Toffee

Princess Adalfriede unfurled the great scroll of the Host upon her lap, pointing to each of the ranks illuminated in rich pigment. "You wish to be a warrior, Brandt? Then read, and know what it is you fight to uphold." @Shadow2k

The Princess Adalfriede tapped her foot in time to the drums, feeling the power of Reinmar singing in her veins!

CHRONIKEN DER GROßFÜRSTIN VON MINITZ CHRONICLES OF THE GRAND PRINCESS OF MINITZ Published by the Großfürstin Adalfriede von Hexenwald in the year of our Lord 1965 VOL I (LINK) SÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON MINITZ, We have struck out into the hinterlands, constructing a camp on the site that will soon be our new city. A city built by Reinmaren hands, for a Reinmaren way of life. The first of its kind. As we crested a ridge and the alpine landscape unfurled before us, we were met with craggy ravines and a sea of heather, a wash of purple and blue throughout the entire valley. We must be as the heather plant; sturdy and resilient, bringing colour to the world. Inside Adelmar’s home, breaking bread prior to the skaldic performance. CULTURE AND THE ARTS For the Martyr’s Day Festival commemorating those lost in the War for the Heartlands, the young Lady Jadwiga Jazlowiecki put on a charming puppet show. Using puppets she had hand sewn, she crafted a humorous interpretation of the treacherous Richard Stassion stealing land from the mighty Dragon of Aaun. While Lady Jadwiga’s production was disrupted by the arrival of envoys from Hyspia requesting help for their Viceroyal, who had been captured by orcs, I have high expectations for her future in theatre. The Reinmaren people are no strangers to performances and epic poetry. I witnessed a story performed by Lord Adelmar Barclay von Kanunsberg, who using shadows and light from a simple candle transformed his face and demeanour as he told the tale of the Blind Man and the Duke. In a land shrouded in stories, there lived a blind old man, who sang songs about Leon Barclay, a Duke he had never seen. That summer, he sang his song upon the Duke's name, and whispered tales of the man to anyone who would pass. The Duke Leon that summer called a folkmoot to hear of his tribe. The warriors of the land gathered, and their sons and daughters. The blind beggar, a gyjsh among men—an elder—had the right of attendance. There, he knew Leon Barclay sat in front of him in the moot, the very man he had never seen. He said, motioning with his hand towards his front, “I would touch upon your face, Chieftain of Mine. As my lips have sung your song, then let me truly picture the hero of my sagas and songs.” Duke Leon told onto this blind beggar, “Come then, and feel the visage of the Herzog that you yearn for.” Though, the Duke, upon the throne, denies this request with the push of his hand, dragging a warrior that stood guard next to him in front of his own visage, so that the elder's hands would touch upon the face of that common soldier instead. “So I have touched upon your visage, and have built an image upon my mind of what a true Duke looks like. I will tell everyone that I saw the Herzog, Leon Barclay.” Then, the hirdmen, councillors, warriors and all are bewildered and confused, that the Duke fooled the beggar with the face of that common warrior. “O, Chieftain of mine,” they cried onto him. “Why have you fooled this beggar so? Is it not your face that would glorify his song?” “Aren't I and the next Tribesman the same? Are we not one and the same as our people? And if we die, you and I, and Brandt, the people will live on. They will continue to clash with the enemy, and they will win. My younger days are behind me, anyone can say that I am weak, and that my hands no longer can yield the spear. Yet, generations will live after me, they will sing my song and your song. They will speak of my name as their ancestor, they will say that my horse hurdles the mountains and the hills. In my land they will raise their children as Reinmaren, as Theoderic did his. My hands whither. Yet, there will always be tribesmen that will say that my sword splits mountains in two.” WHAT IT IS TO BE A LEADER In the above tale lies the true meaning of leadership. Action and influence, not the symbol of a crown, is what makes a ruler. The common folk care not for titles, but for how their leader can serve them, protecting them from wolves and providing them with a bountiful harvest. I encountered my husband instructing Lady Frederica, the Baroness of Sigradz, on her future as a leader of the Reinmaren people. Duty, honour, and family are what is most important in this world—the pursuit of personal pleasures is secondary. Grand Prince Leon exists as a pillar on which Reinmaren honour and the Kanun rests. I have witnessed him have the choice between an easy, more practical path, and a more difficult path which maintains his honour both as a man and as a Grand Prince. Every time, he chooses honour. The Kanun is sacred, and so is honour. Material desires hold no station above honour or law. Should I ever try to dissolve either, let the tribesmen cast me out and cut me with swords! THE MAGIC COMMISSION REPORT In the year of our Lord 1963, His Holiness, Sixtus VI published a report providing clarity on the Church’s stance on magic. Within this report, various forms of Voidal magicks such as elementalism and transfiguration were deemed to be sanctioned. During the Royal Court of the same year, the Lord Bailiff Peter Stroheim raised this issue with the Grand Prince. He urged Grand Prince Leon to amend Book One, Chapter III.V of the Grand Kanun, which reads: ON MAGIC: The one who channels the