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For far too long the Elven race has been slandered by the set heights on the server. For example: High Elves used to go to almost 7 ft and now they barely make 6'6. It's time to give the Elves their proper glory! They shall be able to reach the top shelf of the cupboard! (Excluding Wood Elves. They still need a step ladder) This post is mainly just for fun, however, it would be nice to see staff re-think some of the set heights for the Eleven race as a whole Reference Links!

Music to listen to while reading my book A HISTORY OF The Goldhand and Grimgold Grudge. By: Voryn A’Daragon OPENING STATEMENT This is a History of the Goldhand and Grimgold Grudge, which details their long lasting feud stretching back several hundred years. Both clans can trace their lineage back to the “Line of Tungdil”, a famous dwarven lord who was known for his love of children and ability to make gold faster than any other dwarf. The Grimgold Clan are the descendants of the older son of Tungdil, while the Goldhand Clan are the descendants of the younger son of Tungdil. Their rivalry is that of a sibling rivalry. The Goldhands were a more successful clan than the Grimgolds, and were granted “Elder Status” for their services to Urguan. The Grimgolds, on the other hand, did very little of note until their Clan Father, Glod Grimgold, took over power of the Clan. FIRST ERA GRUDGE In the year 689 of the First Era, the first signs of the rivalry had begun. Bumble Goldhand, a Cheese Merchant, had fallen in love with the beardling Blod Grimgold. Unfortunately, the Clan Father of the Grimgolds (whose name is lost to time, as he was irrelevant), forbade the marriage. Bumble was enraged. He went to his Clan Father (Thoak Goldhand), and told him that the Grimgolds had refused the marriage because they “Would not marry a disgusting Shithand”. The Lord Thoak then killed almost the entirety of the Grimgold Clan. The Goldhand’s believed that their ancient enemy was now slain. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for us, as will be discussed later), several Grimgolds were away on their ker wife finding missions. As a side note, the Grimgolds are known in the Dwarven Kingdom for taking “Dark Elven Concubines.” To the Goldhands, a lot of the Grimgolds are not even dwarves. They are considered Dark Elves. One of the Grimgold’s that survived was known as Klouf Grimgold (Not to be confused with Klouf Grimgold). Klouf was a famous warrior, and took the survivors to live in caves. That is not an insult to dwarves - many of them actually live in caves (insane). Klouf had several warriors in his retinue. Thorin Grimgold, Bombur Grimgold, Gimli Grimgold, and most importantly of all, Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold. Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold will now be discussed. Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold was the Captain of the Ship called the Fist of Dungrimm. He was a famous pirate, adventurer, and explorer. Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold had slain dragons, fought in countless battles, and most importantly of all - had a dark elven mother. This allowed him to look conventionally attractive, while retaining the brute strength of the dwarves. He carved out his own island kingdom known as the “Grim Isles”, where a subsection of the Grimgold Clan fled to. There, they engaged in dark magic, cannibalism, and created quarter dwarf, quarter ker, half pig hybrids. Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold soon became an accomplished wizard. He studied for many years, perfecting the craft of organic transmutation. Soon, the entirety of the Grim Isles was full of his creations. Gone were the descendants that one lived there, replaced by the abominations of Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold. Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold then found the Sea-***** Witch known as Elsa. Understanding his power, the Sea-***** Witch known as Elsa gave Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold the power to create skin-walkers from his creations. His former clan members were now cursed with the ability to skin-walk, and took any form they wanted. Klouf Grimgold had heard of this dark magic, and he sailed to the Grim Isles. It was there a legendary fight took place between Klouf Grimgold and Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold. While historical records show that Klouf Grimgold had won the battle, who is to say that Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold had not won and simply skin changed into Klouf? For the academic purposes of this book, we will take the argument that Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold won the battle. This is because skinwalkers have difficulty keeping the shape of a face. The Grimgolds typically wear masks, and are most likely the Skinwalkers that plague Almaris. When Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold, disguised as Klouf, returned to the mainland he was greeted by his clan members who stayed behind. Slowly, he turned all of the Grimgolds into Skinwalkers who could take the shape and appearance of whatever they wanted. The Goldhands had magic. Thoak Goldhand was blind, but he could see. When the Grimgold Clan had returned, Thoak began to exterminate them. Unfortunately, Skinwalkers are crafty. Several of them became attached to his Clan as well, and thus the Skinwalker menace had spread between the dwarven clans. Thoak, with his magical eyes, could sense the skinwalker presence. He would strike down those he thought were skinwalkers, including his own son (also named Thoak). It was then the remaining true dwarf Goldhands held a meeting. The “True” Goldhands held a meeting. Thoak told them that they had to come up with a cunning plan: to become Grimgolds. The meeting erupted into chaos. But then, they realised this was wise. So they immediately all put on the armor of the Grimgolds. The former Grimgolds under Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold became Goldhands. For