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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))

The Adrian Declaration of Independence Copies of the missive would be pinned to notice boards around Almaris. To the good Canonists of the world and the people of Adria, The imperialist ambitions of the Aaunic Crown have set within their heads a maddened frenzy. Seeing enemies in all shadows, they have laid their cruel eyes upon us, the good, fair people of Adria, those who have held the southern border while the King of Aaun has sat without an army. Those who have brought trade and life to the kingdom while the streets of the capital remain empty. Those who have invigorated a spirit of Dumacracy and popular government while the central crown seeks to lord over the vassals that keep it afloat. We say no more. Adria has no designs to support the ambitions of the Aaunic King. We simply wish to keep to our own lives, tend to our own crops, and allow our own city to prosper. We wish to leave the world alone and have the world leave us alone, but it is the King of Aaun that wishes to use our blood and toil to expand his realm. He and his council have hardly laid eyes on our prosperous city of Velec, yet from it they desire the plunder that we had already given the kingdom as a whole. With this document, we formally secede from the Kingdom of Aaun so that we may be allowed to rule ourselves, with our customs and traditions unmolested by a Crown that does not care for Adria and its people. We will govern ourselves so that we may be allowed to continue our peaceful growth and prosperity. We have already bested them once in battle as they attempted to storm our city. Another time, as we marched upon the walls of Minitz, they cowered and hid. Our enemy fears us because they have no love or loyalty from their own. Unlike the Alstions, who sought at every turn to use the Sinners’ War as a springboard to launch their ambitions for the Imperial Crown of Philip III, we seek no empire. Unlike the Alstions, who provoked conflict with Haense on numerous occasions, especially during the reign of King Karl III, we have no quarrel with the northmen. Unlike the Alstions, who covet our wealth and strength because of their lack of it, we now build our future with our own hands. Unlike the Alstions, who attempted to plot with rogue agents within Adria to turn the city of Velec over to them, we stand with the people of Adria in defense of our livelihoods. Let it be known that we seek no war with the kingdom and simply request that we be released peacefully from our oaths of vassalage. However, should the King of Aaun desire to march on Adria and burn it, then we will make to the walls of his capital and unseat him. Those who join our ranks will be justly rewarded, while those who remain neutral will go unharmed by our armies. Come what must, We shall see the storm through

By order of Princess Sofia de Pelear of Ciudad de Plata a Notif of Dama de Honor has been issued for Senorita Isidora Adella Antúnez The first trial has been issued for one such Isidora Antúnez entrance into the position of Dama de Honor for Princess Sofia de Pelear of Ciudad de Plata. The role is a hefty one, though it comes with perks of the trade, should you go on to pass all three. During this time, the Viceroyal family will be watching the girls actions to see if she’d be a good fit and look forward to what may come of this all. The first trial is this; Plan, coordinate and host an event that will fit your perspective Princess standards. The rules are this, it must be within Ciudad de Plata. You may have assistance, within reason. An invite must be sent out to the public as a whole. Should you accept this first trial, come in person to state your intentions. May DIOS guide you! Viva Hyspia! Signed, Her Highness, Sofia de Pelear, Princess of Hyspia

The Belief of Spectivism [!] Spirits of the dead approaching The Spirit Realm. The Religion’s Origins A fair bit of the Calavénon believe in a vague and relatively old belief of the remembrance of spirits since before they landed upon the shores of any continent. They’ve always had hopes and beliefs that nobody was truly gone once they died. During their long sea voyage searching for land, many Alurians had to leave the dead floating in the sea, having only their memories of them to hold onto. As the situation grew direr, the large Alurian fleet was separated, and the survivors wished to honour those who didn’t make it by creating a shrine. Lighting a candle for them, and if they could, adding the deceased’s possessions or perhaps a depiction of sorts. No matter if it was a simple stick figure or a painting. The Lady of Spirits [!] A painted depiction of the Lady of Spirits with grand nature spirits. None truly know what the Eos was like before The Lady of Spirits. Some believe there was nothing at all; others believe the world was barren before her arrival. All that is known is that once she arrived, Existence itself began to thrive. She was still, at the beginning, settling herself to have three powerful children during this calm moment of her existence. The parents of all grand spirits like themselves. The first child is known to mortals as the sky, surrounding Eos with winds. The second child is known as land, raising scapes from mountains to forests to be. Then the third and final child from The Lady herself is known as the sea, filling the cracks and crevices between the landmasses land had left behind with sparkling blue water. These children are the fathers and mothers of everything after themselves, ranging from the lava flowing within volcanoes to the birds soaring in the sky. Once these three children were born, The Lady of Spirits wandered about Eos. Filling the continents of the world with magic, predating even the first elves. And during this, she also created a realm for the spirits of the deceased to reside in, referred to by mortals as ‘The Spirit Realm.’ However, where there is creation, there is also destruction. Such as being the sister of The Lady of Spirits, The Mistress of Darkness. The Mistress of Darkness [!] A painting of The Mistress of Darkness and her spirit lantern. The Mistress of Darkness is said to have been born around the same time as her sister, The Lady of Spirits. However, unable to assist her sister in creation due to her lack of ability to ‘create’ children as The Lady had done, she became the first manifestation of darkness Eos had ever known. For she was darkness. Jealous of her sister’s children, she used her powers to corrupt the minds and stole the spirits of many; she was too weak to corrupt grand spirits, so she settled for manipulating the lesser spirits of mortals. When a corrupted mortal’s physical body dies, they are unable to enter The Spirit Realm, their spirits trapped in the glowing lantern of The Mistress. The Spirits of the Deceased [!] A painted interpretation of The Spirit Realm. Once a mortal perishes, their body keeps hold of their spirit until it fully rots or somehow disappears, releasing their spirit to permit entry into The Spirit Realm. It is for this reason that the cremation of bodies after death is a common practice, so a deceased spirit may more swiftly enter this realm. There is a way for mortals to attempt to contact their deceased loved ones. However, that is through a festival called The Night of Spirits. The Night of Spirits [!] Messenger lanterns flying into the air for The Lady’s eldest child to help guide them to The Spirit Realm. The Night of Spirits is a colourful festival, one with food and laughter to celebrate the travels of the deceased into The Spirit Realm rather than lament over the loss of loved ones. During this celebration, those participating dress in their finest clothing, donning a mask upon their face as well. As the festival comes to a close, everyone lights a candle, placing it into a lantern for it to travel through the sky’s domain in hopes that the grand spirit, the eldest child of The Lady of Spirits, will guide these lanterns into The Spirit Realm. These lanterns often have messages written inside of them for the deceased to receive, knowing their loved ones still remember them and shall one day join them. Marriage Practices [!] The lit candles of a newlywed couple burning brightly. When a Calavénon and their partner wish to conjoin in marriage they must light a candle to symbolise their union. Both families would bring a candle the colour of their Coat Of Arms. For the Calavénon, their candle would be a teal or cyan colour. Normally this candle would be passed down throughout the family, re-adding wax to keep it growing and attaching a new wick whenever needed. It's understandable if the other family wouldn't have a traditional candle to pass down. Once both families present their candles and light the candle after their vows it will then decide if they are destined for each other, if the candle stays lit then the couple may marry however if the candle should go out for any reason then they are not meant to be. Once the candle has been lit it must then stay lit and if it at any point goes out then its destined for the couples love to also dwindle. After the marriage the wedding can proceed to festivities which tend to include food and alcohol of different varieties. Games are also quite common such as a game which is similar to hide and seek, all must try and find the bride within the confinds of whichever nation she is to be wed at. If they are unlucky in finding the bride it is customary to pay her 50 mina for each participant as a sign of good luck in her marriage. Typically after marriage the wed-to-be's surname would be hyphenated regardless of gender. A dowry is also quite common where the bride and groom's family are to give the bride land or money to take care of each other and acquire cattle and such. Light coloured lily’s should be planted around the altar of the bride and groom to symbolise prosperity, marigolds can also be planted to symbolise good luck for the family. In terms of attire when it comes to the ceremony it's traditional for the Calavénon family to don the Coat Of Arms colours which is typically cyan. The other family isn't required to don their coat of arms colours however it is HEAVILY suggested or else they will recieve side eyes and various glares from the family.