wicked powers of magic not be allowed to step within the walls of Minitz, for the Kanun will not allow the foot that was dipped into the darkness of the void to corrupt the soil of our land. Those who practice wicked magics, not approved by the Holy Church, or that touch on anything which GOTT has not given us descendants from our birth shall not be allowed within the Herzogtum. They will find themselves escorted, and, if continuously again they show themselves amongst our populace, their feet will be cut. Their hands will be separated from their bodies if such magics they practice. Those who Housemagery, Bardomancy, or soul magics shall be exempt from this wrongdoing. Those who practice Paladinism and druidism must acquire permission from the Herzog or the Lawspeaker to enter Minitz. The mage who the void of Iblees has touched enjoys no right to be trialed by Ordeal or Combat, for the tricks of the devil are unknown. The proposed amendment is to explicitly disallow all Voidal magicks. With the wording of the current law, the Magic Commission Report shows that there are some forms of Voidal magic which could be deemed to be approved by the Holy Church, and therefore permissible within Minitz. The laws of Minitz have always been stricter against magic-wielders and non-humans compared to other Canonist realms. Even with this much needed and respected guidance from the Church, we must safeguard our people, customs and culture. The Grand Prince accepted Lord Peter’s petition—the amendment will be discussed at Moot under the guidance of the Lawspeaker. GATHERING OF THE HIRD It is tradition for the Grand Prince and Princess to build a personal household, known as their hird. I have been building my own hird, welcoming my sister-in-law Lady Gertrude Barclay as my foremost lady-in-waiting. I have also received Isolde Sturmweber’s schwur as my sworn protector, or hirdman, and commissioned a spear in her honour for her use in the protection of my household. The shaft is carved with a depiction of Isolde in the forests near Velen, striking down a Frankish warrior. This is what prompted my admiration for her martial abilities. I know that, with her by my side and GOTT watching over us, my person shall remain safe. She has already proved her mettle in discovering and remedying a security breach within Minitz alongside Mariola Sturmweber, and accompanying me on a journey into the hinterlands to see the lands that will soon be our home. The Angel of Justice appearing before Grand Prince Leon II, Brandt Cardinal Albarosa, and Grand Princess Adalfriede of Hexenwald. A MESSAGE FROM THE DIVINE Brandt Cardinal Albarosa, Grand Prince Leon’s grandfather and the namesake of our eldest son, visited us in Kanunsberg Castle late last year. He had come to create a star chart for little Brandt Wulfhard, to glean what his future holds. With the reading complete, the Cardinal Albarosa moved to stow his astrolabe away when the sky erupted into a radiant aurora in the shape of the Lorraine cross. An angel descended from the heavens, heralded by trumpet calls and a circle of holy fire, his great wings sweeping the clouds and an ephemeral blade clutched in his grip. He pointed the tip of his blade and bathed the balcony around us in a ring of flames, burning hot with the Lord’s justice. “Man has shunned the Lord. They have put selfish desires over Him; the vicar of GOD has put secular affairs over his vow and commitment to our Lord. Too filled with rage, is one who must guide the flock of Man. Look, as the Kingdoms of GOD fight and ramble, so incessant in their needless rebellion against the Kingdom of Heaven. Be it so, then, that should this continue, that no Man will ascend to the Seven Skies again, and that I have been tasked to lock the gates of heaven. Please, guide them again, so that I am allowed to see Man enter the gates of heaven again. It is not only GOD that cries, but all of us.” These are the words the angel said unto us, along with the grave tidings that the darkness of Iblees has once again touched our realm. Brandt Cardinal Albarosa will save us from this venom; he will convert the non-believers, and burn the darkness away until we are all bathed in the Lord’s warmth and light. I rode with Mariola Sturmweber between select Canonist nations that very night, spreading the angel’s words. We were met with scorn and disdain in the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska, benign interest in the Commonwealth of the Petra, and fervent support in the Kingdom of Númendil. Just as the angel is a servant and slave to the Lord God—a messenger—so too must we be messengers. It is our duty as good sons and daughters of the Church of the Canon to convert the non-believers and to remind those who wear a cross and sleep through Mass that GOD is watching and sees through their veneer. An age of true belief is upon us. The skeletal remains of the burned demon in the courtyard of the Holy See. THE CLEANSING OF EVIL Following an investigation by Brandt Cardinal Albarosa, an unrepentant demon had its magic stripped and was condemned to death by burning at the stake. As the cleansing column of flame reached its burning tendrils towards the heavens, the glowing aurora in the shape of the Lorraine cross revealed itself to us once more. The Cardinal Albarosa is doing the Lord’s work, punishing sinners and banishing Iblees’ taint from the land. GOD has shown us a symbol of his favour, and so this blessed work will continue until we can walk in peace once more. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET HER SERENE HIGHNESS, Adalfriede of Hexenwald, Grand Princess of Minitz

