ThatFunkyBunch

Spirit realm needs touching up, spirits can’t manifest in the material world. Most of it is just out right wrong, contact ST to get more info there. Best changed to be made to it. The Elemental Plane is a Habitable Plane. The Immortal Plane is a Habitable Plane. This is un-true. The spirit realm was not made for mortals, as such, is not habitable. Even the ancestral plane. The elementals, made the Immortals, the Immortals, allowed the Ancestral to enter. It’s dangerous to visit the spirit realm. If you try to live there, it’s a PK. Such is why you need a shaman to enter it.

Chapter 1 - The Dread War. The history of the Mali’ker, like all elves, begins in a fiery war that consumed the known world. In ancient times, while the four brothers were young, the archdemon Iblees rose to power and sought to bend the mortal realm to his desire. The elves were a distinct race at this time, lithe and pointy-eared, but it would be a long time before they had split. During the great war, the elves were merely the sons and daughters of Malin and had nothing else to their name. As the war progressed, Iblees attacked all fronts, isolating the four brothers. Malin and his children were pushed back to a few strongholds on what would become the isles of Axios. Slowly the war turned back into the favor of the elves. Taynei’Hiylu, the green dragon and ward of Malin pushed away much of the archdemons’ blighted undead army. Taynei was soon sealed away to prevent any risk of the dragaar being corrupted and turned against the forces of the living. The great war had begun for an isolated elven kingdom. Besieged by the forces of the archdemon, a daughter of Malin found herself upon the front-lines of armageddon. Given the name Velulaei, this elf issued commands to an elven legion known as the Maehr. There was no official record of how many dead litter the ancient battlements of Malins’ fallen kingdom. During the days of the great war, thousands lost their lives to drive against the demonic hordes of the archdemon. In a campaign that lasted years, the elven forces pushed forward to drive back the archdemon for another age. Though the great demon left none of the four un-touched. Cursing them each. To Malin, he spoke this. “Malin, I curse you with sterility, you and your kin shall forever lack the children they need. May your forest halls forever be silent, and your hearts heavy with sadness.” The elves had not undergone drastic physical change like the dwarves or the orcs had, but Iblees’ final curse had hit them hard. In the years after the war, many a mother lamented, even took their own life due to having to look into the eyes of their stillborn child. Sorrow ran rampant among the newly long-lived, but infertile elves. However, Malin, the forefather of the elves, pushed on. The war had cost him an extraordinary pupil, a dragaar he had considered his daughter. It had cost him the lives of many of his people. But he would bring his kin into a golden age. The elves- now a long-lived yet infertile people, were his to lead. In this newfound era of peace, on the lands which would become Axios, he would build his kingdom. Chapter 2 - The Maehrs’ plight The isles of Axios, the lands which had once been a fierce battleground against iblees, became Malin’s kingdom. Malin set to building his kingdom. Marvelous cities which would have been alien to the eyes of men and dwarves, great halls hidden deep in the thickest forests, homes which weaved their ways seamlessly into the trees, built perfectly to co-exist with the wild, not replacing it but becoming a part of it. The greatest settlement of Malinor was on the isle of Malin itself, an island named by the forefathers’ children as well. The city built upon this center isle of Axios was more magnificent than any other, though its name has been lost to time. It was there Malin’s throne lay, in the trunk of the eldest elder tree. It was there he ruled his people from. As Malin’s kingdom grew, he became very aware of the fact that he had to take steps to prevent another great war. Already his kingdom had become stale. Joyless. Most of his people died. Larihei had left with her followers shortly after the war’s end. Velulaei spoke to those that remained of the Maehr. Their brothers and sisters died long ago or were gathering their own things. Velulaei offered guidance, away from the lands of Malin. There was nothing left in fields grown with the blood of friends. Veluluai and the Maehr traveled far and wide, finding refuge with the other races were they could upon their long caravans of wagons. With few, remaining where they were. The Maehr drove on, to Arcas a spell. Living among the sons of Krug. Until the interest of Azul, drove the Maehr on boat. To a lone isle beyond the edges of Axios, he heard whispers of something older. Nameless, ancient deities never worshipped or spoken of. Azul followed the whispers. In many ways, it was a wild goose chase. The Maehr sailed down the coast of the ancient isle of Asul until they found what he was