Calavénon Talonnii Talonnii History The Calavénon's have continuously proven to be a rather versatile talonnii. Always have they been willing to reform and evolve to adapt to a particular environment, but never have they lost sight of who they are whilst doing such. They take pride in the fact that no matter what obstacle or string of challenges may cross their path, no matter who or what may stand in their way, they will always manage to find a way to overcome it. Today, they continue to walk the lands of Almaris hand-in-hand, closely knit, and never to be divided. The Talonnii had its start within Elvenesse - or, what is known today as the Crown of Amaethea. Their bloodline is derived from the very Illitian elves that inhabited the lands, and after moving on from the luscious soils of the mali'ame, the Calavénon's sought to live within the Kingdom of Oren, where they were quick to become Nobility, and later on, came to lead Selestia. Despite their humble beginnings within Elvenesse, it is safe to say that Selestia is truly where the talonnii began to cement themselves. Then came the Monarch Vivian, the past monarch of Vortice, who evicted the lands granted by Gail Cordius. The County of Selestia, after Jakob Castington and his people were wrongfully evicted and accused of not paying taxes to the Monarch, decided to rebrand as the city of Ando-Alur. Jakob Castington, alongside five Dark elves came to discuss the founding of a new state after what became of their old County, where born from the disunity present within their brand of elves at the present time. The meeting was long, many plans discussed and thrown out before they settled on a state freely accepting all, including Magicians - a stark contrast to all previous Dark Elven establishments. They decided on a location within the High Elven borders to settle, creating a city boasting a warm and friendly environment. The first Ando Alur city was led as a Princedom, by Prince Vulnir Syllar, and Prince Jakob Castington, with a council beneath them. Though small at first, the city began to slowly gain traction with its values - inevitably leading to the further gathering of allies and new residents. However, not all was easy; creatures of the depths soon rose from the waters that surrounded the city. The solution to this seemingly never-ending swarm of monsters was one used before, so long ago in previous realms, it was almost forgotten as a possibility; the use of a Voidal Tear. With Mages from across the continent gathered, enough energy was collected to punch a hole into the magical realm, causing a never-ending flow of magical energy. This was utilized by those gathered in order to enchant the city itself, tearing it from the earth and into the sky - safe from the monsters below. But of course, all good things must come to an end. After circumstances that were once lost to time, much like the history of the ancient elves, the family has at long last chosen to reclaim their lost history. They are doing so by adopting their true family name, ‘Calavénon,’ to honour those who came in times before them. Physical Traits and Appearances The Calavénon are in the juncture between housing leaner mali and bulker mali. There is naught the pressure to pick one path when it comes to militaristic and arcane matters - for was it not Ando-Alur who accepted both with open arms? More often than not a child of the Calavénon lineage will be born with varying shades of crimson and auburn for hair, the few that do not have paler ashy blond(e) locks. In terms of eye colour the Calavénon are often seen sporting lovely shades of blue or green - rarely is there a Calavénon with gold or purple pigment within their iris’, but it is not a phenomenon that is unheard of. Traditions A Candle's Flame - The ancient ceremony of intertwining fates is a festivity the Calavénon take rather seriously, but despite this, the day is bound to be full of entertaining games and delectable treats. Whilst the ceremony is in motion, the to-be-weds are expected to bring with them a candle - one adorning the signature hues of that individual's talonii. It is these candles that they will be setting alight. Once the vows have been shared should the flame of either one of the candles blow out for any reason, it would signify the union unsuccessful and bound to fail in the near future. It is considered shameful and is looked down upon by the Calavénon's should the wedding persist after such a phenomenon. At Twilight - The death of a Calavénon is truly a sorrowful occasion. The aching feeling of losing a loved one, losing blood is a circumstance never to be wished upon anyone who walks these lands. To honour those who they lost, the talonnii will cremate the lost loved one in a ritual. The ritual is held outdoors at twilight, and notably, beneath a clear sky. In order for the ritual to be complete, the ashes are scattered, to be either taken away into the wind, or upon lanterns up into the sky. Whichever one is chosen is based on what the deceased was said to have preferred. It is believed that the light of the sun and the moon together will guide the spirits of their loved ones to a better place. The Night of Spirits - A celebration to commemorate their loved ones - living or dead. It is a festivity open for all where attendees will be asked to dress in their finest garments and adorn a mask. To bring the festivities to a close, any who wish to participate will write a note and place it within lanterns that will be provided by the talonnii - these lanterns will then be sent into the sky with hopes that The Grand Spirit will guide the lanterns into The Spirit Realm for the deceased to receive. Boozy Bazaar - The Calavénon talonnii is known for their exquisite wines and other fruity beverages. As such, every so often, the talonnii has made it tradition to host various festivities to celebrate their success in this industry - this festivity in particular being their 'Boozy Bazaar' where people will come together to enjoy their drinks. A fan-favourite game within this event is 'Quip or Drink', where participants will be asked a question that they must answer or be forced to drink. Family Tree https://www.familyecho.com/?p=START&c=138r4dlxhfi&f=604347530538248458