Adalfriede of Hexenwald had first arrived in the Kingdom of Aaun to join her brother, Wulfram Rademacher, as he built his life in the court of King John. Turning to watch the rolling farmlands and fields recede behind her horse, she offered a silent, solemn farewell before turning to face the long road ahead. She did not turn back a second time.

Adalfriede of Hexenwald carefully brushed soot from the crevices of a demonic skull with lopsided horns jutting out above the brow bone. Polishing the skull until its blackened surface glowed with a dark shine, she held the trophy up to the light with a thin, self-satisfied smile. There would be more. Many more.

Illynora Sylvaeri unrolled the missive from the decaying leg of of a ship's rat, her face darkening with a deep frown. She made her way into the apothecary above Illivira's infirmary and showed her daughter a copy of the letter. @RainbowRoad1234

Adalfriede of Hexenwald got hold of a copy of the missive, wordlessly turning it over to her husband in the low lamplight of their shared sitting room. @BuilderBagel

Adalfriede of Hexenwald pored over the paper, jotting notes in the margin with one hand while her other finger traced over the words of the Holy Scrolls. Her copy was lavishly illuminated, silvery gold ink reflecting the light of a candle nearly burned to a stump. Certainly an interesting, thoroughly researched opinion... though she had her own thoughts.

CHRONIKEN DER GROẞFÜRSTIN VON MINITZ CHRONICLES OF THE GRAND PRINCESS OF MINITZ Published by the Großfürstin Adalfriede von Hexenwald in the year of our Lord 1963 SÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON MINITZ, I first learned of House Barclay standing in the throne room of the Hand of Horen. My brother pointed to the green and blue banner hanging proudly from the high arched ceiling and told me of this family’s proud heritage. Waldenian, like us, he said, but a subsect known as Reinmaren. Holding the Grand Principality of Minitz, House Barclay seemed untouchable, entry into its ranks unattainable for the daughter of a slain Count. Yet when I stepped foot in Kanunsberg for the first time, I found myself warmly greeted, the Grand Prince himself sitting and drinking with his fellow tribesmen in the tavern. I am now blooded as a daughter of Reinmar and find myself with the privilege and duty of serving as the Grand Princess of Minitz. As I chronicle my experiences, I commit to memory the deeds and triumphs of our people. AN HEIR IS BORN In the year of our Lord 1961, I gave birth to Brandt Wulfhard Barclay. He is named for Brandt Cardinal Albarosa, former Grand Prince of Minitz and the current Grand Prince’s grandfather, and my late father Lord Wulfhard Rademacher, Count of Hexenwald. We also welcomed a daughter in 1963 named Rosalyn Klaire for Her Majesty, Queen Edith Klaire of Reinmar. Both will be raised in the ways of the Reinmaren—taught to ride, to hawk and hunt, and to wield a spear as their forefathers did before them. We ask that you keep our children in your prayers so that they might grow tall and proud and serve our people well. WEDDING FEAST DISRUPTED One year following my marriage to Grand Prince Leon II, we gathered in the feast hall of Kanunsberg Castle to celebrate. Even before the food was brought out, a peasant entered the hall, wringing his hat between his hands and seeming ill at ease. Sit with us! my husband called, but the peasant declined, stating that he had only come to bring news of a cart outside the city. The cart was laden with Frankish alcohol—a gift for the Grand Prince. Dread struck my heart and banished my appetite, for the same gift had been offered before, and it resulted in the tavern burning with my husband and other sons and daughters of Minitz trapped inside. Prince Leon bears the scars of that failed assassination to this day. Many in the feast hall voiced their distrust of such a gift, so His Serene Highness sent Sir Robert Stroheim and Theoderic von Minitz to examine the cart while everyone else enjoyed the feast. Venison steaks, fresh bread, buttered vegetables, and sugar-dusted confectioneries covered the long tables, but the energy in the feast hall was strained. Eyes went to doorways and windows, calculating the best course of action should the unthinkable happen and the Franks stormed the castle. The feast ended shortly thereafter; a fortuitous turn of events, considering the so-called gift had indeed been a trap. Sir Robert was left with grievous injuries from the explosion, while the rest of Minitz worked as one to douse the flames using pails, vases, and even empty flagons from the nearby inn. With the fire doused, many crowded into the infirmary to have their wounds tended to. With the ritters and warriors distracted, who should appear on the rooftops but the Roach himself? He cast an alchemical potion through the open window of the infirmary, rendering the space obscured by choking black smoke. We opened the windows and doors and I sent Isolde Sturmweber onto the rooftops, but the Roach was gone. Dissolved into thin air as swiftly as his alchemical smoke. Such an act of aggression would not be allowed to go unpunished. ORCISH AGGRESSOR SLAIN Shortly after the explosion, with an inordinate amount of people crammed into the small