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  1. In the quiet hours of the night, a small, robed figure slowly comes to a halt in front of the statues of Cerridwen and Cernnunos within the Sparrow Grove. She slowly kneels, laying a book on the steps, wrapped in leaves and tied together with handmade rope. Quietly she whispers a prayer, departing. The book has been left behind, for the priesthood. The Emerald Way The Way of Will, The Emerald Path Perfection is unattainable, But it is no excuse not to strive for it, This henceforth is my quest, My ideal, my call. I will try when my arms grow too weary, And face the unbeatable foe. I will bear with unbearable sorrow, And I will right the unrightable wrong, What is sickness to the body of Emerald? What matters pain? For each time I fall, I shall rise again, And woe be unto the wicked! For I am Emerald I will endure all things, and be vigilant in my stand, From this day until the end of my days. The Oath of Emerald, scribed by the Oracle Hurricane The Emerald Way holds no place amongst the annals of history. I, it’s creator, am no ancient mali of yore. Yet the way has taken root within our culture, and it grows now. It began with the pilgrimage of the Oracle Awaiti Aureon, who took to the wilds in search of a solution to bring together the Naelurir of Caras Eldar once again. Over her time in the wilds, she scribed the beginnings of the philosophy, and laid down the framework for the creeds of the wild faith. The Emerald Way was born then as the first creed of the wild faith. From the birth of the first creed, others were motivated to kindle the beginnings of their own creeds. What followed was a renaissance of philosophy within the wild faith, and the birth of the Ichorian Creed, and the Sage Way. Their own separate and unique philosophies. In the darkest reaches of the forests, the Ichorians dwelled, seeking to cultivate raw strength to match the power of the primal wilds. The sages took to their own, focusing on the balance within, ignoring the material need. But those that followed the Emerald Way took a different path. After the exodus of the Ithelanen and the Torena seeds to the Gladewynn Company, the Oracle left her people, leaving the philosophy in the hands of her students.Within the budding nation, her students kept to the ways. To endure, to fight for what is right and just, and to revere the aspects in all things. Core Values Indomitable Will To be understanding, yet absolute. To not bow, or bend, or break. For the Emeraldians know that true strength does not come from the body, but from the will. Great Courage Not to be without fear. But to recognize that there is something more important than fear, something that outshines fear. From this, will is born. Emotional Resilience To stand strong despite unspeakable horror. Despite loss and anger. To be able to think with a clear mind, while the world crashes down around you. Foresight “The Storm Rises” To look ahead, and prepare for the worst. The key is to look forward without becoming fearful or paranoid of what has not yet come. I pray caution. “And Emerald shall rise to meet it.” Philosophy of the Emerald Way The Emerald Way can be summed up in its axiom “To will change upon the self is to change the world. Only through will can all balance be attained” This axiom rests upon several truths. The self is malleable. Changeable. Nothing is untouchable by great change. The world can be changed by the effort of the self. Our actions cause change. Balance is gained through change. Change is obtained through will. Will is forged by choice. As followers of the Emerald Way, we use these truths as a guide for our lives. Cerridwen The Mother. Lady of Life. Bearer of all fruits. Cerridwen. She holds many names, and titles in our faith. She is the mother of life, the shaper of all that is living. She is often depicted as a beautiful woman, carrying a staff. She created all that is living, each and every tree and frog and tiger. It is to her that we owe our fruitful harvests, and it is to her that we thank for the shade of the great elder trees. We shape her trees into homes, that we may be sheltered from the storm. Think of life itself as water. And think of every creature and plant as clay vases. Cerridwen created all of the vases, and filled them with this water of life. In the Emerald Way, we view her as the great unifier. We are all united by these waters of life, and each and every descendant carries this water of life inside of them. Cernunnos The Father. The Horned Lord. Strength. Cernunnos. He holds many names, and many titles in our faith. He is the lord of the hunt, and the father of strength. He is often depicted as a horned man, carrying a bow, or a spear. It is to him that we owe our bountiful hunts, and it is to him that we are granted our strength. We enjoy full bellies, and great feasts because of him. But despite this, many view him as lord over death as well. After all, he chooses what lives and dies by granting strength and taking it. But the Emerald Way views him in a different light. He is instead, the lord of change. Instead of drying the oceans, he is the tide, ever changing the world around him. And he is the current, ever shifting life around. In the Emerald Way, there is no death. There is only life. A corpse feeds the grasses, and enriches that life. Suddenly, more grass arises. We are fed, and we give birth to our sons and daughters. Life never leaves this world. It only shifts from form to form. Think back to the vases and waters in Cerridwen’s passage. Instead of breaking the vases, Cernunnos merely pours water from vase to vase, and shapes new ones. There is great peace in this. I take heart knowing that I will live on this world even when the last elf has fallen. I. Morality as Inner Balance On yesterday's eve, I witnessed a sight most common, though for some unknown reason, it struck me strange. An elk was torn into by a beast, and ripped into, to eat. A common occurrence, yes, this