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~Ortaure'na~ “With the coming of troubled times, we set our sails, press forth towards the Horizon For what life has for us, we will discover it’s meaning” ~Amara Ortauré'na ~beginnings~ Not much is known of this ortaure'na family They are a proud family with a strong connection to the seas with their vessels which travel the four corners. At the coming of Almaris they settled on the shores of Haelun'or. And living within the silver state for some time. Until the coming of Ando-Alur and soon its fall as well as it's resurrection. We are a group of High Elves currently displaced, Full roleplay Freedom is given to the players who pick up the character. I'm here to provide a background where you can launch off from :) if you are interested contact me on discord - Digital_Space#1997 Currently living characters: The order goes from oldest to youngest Amara Ortaure'na - Currently played ~ matriarch Thalia Ortaure'na - Currently played Jassin Ortaure'na - 36 - 46 years you can start - needing player (brother) ~ Available Ayressa Ortaure'na - 10-19 years you can start - needing player (Sister) ~ Available

Cartref Morr 19th of the Deep Cold, 50th year of the Second Era [!] Upon those westernmost people who gazed into the starry night sky, one could see the vague shapes of birds fluttering amidst the clouds. There were flocks of them, each one carrying in their claws a singular piece of neatly folded parchment that held some tidings of importance. Like a stream, they flowed in differing directions towards the four winds, gliding along their currents as they bounded for distant realms. Heralding their arrival were the cacophony of caws that shrieked into the ears of all who hearkened to them. As they found purchase upon the shoulders of their respected receivers, they lowered the notes and soundly took off without another moment to linger. Each letter read the following... " Greetings son or daughter of Harren and Sarai, It is with great humility that I offer you a chance to start somewhere fresh, free from the political quarrels of nations and the zealous natures of would-be hunters. I offer you a chance to have a life somewhere safe, to have a part in restoring our culture in a manner to be proud of. Though others may promise wealth and prestige, we cannot offer you mina nor some illustrious title of renown, merely people of like-mind who share in the common belief of helping to restore our glory of centuries past. Yet beyond this daring dream, this ambition, or foolish notion, rests a much simpler truth. We needn’t hide any longer. The need to bury ourselves in these acts of concealing our ancestry is a toxic poison that has left us but a husk of what could be a proud people. What differences do we hold as a race in comparison to the realms of men we have taken after? What beyond our longer lives can we boast that sets us apart from the Orenian aristocrat or Hanseti noble? Whether your answer is the same as it was for myself and the others who’ve joined me or not, we await your arrival here at Cartref Mor. ” Signed John, Lord of Cartref Mor

Yes the title is a clickbait. Yes I do hate druids. Yes I also hate magic. This rant is going to be in two parts mainly because I have criticism for the magic system and community as a whole. And before you ask, yes I am coping, seething, and malding. Please do the same if you get angry at this. Part One: The Druids Oh my god, I never though I would have to make this rant in a lifetime. But I got annoyed and decided to write it anyways cause why not. Druids. They're in the southern and eastern reaches of the map, as well as some parts of the west. They come in many shapes and sizes, and most of them are golden brown because they are Wood Elves. They wear tattoos, revealing clothes, no shoes, and usually are thought of as peace loving hippies(They are). So can you tell me why a nation and a conclave of only Druidic and Aspect followers DO ******* NOTHING 24/7, 365 DAYS A ******* YEAR? To the heavens above I preach on why you all are inactive. Don't even say you can't do anything, cause you can. Go to Freeport which is plagued by smog and bless it, attack Oren because they HAVE to be killing heaps upon heaps of livestock to feed their population IRPly. Go after the Azdrazi for revenge! I don't know, but every time I ask someone 'what have the druids done', they always give me a bullshit answer. And when I bring these up, people mention the "fAtHeR cIrClE". The Father Circle has done nothing besides fight an evil tree which no one knew about besides druids themselves. I would love to help and join the community, but trying to become one is like trying to get into a mean girl cliché at a highschool. People speak behind your back, say some shit, and even doing anything CLOSE to ecoterrorism that gets your town put on a map means you instantly get shut down and unattuned because you "did something bad". Well what the **** are you supposed to do? Hide behind a wall all your life and do ERP and Slice of Life? Sometimes I think Druids are obsolete because of the fact that I could do more with a knight group that fights for nature like 'Team Trees'. The Vale only has people on when Miven is on, and I'm still surprised that the Druidic Grove has their tile, cause every time I go there, there isn't a single player to be found. I once wanted to be one of you, a cool nature loving hippie who could turn ecoterrorist, but your community is too scared to be hated by anyone, so you don't do anything anymore. Part Two: The Magic Community Speaking of Highschool Clichés, getting magic on this server is immensely hard as is. Trying to get an Evo magic makes me have to suck at least 20 voidal mage's taints before I can even get close to a person with a TA. My good friend Lockage's once told me "If you want magic, get close to the community and the people." I love you Lock, and I have your feet pics to lick, BUT HOW THE **** AM I SUPPOSED TO GET CLOSE TO SPOOKS, AZDRAZI, AND ANY OTHER DANGEROUS GROUP OF MAGIC USERS? Please if you have any advice tell me, but as it stands, magic is gatekeeped so ******* hard its almost as bad as the problem with have with nations closing their gates, if not WORSE. I get wanting to give your friends magic, I do, and I also get wanting to keep a cool magic to yourself to keep yourself as your own Lord of the Craft, but at some point it has to be spread at least SOMEWHAT. I also hate the fact that its borderline OOC and metagaming when friends give each other magics and feats. For example, lets say some dude gets Heraldry for the Azdrazi. He's a bit know by the others and somewhat in the Cliché, but he's not trusted enough to become an Azdrazi. He sees a guy have his Heraldry taken away and is like "damn I don't wanna be that guy". A second later, he's given it back for no IRP reason, only because he's good friends with guy. The other player is baffled, and thinks its okay to do. So he does the same, and is pushed from the community because he isn't good friends with the others. Seems like something to happen, right? I don't know, it may just be me but all of this advice I'm given on "how to get a teacher" and "Don't ask just get close to them" seems like actual bullshit to me. So I've take the best alternative possible. Just not wanting magic at all anymore. Turns out, I can just have Aurum arrows and snipe a mage with a longbow or Arblest from 20 blocks away as long as they are in sight of me. Druid attacking me? **** it, hit them with another bow shot and rush them before they can do shit. At the end of the day, why leer for gatekeept magic when you can just **** them up with a bow and arrow like an English Chad. Also, don't hate the Azdrazi was just using it as an example cause it was the first thing I though of lol. Please don't hunt me down.