clinic, an orcish visitor found himself overcome with bloodlust. He was upset that Sir Robert had been wounded in the attack, having held the man in high regard, and refused to listen to the voices of reason saying that the perpetrator of the attempted assassination had been slain. He drew his blade and began attacking those in the clinic before fighting his way out into the square. He threatened the Grand Prince’s younger sister, the Lady Gertrude, before being slain by Duke Alfred of Reinmar and Sir Varik Sturmweber. His Grace shaved off a portion of the orc’s tusks as a trophy while Sir Varik cut off the orc’s head and delivered it unto me. Skulls feature heavily in the iconography of House Rademacher, from which I hail. It is tradition to prepare the skulls of our enemies as trophies. As such, I took the orc’s skull and it now stands as a trophy in Kanunsberg Castle—the first of many. I promised my husband that when he kills the Roach, I will prepare his skull as a relic of Reinmaren victory over the Franks. Grand Prince Ferdinand’s memory will be avenged and a new era of peace will be ushered in across the Franklands. A DREAM OF INDEPENDENCE Barclays of Minitz and Reinmar flooded the Haeseni throne room in great number. Green and blue wreathed the left-hand side of the aisle, a thread of breathless anticipation shivering in the air. The Stallion Decree had been published in 1960, vowing to release the Duchy of Reinmar from their oaths of fealty following the War for the Heartlands. With the war now over, King Aleksandr II formally released Duke Alfred to join with us in Minitz in preparation for our own departure into the hinterlands. The cry of Wer Rastet, Der Rostet rang in my ears for the entire journey eastwards, the snow and evergreens of Haense giving way to the rolling fields and orchards of Minitz. He who rests, rusts. AN OFFICER CAPTURED Wer Rastet, Der Rostet could not be more apt a saying on the day we entered the mountains and captured a Frankish officer. That morning, my maid buckled me into my armour in the privacy of my chambers in Kanunsberg Castle. I had never worn leather gambeson before, nor mail protecting my arms and legs. The weight was difficult, but not unmanageable. My maid draped the green tribesman’s cape over my shoulders, but I told her no, I am not yet blooded. She responded that my husband, the Grand Prince, would not mind, and so I found myself in the town square dressed as a tribeswoman, preparing for our strike against the Roach. The Grand Prince’s younger brother, Lord Albert, led a party on foot up the mountain. As we passed the first copse of trees, mounted Frankmen watched us from the treeline, silent and unmoving. We continued forwards until we reached the solid stone walls of Velen, where we waited for hours. Around us, the trees were still and silent; no bird calls, no insects. No Franks. When our Frankish quarry did not make themselves known, Lord Albert and Johanna Stroheim made their way further into the forest while myself, Isolde Sturmweber, and an outlander named Ælfred waited by the walls. Again, naught but silence. By that point, the muscles of my legs had gone stiff and cramped, yearning to be stretched. At Lord Albert’s hand signal, the rest of us slowly approached, Ælfred and I armed with bows, Isolde with a spear. Up ahead, the forest suddenly came alive with the sound of arrows striking against plate armour and sinking into flesh. We broke into a run, all pretence at silence forgotten. I ran along the rocky ridge while Isolde and Ælfred engaged the Franks in battle between the trees. A devastating scene unfolded before me. An injured Albert, dragging himself towards the cliffs, pursued by Franks. Johanna, five or more arrows protruding from her, clinging to the edges of consciousness, two Frankish warriors descending upon her with axes, intent on slashing her to pieces while I watched. I had a choice. Loose my arrow and kill one of her attackers, or incapacitate the Frankish officer standing at the treeline, stoically watching over the events. We had scaled the mountain with a purpose. I could not lose sight of our greater goal. So, with a silent prayer for Johanna’s soul, I turned my arrow upon the Frankish officer and fired, catching him in the thigh. He screamed and turned to flee, limping further into the forest, while the battle raged behind him. Ælfred felled a Frankish warrior with an arrow to the throat, Isolde fended off multiple attackers with her shield and spear. Fighting together, the Franks began to dwindle in number, but I could see from the corner of my eye that their strength waned. Thundering hoofbeats echoed through the trees, the long, mournful call of a war horn shivering through the mountain range. The cavalry had arrived. I loosed another arrow at the retreating officer. It embedded in his other leg and he went down hard, sprawling into the dirt. Duke Alfred and Sir Varik arrived on horseback and rendered the man unconscious, carrying him off to the dungeons for questioning, and I rode back to Minitz behind my husband. To the Roach, if you are reading this: we have your man. And soon, we will have you. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET HER SERENE HIGHNESS, Adalfriede of Hexenwald, Grand Princess of Minitz