[!] Representation of lavishly adorned coronation day halls The moment has come to lay aside the generation and elect a new leader, The Republic of Vikela's Paramount deserves a full celebration and coronation, which is now. One that the previous paramount never experienced, a sigh of relief within the realm, the bright optimism that the river will wash away the doubts as the roots are washed anew. This Grand Harvest, the coronation will take place in the courtroom of the Vemvane Ardrossan Castle. Following the coronation, the new Paramount will offer a brief address, to start their first day a festival will be held within the gate to square to celebrate. As long as goodwill is maintained, all are invited to the coronation. Please be mindful that everyone will be searched at the gate. VALLLO TOUJOU COURI VALLHIUW Her Grace, Leika Juno De Astrea, Paramount , Duchess of Ardrossan. Princess of Abrhami, La Renarde of Uhierie The Council of Vikela

THE UNION OF WHITE LION AND WAR HORSE [!] A Silhouette of depiction of Princess Verónica Frisketa Isabella Maria Lucia Elisabetta de Pelear and Lord Audo Weiss No one saw this coupling as a surprise, except for the betrothed until a few years back. It is with the purest delight that House Weiss and House de Pelear announce the union of their two prestigious families with the marriage of Audo Weiss and Verónica de Pelear: an alliance that will last till the end of bloodlines. Dress Code: No White or blue unless given explicit permission The Wedding and Reception The wedding itself will take place within the Church of Blessed Francisco and will see the two joined together in holy matrimony under the light of GOD. A Secret Event There will be an event held within the bull ring. Though that will be withheld till the day of! Should you wish to know what it is, you must attend A Ball Once the secret event comes to its conclusion, the guests remaining will head to the Hyspia Palace so they may enjoy various drinks, and food being offered, including, but not limited to spicy food competition. followed by gifts for the married couple, and general dancing and merriment Time, Date, and Location The Wedding is open to all that wish to attend Formal Invitations Are Sent To; In No Particular Order: His Majesty, Georg I of Haense and his Citizenry of Haense Duke Aleksandr var Ruthern and his esteemed Pedigree Duke Wilheim Barclay and his esteemed Pedigree Countess Johanne Vuiller and her esteemed Pedigree Countess Carice von Augusten and her esteemed Pedigree Viscount Baldrum Colborn and his esteemed Pedigree Viscountess Theodeta Darkwood and her esteemed Pedigree Baron Gaius Rosius var Ruthern and his esteemed Pedigree Ser Vladimir var Ruthern and his esteemed Pedigree Dame Giovanna Barclay and her esteemed Pedigree Lord Alphonse August Barclay Lady Alexandra Emília Barclay Ser Wyn Larian and his esteemed Pedigree Ser Milonir of Whitehall Bishop Iosif and his esteemed Pedigree Firr Mira’Roui and his esteemed Pedigree His Lordship, Alejandro de Arena and his esteemed Pedigree Firress Iskra Firress Liadain The Novar Household The Santos Househod

SUMMONS TO GRAND DUMA OF ADRIA | 1913 6th day of Harren’s Folly of 1912 TO THE DUCHY OF ADRIA The dumacratic values of Adria are considered sacred and the bedrock upon which our Adria was founded. Since the times of Duke Franz I Vladov, Adria has distinguished itself for its progressive values and integrative vision of a Duchy established not on the despotism of hitherto Savoyard or Horenic polities but instead on that of compromise and unity through differentiating ideas. As Duke of Adria, it behooves me to recognize the people's will and give them ample capacity to advise on the governance of Adria. Thus I summon the Grand Duma of Adria so that we continue to forge our shared vision of prosperity and stability. Heinrik Otto var Nikolai Sarkozic THE DUMA IS SUMMONED UNDER THIS ITINERARY 5PM EST SUNDAY 2/26/23 IN NOMINE ADRIAE His Grace, Heinrik I Sarkozic, Duke of Adria, Count of Veletzia, Count-Consort of Aldersberg, Protector of the Aaunic South, Keeper of the Swans

Aylwin Blaxton (Naumarian: Alvin Blakton) was a Haeseni courtier and diplomat serving the majority of the life under the service of the Amador family, as well as numerous ambassador positions. He is most notable for his ‘Memoirs of Aylwin Blaxton’, an autobiographical account of his life. His memoirs record a typically shunned part of history, revealing the complicated political scene of the Marian court and the struggles and exploits of the Haeseni émigrés during the Coalition Wars and brief occupation period. Later in his life, Aylwin settled in Pruvia and retained high positions in the principality and died shortly before the Pruvian Inheritance to King Stefan of Haense. (OOC: Full credit to @MarquisAlex who wrote all of this, posting this for easier access. Links to his originals below: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/157760-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-1/?tab=comments#comment-1492858 https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/157915-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-2/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/158112-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-3/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/158744-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-4/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/158822-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-5/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/159307-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-6/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/161235-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-7/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/157760-the-memoirs-of-aylwin-blaxton-book-8/ ) --- THE MEMOIRS OF AYLWIN BLAXTON WRITTEN BY THE HAND OF AYLWIN BLAXTON PUBLISHED BY HIEROMAR LUDOVAR THE ELDER, SSE --- BOOK I BOOK II BOOK III BOOK IV BOOK V BOOK VI BOOK VII BOOK VIII

