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Inaugural Banquet and Ball of the Lordship of Caladras As written upon on this 15th of Sun’s Smile, 138 S.A. From The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil and the Lordship of Caladras "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” To the Esteemed Númenedain of the The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil, as well as Friends and Distinguished Guests: Tar-Númenatâr Foronathor of House Arthalionath - King of Númendil - @malchediaelvuilt Miven Caerme'onn - Matriarch of Nevaehlen and the Wood Elves - @westcarolina Eonan Norvayn - Valeseer of Nevaehlen - @thumperjack Lord Haus Weiss-Vuiller - Master of the Abstract - @primnyaquorum The Lord and Lady of Caladras, Ser Saoren and Ser Dele of House Seregon, extend a heartfelt invitation to our noble and valiant friends and countrymen, to join us in celebrating the founding of our newly constructed lands, the Lordship of Caladras. With great joy and anticipation, we beckon you to grace us with your presence on this auspicious occasion. As the fortress stronghold of House Seregon, Caladras stands proudly upon the northern end of the Kingswood, a bastion of strength and protection for the northern reaches of the Númenaranyë. To commemorate this momentous event, we shall host a splendid banquet and enchanting ball. The revelries will commence as the sun sets and the stars take their place in the celestial tapestry above. We invite you to don your finest attire, bedecked in silks and velvets, as we dance and feast in our halls. (Fri. July 28th @ 7:00 PM EST) Let merriment and music fill the air, as bards play melodies that echo through the ages. Raise your goblets to toast to new beginnings and unyielding bonds of friendship that shall endure like the ancient trees of the Kingswood. Come, partake in Daelish feasts and indulge in the finest wines of our family's history as we celebrate the birth of Caladras and the unity of our kingdom. Share stories of valor and chivalry, recount adventures that have shaped our lives, and forge new memories that shall be treasured for generations to come. Our hearts eagerly await your presence, for it is in the company of our beloved countrymen and dear friends that Caladras truly comes alive. We send forth this missive, guiding you to our stronghold with utmost care. (Follow the signage from the gates of Númenost and the crossroads of Petra/Haense/Númendil.) May you journey safely and swiftly, and may the road lead you to our gates, where the light of Númendil shall guide your way. In the spirit of camaraderie and revelry, we eagerly await your arrival. Lord Saoren of House Seregon, Lord of Caladras, Seneschal and Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Scribe and Tutor to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Ranger Captain for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Lady Dele of House Seregon, Lady of Caladras, Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Physician to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Serjeant for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm

The Tales of Bevos Between the time when the oceans drank Thelmaras, and the rise of the sons of Thullus, there was an age dreamed of. It is the year 173 of the Third Age, life has become stable in the Heart Lands and ruins are being discovered at the edges of new civilization, the Guild of Wandering Adventurers has decided to explore the region known as The Westlands to earn the hidden gold, explore forgotten lands and gain influence of which a powerful artifact of cataclysmic power wouldn’t be turned down should such remain from The Cataclysm. It is I, the chronicler, who alone can tell thee of this saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure! You, dear citizenry will be able to act out the roles of these adventurers, those who fall to the deadly beasts and monsters of the land, to those who manage to retire for a pleasant life and the rare ones who become legends and myths for the centuries to come. I, Seth Calith, will be the Game Chronicler, I will be acting out the monsters, detail the lands, present the puzzles of ancient times. A mixture of storyteller and judge. Characters are required to partake, if you find me I will aid you in the creation of your personal character, careful still, for an unlucky bolt flying past your allies might be the last thing your character sees. There will be four races and four classes to play, each class has three variants which are selected as you go up levels, of which your wealth acquired will determine your level. New adventures are always 1’st level at the beginning, there will also be the option of hiring aid from nearby settlements, cities and travelers, you might even be able to fund your own settlement, to become a local ruler. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The four races are as follows: Humans, they look like our humans from this world and their attributes are wildly different from one another. As such they are able to be any class without any requirements. Elves in this universe are green, they are all dexterous and knowledgeable, Mages and Thieves are common among their kin but the exceptional strong can become Warriors and the exceptional wise can become Zealots. Dwarves are all strong, tough and red. Strong military traditions makes it so most of them are Warriors and Zealots, with the most dexterous being able to take the path of the Thief and the smartest of them able to become Mages And lastly and least, Halflings. They are the color of their patron god, Knox, a bright orange. They are also blessed with his Wisdom and charismatic tongue, unsurprisingly due to the small statue, many of them become Thieves or due to faith Zealots. With the strongest of them having a chance to become Warriors and the smartest of them Mages. The four classes are as follows: Warrior: You’re quick, strong, and militant. Combat is your specialty, and you’re able to deal and sustain more damage than any other. The variants are Barbarians, Fighters and Rangers. Thief: You’re sly, cunning, and precise. Stealth is your specialty, and you can bypass obstacles, patrols, and locks better than anyone. The variants are Assassin, Bard and Rogue. Zealot: You’re devoted, stalwart, and divine. Fervor is your specialty, and your commitment grants you providential powers. You gain divine spellcasting using your wisdom. The variants are Cleric, Druid and Paladin. Mage: You’re clever, powerful, and mysterious. You delve into arcane teachings and demonic sacrifices, untapping eldritch energy. You gain arcane spellcasting using your intelligence. The variants are Wizard, Warlock and Sorcerer. Follow up questions are always welcomed. The intention is to play each 1’st Snow’s Maiden [[Wednesday 2:30 pm est]], with the hope that additional days can be announced in the future. Groups are forged by the first five people to show up that given day as members of the guild work alongside each other into the unknown of the West Lands. Below is a small map each adventurer has been gifted by the guild, much is to be explored but hopefully, this will be the edge you need. Signed, Seth Calith.

A Call To Arms The Silver's Introduction My brethren around this new Continent, I invite you all to join in on the continuation of exploration of this island. The four corners have spoken, and a new Era of magic is to come at any moment; I swear on it. Death and War has been upon us due to the Mori, the Mori have died off but a new threat emerges from their ashes. Necromancers, Wretched Ones, Undead Spirits, and Evil Cabals near our homes and threaten the lives of your loved ones. Evil lurks among everyone, but this is no ordinary evil. This evil is a perpetrator, an intruder within a home, an infiltrator within rankings, a spy that watches every single step you take. The Silver offers you hope and freedom away from these wasteful and adherent dreams, we offer you breathing room away from drama and war to have a peaceful moment at last. The Silver is not whom you expect, we are no Cultists, no Adversaries, no Daemons among your people; We wish for one thing. Peace, a peace without worry and trouble, a future without momentary disruption of time or space. We wish for many things to happen, and we are aware the consequences of this missive but fear not; We are not upset about such. A Prayer to the Profit "The Profit speaks eternal, the whole shine eternal. No mortal, no sin, no body, no sin, no heart, no sin, but yet we alter. Those who win among the evil, will not only falter but lose one or the other. The Profit speaks true, the Profit offers live." A Warning to the People The Depth has been threatening our lands for eternity. The Profit despises those who use the power of magic for evil and for disruption, Voidal mages have been a sign of what happens when you please an ignorant child. The Void offers no reprimands to those who abuse the void for their own sanctity and gain, encouraging their behavior further. Deep within the lands of the Unholy, Necromancers and Voidal Mages combine their power to raise destruction upon they deem fit. They manipulate and grow their numbers to further strengthen their masses. They have no good intentions. Explore and prosper, do not falter. 🎇 May the Profit speak truth and prepare your life with peace and refuge.