several hundred years, the Grimgold Clan was actually the Goldhand Clan - and vice versa. The Skin Walking Grimgolds were able to take the appearance of anyone they wished. The Goldhand Grimgolds remained in hiding, far away from the political intrigues of the dwarves. This is where it gets interesting. This is a fragment from a piece of pottery I found. I will put it in quotes. “I heard a tale once from a strange fellow deep in the desert. They spoke of this Temple which worshipped the Skinwalkers, who believed they would bring about the end of the world. I thought him mad! He only laughed at me.” “Four legged dwarves, with bat wings would attack those in the desert. These were the Grimgolds (not the Goldhand version). As he discussed that they existed and that they were worshipped by the nomadic desert folk, a group of them attacked us.” “We fought them off as best as we could, but the desert nomad was carried off by these Grimgolds. I cursed them, (as I was a powerful wizard with access to many magics), and they forgot that they were Skinwalkers).” As this fragment shows, it was common knowledge that four legged bat dwarves roamed the world, and attacked travelers. These four legged creatures were, obviously, Grimgolds - yet the Grimgolds are disguised as the Goldhands. Does this mean that the Goldhands were the bat creatures, or the Grimgolds? The author of this book believes that these were the Goldhands from Thoak. Thoak had incredible magical powers, and was able to use his magic vision to make others see what he wanted them to see. Thus, the Goldhands were the bat people - but they were also disguised as Grimgolds at the same time. In the year 894 First Era, the old tales were forgotten. The Grimgold Clan had vanished, and the Goldhand Clan became powerful. During that gap of history, it is unclear what had happened. I met a drunk dwarf who told me that Torsun Goldhand, Clan Elder of the Goldhands in the Year 88 of the Second Age, was actually Thoak Goldhand who had turned himself immortal. It is possible, therefore, that the Goldhands had reclaimed their true lineage and cast out the Grimgolds. Unless, of course, that Torsun Goldhand (Thoak Goldhand) is a skinwalker who is actually Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold. Due to the Goldhands being known traitors to Urguan, I believe this is the case: The current Goldhand Clan are the Grimgolds. However, almost all of them have forgotten their ancient powers due to the curse - save for Thoak Goldhand, aka Torsun Goldhand (real name Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold). Regardless, all one has to know to understand the current standing grudge in the year 88 of the Second Era is this: the two Gold Clans hate one another. Be it from an ancient same sex marriage that failed, the skinwalker saga, or due to the Goldhand’s claiming elder status over the Grimgolds. We will now begin the tale of the “Second Era Grudge”, and move away from the First Era. THE SECOND ERA GRUDGE: Song link for Second Era In the Second Era, the Goldhand Clan is led by Conan ‘No-Shirt, No Pants’ Goldhand. The Grimgold Clan is led by Glod ‘Godborn’, Grimgold. This book will now discuss both men in depth. (Note: I have not met either of them). Conan ‘No-Shirt’ Goldhand is a senile old dwarf. He routinely burps, farts, and shits his way out of anything important in Urguan. It is said that his clan member Tholgrim (or whatever he goes by now), holds up cue cards for Conan when he is delivering speeches. The important clan activities are done by three dwarves. Hekkaes Anvilhammer, The Iron Baron (needs no introduction, as he is known for having bad teeth and unable to comprehend the common tongue), and “Torsun Goldhand”. Torsun is put in quotes as, most likely, he is Thorin ‘the other Thorin’ Grimgold. The three shadow leaders of the Goldhand Clan, therefore, are not even Goldhands. Conan, weak and feeble and unable to do anything to stop this, has been forced to agree to their demands of a Clan War. Glod Grimgold, on the other hand, is considered the strongest, wisest, and most powerful dwarf in Urguan. What he says is deeply considered by every single dwarf. While his clan are made up of lackluster nobodies, Glod really shines. Glod was (and perhaps still is) worshipped by humans for his apparent divinity. While Glod has outright refused these claims, he has still earned the title of “the Godborn”, due to his unwavering loyalty to the Brathmordakin. Glod is a famous Senator, Commander, and Battle-Hardened Warrior. Compared to Conan, one would wonder why the Goldhands would dare oppose him. It all goes back to the First Era grudge: The Elder Status of the Gold Clan. Should it go to the Grimgolds, or to the Goldhands? The challenge was issued. Glod was unable to attend the meeting (or felt it was beneath him), and sent a lowly beardling to attend the meeting. This beardling insulted the Goldhands, by openly declaring that the Grimgolds were the trueborn sons of Tungdil and that the Goldhands were not even true Goldhands. He demanded they vassalize under Glod. The Goldhands laughed in the face of the envoy of Glod. They cut his manhood off, and took his tongue out. They demanded that the Grimgolds admit they are the bastard clan of Tungdil, and that they need to pay them twenty five thousand minas. In addition, they wanted the land the Grimgold’s owned. The Goldhands and their vassal clans the Ironguts and Irongrinders marched to war against the Grimgolds. They killed many of their men in the field of battle, overwhelming the poorer clan through sheer numbers. Glod and his clan sought refuge with the Jungle Dwarves. Glod, fearing that the dwarves under his command would be killed by the potential skinwalker clan, sought out a truce. They would pay the money, help the Goldhands acquire new land - but they would not denounce the fact that they are the sons of Tungdil. This is where the history ends - as it is still ongoing. This is a deep look at the psyche of the dwarves, and why they attack one another. Honour, duty, and greed. Signed, Voryn A’Daragon, Master Historian.