THE COMITAL BAN OF AMELIA IEKAMI Penned by the Komes of Warsovia, Wiktor Jazloviecki on 6th of Sun's Smile 1910 [ ♪ ] To all people who live in the Aaunic region of Merryweather, For years our family has fraternised with the Iekami family, who come from Yong Ping. My grandfather Borys gave them his friendship and trust. Over the years they have helped us with our work, helped by building, making, and fighting. But in any relationship, even the best one, there are stumbling blocks. Small ones that can be forgiven, but also larger ones that take longer to forgive. Unfortunately, Amelia Iekami, daughter of Genkai Iekami has committed too many offences to be able to seek forgiveness. By order of Count Jan I Jazloviecki - Amelia Iekami, on behalf of House Jazloviecki and those of Iekami family who remain alive, is accused of patricide, and a number of other murders committed on the territory of the former Margraviate of Lvinsk. She is also accused of causing her younger brother, Makoto Iekami, to lose his sight during an attempted murder of his person, in front of the capital city of Vienne in the presence of many witnesses. Amelia Iekami is wanted dead or alive by County authorities, any information is of value and should be brought to the County's attention. In addition to that, there is a reward for bringing her in: 150 Mina if she is brought dead, 250 Mina if she is brought to the County alive, or 50 Mina for any information that may lead to her arrest. Signed, Wiktor Jazloviecki, Komes of Warsovia

An enchanting white-stone estate sits in solitude high up on a cliffside, High Elven architecture is evident, upon first glance of the costly estate. Vines and foliage run up and down the sides and curl around the railing of the front porch and grandiose balcony which overlooks the sea with its methodically crashing waves. A single platinum blonde haired elfess walks through the foyer in a barely peach dyed, shoulderless, tulle dress which comes down just above her ankles. She meanders barefoot through the halls, a bottle of exotic wine in her right hand. Her hair falls carelessly, beachy, waves down her back and flows with weight with each swaying step she took. Dainty pieces of silver jewelry, a collection of necklaces primarily, sparkled each time the sunlight broke through the windowpanes and landed upon them. She’d raise her free hand, well-pampered still, up to drag some of her manicured digits against the lavishly papered wall on her left. Her eyes drifted about her surroundings as a somber expression took over her features, bags hung beneath her eyes like another accessory. Overhead, a trio of pygmy dragons black, green, and copper, flew by. They’d nip and lurch at one another as they played with no acknowledgement of the elfess; and she didn’t bat an eye at them either. She progressed into a large dining room, the silverware and other place settings sat seemingly untouched and collecting dust for quite some time. Two larger chairs were at either end of the table and as she approached the one closest to her she’d then bring her fingers to trace the crushed velvet cushion. A shudder ran through her body and she calmed her nerves with a harty swig from the bottle she toted around. “I always hated the way these came out…” she’d snark to herself, her eyes landing upon a dark wooden hutch filled with the fine dishes and cutlery. “You never would’ve let me host any guests, so I guess those are the biggest ruse in this whole place.” She’d take another swig followed by a crunched of her face, it tasted horrible, but she’d run out of everything she liked long, long, ago. Memories swirled through her mind of her aunt, Illidar, an alcoholic by definition. The two of them sat in front of a campfire as she listened to the war stories of her mother and aunt. Illidar drank to numb the pain she learned, because as much as they tried, they could never forget. The tenebrous tortured them all in different ways. Her mother became a psychotic doll of Adorellan, her aunt became tortured with nightmares that made her relive her darkest days, and she herself would’ve fallen somewhere in the middle of their footsteps if not freed. She believed it might’ve been fate that she befell similar boons as her ancestors, and always wondered, if she’d never left the desert, what would’ve become of her? A slave to a Dark Shaman wasn’t glitz and glam, but he treated her more like a trophy than a possession. He saved her from the same fate that befell her aunt that night, and a part of her would always be grateful for that. Another part of her would always feel responsible for what happened to Illidar. After her father pulled her from the burned ruins of the desert compound, they ventured off to Haelun’or. She remembers the first time she’d ever laid eyes on it - the royal blues and stark white columns. He went on and on about her birthright, Uthiress to the Silver City, but her father came and went just as quick as his titles. Alone at the doorstep of another foreign place full of foreign people and an even more foreign culture, she ventured into the next chapter of chaos. “I remember being celebrated for my beauty and fiery personality, but they shamed you for seeing me as more than an idol.” Glimpses of a hundred letters flashed through her mind, all to her twin sister, who went off with Leniel when they parted ways. A hundred letters handwritten with the finest parchment and the most expensive ink. A hundred letters, but not a single response. Her eyes welled up and a finger rose to prevent any falling tears. She may be alone here, physically, but nothing could compare to the loneliness she felt those days. Keledan was the shining sun after the hurricane to her. When he arrived in her life it was loud and soul-shaking, anxiety inducing at times, but he had her hooked from the start. It was magnetic, or so she’d thought. One of the little dragons, the black scaled one, landed on the back of the chair she stood beside and chirped to her - breaking her from the trance momentarily. She smiled sheepishly to the creature, running a curved digit down the back of its head. She moved out of the dining room and into an off section of the home. The addition was intensely lit with large, beautifully done, stained glass windows and the room was littered with art supplies. Easels with countless unfinished paintings, two body forms with scrapes of draping fabric pinned to the bodice, and a black iron stand with brown stained music sheets rested before a dust covered guitar which rested against the wall. Her eyes briefly danced between each corner of the room, a sigh escaping her lips as she’d noticed a wilting plant - it’s brown, shriveled leaves, turning to dust over time and lack of watering. She’d move to a white leather couch in the middle of the room, which faced the staircase which led up to the second floor. She’d rest herself at the edge, reaching for a half-smoked cigarette from the overflowing ashtray on the glass table before her. One of the dragons, the green-scaled one, landed onto the table with a ‘clink’ from his claws. She’d bring the butt to her lips and with a flick of her right ear, the end would ignite and a puff of thin smoke billowed upward. Inhaling slowly and blowing the smoke out, her eyes narrowed on the creature. “I know, I know, save it. Let me have this one thing.” The creature let out a huff, and so did she as her eyes rolled dramatically and she rose back to her feet. “I’ll go outside to smoke, how ironic.” The elfess dragged herself up the spiral staircase, sneaking another puff as she did so. At the top she’d reached the master bedroom which was disheveled; torn pillows and feathers littered the floor, the large mirror which hung as the backsplash to the bed was shattered to pieces from damage in multiple places, and the chandelier was turn down from the ceiling and dazzling crystals were everywhere. To the left was a double set of doors which were slightly ajar, leading to the balcony which looked over the sea, and that’s where she ended up. She leaned her body forward over the railing and her eyes peered down to the drop below. There were many nights where she had to talk herself off this ledge, tears and makeup running down her face, her mind filled with misery and madness. “Maybe one day, you’ll start slipping slowly… and find me again.”