[!] Published as of 21st of the Snow's Maiden, 50 SA The Bastion is ever so stagnant, impurity halting the process of purity. The leaders of the past graced us with their presence to anoint a new Maheral, however, their progress was halted due to impures, such as Mali’ata Orinmon Viradiraar. But fear not Children of Silver, hope is on its way. While our blessed bastion has stopped progressing, the Mali’thill shall never cease living up to the standards of Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya. It is within my pleasure to announce the names of the most competent Mali’thill that have seen the state of our nation and decided to rise up and to nominate themselves for the position of Maheral. Laurir Alfér Elibar’acal Braxus Ni’leya, tilruir’san Miss Laerdya These ever-so-progressing Mali’thill saw our nation’s cry for help and decided, it was one of them who shall get the ball rolling. I am touched by these servants of the state who will not wait a single moment when the public is calling. May Larihei guide the blessed heial’malauriran in their sacred mission. Regarding elheial'thilln, Sohaer Kolvar Uradir, our state as of now is devoid of Okariran, none but you running the nation. Stagnancy is staining our blessed bastion of Progress and Health. While I ne wish to ignore the work you have done to the Motherland, you simply can not do it alone. On behalf of the Mali’thill and other residents of Haelun’or, I urge you either appoint Okariran as soon as possible or declare the seats to be filled by a fair election. I trust you, Uradir. Aim towards progress instead of stagnancy. Signed, Usamea An'asul Ay’Larihei Ay’Maheral

Wedding and tournament is in the Varhelm Square in Norland. We hope to see you there!

It had been years of peaceful rest, as Naexi slept in what seemed to be an intense coma… there was no fight as she peacefully slipped from life to death… she simply lay there, recounting the life that had brought her through hatred, slavery, motherhood, love… she saw faces of people she loved, both her wives, one of which who’s death she was unaware had occurred just hours before… her children… friends… enemies… and finally she slipped into darkness, to which realm and belief none will know. The once chaotic and slightly insane woman now lay lifeless, to be discovered by whomever may next walk into the bedroom she and her wives had shared for years… [OOC] Naexi was super fun to play on for these 10(?) months, but her time has come, and to the joy of many im sure. Feel free to dm me to ask any questions, and it’s been a pleasure confusing all of Almaris with her ridiculous personality :)

TREATISE ON THE MYSTERIOUS BLESSED MAURICIO OF AZOG Written by Thucydides Melphestaus Esquire, from The Supreme Order Of Exalted Owyn A thesis as tasked by Holy Dame Faux Amati. “An orcish champion who by popular legend is said to have entered the pits of Hell itself, and did battle successfully with the forces of Iblees.” This is the reason why Mauricio of Azog was beatified. Yet the Church speaks nothing else upon the orcish warrior, the only info we have being this, and later on the church even simplifying his accomplishments more changing it from doing battle “with the forces of Iblees” to “many of the Enemy’s servants” An orc blessed, one which supposedly walked through the gates of hell to fight the forces of Iblees head on, is quite unique yet it as if such a story of a orc is kept silent, hidden in plain sight. Information cannot be clearly gained about the story of this orc, or the legacy he left behind. I am not in a position, nor have the knowledge to say whether or not this is the intention of the Church. However, I deem it fit to have such a story shrouded no more. Through the use of old records, letters, decrees, and many other documents found in libraries throughout Almaris. I have been able to compile a rather basic, and in truth not in depth overview of Blessed Mauricio of Azog’s life and feats from public information. The beginning of his life is shrouded in darkness. Nothing is known of his upbringing or even when his early adult years began. One can assume however due to other sources that Blessed Mauricio of Azog was originally raised within Urguan, a unique upbringing as such for an orc, automatically hinting at perhaps the tolerance Mauricio of Azog may have later on his life. The time between then and his first years within the United Aegis Coalition (U.A.C) are shrouded behind a lack of records. What we do know is that Mauricio of Azog, perhaps either lived with Kal'Urguan, or visited the capital city of the Dwarves. For there is where Mauricio of Azog would be recruited into the United Aegis Coalition. During his time in the U.A.C it was nothing but hardship, a most notable occasion being where himself and a group of his fellow soldiers were tasked with infiltrating an undead keep. This would prove to be unsuccessful, resulting in many of these soldiers dying, and many of those who survived deserting the U.A.C all together. When the failed rebranding of the U.A.C to the Followers of Aeriel occurred, Mauricio left due to his view upon what the U.A.C had become, bringing along with him gold and diamonds he stole from the vault of the Followers of Aeriel, granting him enough funds to purchase himself a residence within Al'Khazar. His time within the capital of Oren is like his upbringing unrecorded, according to other accounts seemingly not being anything of note. Undead continued to ravage the lands however, many fleeing because of it. However, Mauricio remained where he was until he was invited to join the Teutonic Order led by Gaius Marius. Once joining the Teutonic Order, Mauricio received backlash due to his race, many within the order disapproving of him due to Mauricio of Azog being an orc. The Teutonic Order compared to that of the U.A.C was vastly different for Mauricio. Because of this, the orc began to question what his true home and place was within the world. Receiving permission to take a leave of absence, he traveled to the home of the orcs, Krugmar. Here he saw what he supposedly described as primitive savagery. Disapproving of the actions and beliefs of the nation of Krugmar. Unable to accept the belief that all orcs acted in such a way he ventured on to try and find orcs more similar to him. Whether by luck or by the will of God, he stumbled upon that of his brother, Urik Azog, a man who he had been separated from since his time in the U.A.C. His brother brought him back to Fort Azog, the home of the Orc Clan of Azog. There the clan chief took a liking to him, and offered to adopt him into the Azog Clan. Obviously the Blessed would accept the offer, taking on the name Maur Azog. He assisted the clan through the practice of engineering creating defenses that allowed themselves to even fend off attacks from the likes of the Dwarven Military. Along with this he also helped in making of the laws of Clan Azog, which ironically enough were simple and seemingly of orcish nature. The singular law stating “Azog Shall Never Kill Azog” He spent some time with that of his newly found family and clan, yet eventually he would be called back by the Teutonic Order. Almost as soon as he returned he would be ‘shipped out’, but rather ‘shipped down’, down to the Nether. He was chosen as one of the few who would represent the nations of Aegis against Iblees. The group proceeding fast, yet infighting quickly began with the chosen of Renatus, striking against the chosen of their rival nation Hanseti, Mauricio being one of these chosen of Hanseti. A chosen of Renatus would be killed by one of the Hanseti. Yet the conflict ceased as more undead began to attack them. The Hanseti would be separated from the main group, eventually returning to find that all chosen of the Elven, and Orc nations gone. Yet prior to the life of one of their own being lost to save the other two. When the Hanseti returned to the main group, now within the citadel in which they were tasked with destroying, only the dwarves, Renatus, and Hanseti remained. The Renatus chosen, accused the Hanseti of striking first, the dwarves however ignored it and wished for them to focus upon the task at hand. The dwarves would continue on first, yet as soon as they did the doorway which they entered would collapse leaving the dwarves separated from the rest. With the dwarves gone, the chosen of Renatus struck upon the Hanseti once more, the only two of them remaining being Maur Azog and a fellow orc. The fighting was brutal, filled with hatred from either side against the other, due to long lasting rivalries, leaving both sides to forget about why they were in the Nether. Eventually the fighting ended with only Blessed Mauricio of Azog standing. Walking towards a cliff where he had seen his fellow orc fall, he saw this orc grasping onto the cliff, with a chosen of Renatus wrapped around his legs. With a few final words reminding Blessed Mauricio of Azog of why they were done here, he bid him farewell, and then let go. Thus, bringing both the last chosen of Renatus and himself to their deaths. Now only Mauricio of Azog and the dwarves remained with the chance of defeating the forces of Ibless. Mauricio along with the dwarves fought against undead conjurers, travelling farther down and deeper into the citadel. Through their efforts the citadel had began to collapse, the mission was a success. The dwarves quickly began to escape, but Blessed Mauricio of Azog, could no longer move on. He was filled with grief and yet also accomplishment. He had completed the mission, and yet he had lost his fellow Hanseti. He lay prepared to die, yet by the will of God, he was given more time. He was brought back to Aegis, tended by members of the Teutonic Order, and lived his remaining years amongst his family, Clan Azog. In 1698, upon the 16th of Horen’s Calling. The Azogs would be given badges in which he served and were rewarded during and after his service in the Teutonic Order. The orc left behind something for his Clan to be proud of, that made them more than just another mere band of war loving orcs. Mauricio of Azog would receive more accomplishments too, rather than just being one of the chosen to go to the Nether. Such accomplishments being; first orc OrdenMarshall and Hochmeister of the Teutonic Order, first orc to obtain a land title in Hanseti, led the exodus of Sariants from the rule of Hochmeister Black. Along with to my knowledge being the only, or at least one of the only few Blessed who were a part of the orcish race. I encourage others to delve deeper into the story of Mauricio of Azog, along with other Blessed and the likes. For these stories are ones which somehow remain shrouded began fog, even when such stories hold great relevance as to why we stand where we are today, and why we stand the way we are standing today. Signed, Thucydides Melphestaus Esquire Squire of The Supreme Order of Exalted Owyn