The Voidal Scribe Art found on Google Background/Origin Long ago, a group of ambitious mages embarked on a quest to unravel the mysteries of the cosmos. Among them was a brilliant scholar, driven by an insatiable curiosity. Deep within forbidden texts, they discovered fragments of an ancient art—a forgotten technique that harnessed the power of the void. Years of dedication led to the birth of voidal scribing, enabling the mage to inscribe powerful glyphs and manipulate the fabric of reality itself. The revelation of voidal scribing spread rapidly throughout the magical community, captivating mages, scholars, and practitioners alike. Its potential to revolutionize magic was recognized by many. The once-isolated scholar became a renowned mentor, sharing their knowledge and guiding a new generation of mages. Voidal scribing evolved and expanded, unlocking boundless possibilities and forever changing the landscape of arcane understanding. Today, voidal scribing is an integral part of magical education, its techniques refined by countless practitioners. Born from relentless pursuit of knowledge, this feat stands as a testament to the indomitable descendant's spirit and its capacity to harness the mysterious forces of the void. The legacy of voidal scribing persists, leaving an indelible mark on the history of magic. After centuries of being lost to history, the ancient art of voidal scribing was unexpectedly re-discovered. A lone adventurer, delving into the depths of a long-abandoned library, stumbled upon a hidden chamber. Within its dusty confines, they uncovered a forgotten tome filled with cryptic symbols and esoteric knowledge. Driven by curiosity, the adventurer painstakingly deciphered the secrets contained within the pages, unlocking the long-lost techniques of voidal scribing. With this serendipitous find, the art once again found its way into the hands of those who sought to wield the untapped power of the void, forever altering the course of magic once more. Magic Explanation As a voidal Scribe, one can use their magical abilities to channel the raw power of the Void into their writing, imbuing their words with an almost otherworldly energy and potency. This type of magic is focused on magical writing, and the scribe can use it to create works of great beauty and power, which can inspire and move those who read them. The magic of voidal Scribing can be used in many ways, depending on the scribe's skill and creativity. For example, they can use it to craft powerful incantations and magical texts, which can have a profound impact on those who read or use them. A talented voidal Scribe can, with help of another mage, even imbue specific spells into their works. Furthermore, voidal Scribes can use their magic to manipulate the written word, altering the meaning and intent of texts to suit their purposes. They can also use their abilities to create illusions and other visual effects in their writing, allowing them to convey complex ideas and concepts in a more visceral and engaging way. Overall, the magic of voidal Scribing is a powerful tool for those who wield it, allowing them to tap into the raw power of the Void and unleash their creativity in ways that are both inspiring and transformative. - Voidal Scribing requires 3 slots dedicated to voidal Magic to learn. This Feat will go dormant if they lose knowledge or practice of Voidal Arts. - Voidal Scribing is self-taught, initiated through ritual. - Voidal Scribing is a Feat and one would make an app for so. This app requires the aiding-magi to place their approval on the FA. - Voidal Scribing is not exclusive to other voidal Feats. It may be paired with any of them. - Voidal Scribing can only be given to someone through a ritual of Tattooing, performed by another Mage. Connection The process to create another Scribe isn’t hard. All it requires is another mage who knows how to make a tattoo, a combination of ink and crushed focus crystals and a greater Mana source. The connection ritual itself is fairly freeform, though it should take at least three [3] emotes, consisting of setting the tattoo, connecting it to the voidal Scribe in question. This can be done by any mage who has at least a Tier 4 in one type of magic. This is because otherwise the mage in question doesn’t have the necessary experience to lead the ritual. Before the Ritual, one needs to prepare the ink needed for the tattoo. This type of ink is even more potent than that usually used by voidal Scribes, consisting of ink and two Crushed Focus Crystals, for it needs to hold and allow for channeling of voidal power. Hence the need for mana charged gems. This magical ink will then need to be tattooed onto the Mage in question. Redlines - A Tier 4 mage or Tier 3 voidal Scribe is needed, no matter the kind of magic they have learned. - For the process, the special combination of 2 Crushed Focus rystals and Ink is needed. This does not need to be ST signed, but screenshots could be asked by Staff if they need it. - Only sentient beings with bodies of flesh may attain this feat, Epiphites and Constructs will be unable. - Upon transformation from a flesh body to any other, unnatural kinds, the feat will be lost. Physical Effects Becoming a Voidal Scribe does not grant any physical effects. The only physical change is the constantly glowing tattoo in the Aura color of the Mage. This tattoo may be placed anywhere, but may not be moved unless they’re helped by another Voidal Scribe. The veins around the Voidal Scribe’s Tattoo will seem a bit darker, a hint of the Aura of the mage leaking through from the tattoo itself. Redlines - If the voidal Scribes’ tattoo is moved, they start again at Tier II, though it only takes a week to go up to Tier III. - The Tattoo, like those that house spells, can’t be hidden or covered up. They will always shine through the clothing, like how Veilwatcher eyes will shine through masks and blindfolds. - If the limb on which the tattoo is placed gets lost, the voidal Scribe will have to get it replaced within 2 OOC weeks, or else they get disconnected from the Feat. - If the skin is cut, nothing happens to the tattoo. - If the skin is burnt, nothing happens to the tattoo. Mental Effects Voidal magics always affect the mind in some way or another, and that is becoming a voidal Scribe no different. Having a constant creative input running through one's mind will change them. For Scribes (required) Nearly all voidal Scribes are hoarders, wanting as much knowledge as they can get their hands on. For Scribes (optional) Many voidal Scribes are often antisocial. Voidal Scribes can often be seen in or around libraries, copying down notes. Voidal Scribes can find themselves easily overwhelmed when they’re trying to learn too much at one time. A voidal Scribe may also hear voices that are not there, urging them to write or collect even more books than they already have. Easily bored by regular conversations. Ignorance or Arrogance. For the Tattooed (without FA) Those carrying Infused Tattoos may feel stronger than they are, and suffer from overconfidence. The carrying of such a tattoo may also cause someone to become hungry for power in any form. Abilities, Spells & Crafts [Active] [Non-Combat] - Arcane Ink [Craft] - [T1] Before one can write, one needs ink. However, due to the magical nature of these words and Symbols, one requires a special, magical ink. Arcane or magical ink is a perfect harmony between the power of the Void and the realms. By combining crushed Focus crystals and regular ink, this dark purple ink may, after finishing the first part of the spell, be used for simple writing, or for further refinement into the arcane ink needed by the Scribes. To turn the regular ink into arcane ink, one needs to overload it with Mana over the course of three emotes. This tiring process can be performed on three bottles per IRL day. m Redlines - One may make three bottles of ink per regular craft. - The regular ink itself doesn’t need an ST signature. - The arcane ink DOES need a signature, but this may be placed after if the infusion of the ink and writing are done at the same time. - The process of charging arcane ink requires 3 emotes. [Connect - Charge - Infuse] - The ink may only be infused by someone with the Feat. - Arcane Ink may only be crafted once a day. - Can be made from Tier 1. Emote Example [Active] [Non-Combat/Combat] - Spellbook [Craft] - [T1] A Spellbook is something every adept mage needs. Some however are better at creating them than others, and some may even store some of their power into it. The creation of a spellbook is a fairly easy one, only requiring the Mage to know how to craft and use arcane ink. These books may, eventually, hold up to 5 enchanted Scrolls/Scribes (See Arcane Scribing). Any more than that and the scrolls and spellbook will go up in the Void, lost to pure chaos. Alternatively, a spellbook may be used as an arcane book Focus, allowing for the mage to cast more effectively while it’s opened. To create such a spellbook, one first needs to make a Book Focus, before inscribing it with the spells they want to know, or teach other sorcerers. Art found on Google Redlines - A Spellbook may not hold more than 5 Single use enchants at once, or else it’s destroyed. - Spellbooks used as Arcane Foci follow the redlines of the Arcane Focus. - When using a spellbook, one needs to emote the book floating besides them, or holding the book themselves. - It takes three [5] emotes to craft a spellbook, and two [2] emotes to infuse an inscribed spell into it. - A spellbook can be held and used by any mage that possesses the Feat, even if they didn’t make the book themselves. - Requires 3 Arcane Ink to make. - If used to hold Arcane Scribes, it requires an ST Signature. - Can be made from Tier 1. Emote Example [Active] [Non-Combat/Combat] - Arcane Scribing [Ability] - [T2] A process that allows for a practitioner of the path of the Scribe to create magical inscriptions upon objects, giving them a glowing inscription with a look of their choosing. This ability allows for a mage to create an inscription of their choosing upon an object. The process does not require an Obelisk, but it does tire out a mage. It takes three emotes to five emotes to inscribe something upon a surface, depending on the scale of the inscription. The crafter may use a Voidal magic of their choosing, the inscription taking the form of that magic. (For example a Fire Evocationist may choose to make the inscription look like smoldering flames, or a Translocationist making it look like a tear or portal like inscription.) Redlines - May only be used for decorative inscriptions, it does not give any mechanical or combative advantages. - Requires 1 Arcane Ink for a weapon. - Requires 3 Arcane Ink for anything larger than 1 square meter. - Inscriptions don’t give off more light than needed to read the words themselves. - For inscribing a weapon, it takes at most 3 emotes [Connect - Draw - Inscribe] - For inscribing objects or surfaces larger than 1 square meter it takes 4 emotes. [Connect - Draw - Charge - Inscribe] - Inscriptions can be enchanted with Potent Enchantments by a Transfigurist. This requires an ST signature. - This Ability can be learned at Tier II. Emote Examples [Active] [Non-Combat/Combat] - Arcane Tattoo [Ability/Craft] - [T2] Similar to arcane Scribing, one may choose to inscribe words or symbols onto skin. These tattoos are a complicated way to get ornate tattoos. The tattoo placements work the same as Arcane Scribing, but instead of the skin. A tattoo can either hold a specific Magic, looking like the specific kind (Fire tattoos will look like flames beneath the skin, Life Evocation tattoos can look like anything found in nature etc.) The tattoos can also, similar to Arcanium, be made inert, and change form depending on the magic used. The way one of these tattoos is given its aesthetic through a similar process as Arcanium, meaning a greater mana source is needed to give it a specific aesthetic, in combination with the Crushed Magic Crystal ink. Art found on Google Redlines - Regular tattoos DO NOT require ST signature. - Inert tattoos only activate with the casting of a mage, not with usage of an enchantment. - Requires 1 arcane ink. - The emote order of setting a tattoo is as follows. [Connect - Draw - Infuse] - Tattoos can’t give a combative advantage unless enchanted. - Tattoos can be enchanted with potent Enchantments by a transfigurist. - Enchanted tattoos DO require ST signature. - Enchanted tattoos can hold up to Tier III [3] Enchantments. - Enchanted tattoos can be used for Conjuration Jing. - This ability can be learned at Tier II. Emote Example [Passive] [Non-Combat] - Whirlwind Scripting [Ability] - [T3] Harnessing the power of a trained mind, a voidal Scribe may read and write faster than any other. Whirlwind Scripting is a passive magical ability that enables certain mages to read and write at an astonishing speed, making them appear as a blur of motion. With this ability, they can transcribe texts, create intricate glyphs, and cast spells much faster than ordinary mages. They can also read and comprehend written information almost instantly, giving them a significant advantage in research and spellcasting. Redlines - The ability cannot be used in Combat. - Whirlwind Scripting is purely aesthetic, making their head/eyes a blur when reading, or their hands a blur when writing. - This ability cannot be used to Metagame/Powergame - This ability is gained at Tier III Emote Example [Passive] [Non-Combat] - Mind Library [Ability] - [T3] Harnessing the power of a trained mind, the ability to retain and recall information becomes invaluable for a Voidal Scribe. Through extensive dedication to their studies, a voidal Scribe develops the extraordinary capacity to effortlessly memorize and retrieve any information they have absorbed. This enables them to accurately reproduce or transcribe any given knowledge. Acquiring this ability requires no specific training, but rather stems from their extensive exposure to books and manuscripts, gradually becoming a passive skill over time. Redlines - The ability is passive, and thus does not require anything to learn. - This ability does not allow one to read, understand or remember information written in another language. - This ability cannot be used to Metagame/Powergame. - This ability is gained at Tier III. General Redlines - Tattoos cannot be hidden. - Infused spells cannot go over Tier 3 of the respective magic. - To keep track of scrolls in a spellbook, one needs to keep a doc, listing the specific scroll, three screens of how it was made (if it was made by you), and the date by which it was added, similarly to the way Machine Spirits keep track of their bodies. - One must wait at least 5 emotes before being able to use either a scroll or tattoo spell. - To create another voidal Scribe, one needs to be Tier III, and in the vicinity of an Obelisk or Tear. This process takes 4 emotes, and is freeform beyond that. - Someone can enchant their own crafts if they possess the needed magics. Tier Progression Tier I [1] When starting off, a Voidal Scribe learns how to craft and infuse Arcane Ink. They also can use it in making a Spellbook. The mental effects will take effect as well during this time, though their intensity builds up slowly. This Tier lasts two OOC weeks. Tier II [2] The Voidal Scribe may, with enough practice, use their abilities now to use Arcane Scribing and create Arcane Tattoos. The mental effects have taken full swing at this point. This Tier lasts for two OOC weeks Tier III [3] After Four OOC weeks, one has reached mastery within Voidal Scribing. They can now use Whirlwind Scripting, and they have trained their mind thus far to use the ability Mind Library. They also can now connect other Mages to start their journey upon this Arcane Path. Purpose Voidal Mages should be able to store away spells for later use, as well as create spellbooks allowing fellow mages to use their magic a single time. By allowing a mage to try a spell of a magic they do not possess, they can get a feel for the magic itself, perhaps even going to learn it themselves. Voidal Mages, in my opinion, feel like they should commonly be able to achieve this feat, thus the creation of this. Most mage players already have created a scholar-type character, and its why I thought I'd make a Feat for it. I wrote this piece over the course of my final exams, so it's probably not the best it can be. I'm open for messages and corrections when needed. Credits _Grey_W0lf_ - Main writer ECS1999 - Proofreading / ideas Meteor_Dragon - Proofreading / ideas Lord_of_Losers - Proofreading / ideas Realsamler - Proofreading / ideas Exogens - Proofreading / ideas Fadedquartz - Proofreading/ideas _RoyalCrafter_ - Proofreading/advice M4nnam4nnaa - Proofreading Satinkira - Proofreading The Mages Guild - Entertaining my ramblings and idiotic ideas. Citations & Info

THE MOUNTAIN ALLIANCE Since the founding of Kal’Urguan the mountain dwed have been the foundation of the dwarves, from their many feats to their esteemed Paragons, the sons of Urguan have relied on the skill and determination of the mountain dwed. Back in the days of old, in the city of Kal'Karaad, Bastion Ireheart, Fili Grandaxe and Verthaik Frostbeard signed a bloodpact, bringing the mountain clans into an alliance, forging an unbreakable bond between Urguans kin. Decades later, the pact was renewed between Kerwyr Frostbeard, Fimlin Grandaxe and Gror Ireheart, once again bringing the clans close, and in return, making the Grand Kingdom much stronger than it was before. The pact was once again restored in Almaris between Bakir Ireheart, Kronk Stormheart, Argnos Frostbeard, and Thumbrindal Grandaxe So history shall repeat itself once again in Aevos, the mountain clans of Ireheart and Frostbeard shall sign a bloodpact in accordance with the following terms. 1. Signatories agree to support each other militarily if aggressed upon 2. Clans of the alliance formally agree to never employ hostility to each other, in the case of an act that cannot be ignored, the signatories shall meet to discuss a means of action. 3. Signatories shall not pledge allegiance to any sort of conflict without discussion. 4. Clans of the Mountain Alliance agree to support each other politically. 5. The Signatories of the alliance agree to meet every stone month. Signed, Clan Father of the Irehearts Clan Father of the Frostbeards