[!] A note is pinned to the Bywater notice tree Preparing The Year's Harvest! A new year has come, and with it, a new set of duties for us to carry out if we are to remain faithful to Knox, our patron, and keep our stock of food fresh and topped off! My hope for this year is to bring in a record harvest using all of our new equipment and more experienced workforce. May the grains never stop flowing! Next Pumpkin Day, we shall plough the fields. After that, we are to plant seeds upon them, harrow them with rakes, weed them, fertilize them, take care of them, and harvest them at year's end! There is much to be done! ~Mimosa Applefoot, Mayor of Bywater, home of the halflings ((Event tomorrow at 8 PM EST on Thursday the 26th of January, 2023, located within Bywater, the home of the halflings. Directions: ))

[!] You find a note pinned to the Quest board of Bywater Clear 'em Out! ~Bywater adventurers gathered in the ol' sewers~ I believe I've found the Arugulean Cultists' lair deep within the mountains. If we gather some adventurers to clear out these foul spooks and evil-worshippers, we may have another prolonged peace in Bywater! Any adventurers answering the call to defeat this evil will be rewarded well! ~Mayor Mimosa Applefoot. ((7 PM EST, Friday the 2oth of January, 2023))

SUMMONS TO GRAND DUMA OF ADRIA | 1906 13th day of Sigismund's End of 1906 TO THE DUCHY OF ADRIA The dumacratic values of Adria are considered sacred and the bedrock upon which our Adria was founded. Since the times of Duke Franz I Vladov, Adria has distinguished itself for its progressive values and integrative vision of a Duchy established not on the despotism of hitherto Savoyard or Horenic polities but instead on that of compromise and unity through differentiating ideas. As Duke of Adria, it behooves me to recognize the people's will and give them ample capacity to advise on the governance of Adria. Thus, I summon the inaugural Grand Duma of Adria so that we continue to forge our shared vision of prosperity and stability. Heinrik Otto var Nikolai Sarkozic THE DUMA IS SUMMONED UNDER THIS ITINERARY OATHS OF CONFRATERNITY Once all members of the free and open assembly are seated, an inaugural Oath of Confraternity. The Assembling Horn will be plugged and wine and spirits poured in. All those who drink heartily from it will be known thenceforth as friends and brothers of the Grand Duma and are entitled to a vote and an audience. VALIDATION OF THE FRANCISAN ARTICLES It is the hereditary duty of the Duke and Duma to validate the Franciscan Articles of Adria, the most hallowed of Adriatic governing documents. Though some argue the Duke, by his authority, may promulgate such unilateral declarations, those are wrong, for the power of the Duchy lies inherently in the Duma itself, to which all are subject. Thus the Duma itself must declare the Franciscan Articles so that none may misinterpret the genesis of power. CONSIDERATION OF THE EDICT OF ROSEMOOR The Ducal Seat wishes the Grand Duma to consider the application of the Edict of Rosemoor unto the Duchy, formally allowing women to stand for election to the position of Duke of Adria and its inherent titles on equal grounds so told they qualify under the electoral laws of the Franciscan Articles. ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE DUCAL SEAT The Duke will give multiple announcements regarding the welfare of the Duchy of Adria and updates on Ducal affairs. Furthermore, it is the duty of the Duke to regularly inform the Duma of Adria of preeminent business within the Duchy. PETITIONS TO DUKE AND DUMA & GENERAL PROPOSALS Concluding the business of the Grand Duma will be for any to petition the Duma or the Duke regarding the business of the Duchy OR issue for Duma consideration. IN NOMINE ADRIAE His Grace, Heinrik I Sarkozic, Duke of Adria, Count of Veletzia, Baron-Consort of Aldersberg, Protector of the Aaunic South, Keeper of the Swans

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ THE BURNING OF WHITEHALL ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I: THE GLUTTONY IN DARK One hundred minas. Seax. Father’s old gambeson. Scarf. Favorite fur hat, woven by mother. Silent as a fox, the pig-nosed, chubby young lad prepared this bundle of small possessions in the dim light of the slowly dying hearth fire set by mother. Enough was enough, and Milonir of Whitehall could tolerate no more. Tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of little Milonir’s life. He would prove to his father and everyone who laughed at him that he was a real man, and a true warrior. Papa would see, they’d all see. But now was the time rest. Not without second supper, of course. See, it had been a habit of Milonir’s for the last few years to collect a second serving of supper after mother and father had fallen asleep. They certainly knew, on account of young Milonir’s drastic weight gain. Mother, at least, said little about it. Father on the other hand, was not so silent about his disdain for Milonir’s weight, and often made sport of the subject. Vegetable soup again. He had done this a million times; harking the leftovers and cleaning plates when no one was looking. Perhaps it was because it was late, or perhaps he was too comfortable with his habit. Milonir, careless as he was, had managed to knock over the pot of soup. While this alone would be cause for some small concern, the loss of second dinner was not what caused the horrified expression overtaking his visage. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ II: THE FOOL OF FLAME He had not only managed to spill his second dinner, but a number of coals too at the base of father’s clan tapestry. And to punish him for his gluttony, gods beyond his control saw it fit that the tapestry was to be set ablaze before he could act. Milonir could only stare in panicked horror as the tapestry that had been in his father’s clan for generations was devoured by intense, contagious flames. What could he do against such an enraged flame? The blaze would claim not only this prized tapestry, but now soared to the thatching of their home. The thatch house began to cough sparks in all directions like an angry blacksmith pounding away at an anvil. Growing, growing, growing. Completely optionless, despaired Milonir hurried out of the shabby little thatch home as fast as his pubescent legs would take him. It was surprising in this state that he was even able to manage that. A good distance away from the home, Milonir froze in abject, paralyzing horror at the sight before him. Everything he knew, all of his memories, and his very childhood were set ablaze in the inferno. His family raggedly stumbled outside, awoken from the commotion and smoke. Mother and father, covered in ash and coughing, doggedly made for Milonir’s side. Mother, through her infinite love, appeared confused, betrayed, completely heartbroken. Father’s expression told a different story. The bleeding emotions of righteous rage, betrayal, and a satisfying confirmation that he was right gripped his visage. The family blade gripped within his white knuckles told it all. No words were exchanged, yet Milonir squeaked “No, no,” barely mustering the words. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ III: THE COWARD'S WAY OUT Panic overtook him, and Milonir backed away from his kin, like a desperate, cornered animal. Run. All he could do was run. With his bundle of possessions under his armpit, Milonir escaped into the pale, cold moonlight. Not stopping to look back at the product of his foolishness, Milonir noticed a much brighter orange glow out of the corner of his eye. Whitehall burned. His legs carried him as far as they would. Echoes throughout the valley could be heard; panicked voices familiar to Milonir, and the thundering masses of timber that fell in on themselves. They slowly dissipated until all was silent and dark. Run. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Whitehall burns. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ IV: THE ACCIDENT It was an accident. He didn’t mean it. What had he done? It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t mean for this to happen. Young Milonir had proven to Whitehall that their words were right. That Milonir was exactly what they said he was. A useless, fat pile of shit. Reality set in. Milonir stopped only to vomit the vegetable soup he had eaten earlier. Everything he knew and loved was ripped from him that night. He was alone in the dark forest, left with nothing. All he could do was keep running until dawn broke. The bustle of Haense lie before him. A new day. Milonir would make this right. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in a year, or even ten. But he would make it right. He swore it. He swore it a million times. Milonir would right the wrongs of the past.