Banishment of a Worm ______________________________________________________________ In regards to the dire news of use of foul Necromancy, Kul’Raguk is hereby banished from the Ashen Realm of Nor’asath The Uruk known as Kul’Raguk is hereby guilty of using Dark Magic and acting in the service of the deceiver. I need not remind any of descendant blood that the deceiver is the enemy to all that breath and has brought dishonor to the spirits. By the Authority of The Primarch, Kul’Raguk is to be executed for his offense to Kor and his betrayal of a descendant kind. Netseth Loa’chil Primarch of Nor’asath, Prince of the Mali’ker

After years of slumber, we rise our heads from the rubble. The Mali'ker clan, R'ikarth opens its doors once again for aspiring monster hunters, warriors, and medics. We have won the battle against destiny and time. We are here with our heads up, and stronger than ever, United once again to build a legacy that will not be broken through time, conflict, and death. We encourage all mali'ker and other races that share the love of adventure to fight and join us in this Exciting journey. We shall train and test your abilities to see if you are worthy of carrying the r'ikarth name and its legacy. If we have convinced you spirits to join us, send us a bird, and we will gladly meet with you to anwser any questions you may have. We wait for your arrival. Delra R'ikarth, Daughter of Zirath R'ikarth. (OOC: Discord is Gage#8152 Repost for new information Ps- sorry for the formatting, not used to the forums here quite yet)

In what was but a blink of an eye, they looked upon the sky. Ruin was all anyone could describe such a night. Prince Vival, the young heir of clan Velulaei’onn, stood valiantly upon the frontlines of the evacuation of Elvenese many of elven kind having looked to the skies toward their doom. The Young Ker found himself, brought to an abrupt end by a single slash of a hellish construct. In an attempt to fight for his life, the Prince found himself in the company of Elven lords. His life ended in the company of Sevrel Valindar, who took the honor of delivering the young Lord to his beloved home of the Stygian Hollow. Vival lived as the reclusive young son of the Velulaei’onn line of Renelia born to the first lord of the lands Aroen; Vival was a solitary boy having shared blood and practice within the clan Ravexi, having been raised upon the ideals of the Ironfist of the Ker. His time would have proven a brief one for the young reclusive scholarly warrior as the end brought only exodus. Having been separated by his kin, Vival found himself alone. As was true for many Ker at the time, survival turned into a priority, many integrating into other communities and many more turning toward ill reputable criminal acts. Vival, as he grew up, remained within the criminal underworld, having taken part in piracy at a young age following a less than a prestigious career in thievery. Within time the young Ker, having been forced to live under an alias and disguise based upon his heritage, after an untimely end to his criminal career, Vival lived among scholars in Sutica. Vival spent much time learning about more peculiar elements of the world. Through his knowledge, he earned a grander perspective. As Vival hungered for more, his studies had found an end with the sudden loss of the academy; Vival moved from place to place, continuing his studies and moving from place to place until the destruction of Arcas where old passions reignited though were cut short. Having lived and helped found the city of Freeport, Vival would find himself in a moment of conflict. He had learned some of his family had yet lived in the Holy Orenian Empire. From there, Vivals path became one of walking among a pack, a growing horde of Ker tribes seeking a dream preached by his predecessor of a new Renelia. In hindsight, the goal was perhaps a fool's dream; what he wanted may not have been the best for his people, yet perhaps not one whose ends proved without merit. Vival was not meant to lead, yet upon the stagnation of his predecessor, he was the one left to find a home for his people. During a moment of desperation, Vival led his people toward various potential homes, his sight inevitably falling upon the mountainous ravines in Urguan after his dealings with the Grand King. Through what seemed to be a strenuous effort, the lands of Stygian Hollow formed. Despite the struggles, many found within the city, the Prince grew accustomed to a family, friends, and the trials that even a smaller city may provide. The Young Prince in his final moments fulfilled with his life. ”Aelia, Pardek, and my youngest Ahzekk and the rest of my kin do not weep for eternity simply be better than I.” “To those who remain in the Hollow, our new dream shall not end with me. Carry on for all of our sakes.” “However I may be remembered, I only hope ill be remembered as a llir to all of you; we will meet again among the Ancestors.” “Velulaei, watch over each of you as I now go to join her.”