[!] A series of flyers would be laid out on noticeboards throughout the realm. The Hungry Hippo Established: Circa. 1st of The Deep Cold, 61 BA. People of Portoregne, the Kingdom of Balian and all of Almaris! It is with great pride that we announce at long last the official grand opening of the Hungry Hippo Tavern, located in the heart of the Balianese capital of Portoregne. Eagerly supplied by the local region’s rich selection of vineyards, breweries and distilleries, this humble spot provides a vast range of beverages to choose from, whether that be a crisp wine, fresh lager, or a heart-warming whiskey. You will scarcely find a cheerier establishment to rest your weary feet! The establishment is located just beyond the front entrance to the city, open to the main square and primary canal within the city. With three floors and a broad layout, the seating arrangements are plentiful and we possess two rentable rooms for those seeking temporary accommodation. ~ Menu ~ Reduzzan Merlot 2 Minas Reduzzan Sauvignon 2 Minas Verdant Coast Cider 2 Minas Enderocan Lager 2 Minas Butterfly Tea 2 Minas Northern Isle Whiskey 3 Minas Marsanan Vodka 3 Minas Portoregne Spiced Rum 3 Minas In addition to serving as an inn, the Hungry Hippo additionally houses the Portoregne fighting arena. Located on the lower floor of the tavern, the chamber bears a spacious gallery, large enough to house a sizeable audience. We regularly hold fight nights in which the local populace and distant travellers may test their martial strength, or otherwise observe and place bets on spectacular entertainment. Furthermore, the champion of said events may purchase their drinks at half price, so long as they retain the title. One such event shall be hosted during our opening night, so if you feel confident why not have a go? We look forward to hosting you on this grand occasion!

You have found a 'buck noos' left at your doorstep. The drawings are so vivid.. you can almost see it as buck pictured it in his mind... most interesting. (Click link for buck news!)

First Gathering of the White Court of Minas Aranath Since colonization of the Númenaranyë, the Kingdom of Númendil has been ruled in much of the same fashion as the Barrowlands of Almaris, with little need for a civilian court to preside over domestic matters, due to the ever-present war-footing the Barrowlands found itself at, first with the Undead, and later the Mori’quissir. It has become starkly evident that this is not the case now in Númendil, a land of peace and plenty, regarded by most as a reward from the Lord GOD to us, in recognition of our pious efforts. Because of this, it has become necessary to gather all those in service to the monarch as courtiers of the White Court of Minas Aranath, the palace of the King in the city of Númenost the Fair. During this court, great deeds will be awarded, the peacetime structure of our Kingdom will be formed, matters of further settlement will be discussed, and petitions will be brought before the King to facilitate greater communication between him and his subjects. Topics of the Gathering Knighting Ceremonies Courtly Appointments Expansion plans and land-grants Petitions Announcements and Quests Throne-side chat By the Grace of GOD Tar-Númenatâr Foronathor of House Arthalionath, Founder and King of Númendil, King and Protector of the Adunians, Lord of the Númenaranyë, Númenost, and the Barrowlands, High-Chieftain of the Númenedain and the Harren’hil, Conqueror of the Sharadûn, Templar of the Archangel Michael, and Knight of the Realm.

TWICE CURSED A POV post by the young Lady Viktoria of Stran. Viktoria wondered if she was twice cursed. She never thought much of the first, her family's curse, even as it did tend to affect her day to day life but now.. Now, she stood by her youngest sister as her heart ached and her stomach churned. She explained what wardship was, but did not explain its reasoning. War. The child had wished she could say the war never affected her, but she knew of it as long as she could remember. One of her first memories was herself at the mere age of three, toddling along behind her eldest brother within the refugee camps of Aaun as they chased after a Goat. She beamed and laughed, not knowing any better as threats were made upon her family's livelihood. And so it continued. One moment after another. Her mothers title stripped away, and thus her heirship in turn. She had become simply the Lady Viktoria then, and it took her time to find her bearings. And then the end of the world, or that of the land of the Almaris as she knew it came and a whole new war began. It was different, it took away what she knew as a ‘home’, if you can call a refugee camp home and simply sent her into another refugee camp, one in Savoy. Time passed, and she found herself in a new land and this time, in a true to GODANI home. Vaska. --- Things were looking up, or so it had seemed. She went from place to place, all kept succinctly within the Kingdom of Aaun. Vaska, Minitz, Whitespire. Repeat. But it became her new life and one she came to enjoy. She did not live in a tent but instead had a room. One she could call her own, with paintings decorating the walls, and embroidered pillows of her own making strewn everywhere. A day came, though, in which she visited Whitespire with her eldest brother. Viktoria prattled on, as she often did, about the interview she did for the mayoral candidate just earlier that day. She was excited to be a field reporter for the Aaunic Herald! Istvan listened, and poked fun as siblings often did, as the duo paused by the candidates booth. That excitement soon faded. First a man, then multiple came to them, claiming she had committed a crime! Viktoria had no idea what crime she could have committed, and the men did not wear the armor of any of the places of Aaun. In fact, she did not recognize their armor from anywhere. She tugged on her brother's hand, some anxiety there, as the small girl of thirteen wished to get away. Her heart pounded, frantic and not sure what to expect. They grabbed at her, yanking her from her brother who soon pulled her back and a fight broke loose. It was all such a blur and it all happened so fast. A sharp pain came, having taken something sharp, she couldn’t even be sure what sort of weapon it was; straight to her gut. Viktoria collapsed upon the floor, and she cried for her brother, bony hands pressed over the injury at her waist. The pain was debilitating, and the last thing she could remember was one of her fathers men stepping in front of her prone form, standing before her. The next she’d awoken, everything had hurt and blurry faces were seen before her. Her brother, and her family were not among them. She was in the Minitz clinic. Her brother in the Whitespire clinic. The siblings were separated, unsure if the other were alright. --- It took some time to heal fully. Her movements were careful, and she was not allowed to step foot outside of her home during then. Vaska had become Stran sometime before her injury. A great pride that made her beam, further so when the King so graciously accepted her petitioned gift, as she’d improved in her embroidery. And finally, some time later, she was healed. She didn’t go anywhere without her guard anymore, even if she were with one of her family members and things seemed to be getting back to something better. The bandits, though, they kept coming back. Always causing trouble, and always seemingly running the moment things had gone bad, attempting to entrap those back in their homeland; Adria. And so the day of the royal wedding came, and the Lady Viktoria made way for the basilica with her guard - and soon afterwards the palace. She took note of her dear friend, Leutwin who seemed to be nowhere to be seen after that of the wedding and she went in search of him about the palace as the feast took place. There was no sign of him, the young girl of now fourteen unaware of her friend being tortured by those who sought to take her previously. And so she explored, and she spoke to others, until she came to a standstill within the palace gardens. Her father and the Princess Adeline spoke and a deal was made. She is to be warded. She would move to the palace. She would see her family less and less. Why? War. Viktoria wondered if she was twice cursed.

Usamea found herself in a typical evening within the graceful city of Vallagne. The elven lady moved amidst the flowing currents of the people, tending to her own affairs and obligations. Among the bustling crowd, a human figure emerged—a simple, weather-worn man who had the look of one in need. His plea was humble and earnest, an appeal for any assistance she could offer. He was not fussy—food, coin, or any form of aid would do. Usamea, moved by his plea, adhered to the principle that guided her kin: to offer aid to the needy was to uplift all. She rummaged through her belongings, her hands finding packets of food since she lacked any coins at the moment. Offering the sustenance to the man, she watched as his face lit up with relief and gratitude. His thanks were followed by an offer of repayment, a promise made out of earnest goodwill. But Usamea, guided by the wisdom of her people, knew that acts of kindness were not a transaction. She gently declined, instead encouraging him to extend his own hand to others in need when the opportunity arose. As it happened, this humble beggar was far more than he seemed. The prophet, touched by the generosity of the silver-haired lady, felt compelled to repay her in his own way. And so, he gifted her a vision that would prove far more valuable than any coin or feast. It was a glimpse into what lay ahead and what happened before, a prophecy woven into the fabric of the future, filled with cryptic symbols and dire warnings. Engulfed in the tendrils of a vision, Usamea fell into a chasm of darkness, a yawning abyss that stretched beyond sight. A sea of black swelled beneath her, its ebon waves lapping her form as she surrendered to the relentless current. Then, a beacon erupted from the abyss, pulling her up into a cascade of colors and realities that twisted her senses. When the vertigo subsided, she found herself standing in a grand throne room, a masterpiece sculpted from gold and embraced by nature's green fingers. The echoes of a name rang in the air - "Larihei!" Usamea blinked, disoriented, as a male mali'ame stormed in, calling out to her, or rather, Larihei. In that instant, she understood. She was but a passenger, viewing this world through Larihei's eyes. “Ito Aeloran” the elf's voice bounced off the golden walls, laden with urgency. The room seemed to breathe, its grandeur morphing into a scene of blood-soaked chaos. A battle unfurled before her, the battlefield a macabre dance between infernal horrors and brave elven warriors. Each elf felled was answered by a crumbling undead, their ashes blowing away in the wind. Yet, the horrors seemed endless. Then the heavens split open, and a figure descended - a form so vile that even the air seemed to recoil. Recognition twisted in her gut. This was Iblees, the Betrayer. The air vibrated with his stolen tongues, each word a dagger thrust into her mind. His betrayal culminated in a single act; he cast a bolt of dark miasma that struck her and the warrior beside her. She could almost feel her veins turn to ice as the curse of Iblees took hold. In a moment, the scene changed. Time spun its wheel, revealing the growth of the elven kin - mali’aheral, mali’ame, mali’ker. She saw their cities rise, a testament to their perseverance and ambition, and watched them evolve, always from a vantage point above. The final scene was a departure from the rest. Usamea found herself in a cavern lit by an eerie glow. Three figures in robes stood before a tear in reality, the room pulsing with voidal magic. From the tear, ghostly mists seeped into the air, their spectral whispers coiling around her like serpents. An instinctual dread settled in her heart: something about this was profoundly wrong. As the vision released its grip, Usamea was left with more than just a sense of dread. She bore the weight of a prophecy, a call to action. Her path was now clear.

