church.

UwU 

I don't know you but enjoy and all the best <3

"Thus, silver shall reign once more, bringing an end to the dark deeds, and the realm of purity shall celebrate anew." Usamea remarked as she read the statement. 

Dear Esteemed Members of the Public,

Throughout the course of my lifetime, I have embarked upon a profound journey of self-discovery, whether surrounded by the embrace of family or standing alone in the vast expanse of life. This voyage has been a challenging and profound endeavor, one that my late husband and I undertook with unwavering determination to restore the An'asul family to its former glory.

Our collective efforts have transformed a family once obscured by the mists of history into one of great significance—a testament to the tireless dedication that has fueled our pursuit. In my service to our beloved Motherland, I have striven to act with unwavering commitment, even though, like all, I am not exempt from making errors.

It is with great regret that I must reflect on a pivotal moment in our history—the Ibarellan War. In my earnest but misguided intentions, I found myself supporting a cause that ultimately aligned with the international criminal known as Ivarielle Ibarellan. The veil of deceit obscured my judgment, and for this, I am deeply remorseful. I failed to see the deception until the damage was already done, and for that, I offer my sincere apologies.

Subsequently, I took refuge among the citizenry of Celia'nor following a troubling incident orchestrated by the Sohaer, Kaelan Aldin, who dispatched a Mali'ker assassin to pursue me. It was a situation I vehemently disapproved of, for I abhor violence in all its forms. However, an unknown and noble individual intervened, saving my life, for which I am eternally grateful.

Today, I stand before you not to seek excuses for the transgressions of my family but rather to acknowledge that these matters can no longer be ignored. It is with a heavy heart that I must announce my intention to reclaim my position as the Matriarch of the An'asul talonnii.

Edgards An'asul, in light of this decision, I hereby relieve you of your duties, and all associated titles shall be returned to me.

In conclusion, I am committed to fostering a path forward that acknowledges our past mistakes while striving for a brighter future. Let this be a testament to the resilience and strength of the An'asul family as we emerge from the shadows of our history into a new era.

With utmost sincerity,
Usamea An’asul

Yes yes, I claim this one. Also I have no longer any students so 1/3

May the world BURN

Ohhh I like this

"Wars remain unregulated due to their inherently catastrophic nature," Usamea remarked "Nothing is prohibited in war, and our aim should be to avoid such brutal violence at all cost.

However, there are instances when a swift strike can bring an end to further bloodshed.

In war, innocence and guilt blur; it's a battle to the death until one side is vanquished or a diplomatic resolution is reached.

Confining ourselves to strict regulations can weaken us when we face a party that may not adhere to the same principles—a strategic disadvantage that can alter the course of the war, even to our detriment." she concluded.

Now both sides come here to fight, post ends up getting locked. Repeat in a week. It's just mineman, this is how it always goes. 

Not worth the stress bro just enjoy and have a drink

You’re glowing inside and outside queen 

“Even the vegetation is requesting rights” Commented a high elf before returning to her prior endeavours 

Epic, Ethan! 

Usamea found herself in a typical evening within the graceful city of Vallagne. The elven lady moved amidst the flowing currents of the people, tending to her own affairs and obligations.

Among the bustling crowd, a human figure emerged—a simple, weather-worn man who had the look of one in need. His plea was humble and earnest, an appeal for any assistance she could offer. He was not fussy—food, coin, or any form of aid would do.

Usamea, moved by his plea, adhered to the principle that guided her kin: to offer aid to the needy was to uplift all. She rummaged through her belongings, her hands finding packets of food since she lacked any coins at the moment. Offering the sustenance to the man, she watched as his face lit up with relief and gratitude.

His thanks were followed by an offer of repayment, a promise made out of earnest goodwill. But Usamea, guided by the wisdom of her people, knew that acts of kindness were not a transaction. She gently declined, instead encouraging him to extend his own hand to others in need when the opportunity arose.

As it happened, this humble beggar was far more than he seemed. The prophet, touched by the generosity of the silver-haired lady, felt compelled to repay her in his own way. And so, he gifted her a vision that would prove far more valuable than any coin or feast. It was a glimpse into what lay ahead and what happened before, a prophecy woven into the fabric of the future, filled with cryptic symbols and dire warnings.

Engulfed in the tendrils of a vision, Usamea fell into a chasm of darkness, a yawning abyss that stretched beyond sight. A sea of black swelled beneath her, its ebon waves lapping her form as she surrendered to the relentless current. Then, a beacon erupted from the abyss, pulling her up into a cascade of colors and realities that twisted her senses.