Kazimir Company Introduction This business is located in Varhelm, Norland. At the far end of the commercial area turning left off of the Varhelm ferry. Founded by Rebeka la Waevra, on the 9th of the Sun’s Smile in 30 S.A. Formerly La Waevra Imports & Exports, this business was renamed in 43 S.A, by Leyna Kazimir, daughter of Rebeka. The business carries a variety of different items, and can fill a wide variety of special orders, so long as they are associated with the wholesale of materials and resources. Products In the store, stocked consistently, Coral, sea pickles, and scutes from the Ocean side near Haelun’or. Quartz pieces from all over Almaris. Feathers, from all over Almaris. An array of different dyes, sourced from all over Almaris. Handmade leads, and golden carrots, saddles, and horse grain. Handmade notebooks, with thick leather bindings, thread with cotton string and smooth papers made in Norland. Handmade torches, with cotton top for easy lighting, built in with a coal top to keep it burning and flint for continuous uses. Homemade notepaper from Norland. Glowstone dust, coming from areas near Elvenessee. Bones that were sourced from Sutica. Cigars crafted in Norland, and Rozania. Meat, raised and slain in Haense and Rozania and cooked in Norland. Buckets, handcrafted from iron in Norland. Often carried in the store, a variety of wood, like spruce or oak. There are also homemade clocks, and compasses from a local crafter in Norland. A variety of armor is available. Arrows, and bows crafted in Norland. There is also a variety of alcoholic beverages available for purchase there. Swords made from a traveling blacksmith. Sword prices vary. Only one of each sword is ever made. Some items from mages are available for special order. Prices vary. Special orders Can get almost anything, contact Leyna for more information. Special order costs may vary. Bulk orders may cost less. Special orders are pickup only, unless special circumstances prompt delivery. Delivery is 20 mina and above, based on location. Leyna also works closely with a Haense horse breeder, and can sell them, for unreasonably low prices, lowest in all of Almaris! Library Above the shop is a small library, open to the public, and those who are willing to learn. There is knowledge there for anyone and it is ever-growing as the days go by. Rebeka’s love of books made her start this endeavor, and she used the business to help collect more books to add to the collection. Leyna carries this legacy on by providing books for all that she can. Many use the space for academia and group or guild meetings. A donation box is there for those who would like to donate any books they have. Special Order Form