Players for faervel family members wanted The faervel family had been blessed with three children so far. therefor players are needed to play the faervel twins, two 16 year old twins that grew up together. The faervel family was separated while in travel to aevos. The twins were raised solely by their father Leonardo Mallory Faervel in the wilderness and on the run from mori and other dangers. I need someone to play one male and one female both elves. The male has red hair like his father and blue eyes along with tan skin. The female has black hair and red eyes once again like her father. The boy has been trained in survival and medicine while the girl has been trained in the way of the sword as well as hunting. Beyond this you can do whatever you want with their personalities and such. This family prides itself in training even their medics in the ways of combat. The family businesses are as follows: Forgery, medicine, and trade. If anyone is interested please contact me by replying to this page. There, if your serious, you can put down your discord and we can talk further. (this is leonardo mallory faervel) (my timezone is est time and my username is alikiforever )

Chapter 1 In days long past, when the sun kissed the peaks of Almaris, and the gentle whispers of the wind breathed life into its verdant landscapes, the tale of a prophecy was born. Born not in the grand halls of the wise or the whispered corners of the sages, but in the elusive dreamscape of a select few. These chosen few, plucked out seemingly at random from among the descendants, began to receive vivid, bone-chilling visions. Echoes of a looming apocalypse that initially seemed too horrific to be real, too cataclysmic to even fathom. It was a nightmare that clawed at the edges of their waking minds, leaving an inescapable dread that gnawed at their peace. Yet as the hands of time continued their relentless march, the skepticism that had once been a comforting blanket began to fray. The veneer of denial cracked, the raw fear seeping into their hearts. The terrifying truth of their prophetic dreams was acknowledged, setting forth a wave of alarm that reverberated through every corner of the realm. The threats of the worm, the malevolent necromancers, all those foes that once terrorized the lands, were now but shadows before the terrifying face of this prophesied cataclysm. The might of Iblees was manifesting itself, taking horrific forms that threatened to plunge the realms into chaos and destruction. The sinister September Prince then, the ravenous undead befrore, and now the demented Mori'Quessir with their abominable beastoids, they all converged, their horrifying powers suffusing the air with a palpable dread. The very lands trembled in fear, the skies darkened, and a chilling wind swept across the landscapes, portending the doom that was drawing near. Chapter 2 Against this maelstrom of despair, a flame of hope flickered to life. The diverse races of the realm, roused from their disjointed existence, found common ground under the looming shadow of annihilation. The descendants, who had long been at odds, buried their old grudges. Magi, druii, xannitesi, and even blood magi, once immersed in their own individual pursuits, now came together. They discarded their differences and instead, combined their unique wisdom and arcane powers to create a beacon of hope. It was a light that pushed against the impending darkness, a beacon that stubbornly burned in defiance against the terrifying might of their adversaries. This newfound unity, though born out of dire necessity, held a beauty that was both poignant and inspiring. It hinted at the possibility of what could be, of a world where harmony was more than a fleeting dream, if they only dared to put aside their discord. Their fight, however valiant, was not without its losses. Almaris, a realm once teeming with life, succumbed to the onslaught. Its beautiful landscapes, once the epitome of nature's magnificence, were laid to waste. This once thriving realm was now nothing more than a desolate expanse of destruction. This bitter defeat set off a ripple of panic among the descendants. If a realm as grand as Almaris could be decimated, what chance did the others stand? Chapter 3 This spirit of resilience pervaded the human kingdoms as they faced the monstrous threat of the Mori. In the shadow of their malevolent power, humanity found strength and unity. They banded together, forming alliances that stretched across their borders, creating a tapestry of hope and camaraderie. They were ready to fight, their hearts burning with the unquenchable fire of their shared conviction. In this newfound unity, they were more than just individual races or kingdoms, they were a beacon of resistance. Their resilience breathed life into their ravaged lands, their unyielding spirit becoming the drumbeat of a defiant anthem against the growing darkness. They rose like the phoenix, ready to protect their land, their people, their legacy. The courageous men who dared to tread the desolate landscapes held onto the rhythm of their songs to keep despair at bay. Among them, a youthful Haenseti man bid adieu to his kin with a promise of a swift return, his melody echoing, "We all go marching, all go marching, all go march away. When I come back, we'll have a Baron-ay". His memory persists in the mournful cries of a desolate Mamej. The elves, once a race characterized by their discord, were also caught in the throes of this fight for survival. They too sought unity, desperately trying to pull together the frayed threads of their kinship. But old habits die hard and the old prejudices and biases of the past still lingered. Haelun'or, once the shining city of their people, was yet again left out of their discussions. A poignant reminder of the divisions that still plagued them. They hadn’t learned from their forefathers' mistakes, and now, they dared to dream of a future where all elves were united, their strength combined to face the looming cataclysm. Yet, in the face of these challenges, the spirit of hope still shone bright. Amidst the darkness, a symphony of whispers echoed through the realms, weaving a tale of unity, of resistance, of resilience. They clung onto it, the flickering flame pushing against the encroaching shadows. Their hearts were steadfast, their resolve unyielding. Descendants, diverse in their origins yet united in their purpose, toiled ceaselessly. They were like a legion of ants, their efforts harmoniously orchestrated, their spirits indomitable, working towards a shared goal. They served their kin, their nations, their esteemed monarchs—Kings, Queens, Sohaeran, and Maheralan—with unyielding dedication. They sought not just their individual survival, but the collective survival of their realm. Their unity was their shield, their shared resolve their weapon against the looming apocalypse. Despite their valiant efforts, the reality was a grim specter that loomed over their dreams of survival. The realm of Almaris was lost, its glorious landscapes now a desolate expanse, a painful reminder of their defeat. And while they had banded together for now, there was a gnawing fear that their unity was as fragile as the peace they sought. It was inevitable that once they fled to a new continent, their old rivalries would resurface, and the cycle of destruction and death would continue. Chapter 4 Yet, amidst the struggles and the bleak outlook of their future, the symphony of their unity continued to resonate. It was a symphony born out of necessity, out of desperation, but it was also one of hope. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded them, they dared to hope, to dream of a future where they could survive, where their realm could thrive once again. But the passage of time, relentless and unyielding, continued its march. As the echoes of their struggles faded, new challenges loomed on the horizon. In this new land, untouched by the shadows of their past, fresh battles awaited. The descendants would have to face these new threats, their hearts filled with an unsettling blend of fear and excitement. The tranquility they had found was fleeting, a mere prelude to the upcoming turmoil. The Mori'Quessir, who once loomed as an invincible foe, was now but a haunting memory. Their past transgressions, which once seemed insurmountable, were now whispers carried by the winds of time. The descendants had found respite from their overpowering grasp, but this was a brief reprieve. For hearts that longed for power and purpose, the lull was a test of patience, a harbinger of the battles that lay ahead. And so we found, the lands of Braveos. An empty canvas, awaiting colour. I write these words hoping you'll pay heed to my warnings, for only the resilient shall endure. Your inconsequential presence is a mere fleeting moment in the vast tapestry of time. Direct your attention to the collective rather than the self, lest we find ourselves trapped in a cycle of errors. The harmonious songs of birds already carry whispers of discord within. We are inclined to replicate the blunders of ancient legends, becoming victims of the very same missteps committed by our ancestors. - Oem Mali'thill

4th of The First Seed, Year 133 June 16th 2023 A RULER WITH A GOLDEN FIST [!]In the square of Kal’Kadrelaz a venerable Dwed with pure white hair steps forth to make a speech. “Fer too long, Urguan has suffered wit’ a lack of a common goal, and an’ empty treasury” “Now is not t’ time t’ vote fer a beardling, a lad who despite his merit, is inexperienced and naive. “As King I shall do teh following” The grizzled dwarf would clear his throat. Rejuvinate the Legion: The formidable army that once stood as the pinnacle of strength and unity. Like the tightly woven strands of an unbreakable thread, the legion binds our kindred spirits together, forging a bond stronger than steel. It is through the legion's resolute valor and unwavering loyalty that our people once found solace and inspiration. The Legion shall be restored and each dwed will be encouraged to join. The separation of church and state will remain. However, every other aspect of dwarven life (such groups such as the Miners Guild and Merchants Guild, which in the past have fell under the umbrella of the workforce) will be absorbed into the Legion. Pay will be fair and well earnt. Progression through the ranks will be earned not solely through fighting prowess, but through contributions to the greater society as well. Once established, war games will be scheduled with our neighbouring nations, to remind everybody of the true strength of the Dwarven Legion. Focus on Internal Matters Shadows of discontent and turmoil have cast a veil over our realm. Internal issues plague our once proud nation, demanding our undivided attention and resources. It is in this moment of self-reflection that we must prioritize the mending of our own wounds before extending our hands in alliance or partaking in conflicts that bear little relevance to our dwarven heart. Our focus, unwavering and resolute, shall be directed inward, nurturing our kin and nourishing the embers of our heritage to restore Urguan's former glory. Only when our coffers are replenished and our army stands tall once more shall we reconsider our stance on alliances and treaties. In embracing neutrality, we open our doors to all nations, enticing them with the craftsmanship and riches that flow from our forges. Regardless of which banner claims victory, our dwarven wares shall find their way to every corner of the realm, ensuring our coffers overflow with the spoils of a prosperous trade. Let it be known that Urguan, shall rise stronger than ever before, impervious to the whims of distant wars, as we forge our path towards a future where our nation stands united and our dwarven legacy is restored to its rightful place. The City of Kal'Kadrelaz “The Grand Kingdom of Urguan”, it is evident that a city befitting our illustrious title is deserved. Thus, we shall embark on a quest to create a city that resonates with the grandeur and magnificence of our realm. With unwavering determination, we shall explore both subterranean depths and alternative possibilities, refusing to settle for a city that fails to fulfill its purpose. While plans for a new city are being meticulously finalized, we shall make use of our current resources, diligently constructing additional underground houses to accommodate our people's needs. Moreover, the streets of our city shall be adorned with vibrant stalls, offering a bustling atmosphere and inviting both tourists and visitors to experience our dwarven heritage. A comprehensive revamping of the city's external layout shall be undertaken, ensuring it becomes a captivating destination for all who grace its borders. Let it be known that no stone shall be left unturned as we endeavor to craft a city that not only befits our kingdom's grandeur but also welcomes and enchants those who venture within. Agricultural Revolution You pay your taxes, I keep your belly full. It is with a profound realization that we must acknowledge the untapped potential of our dwarven technology in revolutionizing the realm of farming. We, who have always been at the forefront of innovation and engineering, must harness the power of our ingenuity to transform the way we cultivate the land. It is true that our farming techniques have fallen behind, but this setback presents an opportunity for us to showcase the brilliance of our dwarven minds. With our expertise in machinery and mechanical marvels, we can introduce automated systems that streamline farming processes and increase productivity. Imagine fields adorned with intricate irrigation systems, powered by the steady flow of underground rivers, ensuring optimal hydration for our crops. We can design and construct specialized farming implements that minimize labor while maximizing efficiency, enabling us to till the soil with unparalleled precision and speed. New Ideas For too long, the ideas of beardlings have fallen upon the deaf ears of stagnant rulers. Too many buffers stand in the way of their innovation. As a result, beardlings who could’ve served us mightily become disenfranchised with Urguan and ultimately leave the kingdom. This will stop. There will be innovation grants and rewards for those presenting the king with fresh ideas. “And most importantleh…” MAKE LOTS AND LOTS OF MONEY In the annals of our kingdom's history, never before has there been such an urgent need for a Goldhand to rise and lead. A true master in the delicate art of amassing wealth. The dire situation of Urguan's mounting debt leaves us with little choice but to summon the expertise of those who have devoted their lives to the pursuit of coin. We cannot rely solely on taxes, for it would take over six long months of toil to repay our debts, a burden too heavy to bear. This shall not stand. We shall defy the odds and liberate ourselves from this fiscal burden within a mere two stone months. To achieve this, we shall implement mine permits, granting us access to the hidden treasures within the earth. Our skilled artisans and craftsmen shall labor tirelessly, fashioning exceptional wares that will captivate the markets. As our mines yield their wealth, we shall delve deeper, unearthing new veins of prosperity. In this endeavor, every dwed, no matter their station, shall have a vital role to play. Together, we shall revive the wealth and opulence of Urguan, ensuring that our kingdom shines once more as a beacon of prosperity and abundance. "Also, all council meetings will be held in the tavern."