looking for. A dense jungle. While it was within the edges of Malin’s domain, the harsh nature of this jungle made it so no elf wished to colonize it, and so it remained primal and wild. The Maehr ventured inside with her guild in tow, hoping to find evidence of this ancient, unspoken of god. Chapter 3 - Curse and Exile "We had heard crashing against the rocks the night before, during the storm. So once the weather calmed, we ventured out to investigate. We found them there, their ship a mess of flotsam, themselves ragged and strewn across the rocky beach. We approached to help them, but then they rose... there was something in their eyes.. something I cannot describe. It gave me the chills. They drew what weapons they had and attacked us. Eleyas and Maia w-were...were cut down. We ran. They chased after us, stormed into our defenseless city where we'd lived for centuries, killed everyone they saw. Some of them didn't have weapons... they just picked up sharp rocks and...and bashed at our skulls." ~A survivor’s account of Veluluai’s insanity driven attack on Vallei’onn Ruins, the massive, rotting carcass of a once-great empire. The Maehr pushed into the heart of the Asul jungle to find the husk of an ancient city. It appeared once to have been made of gold but was now rusted and rotten. Its’ once gleaming, twisting spires and statues now crumbled and fallen. Azul was amazed, as the architecture was certainly not elven, yet also afraid, as he could sense disease and decay in the air. Nevertheless, he pushed on with his mothers followers behind her, into the heart of what had once been a grand palace. Standing in the decay of the great hall, something incredible happened. A great demonic figure stood raised over the ancient throne hall. There was naught but few words exchanged. The demon declared, for their aid in driving the archdemon away, The Maehr would forever be cursed. Red mist engulfed the Maehr, they collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain and clutching their heads as if their souls were being torn from their bodies. When the mist faded away, all of them ran like startled cats. They would run not out of free will, but as if an ancient, deific presence was compelling them to. Their hues had turn ash grays and darker hues. Hair turned bright ivory, their eyes reflecting the gems beneath the earth. Veluluai and her people were shaken beyond belief and quickly boarded their ships to sail back to Tahn. Returning to Malin, gradually the true nature of what had happened to them began to set in. Their minds were no longer their own, they had gone insane. It came in lapses, but the oarsman of Maehr ship lost control of his head, steering into shoals and running the vessel aground. They survived and found they had crashed nearby a coastal town within Malinor. The nature of Veluluai and her followers had changed, the very core of their inhibitions. No longer were they creatures driven by reason and logic, but now by emotion and anger. The Maehr raided and pillaged the coastal town, killing many innocents. They did this not for any logical reason, or any material gain, purely out of the anger and confusion which had been cursed into their hearts. Of course, word reached Malin of what the time was an unheard-of amount of violence between elves. He was devastated, first at the needless loss of life, and second at the fact it had been Veluluai who had done it. Malin took swift action, yet he could not bring himself to execute one of his original daughters, even if it would be the safest option. Malin exiled Veluluai and the Maehr to roam the icy isle of Ceru, never to return to the mainland or dwell among the rest of elf-kind again. Chapter 4 - Birth of Magara’lin The Maehr landed upon the isle of Ceru. Not acclimatized to the icy peaks and rigid pines of the isle, they quickly began to starve and freeze. They formed rudimentary camps and did what they could to survive, eating pinecones and twigs. Veluluai grew desperate. It was already hard for her to control her mind, the curse of the unnamed god she had encountered deep in the Asul jungle had halted her inhibitions. Sometimes she saw some of her people freezing by a campfire, and simply felt the desire to kill them, and she couldn’t think of any reason why that would be wrong. Her mind would reel after when her morals returned to her. The insanity faded with time, leaving a wounded people to re-cooperate from devastation. With their wits finally their own. What remained of the Maehr followed Velulaei into the caverns. To start life on the frozen wastes in a place that could support them. Magara’lin was born. The Mali’ker was truly alive for the first time. Chapter 5 - Era of the Magara’lin Veluluai named her new budding underground kingdom Magaralin. Land of Caverns. Several clans formed during this time. Prominent families who would find themselves in roles of government and leadership in Veluluai’s new kingdom. Among these were Oussana, Des’nox, Ravexi, Klaren, Zanexes, Taloha, Shadeleaf, Nightheart, Ipos, Uuthilini, though