Adalfriede smiled the Sun’s Smile.

IGN: toffToffee RP Name: Adalfriede Rademacher Persona ID: 86823

The war had seemed a distant thing to Adalfriede, merely tales from the battlefield said over a goblet of wine. Witnessing the grief pouring through Minitz at Leutwin’s passing made it suddenly much more real. Soon, the Rademacher armour would be ready. Soon, Adalfriede would also march upon Veletz. Illynora tended to lose track of the humans she met in passing across the centuries. Each was cursed to live a short life, consigned to the ground in the time it took for her to puzzle an Aspectist philosophy. She remembered Leutwin. He had been a child then, all bright eyes thirsty for knowledge on herbs and healing, an eager young acolyte. News reached her of his passing and she sighed. Another human soul lost to the ravages of war.

Your mother is a witch, and witches are burned. Flames licked up the castle walls, searching and hungry, devouring wooden rafters and support beams, searing the stone until it glowed. Adalfriede’s lungs burned. Smoke and fear, scorching her from the inside out. She ran blindly, tears streaking down her cheeks and evaporating before they could even drip from her chin. A young girl of eight, but she already knew. I am going to die here. Arms, strong and wiry, snatched her up and threw her over a bony shoulder. The world jolted upside down in a haze of orange grey. “Leave her, Malcolm! She’s dead weight.” Her brother Wulfram, soot smudged on his face like the beginnings of a beard. Not a boy, but not quite a man, either. “She’s your sister.” Ser Malcolm’s gruff voice rumbled through her. “Family is everything.” He dumped her at the bottom of a boat, little more than a dinghy. He and Ser Hodrick worked the oars until Hexenwald—their home, their family, their legacy—disappeared as embers into the night sky. Three weeks. Three weeks of rain and dirt and endless trees, canopies crushed so close that day turned to night and night turned to nothing but blackness and the distant howl of wolves. Adalfriede huddled by the fire, Ser Hodrick’s fur-lined cloak draped over her narrow shoulders. A rabbit turned on the spit. Rabbits, pigeons, rats. Berries and mushrooms, roots pulled from the earth and brushed clean. They had been reduced to foragers, like the smallfolk living on the isle of Nebelheim. “How long must we live like this?” Wulfram tossed aside a pheasant’s bones, picked clean of meat. Ser Hodrick hacked and spit into the bushes. “Your father didn’t raise you to be soft.” “He didn’t raise me to run while peasants sacked my family home, either. I should be splitting skulls, not roasting rabbits.” He kicked the edge of the firepit, scattering glowing embers through their encampment. Adalfride shied away. In the heart of the woods on the ragged edge between autumn and winter, fire was survival, salvation. Yet it had brought her family such death and destruction, her parents, all of her siblings, burnt to nothing. Except for Wulfram. Wulfram was all she had. “You would have been put to the sword, Adalfriede with you.” Ser Malcolm turned the rabbit, browning its other side. His Daelish accent skipped over consonants and lengthened vowels into long, rolling plains cut with deep ravines and lilting rivers. “Far better to retreat, gather your strength, and strike when the time is right.” Wulfram scowled. At the edge of the firelight, where unknowable woods loomed, the shadows on his face lengthened and distorted until he was a monstrous thing, a creature of the night. “I will rebuild,” he vowed darkly. “In the name of my father, Wulfhard Rademacher von Hexenwald, I swear our family name will not perish to the flames.” It would be many years until Adalfriede shared his fierce loyalty to the name of their forefathers. That night she could think no further than the ache in her belly and in her feet, the bite of autumn near-winter finding her even beneath the heavy cloak. But when that loyalty did awaken within her, a small spark burning to life in her chest, there was no task too great, no length she would not go to, to protect her House. A gleaming white skull on a red field, teeth bared in a rictus grin. They saw the steeple before they saw the church, a wooden Lorraine cross standing in stark relief against the pale grey sky. Milky light shone diffused and weak through the trees, the air hazy like the pre-dawn, although it must have been midday. Adalfriede’s feet stung, wet and sticky with open blisters, but she did not complain. Rademachers did not whinge. “A convent,” Ser Hodrick muttered, pulling a branch aside so they could peer, unseen, at the nuns in full habit drawing water from a well. As one, Ser Hodrick, Ser Malcolm, and Wulfram turned to look at her. “Exile is no place for a girl.” Wulfram’s eyes darkened, the chips of emerald green appearing more like a midnight sea, deep and unpredictable. His thinking face, machinations turning themselves over and over in his mind. “You will stay here until I find somewhere to settle, to rebuild.” “You can’t do that!” Adalfriede’s voice, rough with disuse, came out thin and whining. “I belong with you.” “Your brother’s right, lass.” Ser Malcolm dropped to a knee, taking her by the shoulders. “We’ll be on the road for months, if not years. They’ll take care of you here.” “You’re supposed to take care of me.” Adalfriede looked up into her brother’s face but it was as hard and inscrutable as a cliffside. Angry tears stung the back of her eyes and lodged a stone in her throat. Wulfram’s face abruptly shifted, filled with a depth of passion that could shake mountains and divert the course of rivers. He nudged Ser Malcolm aside and knelt in front of her. “I will send for you. When I am settled, when Rademacher is poised to be a name worth heeding once more. Do you trust me?” Adalfriede nodded. She drew Ser Hodrick’s cloak from her shoulders and handed it back to him, her skin pricking to gooseflesh in the sudden cold. If Wulfram’s resolve could be strong, so could hers. I am Adalfriede Wulfhild Rademacher von Hexenwald. My crest is a white skull on a red field. We have no fear, for we are fear itself. Formido et Gratia. She told herself she wouldn’t look back. It was a weakness. But as she swung open the gate into a courtyard, grass growing unchecked and wild through the cobbles, she turned, eyes roving along the treeline. They were already gone, not even a broken branch or bootprint to mark their presence. Like they had never been there at all. Dead weight she may have been, but nine years later, Wulfram sent for her. Kingdom of Aaun… Lord Captain of the City Watch… engaged to be married… ennoblement… The words blurred, for she was already packing, meagre belongings thrown into a battered travelling case. She had stolen it when she accompanied the nuns to market and stored it under her bed all this time. A talisman, a prayer. She tucked a sliver of quartz into her pocket for protection and slipped through a side door into the decaying courtyard. “Adalfriede? Adalfriede!” This time, she did not turn back. The life of a girl raised by nuns faded in her wake, eclipsed by the story of a girl called to reclaim her birthright. She raced against the rain and summer storms until the great tower palace of Whitespire rose high above the landscape. A needle, a beacon, a white flame reaching towards the Seven Skies. She reached the safety of the gatehouse just as the heavens opened, washing the city clean of refuse and bootprints muddy from the march of war. A land ripe with opportunity… if one knew how to reach out and take it.