When the vertigo subsided, she found herself standing in a grand throne room, a masterpiece sculpted from gold and embraced by nature's green fingers. The echoes of a name rang in the air - "Larihei!" Usamea blinked, disoriented, as a male mali'ame stormed in, calling out to her, or rather, Larihei. In that instant, she understood. She was but a passenger, viewing this world through Larihei's eyes.

“Ito Aeloran” the elf's voice bounced off the golden walls, laden with urgency. The room seemed to breathe, its grandeur morphing into a scene of blood-soaked chaos. A battle unfurled before her, the battlefield a macabre dance between infernal horrors and brave elven warriors. Each elf felled was answered by a crumbling undead, their ashes blowing away in the wind. Yet, the horrors seemed endless.

Then the heavens split open, and a figure descended - a form so vile that even the air seemed to recoil. Recognition twisted in her gut. This was Iblees, the Betrayer. The air vibrated with his stolen tongues, each word a dagger thrust into her mind. His betrayal culminated in a single act; he cast a bolt of dark miasma that struck her and the warrior beside her. She could almost feel her veins turn to ice as the curse of Iblees took hold.

In a moment, the scene changed. Time spun its wheel, revealing the growth of the elven kin - mali’aheral, mali’ame, mali’ker. She saw their cities rise, a testament to their perseverance and ambition, and watched them evolve, always from a vantage point above.

The final scene was a departure from the rest.

Usamea found herself in a cavern lit by an eerie glow. Three figures in robes stood before a tear in reality, the room pulsing with voidal magic. From the tear, ghostly mists seeped into the air, their spectral whispers coiling around her like serpents. An instinctual dread settled in her heart: something about this was profoundly wrong.

As the vision released its grip, Usamea was left with more than just a sense of dread. She bore the weight of a prophecy, a call to action. 

Her path was now clear.
 

Ah, the famous glock-crossbow

Are you going start your streams again I liked them 

Chapter 1

In days long past, when the sun kissed the peaks of Almaris, and the gentle whispers of the wind breathed life into its verdant landscapes, the tale of a prophecy was born. Born not in the grand halls of the wise or the whispered corners of the sages, but in the elusive dreamscape of a select few. These chosen few, plucked out seemingly at random from among the descendants, began to receive vivid, bone-chilling visions. Echoes of a looming apocalypse that initially seemed too horrific to be real, too cataclysmic to even fathom. It was a nightmare that clawed at the edges of their waking minds, leaving an inescapable dread that gnawed at their peace.

Yet as the hands of time continued their relentless march, the skepticism that had once been a comforting blanket began to fray. The veneer of denial cracked, the raw fear seeping into their hearts. The terrifying truth of their prophetic dreams was acknowledged, setting forth a wave of alarm that reverberated through every corner of the realm.

The threats of the worm, the malevolent necromancers, all those foes that once terrorized the lands, were now but shadows before the terrifying face of this prophesied cataclysm. The might of Iblees was manifesting itself, taking horrific forms that threatened to plunge the realms into chaos and destruction. The sinister September Prince then, the ravenous undead befrore, and now the demented Mori'Quessir with their abominable beastoids, they all converged, their horrifying powers suffusing the air with a palpable dread. The very lands trembled in fear, the skies darkened, and a chilling wind swept across the landscapes, portending the doom that was drawing near.

Chapter 2

Against this maelstrom of despair, a flame of hope flickered to life. The diverse races of the realm, roused from their disjointed existence, found common ground under the looming shadow of annihilation. The descendants, who had long been at odds, buried their old grudges. Magi, druii, xannitesi, and even blood magi, once immersed in their own individual pursuits, now came together. They discarded their differences and instead, combined their unique wisdom and arcane powers to create a beacon of hope. It was a light that pushed against the impending darkness, a beacon that stubbornly burned in defiance against the terrifying might of their adversaries.

This newfound unity, though born out of dire necessity, held a beauty that was both poignant and inspiring. It hinted at the possibility of what could be, of a world where harmony was more than a fleeting dream, if they only dared to put aside their discord.

Their fight, however valiant, was not without its losses. Almaris, a realm once teeming with life, succumbed to the onslaught. Its beautiful landscapes, once the epitome of nature's magnificence, were laid to waste. This once thriving realm was now nothing more than a desolate expanse of destruction. This bitter defeat set off a ripple of panic among the descendants. If a realm as grand as Almaris could be decimated, what chance did the others stand?

Chapter 3

This spirit of resilience pervaded the human kingdoms as they faced the monstrous threat of the Mori. In the shadow of their malevolent power, humanity found strength and unity. They banded together, forming alliances that stretched across their borders, creating a tapestry of hope and camaraderie. They were ready to fight, their hearts burning with the unquenchable fire of their shared conviction.