all current Mali’ker clans come from the great city. The dark elven population grew over time. Veluluai leads the new Dark Elven nation. Her title was High Primarch and she had a council of three lower Primarchs beneath her to give her counsel. Among them was her lover Uradras, who was the strong arm of Magara'lin, forming the masked Vindicators to keep peace in the cavern streets, and Azul, the gentle bookish son who imparted his knowledge to his mother, just like Veluluai had done for Malin. Culture in Magaralin revolved around worship and academic research. with the Warhawkes finding their ways upon the star observatories that rose from Magara’lin. Beneath and across Ceru shrines to the spirits grew. When the clouds were ever clear, would many early Mali’ker stare out to the night sky above. Another form of faith that had developed- Ancestral veneration. The practice was born from various family clans and spread to the rest of the dark elves. After all, who better to guide your actions than your own family? Your own family from a time before they were cursed. With the guidance of their ancestors the spirits, and celestial bodies above, the Mali’ker knew a bountiful existence. This was not to last. Chapter 6 - Azul’s Ambition “Who are you to claim what is best for us? You, whose actions have brought us nothing but misery. You are why we were forsaken by Malin. You are why we must spend our lives appeasing lessers. YOU, mother, are why we must hide in caves while our cousins forge their own destiny.” “My son, you speak as if I willingly sought out our curse. As if I had any other option than to seek the blessing of the moon mother. I beg you to see sense, our temporal urges are not our nature. They are a burden laid upon us by a malicious god. I implore you, child, do not pursue this dark path. Come back to us.” ~Exchange between Veluluai and Azul As the culture of the dark elves, Veluluai and Magara’lin slowly set into a comfortable rhythm, one mali’ker slowly became more jaded and bitter over time. Azul, the firstborn son of Veluluai and one who sat on the council of Patriarchs, ruled by his mother. Azul was a studious man, he, unlike many dark elves at the time, had been present when the demonic curse had inflicted the curse of insanity. He had watched his own skin turn dark, and his mind turns to rage. Azul had been on diplomatic missions to the various cities of the Mali’thilln high elves, and the deep forest tribal Seeds of the wood elves. Neither of the other two subraces was the old original children of Malin he remembered. He began to see things differently. Why were the dark elves the pariah folk? The exiles? Where the rest of elf-kind not as mutated as they? Were their mindsets no less changed? Punished for a curse he leads them into. The wood elves enjoyed their forests and the high elves their silver spires. If the other descendants of Malin could embrace their true nature, why must the dark elves abstain? Why must the mali’ker hide? spirit to keep their most basic inhibitions at bay when they should be embraced? Azul knew that to publicly swear off on the ways that brought peace, so he was cautious. He created a conclave, a small group of likeminded mali’ker, and slowly this group grew, right under the nose of Veluluai. Perhaps out of vanity, he named this secret faction the Azulites. He prepared to strike, but tactfully, for he loved his mother and wished no harm upon her. The two met on the peak of the highest mountain in Ceru, on the night of a full moon, under the shelter of a temple to Luara. They met not as political opponents, but as mother and son. They spoke of small things, of Azul's childhood, of their lives before the curse. They teased Uradras, their father and husband respectively, for how buffoonish he was. Then, the conversation turned to ideology. Veluluai was no fool and knew what had been brewing in her son's mind. The debate began gently, then escalated, emotions flared, not even the calming light of the moon could dampen the passions of the two mali'ker. Towards the end, Veluluai's anger bled away, and instead, she simply began pleading. Pleading for her son to forget all this, to see how foolish it would be to embrace insanity, embrace the curse. Azul, looking into his mother’s eyes and seeing her sorrow, seemed to agree. The pair calmed down. Azul poured them both a glass of vine and proposed a toast to their family. They drank, Veluluai choked, and fell to the floor, unmoving. Azul had tried to maintain a composed, stoic gaze, to no avail. He fell to his knees and wept before the body of her mother, wept until the moon was nearly gone, and the sun had almost risen. He had not wanted this, but he saw no other way. He loved his mother, more than anything else, but duty came before love, and it was his duty to free his people. The violence began shortly afterward. The Azulites saw their chance and would make guerilla attacks on populated areas and cities in Magara’lin. They would burn down