is known. Tis’ the way of nature, the beasts eat the common gazelle, and so on. The predator eats the prey, and the prey feeds on what it can. There is no evil in it, the predator must eat as much as the prey, and the prey must eat what it can, and there is only survival in it. The predator feels naught for devouring its prey, nor does the prey when it grazes upon the grasses, despite life being taken from the world. Such is the unseen way of all natural life. Life passes on and on and through each moving piece of it. There is no evil or good in the natural balance, only what is and what survives. Such also is the way of druidism, our gifts are given without thought of good and evil, but with only this delicate balance of the cycle of life in mind. Druids are expected to be as neutral as nature in this sense, are we not? It is the duty of druids to correct the balance, wheresoever it may be corrupted, without heed for borders. It is our duty to correct it, we must. We have been charged by the aspects above to do our sacred duties, and the order has decided we must do it this way, completely neutrally. But this charge ignores a most fundamental principle of our life as descendants, of how we have grown and developed to live with morality, to have the sense of good and evil, and all in between. It is what makes us what we are, it is what gives us our humanity, and this makes us truly and beautifully unique. We are not a part of this balance the aspects have created for us, but we surely live with it. Though to attempt to live without morality, to attempt to live neutrally and strive to think as the aspects do, without heed of what is good and evil, this is unnatural of our own being. It makes us only as simple as the beasts and prey that are in the balance we seek so desperately to protect. We cannot, and we should not deny what we are, how we think, but we must find a balance of our own, and look over the balance of nature with a sense of right and wrong. To live along with both the balance and the descendants, separately, yet together. In this, we are allowed to exercise our sense of right and wrong and do our duty to protect the balance with great strength. It is not the nature of men to keep out of everything, we, as Malin's kin, must be involved in the survival of our people, and our culture, for surely the theatre of the world seeks to stamp us out yet. One would say it distracts us from our duty, to be a part of a nation. This is not the case, nay. I might even say it better allows us to perform our duties. While we cannot live as neutral, we are able to do our best to spread what is good, and what is just. It is of the utmost importance that druids maintain strong ties to the world they live in and protect, they cannot fly above it all. Neutrality is a disease that leaves men weak, and staggeringly alone, as many beasts are. Fellow priests of the balance, I say to you. Do not catch the disease of neutrality. Hone your sense of right and wrong, fight always for the path of good for you and your people. Do not become unnatural men, stripped of all sense of what is good or evil in the world. In morality, we find our strength together. Apathy is a fate worse than death, for even a rotting corpse feeds new life. II. Will Within Balance We are inherently separate from the thing we protect so dearly, as druii. The balance consists of life around us, the seen and hidden movements of nature ever moving in a circle around us. The birds and trees die out, but there is ever a forest standing, no? Songbirds fill the air, do they not? We are ever surrounded by life, yet death lurks and strikes here and there. No matter how oft or how heavy death’s strikes may be, life ever moves on. Many druii take our duty to protect the balance as a sign that the world is weak. It is the opposite indeed, for the balance of the world knows a will far greater than our own. Life will find a way, no matter how damaged it may be. We druii exist only as a means of preserving the balance’s state, and correcting it where we find imbalance. Yet as I say, we are inherently separate from the balance of the world. Instead, we hold a force of our own within, potentially even equal to this primordial balance of the world. The balance of the self. The Emerald way is, at its core, the way of two balances. One cannot neglect this balance of the self when protecting the balance of the world, for it is far more fragile, and far weaker. This balance, in a way, is even more important than that which the druii are sworn to protect. With this separation from the balance of the world, the circle of life is entirely indifferent to us, to our very being. We have little sway over it, though many druids seem to rely on it for their source of strength. They use their gifts frivolously, and have grown dangerously dependant on them. They fail to realize that to rely on their gifts to do protect is dangerous, and leaves men weak. No man or woman can hope to fully control this primordial force, and they are left with atrophied bodies, defenseless without their gifts. They fail to realize that true strength comes from within, and that in order to change the balance, and protect it, we must cultivate our own will to match the strength of the world’s will. While faith is important, true strength is drawn from our own volition; The power to use your will, which is equally important as obtaining power itself. Never live for the sake of another, or an ideology. Live for yourself, and no other. With that, we empower ourselves to carry out the will of the aspects, to protect the balance. III. The Nature of Will A man can change everything if he is willing to sacrifice for it. The greatest changes require the strongest wills, And we must give much for the salvation of this world. In the beginning, we have nothing. Our privilege is the dirt. In such darkness, our will guides us to light Perspective pierces the veil of dark. Our birthright is our failings, and the