Letters from Chieftain Leyna of Clan Kazimir Listy od wodza Leyna z klanu Kazimir Issued the Eleventh of the Deep Cold, 46 S.A. To my People, my Family, my Kin, I, Leyna Kazimir, write to you now, not only as a compatriot and kinsman but as a Chieftain and the sole-inheritor of my late-Mother’s great family name. As the firstborn and eldest of my late-mother, Rebeka la Waevra, and late-father, Lomiei Vinelli, it is not only my honor to take up the mantle but my duty. It is then my prerogative to take up a new Clan name, befitting our Clan Mother’s legacy, a legacy wrought not by wrathful ambition but peaceful growth and the establishment of a peaceful place for all who followed her. In the Rozanian language the name Kazimir refers to a bringer of peace and it is for this reason that I have chosen it. A symbol of not only our clan’s past but a symbol to guide us into the future. Many of you, my people, my family, and my kin, have been spread across the Realm of Nyrheim following the tragic death of our Clan Mother. It is to you and your families I wish to give a home, a greater family, and a name to be proud of. For those of you I have had the privilege of close comradery with, I am thankful for all the years we have had together; and to those I have yet to meet, be you distant cousins or lost bannermen, I anticipate with great pleasure our coming meeting. To Qiew la Waevra, @JudgedKitty To Malakai La Waevra, @Roria To Pip, To Doc, @ggooose1 To Mythzic, To Brawly, @Tk4522 To the House of Bishop, @Lomiei To the Redfist Chief, @Robin01_boy To Nadia Buckfort, To Alric Edvardsson, @Qaz_The_Great Allfather guide you, Leyna Kazimir, Chieftain of Clan Kazimir

If Tomorrow Starts Without Me [A painting of the rose fields of Reinmar] Thuds echoed in the halls of Reinmar as Ingrid made her way up to her room with the help of her beloved grandson Johann Barclay. The woman was so frail now from her terminal illness that she needed to pause every now and then. Her hand clutched firmly around Johann’s arm. But they made their way up at last to her room as she got into bed slowly. “Johann, I am proud of vy dear. I hope vy know that” Ingrid uttered with a raspy voice as the boy turned to leave the room. When Johann looked back to his grandmother he simply smiled and answered “I will come visit you tomorrow!”. The woman nodded in return as she watched him leave. But she was afraid, would she truly be able to stay alive until he was to be married? She had promised to try after all. Yet Ingrid was so tired, she could feel her body begging for relief from the pain she bore every hour. Her breathing got more ragged for every second that passed. Was her body truly this weak, she pondered? Ingrid then glanced at the cupboard in her desk. A small relief washed over her as she knew that if this was to be her last moment at least she had written letters to those she loved. Where was her husband? She thought to herself, she wished to say farewell to him before she left this world. The man she had loved, treasured and had children with for all these years. She felt it now, that she would not wake up to see tomorrow. Alas she had no strength left to yell, call out or even get out of her bed. Her eyes struggled to stay open as she slowly succumbed to the slow and painful death that had been awaiting her for all those years. If only she could have held her children one last time she thought. And thus she got out one more sentence before she took her last breath. “Erich, I will finally see vy again my boy” Ingrid Mariya Barclay nee Amador 331 ES - 393 ES [!] Letters would be found in the cupboard that was written to the fellow individuals Friedrich Barclay Emilia Barclay Isolde Barclay Johann Barclay Adrianna Darkwood To the Barclay House

Our message is to those who turn hate toward free people, the ones who beat innocent children, men, women and more in the name of a higher power. This is the official document, stating the creation of the Pride Rights Activist Group. This group is inclusive, of all races, genders and sexual orientation for everyone across Almaris. We welcome you to join us in this group, and in the fight for our lives against the ones who take our lovers, our sisters, and our brothers from us. They demand we conform, that we hide in the shadows of who we are, but I say we fight back, we show them who we are in a protest that will take back our freedom. Join us to fight, or join us to support. We are family, and we matter. Signed, Doc, Leader of the Pride Revolution

9th of Malin’s Welcome, 44 SA To restore tradition, The Blessed Maheral From the beginning of our kind, we have faced many difficulties, hardships, and even the destruction of our home by evils that stain these realms. By Larihei’s guidance, however, we have overcome and continued to prosper. We have been led by multitudes of great Sohaeran, whose chiefest duties said continued prosperity of the Motherland and the safety of her citizens. Aided by our most respected Elheial’thilln, the Sohaer works tirelessly to maintain our course. However, the Sohaer is but a humble ‘thill, no more, nor less, than any other among us. Right now, we are without guidance. We are without the wisdom of our Mother, Larihei, and her chosen representatives, and this has made us lose our path. Our shared Haelun, she who brought us unto those sacred pools that heralded our rebirth, would be saddened to witness the state of our silver nation. I am but a young Mali, my return to the Motherland recent - yet the stories I had long been regaled with of the cihi upon the hill did not match what I returned to see. Okariran defending lesser cousins when they have broken our sacred laws and rodents working in elsillumiran greeted me. Larihei left in her place a chosen representative, the second Maheral - one that might administer her wisdom, and correct our path, in her absence. Sohaeran, Okariran, Lauriran, and all those of Silver are left unguided without the wisdom of Larihei. The epitome of purity, one we might all endeavour to follow in the traditions of the State, is a vacancy - and this has left a poor example for those that remain. Thus we humbly request the following, The seat of the Maheral shall be filled at its earliest opportunity. Our people shall no longer remain unguided. The Maheral will be anointed by Elheial’malauriran as is custom to our ancient traditions. The Office of the Maelunir will be reinstated within the government of Haelun’or. The Maelunir shall act on behalf of the most pure until the new Maheral has been anointed. The Maelunir will be in charge of upholding the purity of our people and translating the wisdom and clarity of Larihei in the absence of the Maheral. The Maelunir shall also summon elheial’malauriran as soon as possible. The Maelunir shall be chosen either by a fair election between those who wish to nominate themselves for such a position or by a vote by Elheial'thilln (Duly note, the position is temporary & the new Maheral shall appoint their Maelunir). The current Government of Haelun’or, within their discretion, may or may not allow the interim-Maelunir to participate in the workings of Elheial’thilln. Written by, Usamea An'asul Signed, - Usamea An’asul - Caranthir Gve’el Me’v - Chiyo Osser - Astraea Len’irrin - Alfér Elibar’acal - Aelgifu Amlugol

[OOC: send me a bird in game (ColonelXepphir1) or on discord kuro#9824, we are recruiting everyone but we expecially are searching for dark elves, dm me for any questions you have or for lore and stuff about the clan]

It is with a heavy heart that I announce that the almighty Tori the messenger parrot...has fallen. He was loved by many but no one loved him as much as I did. I spent hours training Tori in to copying my words to be reliable. His training wasn't finished by the time he passed and I hope wherever he is now, he is still practicing his words. Tori will be laid to rest somewhere he loved, with the trees. Rest in peace Tori, you were a good bird. -Andria

A willowy figure sat in the warm and cozied writing nook of her family Mannor, naught but the scratching of her quill and the absent words of song filling the lonesome space around her, a flickering candle illuminating the dark oak and warm reds of the room. A letter, carried by birds and horse, perhaps even bottle, would be soon be spread over the continent to any who cared to fall upon it. A thick parchment, scented of lavender, carried the following words in an elegant sprawl. "It is with a heavy heart I speak, and an even heavier hand I write, to announce that the funeral for the honorable Thalion Drakon is to be held this elven day. In the crypts of our city, before Wyvrun’s witness, I call on any and all who may wish to come and say their regards for the fallen soldier, father, husband, and once leader of the mighty Drakon bloodline. As he comes to grace the lands of fen’ciwn, Wyvrun’s domain, with his soul to be cradled in his safe embrace, still we grieve for the man lost of this realm. Most sincerly- Morael, standing Archon of house Drakon and Priestess of Wyvrun" ((ooc)) Funeral in Fenn, Today 7pm est in the square and then crypts!