-Average Day in Haelun'cihi right now ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brothers, Sisters, I wish to further conversation. We exist as individuals in this time of great strife. Those who have the power to act, and further not only our impacts on the world, but the impacts upon the very nature of being. Ones mind drifts into the nature of being. For truly, if we are most blessed, and every elf a hero seeking to become ever-greater, ever-perfect, why would we seek to end what makes us strive hardest for ever greater perfection? Picture for me this. You are standing before your fellows in the Amphitheater, the comrades of your band. Over the better part of the decade you've been practicing your oration, your acting, and your epic recitation, and though you are overwhelmed with praise from the crowd, you saw 'Them' get more... What is a Mali supposed to do in such circumstance? Become more perfect! That's it! It is through this fact, that a being left unchallenged is one stagnant, progressing not. So, knowing this, and knowing your rival well, why would you ever do more than to punish them? Hear me out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now don't get me wrong, Heroes. Just as we may be from rival City-States, great cultures of peoples most ancient but at odds, it is for this purpose eternal rivalry must be understood for the betterment of each other. The ever perfection of you and your rival tracks not just at this macro-cosmical scale, but even to us as great singular individuals. We shall not forget, lliran, that just because you are at war, especially a war of domination, one must never forget their purity of mind, thought, and body. Though I sought to stray away from such seemingly 'charged' terms as purity, what with the many newly impure coming to terms with their state, but we must also keep in mind, such a state was brought about by mainly one reason. The killing of rivals. Now, nobody said anything about killing one's enemies. Those auxillary who stand before you as foes to be bested. For in the great field of legendary combat, where myth is made, we must exert our force to overcome ALL the armor of another. But, examples of fine heroes who, defeated upon the field, were made to submit before you. Punished much, through injuries sustained, or defeat having felt, it is by right of victor to do as he pleases, but to end the feared rival, they who had inspired your own greatness beaten into a prisoner? To deny him his end on the field in service to his citystate, and himself is also a disservice to you, and the legends and myths we may all enjoy in times to come. Picture for a moment. The mighty hoplites of two great citystates, an army of valah auxillary and rowers, and ten blessed citizen hoplites. Their ship of painted sails crashes upon the shore, and they meet in the field with an army of another great citystate. Another hundred auxillary and twelve rival hoplites... The battle fierce as auxillary face one another to keep them from the phalanx as both sides of beautiful citizens, each an individual with rights, privileges, and heroes of great family battle to see themselves greatest. Shields pressed to shield, and spikes thrust. Until one gains the upperhand. You look to your brother as a spike glanced over the shield, ending him quickly. Every loss felt gravely, but the fight continues on. When one side victorious, perhaps of the result of two champions choosing to duel for victory, fine judgement leads to greater legend. The taking ransom, or a piece of panoply or a trading good may be a powerful lesson to learn, yet to end who you have before you, with no chance to bare arms in noble defense? A sight most savage. Most disappointing. After all, we are cousins. Why, but the most extreme of circumstance, do you deny yourself the competition? Don't wanna work too hard? -The Elven Phalanxes, powerful formations of each respected citystate.

[!] Darn, these halfling tavern advertisements just won't end! Why must they fill your aviary every year? T'a 2nd Drinking Night! ~An ol' gathering of people for cooking in Hayhollow~ The Tippen's Tavern opens its doors for ye weary travelers and weefolks alike once more! Free drinks will be provided as usual, and special brews will be brewed just for the occassion. May we drink to our hearts content! Knox bless the tavern, Knox bless the shire, Knox bless Hayhollow! ~Mimosa Applefoot, Mayor of Hayhollow-Bywater. ((6:30 PM EST Tomorrow on Sunday the 18th of December, 2022. Located within Hayhollow-Bywater, the home of the halflings on Almaris: ))