In this newfound unity, they were more than just individual races or kingdoms, they were a beacon of resistance. Their resilience breathed life into their ravaged lands, their unyielding spirit becoming the drumbeat of a defiant anthem against the growing darkness. They rose like the phoenix, ready to protect their land, their people, their legacy.

The courageous men who dared to tread the desolate landscapes held onto the rhythm of their songs to keep despair at bay. Among them, a youthful Haenseti man bid adieu to his kin with a promise of a swift return, his melody echoing, "We all go marching, all go marching, all go march away. When I come back, we'll have a Baron-ay". His memory persists in the mournful cries of a desolate Mamej.

The elves, once a race characterized by their discord, were also caught in the throes of this fight for survival. They too sought unity, desperately trying to pull together the frayed threads of their kinship. But old habits die hard and the old prejudices and biases of the past still lingered. Haelun'or, once the shining city of their people, was yet again left out of their discussions. A poignant reminder of the divisions that still plagued them. They hadn’t learned from their forefathers' mistakes, and now, they dared to dream of a future where all elves were united, their strength combined to face the looming cataclysm.

Yet, in the face of these challenges, the spirit of hope still shone bright. 

Amidst the darkness, a symphony of whispers echoed through the realms, weaving a tale of unity, of resistance, of resilience. They clung onto it, the flickering flame pushing against the encroaching shadows. Their hearts were steadfast, their resolve unyielding. Descendants, diverse in their origins yet united in their purpose, toiled ceaselessly. They were like a legion of ants, their efforts harmoniously orchestrated, their spirits indomitable, working towards a shared goal. They served their kin, their nations, their esteemed monarchs—Kings, Queens, Sohaeran, and Maheralan—with unyielding dedication. They sought not just their individual survival, but the collective survival of their realm. Their unity was their shield, their shared resolve their weapon against the looming apocalypse.

Despite their valiant efforts, the reality was a grim specter that loomed over their dreams of survival. The realm of Almaris was lost, its glorious landscapes now a desolate expanse, a painful reminder of their defeat. And while they had banded together for now, there was a gnawing fear that their unity was as fragile as the peace they sought. It was inevitable that once they fled to a new continent, their old rivalries would resurface, and the cycle of destruction and death would continue.

Chapter 4

Yet, amidst the struggles and the bleak outlook of their future, the symphony of their unity continued to resonate. It was a symphony born out of necessity, out of desperation, but it was also one of hope. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded them, they dared to hope, to dream of a future where they could survive, where their realm could thrive once again.

But the passage of time, relentless and unyielding, continued its march. As the echoes of their struggles faded, new challenges loomed on the horizon. In this new land, untouched by the shadows of their past, fresh battles awaited. The descendants would have to face these new threats, their hearts filled with an unsettling blend of fear and excitement. The tranquility they had found was fleeting, a mere prelude to the upcoming turmoil.
The Mori'Quessir, who once loomed as an invincible foe, was now but a haunting memory. Their past transgressions, which once seemed insurmountable, were now whispers carried by the winds of time. The descendants had found respite from their overpowering grasp, but this was a brief reprieve. For hearts that longed for power and purpose, the lull was a test of patience, a harbinger of the battles that lay ahead.

And so we found, the lands of Braveos. An empty canvas, awaiting colour.

I write these words hoping you'll pay heed to my warnings, for only the resilient shall endure. Your inconsequential presence is a mere fleeting moment in the vast tapestry of time. Direct your attention to the collective rather than the self, lest we find ourselves trapped in a cycle of errors.

The harmonious songs of birds already carry whispers of discord within. We are inclined to replicate the blunders of ancient legends, becoming victims of the very same missteps committed by our ancestors.

- Oem Mali'thill

IGN: Geminisole
DISCORD: Geminisole#3927
CATEGORY OF CHOICE: Creative writing
TITLE OF YOUR PIECE: The End of Almaris, the scribbles of a 'thill

I KNOW IM LATE IM SORYR BUT IM DEPRESSED, but if late submissions are not accepted then at least enjoy the writing. 

Is this only used for wars where the casus belli is based on religion or any war? 

Full Name: Usamea An'asul

Are you a Voidal Mage? Aspirants and fledgling mages will not be turned away: I am

What schools of voidal magic are you familiar with, and which do you practise? If the answer is none yet you have interest, please write ‘Not Applicable’: Several

What puts you a cut above the rest?: I ne stand above the others, for we all stand equal in the eyes of the void. 

Do you have any notable accomplishments?: Multiple

What do you expect or wish to achieve in this endeavour?: To learn, to grow and perhaps to guide. 

Any questions?: What is it that you, yourself desire?