A Sweet Death The plagued village of Bramblebury sat in ghostly silence. Occasionally, life returned to it as halflings came desperately to retrieve their belongings, braving the rancid smell of death and infestation of critters. However, one halfling woman had not gotten to leave. In the chaos of everything, she had been left behind. Almond Joy 'Mondy' Applefoot. The baker's body rest against the circle door of The Cookie Crumb Bakery. Her large, deep blue eyes were wide open in her sleeping state. They plead 'help me', but her plea was unseen. A trickle of crimson blood ran from Mondy's mouth, vivid against her drained white skin. More blood splattered the bakery floor. The most grotesque part, perhaps, was the medley of creepy crawlies covering her. Maggots, roaches, worms. Swarming her. Sat in the burnt out oven of the bakery was a presumable sweet bun, charcoaled to oblivion. OOC:

A Study of the Myth of The Winged Soldiers Penned by Miss Elaine Victoria d’Arkent [!] An artist's depiction of a winged soldier ((Artist is Meaghan Maxted)) Their depiction and duty A Winged Soldier is a female with large wings which can be any colour she chooses, though the most common one is white. They are also often depicted wearing aurum armour, based on the belief that the metal is the most pure and harmful to dark creatures. Some artists give the winged soldiers natural hair colours while others give them unnatural ones, as no myth has been found that describes their hair colour. Their eyes have been described as bright as the sky or the sun. It is said that the winged soldiers are sent by God to help priests expel the foul beings from corrupted descendants, fight dark beings that threaten God’s descendants, to help guide the sinful back to redemption and bring souls of the dead to the seven skies. There have been those close to the brink of death that have claimed to have seen a winged being come down from the light only to disappear when saved by medics. Other soldiers who linger on the battlefield to find their loved ones have also claimed to see signs of such beings, though there is no proof it was real. ((Couldn’t find the artist, but the signature is there)) Background of the Myth How the myth came to be has been argued by many scholars, as its origins are obscure and several variants of the legend exist. Some believe it came from St. Julia of Paradisus, when she cast out Iblees from her camp when confronted alone by him. The thought that a woman alone had such strength and purity to be able to cast out the dark and foul by herself gave much courage to her sex/fellow women. It is believed after her death that God called for St. Julia to gather herself some faithful women in his skies, giving them wings and power before sending them to do his bidding against the dark. Another variation of the myth is that St. Emma of Woldzmir became the first winged soldier. Due to her life of servitude to God and her prayers to him, he blessed St. Emma by giving her “wings” so she could lift her fellow soldiers into victory from the courage she had gained. And so God continued to allow her to help her fellow soldiers and those caught in war after her death. A third myth is that the winged soldiers are in fact what some call the Aenguls that God created to help him. They do his bidding, yet still have their own thoughts and opinions. Some even fall to temptation and end up corrupted. Which myth is the true origin of the winged soldiers is unknown. It is indeed possible all of them are true, but scholars have since created these mixed variants. Canonist Belief The truth of the myth remains dubious,as there are no mentions of these winged soldiers in the canonist scrolls to my knowledge and thus the myths may even be the fabrications of heretics But as long as us fellow canonists do not worship these winged soldiers and the Church says we are allowed to speak of them then perhaps more studies, explorations and findings will be made known if there is in fact some truth to them. What we also know is that myths often come from people needing courage and to hold onto something during dark times. Some even stem from real experiences that were over exaggerated. Indeed, for instance, the myth may have begun by the rescue of a man at the hands of a woman dressed like a bird, or with an avian companion, that the man saw as an angelic figure.Twisting the story once he had been healed into the woman having wings and being sent by God. So always take myths with a grain of salt even if they are interesting is my personal advice to those reading my study on this particular myth. Signed by, Miss Elaine Victoria of House d’Arkent

MISSING PERSON Darina Sarosa Last seen in Elysium. If found, please take her back SAFELY to the rangers of Elysium 150+ MINA BOUNTY TO BRING HER BACK ALIVE! Description: 4'11", wood elf, dark skin, green eyes, light brown hair in braids usually, sometimes dirty PORTRAIT:

The Story of Princess - Katerina Ceciliya Barbanov - [!] A painting depicting Katerina surrounded by her brother and her mother, Heinrik and Isabel, in the form of a venomous snake. - Please do not metagame the information in this post - It’s just a post I made to end Katerina’s story in Haense, and the start of a new life for her. So unless you know of any of this in roleplay then do not metagame! P.S: There are some triggering topics in this post like mental and physical abuse. A lone figure could be seen on the road leading to the city of Karosgrad, onyx locks flowing in the harsh and cold wind. Somber blue eyes watching, her hand holding a bag packed full along with a living green doll resembling that of a dragon with its own little backpack. Memories flashed in her mind as she stood there. "Vyr borsa needs vy, Katerina. The crown is a heavy burden and he will need his family”. “I know mamej, I will become a medic to protect him!” Family… Is that what we were? The memories of her mother were so strong and loving, yet every sentence she said felt like poison. “But my mother offered me protection from him,” she would always tell herself to sleep better. But protection from what? Her mother threw her own daughter to the wolves all because she was bored: made up rumours and wrote horrible things about Katerina in her stupid paper. Her mother used her kindness against her to manipulate her into staying and caring for her brother when all he did was hurt her. How could she still have love for her mother when she had put her through so much hurt and suffering for her own amusement? “A family,” she pondered, “that was no family.” "I promise I won’t marry you off to a man below the status of Grand Duke, sestra” She knew it would come, every princess had a duty to their kingdom to marry for security and status. She had hoped her brother would be different. That was the day it all started going downhill, after the death of their father and that stupid room they all gathered in: the last day of proper peace and when her brother’s love turned wicked. Why could they not have stayed young, she pondered to herself? Her hand tightened on the straps of her bag from the memories. She knew better than to go back into the whirlwind of emotions that came with it, yet her mind never allowed her such peace. Her dreams haunted her during the night and day, tiring her every waking moment. But she had decided this time to not get stuck, so she allowed herself to feel every memory that came rushing upon her this time. Her eyes closed. "So I can’t do what they do, I just have to sit still and look pretty,” the girl in her memory asked, her tone hurt yet carrying a trace of fear before a pair of dull blue eyes- why was it always those eyes- that stared back down at her. A threatening emotion in the visage of the raven haired boy the eyes belonged to before he spoke “Vy are the prinzenas royal of Haense!” Then in a flash it ended and the next memory swept her away. Katerina was now back in the library in the palace. She knew which memory was to come, she always hated that library. The bad memories were too strong compared to the good ones there. Then a voice rang out in the air; “It’s niet fair, borsa! My uncles get to join the military. Why can’t I join as a field medic?” The girl cried out in a hushed whisper so the rest in the room would not hear them. His eyes turned dark as he loomed over her in a threatening manner. “I’m the Koeng, and if vy don’t stop arguing I will lock vy up in vyr room until vy are eighteen and never be allowed to see vyr friends,” the raven haired boy yelled back at her in a whisper, only her friend Mariya hearing the conversation as she stood close enough to the two. As the boy turned around to leave he punched the book shelves in a loud bang. The girl flinched before she broke down into a sobbing mess. Her own hand reached up to her cheek; when had she started to cry? Katerina knew why: the memories still affected her until this day. Fifteen… She had been so young during that fight, so young and full of life once. The curse of the Barbanov princesses felt almost real to her. Why else would her life be filled with so much suffering? A shivering breath, when had she forgotten to breathe? She did not know, but had no time to wonder before the next memory swept over her. "Vy will nie longer be the Prinzenas Royal or the Baroness of Antioch. Vy will just be Prinzenas Katerina now sestra.” Heinrik spoke, they were both older now. “Why? Is this because of the paper claiming I am homosex, vy know that is just falsities borsa!” she cried at him in anger. Wanting to cling to the titles her late father had given her, the only person in this dreaded family that had cared for her and been so kind with her. Mariya did not count after all, she was married into the Barbanov house, but she too had been there for her all those years. “I do niet believe in those gossip papers. But people do, I will find vy a husband now that vy shall marry to end these rumours.” he said, his eyes glaring daggers into her, daring her to continue. But Katerina had been foolish enough to continue in her desperate plea to still hold onto something that mattered to her. “Please borsa, that will just make people believe the rumours more by forcing me to marry!” And so he struck her on her face. A dark bruise began to form on her cheek. The girl fell silent for the first time as she left. Plotting to run away afterwards. Why had she not stayed in Oren when she had done so. Her memories at last ending. Her mother had died some years later, never apologizing for what she had done to her daughter. She could still feel the lingering shock and hurt when her uncle told them all in the church of her own mother being the author of hearsay. She could never forgive her, she had pretended to of course. But it was a lie, always had been and always would be. She knew Heinrik had apologized to her and stopped the abuse. But it had not mattered, the memories haunted her forever of what her brother had done to her and to her closest friend Mariya. She was gone now, lingering in the seven skies. Waiting to be reunited with Katerina, but it would not be today. “Vy will have to wait a while Mariya, I want to live first. But I can niet do it here in Haense, so watch me from the skies as I leave, da? I could need an extra push vy know...” A soft wind suddenly blew at her as if telling her to leave. And so the woman turned away, wiping away the tears as she did. Not once looking back while she travelled. “Dravi Haense.” Letters had been delivered to a few individuals Tarathiel Asul’onn @Valannor Aestenia Aevaris @Maevlin Stefan Vyronov @Wolfey34 Friedrich Barclay @ColdestPepsi

🛡️⚔️ Honour the Past to build the Future ⚔️🛡️ As the world comes to meet great changes we enter a new age becoming: cities falling; moving; and being forged. And alongside it all has come forth a new clan to join those around it. Through an unlikely meeting at a tavern did the founders acquaint, an unlikely friendship formed through campfire stories and drinks together, and soon to be interactions through a shared house. The Odinson clan is built upon a foundation of trust and companionship not easily wavered, strong bonds of familiarity string the founders together and are hoped to weave through to members of future generations. Beliefs Held Dear This is a clan forged with three things in mind; Honour the ancestors, namely Odin, the head of the clan former and dwed father to Eivor Odinson; Let your wits and intelligence guide you to advance your community to the future; Your blade will only be as sharp as your mind, without thought your strike will be no more effective as a breeze. With a crest to represent these things, the clan is built with a foundation of mindfulness. The Helm to show of the former Odin, the Raven to show of the wits and cleverness, the Blade to show of the strikes to be made. A Story of Foundation "It 'ad been a long winta' in the Farlands where oi come from, snowed fer weeks on end an' trapped us on our land with nae way tae even get tae food. Oi was only a wee dwed back then, an' oi was scared fer me loife like I 'ad never been before. It was me father who got us through it alive, by keepin' 'is wits about 'im and usin' them tae outsmart tha winter. 'E 'ad us make blocks o' snow an pile 'em up 'round me 'ome. Oi thought 'e was crazy fer it, but wha' he figured that oi didn't was that tha snow could work fer us as an insulator tae keep tha warmth in an' keep tha cold out. 'E 'ad us build a foire, which oi also thought was crazy, but' as the foire melted tha snow, it refroze an' kept us warm. Aftar the cold 'ad passed, oi realized what it meant tae be in me family, it meant usin' yer moind tae outsmart yer opponents, even when tha gods want ye dead. Oi've kept this in moind me whole loife an' will never forget it. An' now, I shall be passin' it on tae me Clan, tae ye." Future Generations in The Making The Odinson's is nay a clan of exclusion and will welcome any who wish to swear into it with open arms and warmth, those of all races are welcomed in without judgement or hesitation, so please offer a hand or a bird if you wish to join a clan of intellect above strength, or rather, where intellect is strength. Fal'leon Odinson Eivor Odinson OOC: If neither of us are online and you wish to join the clan, contact Deus Mortem#8931 on discord