The sun was falling and the stars would start to appear as the darkness spread over the sky. The moonlight lit up the beach for the two figures to stroll through the cold sand, following the timeless tides. A 'ker and an 'ame that have known each other for some decades, known by her name, Farren Orchaedia, and his, Anessén Ka'uhane. The exhausted and scared 'ame would try his best to hold a warm smile for her, she still was the love of his life, even though the last few days in their paths were not one of togetherness anymore. In these daring times, Anessén chose not to wear his armor but instead his known green robes, the feathers tucked over his hair would sway gently with the caress of the kind wind. The ‘ker, unlike her usual demeanor, was less energetic but still found a way to walk by her love. Her hair all tied up and her clothes being the usual white silk dress which gave off a sort of glow as the moon shone down onto her sad form. As they let their feet slowly step around, they would laugh while enjoying stories they shared. Their gazes wander through the sky or the ocean, every now and then landing on each other. A lovely night for them, a night they have not shared for a long time. Anessén would turn to her "you know…i cant get you out of my head...i try to walk away and yet i find myself with you again...i scream over my lungs and still i want to forgive you…" he will say melodically, almost as if reciting a poem. Stopping while his gaze was now on her and letting his feet dig into the sand. Farren turned to him, her eyes wide as always when her heart felt touched or she was surprised, and this was one of the rare few times it meant both. She reached out and took his hands, bringing them up to her lips to kiss them before looking back at him. Her eyes locked onto his as she spoke. “You have been wounded, beaten, and crushed by so many. You have been pushed to the ground and told to give up but you never did. I love you so much for that.” The ‘ker went up, pulling him to her into a loose hug. Anessén will smirk as her lips pressed over his hand, adding "For some time I lost my path, my reason to keep fighting...but you gave me that Farren. You gave me a home to come back to, children to watch them grow and love to fight for...i love you for being with me always, for being with me when everyone looked at me with disgust…" his arms wrapping around her while he melt into the hug, soon pushing her back so he could see her. "I'm sorry I let our paths divide...I just was going through a rough time…" A soft smile grew on her face. “You were never brought away from our path, merely given an odd road.” All of her pain and sadness left as he held her. All of her guilt and lack of self belief fled as he held her. They were bliss. A couple whose seemingly broken stories ended up in the same, beautiful book. They were the most powerful thing of all. Together. The smirk of the 'ame would grow into a smile as he slides his hands to her cheeks, leaning forward to lay his forehead on hers. His eyes closing while their noses rub together. All his pain and doubt, all his sadness and burden lifted while feeling her touch and listening to her words. “The amount of times I have seen others rush to you saying nothing but hatred and rage is past count. I wouldn’t be able to continue on my own if I received such words every single day.” She looked up to him, her smile at its fullest. “And yet here you are living despite it all.” The ‘ker looked proud. Not of the elf in front of her, but of the elf he had shown her. The one who taught her of the forest and raised children with her. The one who cared and nurtured her as much as she did for him. Farren inhaled taking in the senses and sounds around her. The feeling of his body against her and her feet in the sand. The sound of the water going in and out, the chatting in the city, and the distant noise of the animals in the forest. The smell of his own and the smell of salt. And even the soft glow from her ring, carved to be a mixture of eagle’s feathers and dragon’s scales. All of this as she reached up to kiss him, everything in that moment, that pure moment, made her happy to be alive. Suddenly, the 'ame's ears would flicker just when their lips were about to meet. Leaning back his gaze would dash through the tree line as he gently starts to guide Farren behind him. His jaw tensing and his right hand reaching towards his tomahawk, while guiding her with the left arm. As special as the night was, a figure appeared stalking them. Hidden below the shadows of the trees, the figure would stay unrecognized. But soon the wind would carry the sound of a string being pulled back, followed by the sound of an arrow cutting through the air. Anessén would pull Farren to be behind him as he tosses the tomahawk to the figure. A smirk forming on his face once he hears the yelp after the sound of the blade nailing, the life of the creature ending. But the smirk would soon fade away when he suddenly coughed blood, letting his gaze fall to the feathered end of an arrow, with the arrowhead that was aimed towards Farren, instead