DANZEN’S INFERNO An Account of Otherworldly Expedition 3 Mensis Tobialis, 2A 131 I am a religious man. Like my brother Lectors before me, I have always strived to maintain my virtue and to spread the word of KAMISAMA to the most desolate of lands. For decades I thrived with the purpose given to me - to lead my brothers and to collect knowledge. The Lectors and I spread what we had learned, and the world was changed for the better, or for worse. Regardless, many of my comrades perished or faded into obscurity. When the Lectors officially dissolved, my purpose became but a leaf drifting in the wind. In the years following the dissolution, I became isolated. I had witnessed a lifetime’s worth of acquaintances turn to vice, and I had lost faith in my fellow man. I reached the conclusion that the maintenance of one’s own virtue was more valuable than extending a helping hand. I had incorrectly believed that participation in ANYTHING would benefit some greater evil. Fate is gravity. Even though we may leap towards the heavens, we are ultimately pulled back towards the earth. The thread of fate is no different; we may try to defy it, but our end remains the absolute end. Only KAMISAMA possesses the foresight to truly understand predestination. Despite this, a year or so ago this day a being from the stars delivered unto me the means to continue the greater quest of the Lectorate - the acquisition of knowledge. Though not an Aengul, this being spoke truly and harshly. I longed for purpose, yet rejected the calls of others. In my hubris, I had believed that I already understood my fate and destiny - but with this simple fraying of the thread, my future was changed forever. With a coin toss and a thunderous crack, I was home no longer. Though I now know it to be an instant, this single step felt like days. I awoke upon a jagged outcrop; the skies were black as ash and the air lingered with an acrid scent - brimstone. Where had I gone, and how could I return? Seeking these answers and believing that height would grant a vantage point, I ventured forth towards a range of hills possessing many holes through a lowland of crimson bones. Smoke billowed from natural vents and, as I approached, I could see what appeared to be men. Yet, they stood still - ever so still. Ever closer, I came to know why they were as stone. Bound in chains, these desolate souls were pinned to a Lorraine and weeping in agony. Besides them, yokai howled and cackled with madness as they peeled flesh and crackled bones. I can only speculate as to the severity and length to which they suffered. I squatted in prayer, and to plan. Yet, as if cosmically aligned, my presence seemed to coincide with the awakening of the hills. Their pits no longer belched ash, but instead were adorned with the glow of a thousand red eyes. In but an instant the skies were swallowed by a sea of beasts who swept down and devoured the offerings. At that moment I had realized why the valley was littered with the remains of thousands. Caught amidst a feeding frenzy, I buried myself in the surrounding carnage as horrid screeches resonated throughout the land. Those who had perished before me likely had loved ones, and no doubt possessed dreams. An entire lifetime snuffed as it became equivalent in worth to a slab of grit tossed to a hound. They suffered in life, but what is suffering? Is it pain, or perhaps loneliness? Is it the dread of anticipation? I believe that suffering is life itself, and all the obstacles that one bumps into before the sweet ascent to the Skies; such was the miracle of Owyn’s Penance. It is for this reason, in death, those men did not suffer. After what felt like eternity, I emerged from my self-made coffin. The beasts had gone, and all that remained of the fallen was yet more bone for the field. I diverted course and now ventured forth towards the sound of flowing water. By the grace of KAMISAMA I had found it and, parched beyond comprehension, began to suckle at an ice-cold stream. A mistake for as soon as I felt respite, I had drifted to the realm of the subconscious. Upon awakening I reached the dreaded realization that my belongings had been severed from my person. After a brief search, there was but a singular explanation: I had been the victim of theft. Determined to find this thief, I followed the water’s edge, my visage adorned with my men-yoroi to hide my human nature. In time I came across a silhouette slithering through the depths - a yokai. It looked like a scorpion, albeit made of wax, and in one hand it bore a lantern of a chilling blue flame. Its stinger whipped about in the water as it emerged to the shore. Gazing down upon me it spoke: “Yours is not like the others… You were robbed by an Imp of Nem - a foul creature... I saw, but could not move. You arise in the Still of Judgement to cross my River, wherefore?” Though hesitant, I could not afford to lose this lead. I yielded and conversed briefly with the creature as it ferried me across the frigid waters. It spoke again: “You shall cross into the land of the dead - but know what you walk into. Your punishment is eternal, and it is noble that you walk into it. You are bound for one of the harshest punishments Iblees can bestow. It is a shame you were saved from Heaven.” It queried yet more, unresponsive to my own interrogations. I concluded that the yokai would not answer, yet told it that I was still alive and not a forlorn soul. It replied: “There must be a particular hatred for thee - to be here before death. I would wish you well, but such things are not possible within Drownedreik.” Upon disembarking my head swirled with the dread of Iboku. Had I truly been sent to the bowels of the deceiver’s kingdom? Had I ever truly gone on an adventure, or had I perished in sipping poisoned water? As if compelled, I persisted forth. Perhaps my belongings would confirm as to whether I were a revenant or not. The answer would soon be revealed as I came across a pit of imps. Akin to an Uruk’s camp, these creatures were engorging themselves upon the flesh of fallen men. They cried out for bloodshed and howled with malicious intent as if preparing a warband. Broz'Dak, an Imp who seemed to be their chieftan emerged and addressed his tribe: “BROZ’DAKZ, Mi haz the key to endless klomp! Mi haz key to land of flezh! Zhomo say so, mi bring to lower circle - BUB DEMON. Burzh Soul. Give Broz’Dakz many klomp, many meat! NUB FIGHT UNTIL BROZ’DAK RETURN!” As I listened from afar, I came to realize that this demonic creature of Krug had had on him my belongings; perhaps he sought to bring proof to the Demon he had spoken of. In a bout of good fortune, he left the camp by his lonesome. I followed from afar and, as we moved, I began to collect stones. I dug them into my clothing so that I might become adorned with spikes; such would help with a demonic disguise. Though my memory begins to blur, I recall the Imp coming across a great fortress of blackened stone. Two guards crossed wretched axes and the scamp before me sought to pass. The guards were unmoving and seemingly annoyed with the small creature, though the Imp was insistent on handing over my trinkets. With no time, I was forced to act and mantle the beast I had disguised myself as. As quickly as I emerged from the shadows, the Imp’s neck was crushed. Impressed with the ferocity of the attack, they granted me both passage and the belongings of the Imp. It seemed as if, at least here, the strong would flourish and the weak would crumble. They referred to me as a “Revenant” on account of my white garb. Even though I now had proof for myself that I had not yet been slain, the words of the Demon made me question whether my isolation and sense of superiority made me more akin to them than my fellow man. I wondered why they could not sense my human scent, though my curiosity swiftly faded. My nostrils flared as the horrid stench of souls being prepared for sinister purpose clung to the air. All around me poor beings were being tortured. Limbs were shredded and sewn back together; intestines were slurped like udon; crucifixions were aplenty. Though my script cannot convey the horrid nature of what I bore witness to, it was of such great magnitude that I began to falter in both disguise and confidence. I meandered down the many corridors in a daze. Eventually, a yokai in the form of a boar uncovered my identity - perhaps a demonic aspect of Brother Harold. Understandably it assumed I to be an assassin and he handedly blitzed my person, throwing me through a door wrought of iron. My ribs cracked and all I could do was await recourse as an onyx-figure descended a throne. I had tresspassed farther than I realized. The figure spoke to me: “You have been watched since you first arrived. Do not think yourself clever for fooling the Imps, or the Slaves. You were to be brought to me, and thus it was ordained, and thus you are here . . . We know you. We know your Kind. You know not who I am. I am In-Saabth, master of these wastes. Charged eternal by my mistress, I await her return. The armies grow under me, the flesh-sows bred for one thing . . . Your doom. Surrender to me, and I will use your soul to feed my armies when they march upon your world.” Refusing, I raised my bokken in my left hand defensively as I began to call upon the blessing of Machiman. The figure seemed half-amused by the defiance and it rose a great and bloodied morning-star: “Mmm . . . Before I commend thy soul to Iblees, give me thy name. Realmwalker. Know that you will be honored, immortalized, for the greatness you have given. I give thee human courtesy, do not take it lightly.” I conceded defeat, yet maintained the only defensive posture I could. My blade began to shine with light and I said my name: “I am Ugokoyama Danzen.” In-Saabth accepting this honorable surrender swung down, only to meet the Bulwark of a seasoned Templar. Seemingly taken by surprise, In-Saabth began to cackle with amusement before pressing harder. Too little and too late, my concentration began to fade as my power waned. The mace of the Yokai shattered my feeble wooden blade and smashed into my left forearm, flattening and tearing it clean off. My left eye too could not escape the wrath of the Black Demon. As I barked in agony a second thunderous boom rattled the room. An ample time as any - the last second - ordained by good fortune. Though the shock of a smashed arm soon subsided to agony, those few first moments I had emerged back on our homey with serenity. In-Sabbath was proven incorrect in his proclamation of fate. I write this now as a record of events leading up to my death. At the point of authorship, I had managed to stem the bleeding and pain with my leftover supplies and medical skill. Almaris is abandoned - everywhere I look is empty as I evade the patrols of Juli’el’s Tribe. Felder’s Rock served me as a refuge for these few months - I pray that its magnificence does not fade even after I leave it for good. I can only assume now that my comrades are imprisoned as slaves for the Mori mines, much like I witnessed within Drowned Reik. I returned to Savoy and ventured into the depths. Should my body be found in these caverns, I hope that this account may serve as a warning for the greater cosmic scheme. Then again, mayhaps this will be disregarded as the ramblings of a dreamer. Ugokoyama Danzen Arch-Lector of the Flaming Covenant Cohort, Shugo of Tetsugawa, Templar of Machiman, Practitioner of Shindo no Hamon and Penitent Brother of Owyn. OOC NOTE This is an RP account of a shunt experienced with the feat “Arcane Displacement”. The story and terminology is purposefully misinterpreted per the character’s experience, I.E. mistaking Imps for Goblins or the realm of Draudreich as Drownedreik. Given that this is a private account, it is requested that this information is not metagamed. This is also NOT a PK post, but written as a “what if” scenario had the character Danzen died in the caves between Almaris and Aevos while tailing the descendants. I thank Breeni and Shorsand for acting as my DMs for this shunting experiment.