[https://youtu.be/nn_0zPAfyo8] Only a fitting end… [PK] Markus’ Resolution As if it was any other day, Markus began setting up his tent. He sat down his pack just off the road, a good distance away from a small hamlet. He was somewhere in the hills between Haense and Aaun. The rocky hills gave way to a small field, and he elected to create his camp there. No cozy tree to sit under- but that was okay for him. He couldn’t have it every day. He opened up his canteen to take a drink. There was barely any alcohol in it- just enough to ensure the drink was clean. If there ever was a promise he had kept, it was his promise to Koeng Sigismund- his promise to cease his incessant drinking. It was tough- very tough- at first, but eventually, it grew easier. It became one of his proudest accomplishments. Abandoning Haense. Abandoning his Marian duties. Abandoning his Morovar kin. Abandoning his responsibilities, duties, and expectations. If there ever was one thing that he abandoned that was good, it was his drink. If there ever was one thing that he abandoned that he wished he hadn’t, well – that story has been told a thousand times. It did flash in his mind still, often. How many years has it been now? Twenty? What if I hadn’t accepted the results? What if I didn’t let everyone down? What if- His doubts constantly plagued him, though he did never again attempt suicide. It is true. Markus had fled from Karosgrad. From Haense. From responsibilities. The streets he had grown up in, and served, were all too familiar a reminder of his failures. He had begun to recover, to move on- but he spiraled. What truly caused him to spiral, even he didn’t know. Whether it was the sudden change in the abstinence from drinking. Whether it was that one time he achieved euphoria at that one festival. Whether it was seeing Adelajda daily. But he did spiral. Before he left, he gave up his blade, back to his father’s friend. He walked with a newer one- a weaker one, one not thanhic. He was about to use it. He finished the tent- it was a simple piece of cloth, held together with stakes. It had to be light and small, considering it had to be taken around daily. Night had begun to fall, and he had elected not to make a fire and instead eat from some salted provisions. So that’s when he noticed the glare from the village in the distance. “Looks like some idiot kindled their fire too well,” Markus would remark sarcastically with a grumble, before putting on his belt, fastening his sword, and beginning his jaunt over. He watched it grow bigger and bigger, consuming more buildings. He then began to hear the screams. He then began to increase his pace. He then began to loosen his sword in his scabbard. He eventually became just about a field’s length away, and saw veiled men throwing about torches. A sacking party. He rushed forth, drawing his blade. He met his first opponent behind one of the houses, an unsuspecting bandit with only a torch in his hand. Markus slew him without remorse, but not without him crying out. Soon, it was as if they had swarmed upon him- many men threw themselves upon Markus, but they weren’t skilled bandits- they weren’t match for his experience. He cut down the five or so that came upon him, and rushed into the first house. Inside was a child, cowering in the corner as flames licked the side of the building. Markus gave the child a wave, as if he wanted him to come forth- but the frightened child shook his head in terror, tears consuming his face. “Move, or these flames will consume us both! Eam niet leaving without vy!” Markus exclaimed, pleading to the child. The pleas worked. The child fled, leaping over a burning piece of the thatch roofing burning on the dirt floor. Markus grabbed him by the shoulder, and began to lead him out of the house. Outside, two bandits had waited for him. Markus yanked the child to the side of the house, before engaging the two with his sword. Luckily, his gambeson had absorbed a weak blow to his arm- their ragged clothes no match for his blade. It was clear these weren’t professionals, or Ferrymen. Markus went back to regard the child. That’s me. Amidst the carnage, he found himself in a touching moment with the child. “What’s vyr name, boy?” “Ekhard.” “Ekhard. Take this. Run that way, to my camp. If eam niet there in a few Saint’s Minutes- pack it up and run. Don’t get help. It’s too late.” “What will vy do?” “Niet run.” And he did not. He faced many bandits, his training granting him strength. But his true strength came from not running. He had always ran. But not this time. The damage had already been done. But perhaps he had been able to prevent the slaughter. But he was unable to prevent his death. His gambeson had been torn to rags by the time he had finished- the adrenaline running off. Blood streamed out of his body steadily In his travels, he always had time to ponder. But it was before his death when he had the most time, as he laid comfortably on the ground. His thoughts returned to his life. All of his loss. He had lost his best friend. His mother. His father. His twin. His future. His positions. His name. His glory. His duty. His body. His love. His mind. But in the end- he had regained it all. His pride. His duty. He had served. I will have died with honor. He was soon to be reunited with all the people he had lost All except what had mattered to him most, all of those years. But that didn’t matter anymore, not to him. In death, he gained absolution. In death, he let go. He let go of Margrait. In death he finally achieved victory. In death he forgave everyone. In death, he forgave himself.

[!] These missives would be nailed on posts throughout the continent! Issued and confirmed on the 14th of Harren’s Folley, 1901. TO THE WAYWARD RAEVIR OR THOSE INTERESTED, The Host of Saint Arpad is looking for men and women of Raevir descent to aid us in our cause in the reconstruction of our people’s ways and culture. We seek not just warriors, but workers, tradesmen, and people who are willing to settle our lands within the Hetmanate of Krostov being built just east of our Adrian comrades. If you are not of Raevir ancestry, but still wish to settle or aid us in our cause, we offer to educate you in ways for you to understand and adapt or if you wish, adopt our culture to further its existence in this world. Whatever your decision may be, if you settle these lands, let it be known you will be working towards something greater than oneself, a truly noble and honorable cause. To find us or reach us, one may send a bird to the Hetman or his Boyars within Veletzia, or meet with them there in person. SIGNED, Jan Ivanovich, Hetman of St. Arpad’s Host OOC:

For Charity! Fix the Loc, Fix the World! [!] A sketch of what is left of Du Loc, the old city crumbling away with fungal growths and decay plaguing it. (Screenshots taken by PufferfishTrash!) The once great city known as Du Loc, as you all know, has fallen. Still, it’s citizens cling onto the past, weaving through the horrid circumstances loyally in search of what little good is left of the town- despite waiting, searching, and surviving within the walls. Some keep their grip firm on the ruins out of loyalty. Others, simply because they have no choice. And how horrible the conditions have become! Ever since the town’s leadership has collapsed, the walls crumbled and continue to crumble to this day, beasts long banished and forgotten to the Du Locians have made their horrid returns, terrorizing and preying on those unfortunate enough to be sighted by them. The majority of ourselves are quite well off. We can help them. We can make a difference. All it takes is a small spark to start the flame. ._________________. We can fix this. We can have an impact on this world. Together, we can help it. We just need you to light that spark. ._________________. All forms of charity, whether it be helping us clear the Loc of villains (Cough, glory hunters & loot gremlins, cough), volunteering to help us rebuild or just simply donating materials and food will all be deeply appreciated! Let us give these people the home they once had and rightfully deserve! For Charity! And what’s better is that if we are to exceed the required supplies needed to bring back Du Loc to it’s former glory, we shall move outwards to help those who need it most outside the city’s great walls! First the Loc, then the realm! So whether you are here for adventure, putting some baddies to the ground, Helping us in rebuilding the city and those to come, or just donating to help our movement, The Loc welcomes you all! ._________________. Directions to Du Loc can be found at the Eastern Fleet. Specifically found along the road between Lucsiensberg and Yong Ping. A donation bin, if you are simply stashing supplies will be present at both entrances into Du Loc! See you there! And if you do not like the idea of running over to a new, unfamiliar realm, us members of Charity's Hand will come visit you in your own local town, city or village in due time. Thank you for reading! ._________________. - Slith ‘Azh Arm’, Representative of Charity’s Hand