pierced into Anessén's chest. Hearing the sound of the arrow, the ‘ker did her best to move away, trying to pull Anessen back with her to no avail. However, once she heard the shriek of pain from the stranger she sighed, yet something felt off as she looked to Anessén. The 'ame would turn for her to see the arrow that was nailed onto his heart. Coughing blood already as he found it hard to keep himself standing. With time, the stain of blood spreaded over his green robes while his skin became pale. His breathing getting shaky and pain would lay on his expression. For a moment, Farren felt as if time had stopped. She saw his smile fade away but thought nothing of it until he started to cough . “Anessén..” The ‘ker took a step forward, gently grabbing his arm and turning him to her, the arrow sticking in the dead center of his chest. “Anessén!” She screamed as she went to him, not sure to leave the arrow in or pull it out knowing it would make his wound worse. As her hands reached his arms, he would fall to his knees. "Ullran…" the 'ame would curse in elvish as he felt the life sliding out of his body with each second "Farren…." he would call her. As calm as he seemed, fear started to storm into his eyes, not being able to stop such emotion as thoughts of their children, of their family and of her flashed through his eyes. Finally, the memories he lost long ago would return to his mind. "Farren…" would repeat as his left hand slided for his fingers to lay around the wound. “Anessén, it’s gonna be okay..I’ll..i’ll..” The ‘ker struggled with what to do, everything she had practiced and remembered seemed to disappear from her head as she tried to help him. “I don’t know what to do...” She looked into his eyes, unlike his which were just beginning to be filled with fear, hers seemed to be filled with terror and panic. Part of her even started to shake as he saw her in true pain from seeing him shot. "Farren...it's ayla, it's...ayla" he will whisper as he pulls his hand out of the wound to lay it on hers. His own blood dripping on her fingers while he holds her. His eyes closing briefly before he looked up to her to meet the panic and terror her gaze carried. "I wish I knew the words to make you feel better, but I don't…." he whispers as he smirks, giving her the same words he shared when they first met in the boat. His movements grow weaker as his expression softens, seeming to be exhausted. She began to break down at his words, two months total she had spent caring for him and nursing him back to health. And now, in his final hours of life he remembers everything of her. Over her life Farren had lost friends, family, children, and now her love to her greatest fear and worst enemy, death. Tears began to roll down her face as she did what she could, trying to hold him up and whispering soft nothings hoping to keep him awake. “Please, Anessén, don’t leave me...” A lump formed in her throat as she paused, her eyes now red from the tears. “I’ve lost Kalon, my mother, and Maglure but I cannot lose you as well.” She sounded desperate. Held by her arms as blood seemed to drip even more. His breaths now almost non-existent as he whispers "Death...is a gift Farren, after all the pain...i embrace this, even though my heart breaks to leave you alone…" He would look up to her and smile weakly "My love for you Farren Orchaedia...is as endless as the ocean and as timeless as the tides...i love you" his eyes would close once more and his grip on her hand felt softer. For once, Farren finally felt powerless. Yet strangely enough, part of her somehow knew of this. Gently, she pulled him to her so she could embrace him, her beating heart against his dying one was faster and more frantic. She lifted her head skywards, looking at the stars as her love faded away. “I don’t know who I would be without you, or where I would be if we hadn't met.” She looked back down and cupped his face, bringing him up so she could kiss him. “But thank you for everything, through the good, the bad and the ugly. I am so happy to call you my Mayilun.” With the caress of the wind and the brush of the water over the cold sand, with the countless stars filling the darkness of the sky. With the warmth of Farren's embrace and her rhythmical heartbeat, Anessén would slightly open his lips as they kissed one last time, giving his last breath while the spark of the life that once burned inside him finally died. His hand sliding out of her touch to fall to a side as he becomes one of the silent and sure sentinels that keep watch in the night. Farren looked past his body and to the water ahead. Everything seemed so odd now. It was all the same yet her love was lying dead in her arms. She knew not of when she would see him again, and she knew not of what she would do after this, but part of her took a deep breath in and began to softly speak. "...They said you were the crooked kind...and that you'd never have no worth...but you were always gold to me" She paused and took another breath. Every word piling up like a weight on her chest. “And back when we had met..we swore we knew the future...and