THE COMING-OF-AGE TRIAL OF MARIJA ODILIA COLBORN Published from the Viscounty of Venzia ISSUED ON THE 11TH OF WZUVAR AND BYVCA, 480 E.S. O’ GUD, VOR HJELP I GYNE ERE, As a rite of passage for Colborn children, we must complete the “Vaskr” in preparation for “Nattrvaskr” - the ceremony in which youth is washed away to make way for adulthood. The Vaskr, or washing, is a trial in honour of one of House Colborn’s chosen Patron Ancestors. Upon reviewing the list of Patron Ancestors, I connected most deeply to Mira “the Brewmistress” Warnek-Colborn who brought her expert brewing techniques from Savoy to the House of Colborn. As a child, I frequently found myself too ill to venture outside and learn about the world. Instead, I learnt to understand and express myself by learning and practicing recipes with my Mother and Grandmother’s guidance. Such has become my cornerstone and, until now, these old recipes have been sequestered within the halls of Venzia away from the eyes of outsiders. Therefore, after discussion with my Cousin, Viscount Carolus Colborn, we have decided that I shall make and record several historic Scyfling recipes and prepare them for publication herein. The hope is to spread knowledge of Scyfling practices to the remainder of Hanseti-Ruska and the world at large. MEASUREMENTS Cup - Small drinking cup Large Spoon - Soup eating spoon or large eating spoon Small Spoon - Small dessert spoon or teaspoon SIDE DISHES CUCUMBER SALAD is a refreshing side dish that can be paired with almost any type of meal. Some people use it to refresh their pallet and others use it to marry the meal together. It is very simple to make, but very traditional. INGREDIENTS 2⁄3 Cup - Vinegar 2⁄3 Cup - Cold Water 3 1⁄2 Large Spoon - Sugar 1⁄2 Small Spoon - Salt 1⁄4 Small Spoon - Pepper DIRECTIONS Thinly slice the cucumber and add it to a bowl. Add the vinegar, water, sugar, salt, and pepper into the bowl to finish the dressing for the salad and finish with a bit of parsley. SETTEKAKE BREAD is a traditional yeast-leavened flatbread cooked with a griddle or pot. It has a golden-brown exterior and a soft interior and is best eaten right off the heat with some butter or brown cheese. INGREDIENTS 1 Cup plus 2 Small Spoons - Milk 1 Cup plus 2 Small Spoons - Water ¼ Cup - Butter 7 Cups - Flour 2 Ounces - Fresh Yeast 1 Small Spoons - Salt DIRECTIONS Warm the milk with a small saucepan with the water and butter on a medium heat until the butter has melted and the liquid is warm to the touch. Add the yeast into the mixture until fully combined. Take it off the heat, but keep it near the stove to keep warm. In a bowl add the flour and salt then add the milk mixture. Mix it with a spoon until it becomes a crumbling mixture then start to knead it until it becomes a soft and pliable dough.Fold the dough into a ball and put a light towel over it to rest for forty-five minutes. Or until double the size. Roll the dough out onto the counter and divide it into ten equal pieces. Roll out each piece to make a circular shape that is about the size of your palm and as thick as up to half way up the digit of your finger. Cover with a thin towel as you finish them off and prepare a cast iron griddle or a cast iron pot to a medium heat. Take the dough from under the towel one by one and place them onto the heated surface for five minutes or until golden and cooked through. Serve warm with your choice of toppings or as is. SPRING MASHED POTATOES are excellent side dishes for a large variety of meals, from stew to cabbage rolls and whatever your heart desires. It is refreshing and yet very filling bringing dishes together one spoonful at a time. INGREDIENTS 1 ½ lbs. - Potatoes 3 Large Spoon - Salted Butter 1 Cup - Milk Salt and Pepper to Taste 1 Cup - Green Peas 1 Bunch Dill, chopped 2 Spring Onions, chopped DIRECTIONS Wash, skin, and cube the potatoes and add them to a pot of water setting that to medium-high heat and bring that to a boil. Let it simmer for fifteen minutes or until soft using a knife or fork. Remove the water from the potatoes and begin to mash it to your liking along with milk, butter, salt, pepper, and dill. Serve with spring onions on top. MAIN DISHES LOHIKEITTO is a salmon soup that is claimed to be most delicious! This soup is made with simple ingredients and yet is enriched with robust flavors as each item heightens each other to a humble meal. It is perfect to share with many people or for a family gathering. INGREDIENTS 4 Medium - Potatoes 1- Carrot 1 - Leek 1 lb - Smoked Salmon 7 Cups - Fish Broth 1 Cup - Cream 1 Pinch - Coriander 1 ½ Pinch - Salt 1 Pinch - Pepper ⅓ Cups - Dill DIRECTIONS Wash the potatoes before peeling them and dicing them into four cubes. You should have a total of sixteen by the end of that. Prep the carrot by peeling it and chopping them up and then the leek by thinly slicing it. Add to one iron pot the fish broth, salt, pepper, and the chopped vegetables. Bring it to a boil and let it simmer for fifteen minutes before testing the potatoes with a fork or knife. If it is soft enough then lower the heat and add the cream and cut up the smoked salmon into chunky bits. Stir it all together and let it cook for an additional fifteen minutes to let the flavors marry. Finish off with the dill on top while serving. This is paired well with red wine and a day’s old bread. SOSEKJØTT is a comforting dish with chunks of beef married with onions and bay leaf that is usually paired up with spring mashed potatoes, boiled potatoes, vegetables, or even lingonberry sauce. It is meant to be a comforting type of food that not only gives you a full belly, but also fills your soul. Perfect to fight off those chilly nights. INGREDIENTS 2.2 lbs - Shoulder Steak 1 Large - Onion 6 Large Spoons - Butter 5 Large Spoons - Flour 4 Cups - Beef Stock 1- Bay Leaf 1 ½ Pinch - Salt and Pepper DIRECTIONS Cut the steaks into bite sized chunks and prepare a cast iron pot with a spoon of butter and medium heat. Season well with the salt and pepper as the butter melts. Once it is bubbling, add the meat in batches to brown on every side. Use more butter as needed to make sure the meat doesn’t stick to the pot. Once done, remove the meat and place it onto a plate near the stove to rest and keep warm. In the same pot add the six large spoons of butter into the pot and once melted add the flour. Whisk it well to avoid burning it. The darker the mixture is the darker the stew will be. Then slowly add the beef stock in small batches whisking to combine it all. Add the meat back into the mixture and cut the onion into wedges only to add that as well with the bay leaf. Bring the mixture to a simmer and place the lid onto the pot letting it cook for two hours. Once the meat is tender after, remove the lid and let it simmer for thirty minutes more. While doing this you can prepare your side dish of choice. At the end you are left with a thick meat stew you and your family can enjoy. CABBAGE ROLLS are made with fatty types of meats whether it is pork, beef, or lamb depending on the time of the year. This is usually paired with a gravy and lingonberry jam which is traditional with the sides of mashed potatoes and cucumber salad. It is a comforting type of food that can be made year round with savory notes of flavor that anyone can enjoy. INGREDIENTS Cabbage Rolls 1.1 lb. - pork neck 1 small spoon - salt ½ small spoon - pepper ½ small spoon - nutmeg 2 small spoon - grated ginger 1 cup - milk 2 - Egg whites ¼ Cup - cauliflower, cut in pea sized pieces 1 large spoon - chopped parsley 6 - big cabbage leaves, boiled for 2 minutes DIRECTIONS Choose the meat with the most fat and mince it. It is important that the meat and milk is cold and hasn't been previously frozen. Use a mortar and pestle to grind the meat with the salt, pepper, nutmeg, and ginger into a sticky farce. Then transport it to a bowl and slowly add the egg whites with the milk until combined and fold in the cauliflower. Divide the mixture into six onto the cabbage leaves and fold the leaves into a roll. Put it into a cast iron pot with a half of a cup of water and cover with the lid to cook for forty minutes in the oven. CONDIMENTS BROWN SAUCE INGREDIENTS 1 ½ Cups - Beef Stock ½ Cup - Cream 1 Small Spoon - Butter 3 Pinches - Flour DIRECTIONS In a saucepan add the beef stock and bring it into a simmer then slowly add the butter to incorporate until it melts and the flour. Whisk thoroughly to make sure there are no clumps and then add the enriched cream slowly so as to not scald it. Whisk to combine it fully and let it thicken up slightly. Once done, set it to the side to cool off. LINGONBERRY JAM INGREDIENTS ½ Cups - Fresh Lingonberries ½ Small Spoon - Water ½ Cup - Sugar DIRECTIONS In an iron pan add the sugar and water in medium heat and until the sugar dissolves. Add the lingonberries and incorporate it well with the syrup. It is okay to smash some of the berries, but cook them until soft. DESSERTS LINGONBERRY CURD is something that is close to my heart personally. It is perfect for cake fillings and in pies too. Also perfect for any other sweets you'd like or even by itself. It gives off a citrus taste with it also not being too sweet. INGREDIENTS ½ Sheet - Gelatin 1 ½ Cups - Frozen Lingonberries 1 Cup - Sugar 2 eggs + 1 Egg Yolk ⅔ Cup - Butter, Diced DIRECTIONS To start off, place the sheet of gelatin into a bowl of cold water. Let it sit to the side to soften and gather your berries into a mortar and with the pestle crush the berries into a puree and put them into a saucepan. Add the sugar to the pan and heat it up to medium heat until the sugar dissolves, make sure to stir as to not burn the berries or the sugar. In another bowl pour the eggs into it and whisk until incorporated properly and then slowly pour the lingonberry over the eggs while stirring as to not over cook the eggs. You want it to be a completely smooth curd so you may have to use a sieve. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan and onto the heat. Stir until you notice it is thickening. Once thickened, pour it back into the bowl and add the gelatin and stir until dissolved. Let it cool off to about the temperature to melt butter. Add the butter bit by bit and stir it into the curd until completely melted. Keep this in a cool enclosed area and it should last about a week. BUTTERCAKE is almost as much butter to flour and it has the consistency of a sugar cookie, but also in the form of a cake. This cake is perfect with some coffee or tea with a side of lingonberry curd. This recipe is made differently than normal by adding zest and orange extract. INGREDIENTS 1 Cup - Butter, softened 1 Cup - Sugar 1 - Egg, Room Temperature 1 Small Spoon - Vanilla Extract 1 Small Spoon - Orange Extract 2 1/3 Cups - Flour 1/4 Small Spoon - Salt EGG WASH: 1 - Egg 1 Small Spoon - Water DIRECTIONS Start by heating the oven and butter a shallow cake pan and place baking paper to line the whole pan. Whisk the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy and add the egg into the mix until combined. Lastly mix the flour, salt, and orange zest with extracts until the dough becomes thick like a cookie dough. Transfer the dough into the prepared pan, and spread evenly. The trick for that is to use baking paper to smooth it out by hand. Once done add the egg wash and add the cross hatch markings with a fork. Bake the cake for thirty minutes or until the wooden pick inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean. Let it cool and enjoy. RØMMEGRØT is a pudding that is eaten usually for the holidays but can be enjoyed whenever. It is a comforting side dish that can be served with crackers and some milk or can be topped with cinnamon sugar and some melted butter. INGREDIENTS 4 Cups - Milk ¾ Cup - Flour ¼ Cup - Sugar ⅛ Small Spoon - Salt ½ Cup - Salted Butter, Plus More for Serving Cinnamon Sugar DIRECTIONS Using a large saucepan with medium heat, pour in the milk and stir it so often as to not burn it. While the milk is heating up, gather a bowl and whisk up the flour, sugar, and salt to set aside and prepare the butter in a small saucepan to melt, after that turn off the heat. Don't forget to check on the milk while doing this. Once the milk warms up below a simmer, add the flour mixture and butter to combine into a thick paste. Then stir constantly until the milk mixture boils. Once it does take it off the heat and let it cool for about five minutes only to stir often. Gather some bowls and serve with melted butter and cinnamon sugar. The more the better! DRINKS EGG COFFEE is a special way to drink coffee. It is smooth and creamy, often perfect for a dessert drink or even a morning brew for a special occasion. It is simple and you can add as much sugar to your liking. INGREDIENTS 4½ Quarts - Cold Fresh Water 1½ Cups - Coffee Grinds 1 - Egg White ½ Cup - Cold Fresh Water As much sugar to your liking DIRECTIONS In a deep pot pour in 4 1⁄2 quarts of water and bring that to a boil. Add the coffee grinds along with the egg whites and shell into a mixing bowl to combine into a thick grainy paste. Add it to the boiling water and continue boiling. After it is done brewing, remove from the heat and let it cool off for a few minutes and slowly add half of a cup of cold water to settle the grounds. Strain and serve in large mugs. GLØGG or mulled wine is a lovely warm surprise. It is a spiced wine that is packed with a lot of flavor giving off a holiday taste though can be drinked throughout the year. It is often served with dessert with a cinnamon stick, oranges, raisins, and all the goodies inside of the mixture. INGREDIENTS 1 ½ Cups Aquavit ½ Cup Raisins 8 Dried Figs, Quartered 3 Cinnamon Sticks 10 Green Cardamom Pods 2 Small Spoons - Whole Cloves 1 Star Anise 2 - Oranges, Sliced 1 Bottle Dry Red Wine 2 Small Spoons - Sugar ¼ Cup - Blanched Almonds DIRECTIONS In a large jar add the spices, fruits, almonds, and aquavit and close the lid. Store it for twelve hours stirring occasionally. Then in a medium sized saucepan add the wine, sugar, and the jar mixture to it and bring it to a very low heat on the stove. Don't let it boil or simmer as that would cook off the alcohol. Do this for a half of an hour or so and serve warm. ENDING NOTES With this being the conclusion of my first cookbook, I have decided to pen additional recipes in the future with more challenges and more stories to come with each dish. My Coming-of-Age Trial has become, through the experience, my cornerstone of cooking and baking. I wish to thank and bless the Spirit of Mira Warnek-Colborn for being my inspiration. Thank you for reading. I hope others try out these dishes for themselves and enjoy them, and they are encouraged to direct any concerns my way. SKRALI VOR GUD, Her Ladyship, Marija Odilia Colborn Her Ladyship, Anabel Elia Colborn, Keeper of the Book, Scribe of the House of Colborn