The Emerald Trials of the Priesthood of Orison are carefully designed to test an acolyte’s strength, knowledge, self-control, leadership, and loyalty. At the end of their trials, the acolyte emerges as a fully fledged Wild Priest, ready to go into the world and spread the wisdom of the Aspects and the teachings of the Wild Faith. One such acolyte has completed his trials. For the Trial of Growth he created and tended to a lush garden on the outskirts of Illivira which expanded throughout his trials, adding more fruit bushes, trees, and even murals to commemorate his growth into a Wild Priest. This acolyte was already well-versed in herbs and their healing properties, but he diligently attended lessons and successfully showed his overseeing Priestess how to locate, harvest, prepare, and use three different medicinal herbs. To complete his Trial of Healing he healed Aurelion, the Lord Aratir of Amathine, after he was wounded battling a corrupted bear. The Trial of the Hunt saw this acolyte successfully fell a Sectah Lynx, returning with claw marks to his face. Scars well earned, the symbol of a hard fought hunt. As well as speaking prayers to the Mother during healing and to the Father before and after a hunt, this acolyte completed his Trial of the Aspects by leaving offerings, consigning vervain flowers to the water and snapdragon flowers to the flames. He successfully intoned prayers to the Aspects. This acolyte extensively studied the Mani, learning of their domains, personalities, prayers, and associated traits. After much research, he completed his Trial of the Mani by building a mural to Siss’siru in a hidden location, showing his respect and knowledge of the oft-misunderstood Prince of Serpents. For the Trial of the River, the acolyte waded offshore carrying a heavy rock, walking with it along the ocean floor and back again. This was a feat of physical endurance, holding his breath for just under five minutes. Finally, the acolyte was given herbs to induce visions and left beneath an acacia tree in the savannah. He travelled back to Illivira on foot, with nothing but his staff and the small number of items he had on him. He hunted and fished for sustenance, giving thanks to the Father, and successfully navigated his way home, thus completing his Trial of Reflection. This showed great mental fortitude and loyalty to his path as an acolyte of the Wild Faith. Let it be known that the acolyte Sumana is now a fully-fledged Wild Priest, the Priest of Siss’siru. The following are invited to bear witness to his priesthood ceremony, officially marking his graduation from acolyte. All members of the Priesthood of Orison. All citizens of the Crown of Amathine. All citizens of the Sanctum of Illivira. All citizens of the Principality of Helious. The people of Nevaehlen. All wayward Mali’ame who wish to bear witness to a ritual of their culture and faith. Where: Illivira. Continue west along the Amathine road, through the tunnel beneath the mountain. Time: Saturday 16 December, 6pm EST.

Illynora Sylvaeri, Healer on High for the company of healers known as Serinwë's Hand, resolved to visit this new clinic. There were many out there who might benefit from the provision of healing knowledge and supplies.

1. If you were to turn one of your character’s story arcs into a novel, who would it be and what plot points would you hit? 2. When is Curufin coming on an adventure with his grandma? 3. Do you prefer completely original server lore or lore that draws heavily from pre existing things e.g. LOTR, Elder Scrolls

Calling all healers, herbalists, doctors, and medics! Avail yourselves of the healing goods on offer from Serinwë’s Hand, the Company of Healers. From the market stall in Illivira, find all manner of medicinal teas, tonics, and tools for the beginner herbalist or experienced healers who do not have time to make their own. Illivira is located on the shore to the west of Amathine. Take the road west of Amathine, and at the first fork turn right. This path will take one northwards and through a tunnel beneath the mountains towards Illivira. Teas Teas are a gentle herbal remedy which can be used to treat pain and discomfort and assist with healing. For instructions on how to prepare your own tea, consult A Herbalist’s Guide. Powdered cryptus mushroom may be purchased for this purpose. Alternatively, you may pick from three pre-prepared herbal remedies. Tinctures and Tonics Tonics are more concentrated remedies than teas, prepared by boiling herbs for several hours to release their medicinal properties. For more, consult A Herbalist’s Guide. They are not suitable for long-term storage, and should be used soon after purchase. Tinctures, on the other hand, are prepared by using spirits and last for some time. Topical Medicines These medicines should be applied to the skin, not ingested. Healing Kits For your convenience, the healers of Serinwë’s Hand have prepared boxes of medicines and tools both for travel and clinic use. Custom Orders The market stall in Illivira only represents a small number of the herbal remedies available. For custom orders such as travelling herbalist kits or a specific medicine, please contact the Healer on High for Serinwë’s Hand, Illynora Sylvaeri (toffToffee | @meggiebyte). All students of Serinwë’s Hand who show proficiency in healing and herbalism will receive a medicine bag free of charge. More from Serinwë’s Hand The Company of Healers A Herbalist’s Guide to Aevos The Healer’s Compendium OOC Note:

You mentioned about the culture change of the server and how some things would've been acceptable 6 years ago but absolutely would get a permaban these days. What's your thoughts on the trajectory on the server in terms of bans and what is/isn't considered acceptable by the serverbase?