THE TREATY OF KAL’DARAKAAN With the dissolvement of the War Nation of Krugmar, the Iron Uzg, the nation’s successor, has realized the wrongs of their previous government, and has officially surrendered to the Grand Kingdom of Urguan. Meeting within the halls of Urguan’s capital, Kal’Darakaan, the leaders of both nations negotiated terms of surrender, leading to the agreement listed below: SECTION I: TERMS OF SURRENDER The Grand Kingdom of Urguan and the Iron Uzg hereby agree to the following terms of surrender: I. THE Iron Uzg shall publicly and formally declare defeat at the hands of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan in the form of a public document. I. SAID document shall include a formal apology to Grand Marshal Bakir Ireheart for shaving his beard without being given an honorable fight. II. THE Iron Uzg shall formally banish and whitewash the orcish criminals known as Hu-din and Fishbref. I. IF the Iron Uzg is found allowing said individuals within their lands, the treaty shall be declared null. II. IF the individuals are allowed within the Iron Uzg either officially or unofficially after the publication of this document, the Grand Kingdom shall perceive the action as an act of WAR. III. THE Iron Uzg shall withdraw all previous negative statements made about the Grand Kingdom by their predecessor state, Krugmar. I. SAID statements include but are not limited to: Any official document denouncing Urguan, hinting at collusion with Undead, or falsifying the slaughtering of innocents at the hands of the Grand Kingdom. IV. THE Iron Uzg shall continue the abolishment of slavery from their culture. I. THE Grand Kingdom holds the right to officially oversee the abolishment of Slavery. II. IF said abolishment does not occur, the treaty shall be declared null, and the Grand Kingdom shall perceive such as an act of WAR. V. THE Iron Uzg shall permit the Legion of Urguan full access to the Uzg’s land. This document is forever binding, regardless of any future change in government. Signed, Grand King of Urguan, Lord Chancellor of Urguan, Elder of Clan Frostbeard, High Remembrancer of the Order of Remembrance, Son of Rhewen The Grand Marshal of Urguan, Clan Father of the Irehearts and Jarl of Dol’Gorix Rex of the Iron Uzg, Skaatchnak’Izgi [!] The mark of a bloody hand would be beneath the Rex’s name.

A Fitting End for Slavers The sun rose high on a dense, insect-ridden jungle near Krugmar, the undergrowth threatening to devour already-crumbling stretches of road. It was in this choked, humid land that a small group of battle-hungry Dwedmar and a single Uruk clad in crimson hunted, far from home and hearth. It was the slavers’ scent that drew them from the mountains, and soon enough they had found the filth they sought. On a quiet road, two Uruks of Krugmar - one of whom being none other than the Snagagoth - had the misfortune to meet the children of Urguan, each one more eager than the last to carry out Dungrimm’s will. The Uruks carried an Umri slave with them; fresh, breathing, and undeniable proof of their transgressions. The Dwedmar and their Orcish comrade held their weapons aloft, eyeing their prey as Yazmorra Blackroot negotiated the surrender of the slave being transported. The slave was released, and not a moment later, the first strike came from the Grand Queen herself. The ensuing fight concluded with the Snagagoth face-down in a pool of his own blood, a Frostbeard blade lodged in his chest, and his Raguk accomplice attempting to offer terms. Both were brought back to Urguan’s halls in chains. The slavers were thrown into sky cells, to await questioning. Not long after, their interrogations were complete, and the Grand Queen was left to render judgement. The Uruks would face death, and it would be one of their own kind who would give it to them; Naffog, the Orcish Grandmaster of The Crimson Edict who’d fought alongside the Dwed patrol - upon his own request. The Uruks from Krugmar were dragged into the city square, their hands and feet soon nailed between the stone tiles. The Raguk pleaded for his life and the Snagagoth placated himself, suggesting that a slaver’s soul could be saved. The Orc who’d been chosen to mete out their punishment would hear none of it, and had already chosen what fate his misbegotten kin would suffer. Soon, skin was separated from muscle, and bodies were tormented beyond recognition. So it was that two Uruks, flayed living and hung on posts, decorated the heart of Urguan. An end befitting any slaver. Grand King of Urguan,

Simply how to be happy: Step 1: stop playing LOTC Step 2: do anything else, take a bike ride somewhere or boot up that old videogame you haven't touched in a while Hope this helps :D