THE CHALLENGE OF THE SUN THE SOHAER OF HAELUN'OR As Issued from the An'asul estate 18th of Malin's Welcome, Year 97 of the Second Age {Art by Pengzhen Zhang} "An epoch to lay the foundations of permanent progress. Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice! You are the chosen one, child. Blessed by Larihei’s realisation of the nature of the State and our inherited Nature, I will guide you into the future. A completed century will only be the start." - Malaurir Dimaethor Elervathar Blessed Citizens of our State, our home and refuge… While many of you know me for my rather clamorous ways of ensuring the progress of our blessed bastion, I am indeed a servant of the state, a vigorous one who sacrificed their whole being to the betterment of our kin. Unlike others, I do not seek to abolish institutions to install myself as the absolute power of the State.. Powers and responsibilities should always be distributed among the blessed; ‘tis to allow the ever so progressing mali‘thill to actively participate in the political scheme of Haelun’or but to also prevent one individual becoming the absolute force, a dictator. We have seen this from time to time, the last time Sohaer held absolute power they attempted to erase the most blessed Maheral from our history. The last time someone we called Maheral held absolute power, she ended up being a fraud. This we have seen, and this I promise will never happen under the guidance of myself, democracy shall prevail. This I promise with my ever so dying soul, Haelun’or will be reinstalled as a nation great among the nations of the realm. We shall be the epitome of a functioning democratic society and never shall we be blinded by mundane terms such as “Regent-Sohaer”. And so, this is a promise to the Motherland itself, to the mali’till and citizens of our Blessed Bastion… The Silver News shall be promised full autonomy as per functionality. The editor in chief shall be promised funding to ensure the prosperity of the paper and the government shall not dictate the functions of it. Elsillumiran shall function as always, Okarir’tir will remain as their commander and Sohaer their Commander in Chief. Maheral as the head of state shall rule over the aforementioned. If changes are needed, they shall be directed by elokarir'tir. Magic has long gone untouched within our nation. I promise to start the distribution of magic myself within the blessed bastion, and once my pupils have graduated they shall take upon themselves to teach. Magical institutions will be reinstalled, and Haelun’or will once more be the home of magic as Larihei intended. This includes any and all scholarly subjects we are able to teach to the masses. After a long lasting war, I believe instead of enemies we should aim to befriend the nations within the realms. It is no lie, we were close to extinction and were it not for the miracle that happened we would all be nothing but blood stains upon the silver isles. Never shall we raise unnecessary arms again and under my guidance we shall aim for peace. Certain council meetings shall be made public; the citizenry invited to listen as elheial'thilln converses about the topics of the nation. Public assemblies as started by Sohaer Uradir shall be reinstalled and will take place on a scheduled basis. Many things, but I believe change is exactly what Haelun’or needs as for now. We have had Sohaeran closer to identical to one another, yet no change has happened and now we found ourselves almost extinct. I could write a novel that will take centuries to finish if I was to write everything that I seek to change, however instead of that I wish to have you citizens come speak with me. Come, have a discussion and we shall exchange words and ideas on how to make the nation a better place for all 'thill. I am Usamea An’asul and a vote for me as Sohaer of the Silver State, is a vote for progress and health. AY'LARIHEI AY'MAHERAL MAEHR'SAE HIYLUN'EHYA Signed, Laurir Usamea An’asul

The council as it stands wished to rip that right from your hands and hold an election amongst themselves and decide the future representative of the Mali’thill in a closed election. It was my lobbying which was able to secure enough of the council’s vote to usher in the return of democracy to the Mali’thill. - Malaurir Ikur Sullas To Haelun’or, I write to you this missive as finally has our nation established stability and now finds herself in tranquility after decades of hostilities, and the annexation of the silver isles. The price paid for peace was an expensive one, many a ‘thill lost their lives while defending that of silver against the barbaric enemies from the stars. Now we find ourselves surrounded by peace, however a threat to our society has once more found itself a way into our democratic society. Many of our Okariran are seated in one of the most esteemed institutions of our society, unelected however. Our Sohaer once more claimed power, while having no mandate. I thus call for all unelected members of our pristine elheial’thilln to stand challenged or subject to a vote determining whether they shall continue to serve the public or not. Regent-Sohaer Kolvar Uradir Okarir’nor Luthien Maeyr’onn Okarir’hiylun Anara Elervathar These elections shall be overseen by elheial’lauriran as led by Maheral Seth Calith. As we all are one, we all are silver, we shall as one lead the bastion towards prosperity. AY'LARIHEI AY'MAHERAL MAEHR'SAE HIYLUN'EHYA Signed, Laurir Usamea An’asul

ANNOUNCEMENT of the HOUSE DARKWOOD The Darkwood Drink Festival In the year of our Lord, 13th of Peter's Glory 23 B.A To those of Almaris: House Darkwood has shown itself to be a house newly dedicated in its curation and creation of drinks of all kinds, having opened a business in the Brown Bear’s Rest Tavern in Balian. Having held such a passion for all his life Viscount Drako Darkwood would like to announce his intent to host a festival in celebration of what he loves in Balian. Starting in the Square of Balian with a small amount of stalls and space within Balian, those who make drinks are encouraged to sell or offer tasters of their drinks for the denizens of Almaris to taste and enjoy. Being that this is a drink festival, there will be a competition held in the tavern with a grand prize of 50 mina. Finally it will be ended with a drunken brawl in the arena, where anyone who wants to take part will drink and then fist fight those in the pit. As declared by, His Excellency, the Patriarch of House Darkwood, Lord Drako Darkwood, Viscount of Renduzzo. Her Excellency, Viscount-Consort Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller of Renduzzo

[!] Elegantly scribed rice paper flyers are hung around all Tianrui Trading Co. locations and partners! THE TIANRUI TEAHOUSE CORDIALLY INVITES YOU TO OUR CELEBRATION OF THE MID-AUTUMN FESTIVAL IN OUR ALISGRAD LOCATION! [!] A full moon rises behind the Tianrui gingko tree in Alisgrad in this print! Come one, come all! To the Tianrui Teahouse’s celebration of the Li-Ren Mid-Autumn Festival! Taking place once on the 15th of every 8th month on the Li-Ren lunar calendar, the Mid-Autumn festival is a celebration of harvest, friends and family, and of course moon cakes. While the date of the equinox precedes this missive, festivities shall take place in the Alisgrad Tianrui Teahouse from the Sun’s Smile to the Grand Harvest. For the first night of the event, tea master Tianrui Ren will tell the tale of the Mid-Autumn Festival and how it came to be! Event Planning and Hosting, Tianrui Ren OOC: Running all week in the Alisgrad Tianrui Teahouse, and Monday night at around 4pm EST I’ll be around to do an in-RP story time!