When one binds themself to another in the eyes of the Aspects, this is a sacred oath which cannot be forsaken. The humans have the concept of divorce and annulment woven into their scriptures and courts of law, but no such law exists in the life of a true Aspectist. In sun or storm, elation or heartbreak, a marriage vow cannot be broken. If your partner lives, you may not take another. Even in death, this vow is a powerful one. To sunder it would be a grave affront to the Aspects. - The Way of the Mother The purpose of this tenet within the Way of the Mother is to preserve the sacredness of the marriage vow and stray away from human customs. Definition of Marriage In human culture, marriage is designed to create a legitimate bloodline for the passing of titles and property. The line of succession was traditionally through the firstborn son, but this has changed in recent decades with the introduction of absolute primogeniture in many human kingdoms. To have a child outside of marriage is to have a bastard who is not included in the line of succession except for rare occasions where the child is legitimised. Marriage, therefore, is a necessary part of life amongst the human nobility as a way to pass noble titles and heirlooms upon death, which happens much more frequently among Man than among the Elves. Because marriage is integral to the creation of legitimate lines, divorce or annulment is available through the Church of the Canon as a way to take on another spouse. This will usually only be granted where the spouse is not fulfilling their marriage duties, has been adulterous, or is considered to have abandoned the marriage. Conversely, among the Mali’ame people there is no concept of legitimacy and limited value is placed on bloodlines. Integral to Mali’ame families are the Seeds, which are primarily adoptive families but can include members who are related by blood. Furthermore, Mali’ame do not have inheritable titles. Leadership of a Seed is most often chosen from existing Seed elders, not from the blood descendant of the current leader. In the Dominion of Malin, the title of High Prince was not passed down but rather elected by Moot. Similarly, in the Crown of Elvenesse and later the Crown of Amaethea, the High Prince’s successor was chosen by the current High Prince rather than being passed from parent to child by way of right, as is the case in human cultures. There is no societal expectation that partners must be married in order to have children. It is perfectly acceptable, and in fact normal, for Mali’ame to have multiple relationships throughout their long lives either sequentially or simultaneously, bearing children by many different partners. Because there is no concept of legitimacy, children who are born out of wedlock or adopted are not seen as being any more or less connected to their parents. Why, then, does the concept of marriage exist in Mali’ame culture? One possible explanation is the influence of Orenian customs. Mali'ame culture saw an intense revival and return to the ways of Irrin Sirame within Laureh’lin, a Wood Elven state in the Dominion of Malin in Axios. The Wood Elves had been vassalised under the Kingdom of Oren for centuries by this point, and although granted independence in Axios, remained a vassal state. Therefore it is possible the human norm of marriage became ingrained in Mali’ame customs during this period of revival. Even though marriage was not considered necessary for the formation of legitimate bloodlines or the passing of land and titles, it nevertheless has become normal for Mali’ame to formalise their relationships through marriage. The Way of the Mother preaches that marriage among Mali’ame is sacred because it is a vow made in the eyes of the Aspects. Mali’ame should refrain from tying themselves to another in matrimony unless they can fully commit to their life partner for the centuries they will walk the mortal plane together. In the case of the Druii, this bond transcends death and follows them into the Eternal Forest. Marriage and the Aspects The effect of marriage in Mali’ame culture is that two souls become one in the eyes of the Aspects. Take, for example, the Vows of Matrimony found within the Priesthood of Orison. In this rite, the couple are symbolically united through blood and sacred Attunement springwater. The vows are overseen by a Priest of the Wild Faith, intoning that the bond has been witnessed by the Aspects. The impact of two souls becoming one is that each spouse must work in tandem to uphold the balance because, in the eyes of the Aspects, they are intertwined. The Mali’ame are not inherently monogamous. It is normal to have multiple partners, sometimes simultaneously. However, entering into marriage is widely considered to be a dedication to one partner and one partner only. Straying beyond marriage is infidelity. However, because Elven children are so rare and precious, it is not uncommon for a married couple to decide to bear children outside of marriage if they are of the same gender or if one of them is infertile. Because this is agreed upon, it is not considered adultery. In human culture, infidelity is considered grounds for a divorce or dissolution of marriage. Not so in Mali’ame culture. A marriage vow cannot be broken for it is not a legal commitment, it is a spiritual one. Therefore, it is the duty of the couple to return to the light of the Aspects together. In this way, they uphold the balance. Because a married couple are one, even if they become separated due to irreconcilable differences, it is inappropriate to take on another partner while the other is alive. This would upset the delicate nature of the balance. When one partner dies, it is not frowned upon to take another partner—particularly for bearing children—but it would be considered an affront to the Aspects to enter into another marriage. Marriage bonds traditionally transcend death with the knowledge that the couple will be reunited in the Eternal Forest or in the Aspects’ realm. Mali’ame who marry young are more likely to grow apart from their spouse over the centuries and wish to separate, therefore breaking their sacred vow. The Way of the Mother counsels to have meaningful partnerships, but not to fasten this with a marriage vow until both partners are wholly committed to taking the other as their lifemate. Too often do we see Mali’ame marrying their current partner, separating after half a century, remarrying, and repeating across five centuries of life. This is likely a habit developed from human cultures, where marriage was necessary and unmarried partners were considered unholy. Non-Aspectist Marriage Rites True Aspectists and followers of elnarnsae’ame will marry their spouse in a traditional ceremony presided over by a Wild Priest or, more rarely, alone in a sacred place such as a Druidic Grove. However, many Wood Elves have been known to marry their spouse through other means, such as in the eyes of another deity or in a court of law. In those instances, the rules of marriage outlined by the Way of the Mother do not apply. A traditional Mali’ame marriage bond is so sacred because it is made in the eyes of the Aspects rather than in honour of one another. To break such an oath is a grievous affront to the Aspects and to the balance. Marriage Rite in the Way of the Mother Many Seeds, Clans, Houses, and Talonnii have their own marriage rites. The key feature of an Aspectist union is that a vow is spoken to one another in the eyes of the Aspects, traditionally in the form of asking the Aspects to watch over and bless the marriage. Ideally, other important cultural features include a ceremony in an Aspects-blessed place such as a Grove or shrine overseen by a priest of the Wild Faith. In the Way of the Mother, the marriage rite is almost identical to that described in The Sacrament of Nature, which is a summarisation of ancient rituals scribed by Sonna Vulnrith, Keeper of the Glade of Hileia and Sister Fox. The only salient difference is that the Way of the Mother includes the sacred art of ilmyumier. To receive ilmyumier is to proudly display one’s heritage, family, feats, and calling upon the skin. It is a sacred art and one that should not be taken lightly. Ilmyumier should only ever be applied to another; never apply ilmyumier to your own flesh. To do so would not be ilmyumier but a simple tattoo. When applying ilmyumier, one should use traditional tools carved from bone or shell and pigments derived from charcoal, plants, and insects. When receiving ilmyumier, no pain relief should be consumed or applied to the skin; feeling the pain is what gives ilmyumier true significance. - The Way of the Mother If the couple are from the same Seed, or are not affiliated with any family, they should mark the other with a unique design commemorating their marriage and eternal life together. An alternative is to mark the other with the ilmyumier of one’s Seed, if they intend to join upon marriage. Erasing Past Marriages Countless years of subjugation throughout history means that many Mali’ame have been raised isolated from their culture. It is therefore understandable, especially for young Elves, that there are those who enter into Aspectist marriages without fully knowing or appreciating the weight of the oath they have taken. Full appreciation of the marriage vow means understanding that one is bound to stand by their partner’s side in elation or heartbreak, regardless of infidelity or abandonment. While your spouse lives, you may never take another partner. After your spouse’s death, you may take another partner but may never remarry. Breaking either feature of this tenet means the only recourse is to brand oneself with the ilmyumier Siss’suru’s Grip and pray to soothe the Aspects’ wroth. The grip of Siss’susu is an ouroboros design upon the wrist or neck, a snake with red, poisoned fangs biting its own tail. The meaning can vary from a branded reminder of wrong-doing to rebirth and redemption. It is often reserved for those who have committed a grave affront to the Aspects or who have harmed the Mali’ame people. For those who did not fully appreciate the seriousness of their vow, there is another path. A prior marriage can be erased, spiritually releasing both partners to enter into other marriages, but only where there was true ignorance that the oath was not in fact between each partner, but to the Aspects. This can be done only once. The person wishing to erase a prior marriage must venture into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on their back and a waterskin. For three days and three nights, they are to meditate on their former marriage, beseeching the Aspects for their forgiveness. For a further three days and three nights, they are to meditate on their future marriage, allowing the full weight of their commitment to settle. They may then go forth and enter into another marriage with full knowledge and appreciation of the sacredness of the bond.