taverns, farms, and kill civilians. The Azulites fought with savage insanity, as they lived deep underground. Above all targets, the Azulites would storm and burn down as many structures and homes, Mali’ker horribly mutilated then killed. Uradras was crushed by the death of the love of his life and was distraught at the actions of his own son, he had no choice but to fight back. He drove his Vindicators and willing citizens forth. Whose job was to root out Azulites and sympathizers. They did their job brutally, capturing and burning anyone they suspected to be an Azulite cultist, in the name of the fallen Maehr. The war had truly become a contest of wills between two factions. The Maehr and Azulites. Azul had once been his pride and joy, but Azul had taken his lover, he was guilty of matricide. He was no less corrupt than a ghoul or a lich. As far as Uradras was concerned, he had no son. So the schism war continued. During this time, the culture and traditions of Magara'lin came to a standstill. Veluluai had very much been the cultural mother of the ker, and everyone was simply too busy either fighting or surviving to live a normal life Slowly, the fighting turned in the favor of Uradras and the Mali'ker who believed in order, sanity. The Vindicators were simply better armed than their Azulite counterparts. The Azulites were burdened with the growing curse of insanity which came from their voluntary isolation from moonlight, this made them more disorganized, savage. It was Azul himself who managed to maintain any semblance of order in his cult. Yet, in the last year of the war, Azul was captured, a covert operation finally managed to pin down his location and take him alive. He has draped his chains and taken to the Magara'lin throne room, presented to his father. Uradras, who had always been a stone-hearted warrior since the days of Malin, looked upon his son. He saw savage, wild eyes staring back at him. Yet, in that moment, he felt something he rarely had in the past, sympathy. Yet, Azul had torn apart the Mali'ker at their foundations. Punishment was necessary, but it was not in his hands. Uradras took his son onto the same mountain top where Veluluai had been killed. Before the Maehr that remained. His followers fleeing him on boats away from the frozen hell. Azul met his end upon the mountain, Uradras unable to stop the Maehr from casting Azul from the peak of the mountain. Killing a blight that had too long burden them. Uradras' heart was shattered, his family gone. Uradras would take his sons body, forsaking the Maehr now in a depression. Hiding away within a crypt to mourn his wife and son. The rest of the cultists had fled. After all, they operated on embracing their curse of insanity, and without Azul to guide them, order broke down. It became easier for the Vindicators, guided by a Ravexi to track down and burn the remains of the Azulite army. Chapter 7 - The Final Schism and beyond The war came to no true end, but instead a slow, painful decline. Being unable to hide and having lost most of their organization, the Azulites fled from the caves and back out onto the surface, where no Mali’ker had lived in centuries. The Azulites scattered across the four corners of the world, creating a large diaspora. The result was many dark elves in many different nations, often self-assured, cocky, and to varying degrees, insane. Even to this day, the descendants of Azulite dark elves remain across many settlements across the various continents the main races have settled in. Meanwhile, many dark elves remained in Magara’lin. They held true. Uradras called upon a conclave. The clans of the mali’ker and the remaining Primarchs met in a council. There, the Des’nox, Oussana, Ravexi, and Zanexes among other families and dignitaries came to a decision: Without Veluluai to guide them, Magara’lin was no longer sustainable. After sending out envoys, the dark elves got the word out that the mali’ame of the deep Seeds had recently migrated and formed a new city on the island Malin himself had been born on- Aegis. They decided that it was time to finally make the great exodus out of the cavern expanses under the isle of Ceru. It was time to rejoin the rest of their kin. The Mali’ker was a stable, sane people now, their internal troubles were behind them. Azul had been right about one thing, all the elves were equally mutated now. No longer should the dark elves be the pariah folk. It was a harsh journey, and the great fleet the Mali’ker built was hit with rough waves, but they made it onto the shores of Aegis and found the fledgling city of Ker’Velu. The mali’ame, weary of their own recent civil war, welcome the dark elves with open arms. That was the end of it. The Maehr pushed on, in time the two cultures of the Mali’ker grew to blossom. The path of the Maehr open, a nomadic people call strange plains home. Credit This is simply a clarification on dark elven origin lore, which can be found here. This work is not my own, simply edited to read as above instead of as seen below.