Silence filled the halls of Goodbarrel Burrow. The afternoon sun shone through the window, casting light on the thousands of pages of writings sitting on Greta Goodbarrel’s desk. As it had often been over the past few years, the burrow was empty save for Greta and a couple of Sorvians. Once home to five halflings, the burrow was now home to only two. Not since her early days in Brandybrook had Greta lived in such an empty burrow. As she entered her dining room, her eyes fell upon the various paintings on the walls. There was a portrait of her daughter Eliza when she was a baby. It was rare now that Eliza, all grown up and off on her own, would visit the burrow. Everyone has left, Greta thought, haven’t they? As her eyes moved across the other portraits, that same thought crossed her mind. There was a portrait of Inkers, and of herself and Isalie Gardner speaking before a crowd of halflings. She had grown accustomed to seeing these faces every day, but had not spoken to them in decades. At ninety-two years, Greta was not really an elderly halfling, but she had certainly begun to feel like one. Greta was entirely alone when she took a seat at her dining room table. Her wife Kerra had left on a shopping errand and her Sorvian Tolerance was still in the study reading. An opened bottle of Greta’s favorite fortified red wine was already resting on the table, and she hardly gave a second thought before picking up the bottle and taking a long swig from it, as was her custom. Not even a minute passed before the woman felt a sharp pain in her chest. She recognized it instantly. She knew what moment had arrived; a moment she had been imagining nearly all her life, a moment she had been long prepared for, though she had rarely imagined it would look like this. Greta did not call for help, she didn’t even stand up. What was coming was inevitable, there was no choice now but to let it be. She began to imagine what people would be saying about her next week, or next year, or a hundred years from now; though it was not a question unique to this moment. All her life, Greta had been fixated on building herself a legacy, on writing things worthy of being read and achieving things worthy of being written about. She had resolved long ago not to become the simple housewife her mother had intended her to be and, to that end at least, she had succeeded. For as much as she resented her failures, reporting on them had left her finally satisfied. For nearly a decade now, Greta had felt her life was more or less complete. But now the notion that Greta’s life was over was not just a feeling. As she began to lose consciousness, she started to imagine what she may soon see. Greta did not believe in any particular god, but she had never ruled out the possibility of an afterlife. In fact, as she collapsed on the table before her she could almost swear she had caught a glimpse of it. She could see her father, looking up from his book to offer her a warm smile. She could see Jol, waving to her with a mug of coffee in her other hand. She could see people she had hardly known like Kit-Kat and Fred Puddlefoot, and great halflings who had died long before her such as Rollo and her cousin Micah. Yet, as Greta got ever closer to the other side, her mind wandered back to the living world, to Kerra, to her daughters Elsie and Eliza, and to her friend Winter. She wondered if she would ever see them again. But Greta did not have long to ponder that question. Soon the pain gave way to nothing; no more senses, no more thoughts, and no more feelings. Nearly an hour passed before Tolerance went into the dining room to check on their maker, realized what had happened, and rushed off to find Kerra, to tell her and anyone else that should know that Greta Goodbarrel was dead. As was her fashion in life, Greta had left behind quite a hefty pamphlet, which; after a brief introduction, was helpfully divided into sections addressed to various people she had known: The Last Will and Letters of Greta Goodbarrel To any it may concern, If this pamphlet has been published, I have died. Whether by the hand of another, by unexpected tragedy, or fault of my own, my life has ended. As chance very likely has it, however, my departure from this world was abrupt, and I was not given what time I needed to give each of my loved ones a personal send off, nor to sort out my wishes for burial or my bequests. It is for this purpose that I write these final letters: To my dear daughter, Eliza; To my dear wife, Kerraline; To my dear daughter, Elsie; To my dearest friend, Winter; To the Warden and Isalie; To Anne; To Valorin, Inkers, Maenor, and Aiera; To all others who have crossed my path in Bramblebury, Haelun’or, and Norland; If you feel that I have neglected to send you a letter, my apologies. If you believe you were at all important to me, then you likely were, for I do not show affection lightly. As of writing this, I have no idea how long I will have lived, but I am confident that it will have been far too short a time to live among such wonderful people. If I have ever offended you, I can offer only my general apologies. I, as much as any other person, was far from infallible, and throughout my life have committed many errors. Nevertheless, it is my hope that history will be kind to me, for I have devoted a great deal of my life to changing its course for the better. Though I will spare you all a political sermon, seeing as most of you are likely tired of such things, I will close by offering a final wish to any in the world who may listen: that a day soon comes when all peoples of the world live in peace, freedom, and equality. With Regards to my Body and Belongings I leave everything; including my books, my jewelry, my sword, my Sorvians, and my burrow; to my wife Kerra with the expectation that she will pass them on to Eliza when the time is right. Though my wife is under no obligation to continue caring for our vineyard or brewing wine in my place, I do hope that each and every bottle of Goodbarrel Wine soon finds its way to a thirsty person. As for my body, I ask that, if possible, it be put out to sea in the fashion of Polo Gardner and other halflings of old. After all, my life was nothing if not a series of adventures. It is only fitting that it should end with one. I bid all who are reading this one last farewell, may you all live long and happy lives.

In the dead of the night, a hooded figure snuck into numerous buildings in the Vortice capital city of Talon's Port... Nothing was taken, however some choice homes would find notes placed atop spots where the council members would have no choice but to see. Once this task was finished, the hooded figure made their way to the top of the Alley Alehouse, not bothering to lock the doors of the rooftop. The figure sat upon the wedding stage, sighing and dropping their cloak, revealing a de-crowned Vivian Maelstorm, her face reddened and puffy, running mascara covering her cheeks as she withdrew a moonsteel dagger from her waist-sheathe. “....Syl always told me that elves would last hundreds of years before devolving into madness… well, I guess that wasn’t the case with me, huh?” The short ‘aheral chuckled dryly, her free hand lofting to remove a final note from her bosom. “...Maybe one day, everybody can forgive me.” Another tear fell from her real eye as she set the note gently against the ground, away from where she had planned to die. As she did such, a tinge of hurt shot through her core. The woman had lost so many in such a short amount of time… how selfish was she, to take her life at this, when so many others had suffered so much more! She grit her teeth as she sat back down upon the stage, deliberating upon her next course of action as memories flooded into her mind. Her wedding with Joakim af Orvar… How they married under the Heart Tree. The birth of Dana and Corrin af Orvar. Her short-standing marriage to Seryne, and how horribly that turned out in the two years they spent together. Her thirty something year long marriage to Eoghan O’Cathain, the wedding they had within the settlement of Talon’s Grotto, and her children- Eliott, Lilith, and Seteth… Two of which were now dead. Her marriage to Sylvain Ainzworth Majin, and their many, many children… those of whom the pair had adopted, and those of whom the pair had produced of their own blood. She choked back a sob as she remembered the pain the pair had endured together. Her sisters, Athri, Lenora, and Sana, and the love they shared… Her brothers, Gail, Ren and James, and the laughs they had... her best friend, Eugeo, and the secrets they had kept together… her many children, two in particular stuck out in her memory- they were only thirty four, how could they live with the loss of their mother? Mystralath and Belladonna were both old enough that they would remember Vivian forever more- unlike Fable, Claude and Aer, who were still mere babes and had hardly spent any time with Vivian. The red-headed monarch sobbed again as she raised the dagger, staring up to the sky in emotional agony… before plunging the blade into her chest, taking the moonsteel directly to the heart. After a few seconds, the elfess slumped down, the colour draining from her once purple eye as tears fell, her hands dropping from the hilt of the blade and down to her lap as she fell to her side, dead. Inside the note, when she were to be found, was a single paragraph, reading as follows. “To my people, to my family, to my friends… I have loved you all so dearly, but it is my time to depart now. I bid thee farewell and I hope to meet you all again in another time. You are all so important in your own ways. As of the Deep Cold of the 35th year, I wish for Athri Onfroi Belrose-Maelstorm to carry on the Monarchy of the Unified Domain of Vortice on my behalf, and to be crowned as the Heir Monarch by the Congress. Thank you all for your time. Vivian Maelstorm”