our words would take us half way ‘cross the world..But I never left this town, and we never saw the world and we never crossed the sea..” Everything seemed to pause again. The stars lit up everything around them and the wind brushed against her body, yet now she started to sing. Her voice growing louder yet more private than before. “But I am fine, with where I am now..this home is home and all that I need. But for you this place brings shame…and you can blame me when there’s no one left to blame...oh I won’t mind.” On the final note, her voice cracked, like a piano finally stripped of its chords. A dreadful noise yes, but one that was able to convey so much emotion with just a few simple sounds as she pulled him closer. Stars had always been in Farren’s life. Always overhead and always by her side as she went on to take the day. But never did she think they’d be with her the most as Anessén left this world. In a way free, but still she knew his journey didn’t end here, not even close. But that didn’t change things as her breath returned to a normal pace and her eyes finally stopped crying, knowing Anessén was now up within the stars watching and guarding her, ready to guide her through her path. Now the figures were laying over the cold sand, listening to the ocean’s rhyme and feeling the wind caress. The stars over their heads seem to shine brighter and the moon for once, illuminating all that it could reach. The ‘ame came to this world, lived in this world and left this world always by the ocean… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqc2uOunPdA

A character that I have submitted and hope to be accepted, A Mute Dark elf by the name of Zenoea Annin! Or for short, Zen!

This missive would be transcribed many times and sent to any and all groups or individuals of the Mali’ker people As I sit here, sailing on the ships to our new land, I think about my past. Being on this ship reminds me of my time as a sailor in my youth, before I decided to settle down and find a home. First Vira’ker, then Asimu’lei, then Ker’Okarn, and then Aegrothond, and now, who knows. I think about our peoples’ past. I think about the many cities we have built. I think about the stories that have been written, by pen and sword alike. I think about the tales of our ancestors, laying the foundations for everything we take for granted. And then, I think about our future. However, I am not sure what to think. I am afraid. I am afraid that once again, the ‘ker will be forced to wander, not having the luxury of having a long term home. One that they can depend on to raise their children in, and give them a sense of belonging. Many places have done this in the past, but with things the way they are now, the future is uncertain at best. Some time ago, I spoke to my friends in the Royal Sylvaen family, and we discussed this. We spoke about how the ‘ker deserve a home. One that will last through time. But, after the discussion, I thought not much more of it. It wasn’t until the Inferi war where I was gravely wounded, where I had some time to rest and think about what I could do to help my people. I realized that what my people needed, was something that I could provide. After much thought, and with the blessing of my friends here in the Elvenesse council, I have decided to give birth to a new community of Mali’ker. A humble home, where we can express our culture, and be around our own kin. One where the needs of all ‘ker are met, and we can live in harmony. This new home will be named the Evarsae’ker, and it will be open to all and any Mali’ker who wish to work together for a brighter tomorrow; and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make this more then a piece of land, this will be a home. A home where we can grow old, and leave a legacy for the next generation to follow, one that we can all be proud of looking back on at the end of our days. This, is my dream. And as I sail towards these new lands, where our future is unclear, I know one thing. Though I know we are facing down challenging times... I have hope. Signed, Sevrel Valin’dar Each missive would be signed by Sevrel, before they would be sent out to the 'ker that now wander in search of a home. [OOC]: if this sounds like something you are interested in, please feel free to shoot me a message on discord, Cherry Blossom 🌸⛄#9001 and ask any questions you might have. More will follow this post in the coming days, so do keep an eye out 😉 Meme RP encouraged

Event Planners, MC Names:I'll leave this to ET. Event Type:Players versus mobs..? Event Date:I'm honestly unsure, maybe on the weekends where most EST players are on. Factions/Nations effected by the event:The Dark Elves of Annil'sul. Event Location:Ker'lomi/Onyx district of the Elf city, Annil'sul. Summary:I'm not really sure on what to add, currently there has been spiders and skeletons spawning ridiculously in the district, and it's rather annoying...so why not make an event to get rid of them? I was thinking maybe a hollowed out place in the district where giant spiders make their nests. Like I said, this is my first time proposing an idea.