Upon arrival, Draco was in need of great medical care barely escaping the Mori if not for his great-granddaughter Hilda aiding him along the way. He rested many moons and began gathering some strength back, taking laps around the square and sitting his old bones as he watched Hilda grow and lead a life with depth of her culture and country. After some days the tunnel was found leading into the untapped lands of Failor. They found the exit of the tunnel peered across the grasslands to the distant sands and with no time wasted could faintly see brigands engaged in combat further in the desert that seemed to only draw closer. Despite his old age his grand-daughter was able to help his slow legs transport across the sands. He found himself proud as he witnessed her display of martial prowess by defeating the Brigands that pursued them. Finally they could settle a refuge. The barren lands of Failor certainly were no place for an elder Norlander but Draco would not turn back for the life of him. They crafted ships and set down the stream between the Desert and Grasslands letting the wind & sails guide their path. Eventually, they find themselves settling in the camp refuge where they would protect as they recovered from the disasters of the Mori invasion. Draco finds himself with a bit of narcolepsy as he sleeps very commonly within his older age. During the awoken hours he would be found spending precious time with his great-granddaughter. They often share a tankard of an old family recipe of the non-alcoholic version of Norlandic Wine. In his spare time Draco guides himself to the relic of an ancient ash tree bark as he grasps carefully in his hands and whispers a prayer to the Patron Athelflaed. “Asheth guides my kinsman.”

The Old Lur traveled far and wide with his ancient Lur Wolf as an independent unit unaware of the events that transpired in San Velku. The Orc and Wolf find themselves in a dark environment full of Netherrite, Falum watches under his darkened old hood as many other descendent refugees flood into the area. The elder kept himself away from the Mori as he kept himself isolated working on his studies and practices. He would exhaust himself regularly due to his old age, but had the work ethic to continue on. For so long he allowed his mind to be clouded and for it the ancestors have punished him to a great degree. Falum’Lur traveled between the many caverns and found many of the ancient anvils amongst other things. He found many of these sites peculiar, having interest in such ancient ruins & relics. When he returned to the underdark ruins he found that many he acquainted with were not of his kind; not of Krug’s lineage. Though he searched through the ruins there was no place he would find Orcs to be taking shelter in. During his search he reminisced upon his life many centuries ago when he was displaced from his home after an attempted genocide on Krug’s people and the court execution of his father, Vorgo’Yar. The shaman returned to the ruins as he sought an isolated meditation. The Ancestors have possessed and punished the elder’s mind for decades with the lack of piety within himself and the iron horde. The orc compels himself to think with great difficulty as he rests his blood-red eyes while his Lur Wolf roams the lands of Failor on its own for prey. His eyes snap open and he leans onto his feet using his old but large and strong muscles and says to himself. “Mi shall raise a Temple to those who came before us. Ash dat will nub ever be wiped from duh memory of cubs and even the spirits themselves shall exalt.”

The Brathmordikan Temple of Almaris was overrun by the Mori and Duren held onto the body of a fatally wounded Ireheart dragging him closer to the city square. Before making an escape the elder Ireheart observed as the Dwed of the underground gallantly fought and with great valor able to defeat many Mori though were still being pushed back. Upon a retreat, Duren takes one look back at the Temple and witnesses a grand miracle conjured by another’s magic. A manifestation of Lord Dungrimm spilled out into the Temple slamming a large hammer upon many of the Mori causing the walls to collapse and providing time for escape. Duren glances back as he evacuates into the valley from the city and a bright light shines upon the mountain where his grand-son Balor rests. He squeezes his eyes closed from shedding a tear as he whispers a prayer for his fallen kin “ᚱᛖᛊᛏ ᛁᚾ ᛈᛖᚲᛖ ᛒᚨᛚᛟᚱ”. He hesitantly turns his body to continue the evacuation leaving his late grand-son in the care of Dungrimm. Duren and his great-grandson Balor II carrying the injured body of their Ireheart kin out of the mountains to safety. Once they reached the harbor the exhaustion from being the vanguard at the Temple finally overcame them. Some stone years later, Duren & many other of the Dwarves have reached the survival lands of Failor and established Camp Dwed to subsist despite the odds. Though many of them had not rallied for so long since the exodus. They have managed to continue their councils without even proper courts or temples. Celebrations and ale-pouring commonly occur as the camp cherishes the life spared to them by the Gods and also mourning for those who were lost. Even in the face of insecurity the Dwarves of Urguan keep to the pursuit of Yemekar, striking the earth!

Depiction of Warsovia in the summer [♪] [!] A private letter written in Lechitic and addressed to Waclaw Jakub Jazloviecki, brought to the young Count by a homing pigeon. The letter bears the seal belonging to Jan Jazloviecki, the first Count of Warsovia. ((Please do not metagame and RP the contents of this letter unless they are shared by the recipient.)) @ratlordmagic Waclaw, my dearest son, I'm sorry to have left so many things on your plate. You're still young, a bit foolish and impulsive, but I was no different when I was your age. I don't know when this letter will reach you, but I want you to know that the voyage is going smoothly. We should reach our destination soon enough. This information always comforts me in some way, but between you and me I will tell you that I have heard it so many times already that I no longer believe it. Having many days to myself, undisturbed by anyone, I decided to write this letter to let you know that my thoughts are always with you. I would like you to look at everything I have done from a slightly different perspective after reading this letter. Maybe you will notice something remarkable in this story for yourself. I was a young boy, younger than you are now, when I was forced to live through the terrors of the Harvest Revolution. I saw blood, corpses, pain and suffering of the people I called friends and family. I saw what happened to my father, what happened to my sisters and brother. Each of us was affected differently by this conflict. The revolution left a mark on me that I have never been able to shake off. Feelings of guilt, powerlessness and weakness. I felt inferior to my siblings but at the end of this road it turned out that I was the one who survived the longest. I was the one who raised up our bloodstained banner and crossed the river Petra to reach the place you now call home. It was a huge endeavour. Together with your uncle Henryk, we set up camp in the ruins. The days passed quickly but there was more work than we thought. Cleaning up the rubble, clearing the courtyard, gathering large amounts of stone, wood and other materials from which we built Kamieniec, our new home. The new seat of House Jazloviecki was nothing when compared to Grodno, but we were humble. It was not much, but it was enough for us at the time. I lived in the castle and didn't pay attention to what was around me. My family still lived in Petra. It was so foolish of me to care little about them. When they needed me most I was not there. Bianka was murdered and the wound in my heart reopened. Did I hate her? Yes. Blind pride and the belief that she could not match our father's genius caused my neglect of our relationship. By the time I wanted to fix this, it was too late. My sister was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. I don't wish you to ever have to go through such a thing in your life dear son. After this incident when I officially became the patriarch of the house, I married your mother. My life changed completely. I have always said to you, your brothers and sisters that it is family and loyalty that comes first. I still hold that view. If I can ask for anything, and I know I have been a terrible father and you may hold a grudge against me, but if there is one thing I can ask for then please take care of your siblings and stay loyal to those who gave us new life. Take what fate gives you no matter if it's better or worse than what you were getting before because there may come a day when you lose everything. Enjoy your family and what's around you while you still have it. I don't know if this voyage will end successfully, or if the merciless sea will swallow me and the crew up, but know that if this letter is the last you will ever recieve from me - I love you dearly Waclaw, my firstborn son. I am always with you. Your father,

[!] A rather scrappy missive had been planted all across Karosgrad, on every post and corner flyers spewed the streets and mailboxes. [!] The depiction of an old lady with a sharp pointy nose and a cracking smile was at the head of each letter Dear, Karosgrad I am Grand-mama Fable, or Nona Fable. I've come to spend my last days in the frigid paradise of Haense and I intend to make your life pretty happy. I am ready to meet you all. This is my formal petition. I'd like a home in the Karosgrad for free of charge. I will make Nona special treats, muffins, cakes and so much more. For free might I add. A little old lady as I am deserves such aye? In case his Majesty and the court isn't convinced, here is my information. I am ninety something and have very pretty hair. I have a walker and two working eyes. My name is Fable Ambrosia and I am everyone's hauch mamej I got good skills at cooking and I can knit. I'll feed the kids and keep the streets clean of those pesky.. whichever people we don't like so far. The spider ones aye? Sure. I'll keep em in check and I'll even keep your soldiers fed, just gotta give Nona somewhere to sleep at night. That's my deal, kids. Remember Nona is your friend. Here's my portrait in case you need to seek me out aye? Fable Annette Ambrosia Hauchmamej to all

24th of Malin's Welcome, Year 126 of The Second Age [[Art credits, left to right: @JJosey, @frankdh, @Amayonnaise, @CyyanTea , @Shi]] CELEBRATING HAELUN’OR Our silver bastion FLOURISHES once more, under the blessed guidance of Sohaer Luthien Maeyr’onn, Maheral Seth Calith and their esteemed council. And indeed, what might vivacity call for, if not a ball? In celebration of our great State, and the diligent Mali’thill that make her prosper, elHeial’thilln invites you to join us for this evening of commendation and delight. ITINERARY 🥂 - Welcoming Reception - Parade of the Weeping Blades - Ceremony of Awards - Commencement of the Ball DRESS CODE Red, White, and Silver - the colours of our nation. Invitations are extended to our allies: The Kingdom of Balian @ErikAzog The Kingdom of Norland @ichigomaster98 The Kingdom of Barrowlands @MalchediaelVult The Crown of Amaethea @JJosey The Iron Horde @DrunkPapaBear The Ashen State of Nor’Asath @ColonelKuehl1 The Most Serene State of Lurin @mika1278 [[OOC: Sunday 7th, 3pm EST/8pm BST]] Medi’ir Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya

“Could this be it?” Uruks continued to pass by her as she waited “I’m doing this for them, to restore our rightful path...finally.” “Come…” The giant Uruk-hai called to the she-Mali “A dream of darkness, was this it?” Pit…pat…tap Trickles of water began to fall upwards on the chin of the 'Solarii, she looked down to what could be the infinite void, but something rushed at her. Waves now began clashing upon her, a twister came forth dragging the elf along the ocean, the storm raged upon her surroundings. “BOROK!” she cried out, “YOU SAID TO TRUST YOU, SO HELP ME!” The ‘Solarii Princess looked around, no land in sight, no area to cling unto as she sunk under the depths, holding her breath as thunder clashed upon the waves, in it light resonated in the depths she saw something big, gargantuan. “Is that… ?” From afar the princess could see what would be a shipwreck as she fastened her self for a long swim. Upon the shipwreck she climbed and climbed up, thunder clashed upon the wrong which the ship was wedged into. The ship rocked as she took the mast, The Uruk Rex looking down on The Crown Princess ask “Is there a problem child…?” The Elf remarked with a very sarcastic tone “Problem no. Just one Issue, WHERE ARE WE?!” From her yells a sudden wave clashed upon the ship, and a giant hammerhead shark came forth in a glorious manner. “Amirz âhm lât, golug?!” (Who are you, elf?!) Thus the spirit roared, only to have the Girl retort "I wish to make a pact with you O’ Gran’grin Et-da Ma’er” The woman inquired, as she was found out of a secret, the child knew more than met the eye of the normal descendant. However, it was far from ceasy, as the spirit opened its maw, closing in on the pair, as the elfess accepted death, once more betrayed by those who she put trust in “Lât skûm ah-grîzh. Grîzh-lûb? Izg nork, lât flok.” (You smell of blood. Daughter of the Blood. I take, you give.) From it, the spirit examined the elfess with a sniff, as it asked and received a tribute to pass along the depths. “The immortal wants lat to give tribute, to offer something in exchange for power, daughter of the blood.” Thunder clashed once more as the ship began to fall, and so did she, as the she-elf braced for impact into the dark depths. From the depths, the girl saw what was a whale swimming upward to catch its meal. Thus the ‘Solarii embraced this. “Death….regret….I’m sorry my Ochem’ii” Within seconds the elf was swallowed hole and in the belly of the giant fish, however, within mere seconds she saw light, A final hope, the will to live drove her to swim faster than any person, mammal, or being in this world. And once she did she came to a cove, an aquamarine throne, and a Walking Hammerhead Shark. The Elfess' legs were jelly, she could not stand, nor walk as she attempted many times but fell to the floor, weighed down by the sea current which stuck to her calves. She fell on her knees as she looked at the spirit, The Rex in his spirit form came behind, as he sprung from the pool. “Izû hôn lât, bub’hôsh Ilzgûl. Izû thrak ah-golug. Grîzh-lûb.” ('We see you, great spirit. We bring Ember of the elves. Daughter of the Blood.') The hammerhead shark questioned, his voice coming from inside of Ember’s head. The spirit spoke in a language Ember knew not. Pondering she began to hear such spirit switch to common. “I wish to offer a part of me, to pact with you, To revive my ancestor's past, to bring back both the path of spiritualism and elements into our world.” The spirit Azmôrk, chuckled below as he now gazed the Uruk, saying a few words to him in blah. The Orkish Rex let out a snarl, annoyed. the elf turned to him asking. “Can’t be anything good, if your snarling…” The spirit huffed, her smart remarks were but inexplicable to her expense of what she came to the realm with. Her excuses were dull to him, and from it he approached the elfess. His stench reeked her nose as she tried her best to bear with it “He ask why do latz hold the power of blood.” The elf turns to the spirit, with a confident look, one also covered in fear. This was not like Kaira, nothing like her at all, instead she was dealing with soemthing more fierce, she understood the words Acria had told her before this walk, she under stood. “E’ use it to heal others, E’ used it to regrow my ears. E’ have not used it for anything more than that.” The spirit snarled and looked at Ember, as he spoke with a booming voice in their heads, but speaking Elder blah in front of them. “Kaal-Lûk âhm ah-grîzh. Hûnbûm-Lûk.” Azroth points to Borok, Ember turns “This one is a destroyer, the Blood fuels his wrath.” From it, the spirit offered his moist-gooed hand “Rise. Take my mark and receive my blessing. Spread my name far and wide as Azmôrk, elemental of the dark waters. Build me a shrine and followers to pact with me.” From such, she took his hand, as that happened, her lights fell from her head, and she sunk deeper into the darkness, as things began to feel more disconnected, however, she felt the waves now calm in her favor as Ember returned to her body Rad izû âhm âsh. (Now we are one)

The Little Witch of Wrath Art Credit: @Heartesy Ooc PSA: Soft charming noises filled an old palace crippled in the decay and ash that was left of the voidal horror. The palace once filled with a beauty that held magic at its talons and shared the life that breathed in the sky. When it fell they rebuilt. They remade the functions and built a palace ment for a prince or two. Instead creatures that lurked below chased them away. It was burned to the ground.. Than frozen into a hell that was a lot colder than any mortal would like to stand. Moirai had not rested in almost fifty years, her eyes couldn't settle closed. She was unable to sleep, to rest.. to breathe.. The creature was left in her small dimly lit palace rooms to raise her vultures. To eternally kill, to eat, and to stay cold and frozen. She in fact couldn't die or live. The monster looked though she would turn to a statue, her eyes discolored one of her mother the Witch of the north, the creature who’d caused an eternal winter. The other eye of her father, the man her mother ate while the young child had watched. She was disgusted Pristine white hair and skin grayed over with her crossed lineage the creature looked frozen in time. there she’d stood a statue in her own baren kingdom. She would’ve stood there forever. had the voices gone dormant for so long that she could. “Tashnal Bhrun” The voice’s words would be a nail deranged and scraping at the ends of a chalkboard with a crisp whine. However to the frozen creature the words were a reminder of the choice she hadn't made. “TASHNAL BHRUN” The voice sounded louder banging against the steel ice caves of the monster’s mind “I am no longer the youngest.” The creature spoke to the voice; her tone was a careful anger storming in a field of snow. “I am in fact an ELDER” she hissed out her talons wrapping around a thin beam holding a iron cage up to the ceiling The room shuddered a silence had crept into the palace once more “You cannot run Bhrun” The voice sounded firm knowing and willful “I cannot or I will not?” She asked her tone, sliding into a more passive manner the discolored creature hunched over with frazzled white hair stood straighter, a shift taking over her form and leaving behind a beautiful elfess with skin that looked like smoke and eyes brighter than the ocean and skyline. The frazzled hair settled into unruly curls that wrapped around her arms and filled her face with definition. “Do not speak to me unless you intend to finish the conversation” she muttered while swinging her clawed hand towards an old wardrobe. “Serhiem has fallen Tashnal Bhrun, You are the princess of nothing” The little creature standing around 5’7 looked up as though the voice was not in her own head “I was never the princess of Serhiem. Ma’ wishes to see me follow her steps. I wish not to.” She sounded like a young teenager, defiant and wishing to prove something. “Tashnal Bhrun you grow hateful.” “I am not the youngest witch!” she protested flinging her hand and fishing out a set of robes that shared a blue and white coloration dancing freely at her form “Return.” the voice demanded its words impossibly loud dancing around Moirai’s head “I will not kill anymore, I am through with that. I will eat what is provided I will not murder I didn't choose this!” she hissed out stomping her foot on the ground letting out an irritated yell “I would rather STARVE then let mother win.” she screamed the halls of the palace shuttering slightly at the drastic yell “You’d live in denial than chase what you wish” “Think that as you will, we had an agreement” the woman mustered out a few scowles “Azunul” “I'm the selfish one now?” she asked cursing under the little air in the castle There was silence. Moirai's gaze closed and the wind was still, she had not consumed air in almost a decade. “Is she really dead.. the ome’ii?” asked the immortal creature “Kex” There was a long moment where nothing was said and the creature’s mind lay baren of voices. She spoke her words with a soft and careful attention “I wish to be more powerful than her, I will take her power.. I will take her people, I will become what she will fear.” the witch spoke her voice not faltering once “Then wake up” The witch’s nose wrinkled up as a small flurry of cold air brushed against the creaking palace snow began to trail down the water’s slowing into a frozen wasteland the charred tattoo’s along the creatures arms and legs glowing a white then blue the snow was coating the palace it must’ve been. “Al’ Tashnal Bhrun zu’ pzym” “Ulde” “Dektu” “Vorkuhz” The witch opened her eyes before her were the last remnants of the palace, looking as though they had been tarnished and destroyed for many many years. There was no snow, there was no ice, there was a barren world and a dangerous creature which had been let out into the open once more. The woman looked like a beautiful embodiment of death. She looked calm, as she took in a breath her glare pinned startlingly to a monster next to her, coiled in smoke and a dusty ash. The monster looked like a bird, a vulture’s shape with talons twice the size of a large one. The monster looked at the witch and the frozen creature looked back. “Ulde al’ pzymzol.” Moirai stated her eyes turning into a dim blue, the beautiful discoloration similar to a cat dissipated leaving behind no trace of the mortality she often pretended to have. Moirai had awoken, a terrible fate the world would share Ooc Translations: Ooc notes:

ESSAY ON THE PERSEVERANCE OF FAITH Vasili Valic I pray to Sigismund, for we live in a time like his. We Adrians are not the august lords of one great empire, as was Godfrey, we are not mythic icons of the ideal as Horen, and we are not yet redeemed as Owyn. Like Sigismund, we live in a time of low moral authority, of a humanity fractured and compromised in the absence of what once was. I have been blessed by my father, Velislav, with the great histories of our people, what was once known as Ruska or the great Raevir. I may be off base, as subject to the many hundreds of years ago I write of and the erosion of time, but nevertheless in such trying times I must try to use this gift to the advantage of common Adrian, especially those in doubt of their conscience. I can understand the sentiments of those souls, some more forgivable than others, which would receive the actions of our crooked Pontiff, and our occupied Canonist faith, as a sign of its death. These folk would believe schism is the option in the face of excommunication, that because our Pontiff is fallible, so is our belief. One must never forget that Godfrey's immediate descendants abandoned Oren in its hour of need against the Kingdom of Urguan. Though rectified some decades later through the Imperium Tertius, it was his exodus and its shadow in which Sigismund lived, in a humanity subjugated by non-humans. We do not exalt Sigismund for his reign, but his restoration. It was Sigismund who, in the face of a humanity that failed, decided not to abandon its faith in decline, but who reunited mankind under one cause, from Flotsam to Abresi, to restore the agency of humanity to its own hand. It is Sigismund's translations of the scrolls that from which our faith descends in its identity. Those who would seek to remove him from the annals of the Canon would be doing so for the purpose of illiterate megalomania, unaware that the truths they preach even against his name were written by his pen. We live in a time of Dragons and Ghouls, Vampires and other ilk; each side of the current conflict would have you believe the other is their agent. I do not believe either to be true. However, there is not a settlement in the world today which does not harbor the ill omens of undeath or immortal pacts with daemons. Humanity then is subjugated as it was then in Sigismund’s time. We are in a stasis, a vacuum of moral direction plagued by the absence of one just goal. We must think like Sigismund at this time. We must not abandon Canonism simply because there are those within it who are mortally villainous, for it is our unified faith of Humanity. We need not schism ourselves from the world simply because it wants us to. We are human, like any other, and we are, in Adria, the true and eldest heirs to Carrion. Alongside it, we carry the indomitable spirit of freedom and rectitude that has seen it burn in the face of unholy tyranny time and time again. I speak to you Adrians, to pray to the restorer of moral rectitude once more in our time of excommunication. We must not entertain these crooked souls who know neither victory nor defeat, hiding behind their walls for perpetuity while they strangle our faith to death. We must fight for our faith. We must liberate Canonism, not send it to hospice. We must liberate our identity and right titles from the Hansetian menace, not consign them to their perpetual torment under its roof. Do not resign your beliefs simply because others wish you to. Affirm them in spite of this.

[!] A simple note is pinned to the notice tree of Bywater “T’is time to harvest the fields! All of our ploughing, planting, and weeding labors have led up to this moment! Grab your scythe and make Bywater proud!” ((8 pm est, today on Monday the 27th of March, 2023))