I think the only thing that needs balancing here in, in the combat abilities is the Aura of Disrepair. This one does less than other elemental magics in the way of harm. Keep in mind people say that any magic offers to many capabilities over non-magical combat RP.

Hot

AT LONG LAST

Remember when most of the player base was trying to kill weeb culture on LoTC? Peppermint farms remembers. #Enforce-Anti-Weeb-Tactis. Get a new look or NO LOOK! (E.g, get sunglasses)

No need to even comment really just do what the man says

Daichia Jusmia welcomes Dalyors into the lands beyond. ”Worry not of what you knew. Your struggles are not in vain. Come Dalyor. Sit a spell. Relax. Witness the ancestors hard work.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z64fTcFkCEA

This page as 25 responses. Safe to say. no guns. Player base divided on this one.

Humans do not need access to fire arms. The fact that these human players are so actively pushing for this means they want an edge in CRP which is kind gay tbh. I love science. But, for the sake of RP and not making power gaming CRP even worse. No guns

This is the second High prince. Avurak Syllar was the first High Prince

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWQg7YVdw3I Daichia awoke with a startled gasp. His hands flying up to cusp hold of his chest. Finding that there was no bolt within his lung. Naught but hard metal. A breeze brought his attention to the what stood before him. A towering wall of stone, high as the eye could see. it pour but one pathway forward. Daichias eyes shifted as he searched for the robed figure. Towering over him appeared such. The gatekeeper to beyond stood before him. With out a word, the black robes lofted its right arm. Its long ivory index finger pointed the dark elf forward. To the towering archway before him. So the Dark elf pushed forward. Hearing his form rattle along. Through the gate he strode. This was his final walk to rest. His thoughts drifted back to his family, sorrow pained his heart. This was the circle of life. One day, he would be rejoined with them. He did as every Jusmia before him did. The Mali’ker looked back on life fully. To his start, and to his end. He had known nothing of his people. Daichia died knowing all he could. After returning from his clan abroad, the dark elf gave his life for the Mortal King Ailmar. Dying within the throne room. He had known love, he had known hate. He had known pride, shame, joy, terror and all between. It was a good life, older than two hundred. He hoped his work was enough. Though he knew, it was out of his control now. Through Stargush’Struh Daichia strode. Night was upon the great lands, the great cities in the world beyond. The dark elf stood at the gate. Staring forward to the center city, built within the mountain. Magara’lin. The first, the great, the only. He could hear the roar of the Ancestors within. With open arms was the dark elf met. Daichia Jusmia walked the mortal plains no more. In time, he would spend his days knowing only his close friends and loved ones. His memories of Atlas and Arcas slipped away in time. His soul become as the other Ancestors. A spirit, a great primordial lord of yore. Immortalized truly, studying within the halls of endless knowledge. Feasting with glee in the halls of celebration. Fighting upon the hills of endless war. Staying with his kin. As all Jusmia, he returned his promise to Jus and Mia. The first of their blood. To meet them in person. The circle, had been complete.

Some Mali’ker offers praise to Luara. Who at least fulfills her promises.

No whites sorry

The robed Mali’ker took glance to those gathered within the stone walls of Magarh’lin. “A citizen slain? There shall be no wait then. We burn the trade city to the ground. Prepare the siege weapons. Prepare the blades and armorment my kin.” The dark elf took a slow and low sigh. Turning about to retire. To adorn metallic mask and plate. “And so the Azulite strikes once more. Hiding in the shadows. As the Vindicators once did, so shall we drive this scourge from the land. Luara bless us all. You know the plan, save who we can, warn those that do not listen, and kill any who stand before Luara’s will.” A nod was given, before the Seer departed the room.

Thank you for the feed back, fixes will be made an updated.

Casually looking at the rest of the totally original ideas on the server and the actual fact that most of the dark elf canon lore is just already morrowind. Casually sipping the tea of the opinion of non-dark elven players