An elder Wood Elf read this missive in the Illivira apothecary, surrounded by drying herbs and the tools of her calling. Followers of other Wood Elven creeds believed in internal balance, embracing both the Mother and the Father, healing and the hunt. This Elf followed the Way of the Mother. What need was there for internal balance when societal balance pleased the Aspects? The young Ithelanen had the right of it. There needed to be warriors and hunters as well as healers, poets, and custodians of the faith. In all things, the balance, lest their people continue to be slaughtered and subjugated. Yet she had also known each of the three Bronze Princes, those mythic figures who rose from the mists of the Bronze Rebellion. One would call himself King, yet there was No King But Malin. Another would preach dreams of a united Elvenesse while sundering the Elven people with his violence and hubris. The third tried to walk the line between their cracking triumvirate and failed. The Dominion of Malin may have shone on the pages of history, a glittering golden era, but it loomed dark and decaying in the memory of those few Elves who had lived to see it rise and fall. She sensed an interesting conversation in her future.

Healers are the ties that bind us. Despite our many differences, every Descendant is vulnerable to sickness or injury. Caring for the injured and ill requires a devoted mind and compassionate heart, and in every nation across the continent there exist those who follow the path of healing, whether they are called doctors, clinicians, medics, healers, or shamans. There are two functions of Serinwë’s Hand. The first is as a company of healers, travelling the continent healing those in need and assisting in times of crisis. The second is as a latticework connecting healers and clinics across nations, sharing knowledge and supplies. One need not be an oathed member of Serinwë’s Hand to participate in the sharing of ideas and wisdom. History "Warriors take up bow and blade against the dangers of this world. Myself, I am armed with elixir and silver scalpel, warding off sickness and injury.” - The Tale of Serinwë, Part II in the Lay of Aegrothond Serinwë's Hand is named for Serinwë, the matriarch of the ancient Almenodrim who was wife to Sylvaen the Everflame. This is because Serinwë's Hand was founded in the year 1700 of the First Age in Aegrothond, Arcas—the stronghold of Almenorean culture ruled by the venerable House Sylvaeri. It began as a company of healers tied to the Institute of Healing in Aegrothond. Admittance into Serinwë’s Hand required completion of the Path of the Healer course. Members would provide healing for those in need, venturing to foreign lands. Many were also healers in Aegrothond’s clinic and teachers in the Institute of Healing, although entrance to Serinwë’s Hand was not limited to Elves or citizens of Aegrothond. When Illynora Sylvaeri—founder of the Institute of Healing and Serinwë’s Hand—departed the mainland in the year 1708 of the First Age, leadership of the Institute passed to Eraami Aureon and later to Medli Oranor. Although the Institute survived, Serinwë’s Hand faded into obscurity. Illynora Sylvaeri and Medli Oranor revived Serinwë’s Hand in Aevos in the 133rd Year of the Second Age. The Institute of Healing survives in spirit in the Illynoran Infirmary in Illivira and in name in the Institute of Healing in Amathine. At the time of writing, the Infirmary is led by Medli Oranor and the Institute of Healing is led by Arle Sirame. Positions Healer on High The leader of Serinwë’s Hand responsible for the overall function of the company. Must be an oathed member. Teacher Experienced healers who organise lessons, host herb scouting expeditions, and spread healing knowledge across the continent. Must be an oathed member. Oathed Healer Healers who have taken the oath of Serinwë’s Hand and dedicated their life to the art of healing. These healers may be called upon in times of crisis and sent where their skills are most needed. Nation Contact An individual who serves as the main point of contact between a certain nation and Serinwë’s Hand. Most often, these individuals are the leader of their national clinic. The nation contact is encouraged to attend occasional healing summits or send a representative in their stead. Savant Healers who are highly knowledgeable in a particular area of expertise. For example: artificial limbs, magic-inflicted injuries, and specific illnesses. These healers may be consulted by Serinwë’s Hand, or they may be full members themselves. Independent Healer Skilled healers who are not an oathed member. These healers are encouraged to share their knowledge with others through Serinwë’s Hand but are not obligated to heed a call for aid. Herbalist — Alchemist Those who are skilled in creating herbal or alchemical medicines and would be willing to supply these to Serinwë’s Hand or to clinics in need. Herb Gatherer Those who collect herbs across the continent and deliver them to where they are most needed. Student Those who wish to learn the noble art of healing, herbalism, or alchemy. Becoming Involved To become a full member of Serinwë’s Hand, one is required to show their skills to the Healer on High and be approved. This may be done through a display of healing ability or through a series of probing questions to ascertain that an applicant’s healing knowledge is at the standard expected of a healer being held out as a representative of Serinwë’s Hand. This healer will then be required to take the oath. Those who would like to become involved with Serinwë’s Hand but not as an oathed member, or who would avail themselves of the free lessons, should contact the Healer on High or any member of Serinwë’s Hand. Healer on High Illynora Sylvaeri | toffToffee | @meggiebyte https://discord.gg/J6TnZnDnkW

It's been really interesting to read everyone's responses! I have a few thoughts that have been brewing for a while but this was the spark to make me actually put it into words. Focusing mainly on human characters but with some overlap into elves, what are the possible avenues for a character to go down from a young age? Military — knighthood, joining the military, becoming a squire/ward, generally learning fighting and weapons stuff Politics — tutoring on politics and history, wardship to a political figure, joining the government, getting council positions Law — learning law IRP from a practitioner, getting involved in writing the laws of a nation, practicing law in character Courts — wardship to a royal or court figure, getting involved in palace events, skinning, fashion posts History — researching history IRP, writing about historical events Medical — learning healing IRP, becoming a medic, collecting herbs, learning alchemy Magic — being taught or self-teaching magic, studying the arcane, some overlap with alchemy Smithing — learning how to smith, making items, selling items There are plenty of others but these are just some examples. Back in 2018 when I first joined, some of these (mainly politics and law) felt EXTREMELY difficult to get involved in on a female persona/as a woman OOC. Although elves had women in power, it was still an uphill battle to be treated seriously and as competent as male counterparts. That has now changed with most nations having equal rights of inheritance, there have been plenty of female rulers, there are so many women involved in politics... so why does the server still feel hostile towards women and LGBTQ+ people? I realised that although a lot of barriers have been brought down so that women can get easily involved in all areas of the server, it's frequently the case that players are only taken seriously when they do a specific type of roleplay and do that roleplay in a specific way. That specific way is GENERALLY masculine. Saying generally because this isn't true in every case, just making some general observations. What do these roleplay development routes have in common? They are traditionally masculine paths that have systems in place which have been in place for years on the server and that are afforded a lot of respect. Sure, women can also get involved in these paths, but what about people who don't enjoy these niches? What are the more feminine niches they have? I would say court RP and clinic RP. What is the problem with that? The problem is that the "palace egirl" stereotype that @squakhawk mentioned is definitely still rife. The elven version of this is "egirl clinic RPers". What this means is that more traditionally feminine niches of RP are 1) not taken as seriously as masculine routes so do not have as stable systems to progress through the ranks, 2) women who want to be taken seriously distance themselves from these niches of RP to not be "tainted" by it, which means that there is limited overlap between more "serious" niches like politics and the courts. My opinion of why this stereotype developed is because back in the day it was very difficult for women to get into positions of power, so the only options they had was the race for consort or to grab power where possible (such as being the leader of the clinic). This lead to infighting and OOC toxicity because there was such a small sliver of power to go around, meanwhile male players and characters had all of the other options discussed above. This has thankfully changed a lot, but I still see the race for queen consort incinerate playerbases from the inside out, and I still see certain feminine types of RP derided because these stereotypes persist. Thanks for coming to my ted talk, happy to discuss these thoughts further or have my mind changed.

You should probably clarify that in order to set this up, the server must have Community enabled! Some people might not know

A letter arrived at Saint Amyas' Hospital, sealed with green wax and smelling of freshly cut herbs. Dear Lord Leutwin Barclay, My name is Illynora Sylvaeri. I am a representative of a company of healers known as Serinwë's Hand, founded in the year 1700. Our goal is to spread healing knowledge and supplies across the continent as well as forge connections between clinics. We currently have connections in Haense, Amathine, Illivira, Númendil, the Petra, Nevaehlen, and Balian. I would very much like to speak with you about Saint Amyas' Hospital partnering with Serinwë's Hand. As well as delivering herbs and equipment where needed, we also host lessons on how to prepare medicinal herbs and treat all range of injuries. If you would be interested in this opportunity or would like to speak on this further, please direct a letter to myself or Medli Oranor. Illynora - tofftoffee Medli - RainbowRoad1234