The old ways of the Mali’ker. Armorment Within the days of yore, the Mali’ker adorned chitin plating. This Chitin armor was made from the carapace of native insects and held together by resinous glues. Such ancient techniques have been lifted from the darkness. Integrated into modern Mali’ker society. Stronger resins, metallic straps, and plates. These modern suits of Chitin typically hold the strength of the metallic iron plate Creation of the Resinous glues Beyond weaker and natural glues is the sludge-like saliva of the Gua. A small house cat-sized creature upon four stubby legs. Their chitin hide is weak, breaking easily with any force. These creatures are domesticated or raised from birth. Contact with air will cause this creature’s saliva to harden slowly. This compound is harvested, and due to its nature, working with it requires speed. To be added into natural wax glues. The created compound is used as a strong glue. Which will hold the chitin plates together as the days of yore. In addition to offering everyday mundane uses. These creatures survive off a diet of smaller insects, fruits, and small rodents. The average lifespan of a Gua varies, lasting from twelve to twenty years. They enter a period of heat, in which a litter of six to eight eggs is laid after reproduction. The Gua are non-aggressive, bearing two large pincers with little strength against anything larger than themselves. Their teeth cause minimal damage to bare skin. Redlines: No LM is needed to roleplay the Gua. The Gua can not be used in CRP. Harvesting, and using Chitin Plating The Iron Beetle, are found within dark caverns, across hot sands, and within the vast forest. The limbs and outer shells are the most useful. As the nickname suggests, the chitin shell of this beetle holds the quality of simple iron. It is vital during such hunts to kill the beetle without damaging the shell. Their soft underbellies give way with the easiest amount of force. Although this chitin shell is durable, once dead the shell gives way with ease. Pulled from the form and cleaned. These plates will separate, feeling smooth to the touch. If heated, the chitin shall become molten. It can be further processed or mixed into existing alloys. By itself, chitin plating bears the quality of simple iron but weighs little compared to it. This will appear pale in nature, from slight tans to dark browns. The Iron Beetle is hyper-aggressive, requiring forceful capture and containment if one wished to have one around. Un-tamable, these creatures will attack even the largest of Olog sight. Attempting to beat their prey down to devour them. These creatures live long lives, reaching up to thirty years old. These grow to the size of domestic dogs. These creatures will enter a period of heat once every ten years to give way to a litter of thirteen to fifteen eggs. Redlines: These creatures do not require an LM to play. Iron Beetles can not be domesticated or tamed. Iron Beetles can not be trained to be used in CRP. They are hyper-aggressive naturally. Mounts The Nagarh The Nagarh is a hexapod insect. The upwards of 25 meters tall. The creatures' shells are cut away both to expose sensitive tissues beneath, which can be goaded with minimal force to guide them and to make room for passengers and cargo. The Nagarh is guided with the driver holding two long sticks. Which is used to goad and prod the flesh of the insect forward into the lands. These shells are sturdy but give way with punctures and force. Born with hollow shells, the floors are commonly padded with rugs and furs. The front end of the flesh of the creature within the shell is flex exposed to the driver may guide the Nagarh. These creatures are native to mountains, tundras, and forests. Though the Nagarh can survive in almost any climate that the descendant finds themselves within. These are timid creatures that flee at the first sign of danger. These creatures may live up to five hundred years old, and grow to full size at the age of twenty-five. The chitin shell varies from pale brown to darker browns. The legs of these creatures are able to withstand extreme heat for a few moments. Allowing the Nagarh to cross puddles and slim rivers of molten rock or heated boiling waters. Their underbelly is soft. Should a Nagarh get its belly to close to heat it will attempt to flee. The Nagarh enters a period of heat every thirty years, in which four eggs are laid. How the Nagarh will Mcly look Redlines: No LM is needed to Roleplay the Nagarh. The Nagarh can not be used in CRP.

Man you recently played Death Stranding too huh? Not a bad thing really but this is clearly just the Death Stranding lore tweeked for LOTC a little The Shores are just Beaches. Good lore mind you but it’s clearly just Death Stranding

Not a fan of this. This seems like someone made dark elves but fishes and not spirits. How the **** did the elves go from not having gills at ******* all, to having gills cause **** all reason. Why do they have gills? Did they get a god? Did they get blessed by the water spirit? Not good lore, I don’t think it will stick. We don’t need another elven sub-race These are legit re-skinned dark elves. No

ANCESTORAL WORSHIPPING TURTLES? DAK DAK DAK DAK DAK DAK **** IT ALL DARK ELVES WE GOTTA LET THEM IIIIIIN AND TEACH THEM DA WAAAAAAYS ANOTHER SPECIES FOR STARGUSH’STRUUUUUUUH

I am doing dark elf stuff pls let me continue.

Some Voidal Mage is a little more pleased to have picked up this magic. +1

To the Vermin We are sorry to hear, that you have recent complains with the way we Cats manage the realm, keeping it safe from the likes of you. That would spread sickness. We have tried to help you get clean, for this you can blame none but yourselves. The Cats laugh at this foolish notion. We shall clean the water ways of you. Adorn your armorment, you shall die within our jaws. Feel our sharp claws. To this, we declare open war open you, though it is not as if we ever stopped. The Rats will accept their place in the breeding pits, you will be fed, fattened, and devoured. An honor, truly. The Opossums will leave the Cat feed alone, or suffer the wrath of the Canines. The Rats and Opossums will accept their place beneath animals of prey, as nature intended. The Rats and Opossums will agree to re-location, or suffer annihilation. I adorn my armor, if you refuse you shall meet my teeth and claws. His Regency, The Lord Funky Bunch