pain we suffer. When darkness comes, we can rely on no other to face it for us. Only through our willpower can balance be attained. IV. Beings of the Present Self The balance does not, nor can it be made to be still for long. All things move until they pass on, and even then their energies move ever forward into other forms, other vessels that will move on and on. And from movement, movement is born, ever arching outward. You, druii, are no exception to this commotion. We constantly expend our energies in creating islands of quiet within our lives, trying to still the waves that march ever onward, yet it cannot last. Time encroaches, it consumes all things. Fling yourself to the waves of life, druii, engage in the here and now, and you will find that the key to living is your own will. The will to see life for its flaws, and the will to better it, to create your own waves. One cannot focus on the waves that have long since passed, the echoes of feelings you once felt. The past does hold merit in giving us its teachings, but from there, move on. It holds nothing for you. Let the past die, and use what you have learned to shape your present. With the lessons of the past, we can focus on dealing with what is here and now, with the waves that crash over us. Use what you have learned to enact your will, and shape the waves around you. And perhaps prevent a tidal wave from overwhelming you in the future by dispersing it before it happens. By changing your destiny. There is no lasting stillness. It is impossible. Accept this. Know it in your bones. Watch the world happening around you, and through your will, forge your own echoes, your own cadence in this world. Live in the moment, and your will can shape the future. V. The Balance of the Self My words earlier in these pages were far too simple, I’m afraid, for they leave out a great deal in seeking to express the point, but they failed to truly explain my deeper meaning. Earlier, I stated that the balance within consists of the will to act on the sense of good and evil. Though I do not refute that, I’m afraid that the truer meaning of the inner balance is lost on such words. Good and evil are a point of view, different to each person. I have found better words to explain such a dichotomy. Instead of viewing the inner balance as the senses of good and evil, replace such words with selfishness and selflessness. To act for the self, and to act for others. This opens the situations to all by providing a common meaning. You cannot have one without the other in life. Pure selfishness only harms others, and amassing your own power can lead you to enact your desires as opposed to working toward the balance. Instead, one must use the powers gained from selfishness to act selflessly in life. To sacrifice for the good of others, and of the balance. But beware, lliran. Pure selflessness is just as destructive as pure selfishness. Benevolence for the sake of benevolence leaves you in a worse position than when you started, it weakens you and sacrifices your own strength to help. In addition, it robs others of their struggles, their own opportunities to learn and gain their own strength. Never sacrifice your own strength to rob another of their struggles. As I said before. Recognize the value in letting people fight their own battles, and they will be all the stronger for it. Selfishness for the sake of selflessness… this is how we can protect the balance. By enacting our own will through this, we have the strength to alter the balance and preserve it. This inner balance is not inherent to druids, or even the balance that they protect. It is inherent to the descendants, this ability to act in selfishness and selflessness. It is where inner strength is drawn, the will to enact change upon the world. Such a principle applies to all aspects of life, and so it is important that druids hone their will to act on this sense. A druid who has mastered their ability to act on this sense will go far. A soldier who has mastered it will find his enemies falling before him. A farmer who has mastered it will know only bountiful harvests. It applies to all paths through life. If we cannot find the strength to act on this and hold balance in our sense of selfishness and selflessness, how then can we hope to protect the primordial balance of the world? We cannot. VI. The Absence of Understanding The Lord and Lady have blessed you with eyes to see and ears to hear, and a whole world to experience. Yet we remain blind and deaf to most of it. I remain blind, despite teachings that were meant to open my eyes and help me see the world for what it was. We consider it a great tragedy when one falls to darkness, when they stray away from the teachings of the order, and when they fall into hands that turn them to violence and disparity. Many of our students are failing, falling to darkness in their belief continuously. Those that remain follow blindly to their teachers, like sheep, unable to think past the surface of druidism. Most haven't thought yet to dive in. We are missing something within our teachings. Missing a piece that keeps the ambitious prodigies away from darkness, and a piece that allows others to break their chains and to be free from the slavery of secular thought. The teachings of our order, I find, ignore the dark of the world. They preach only the light, and are blind for it. I have sought the contrast myself, the dark to compliment the light, not to oppose it. I will not tell what I have learned here, only that the current teachings do not hold all of the answers you need. By learning what they have not taught me, I have seen what makes us weak. If you are to truly understand, then you too must seek this contrast, not adherence to this single ideal. To believe in an ideal is to be willing to betray it, to look where it may forbid you to go. It is a lesson of strength. If you do believe in an ideology, then find its opposite, so that you may reinforce it by correcting its flaws. Become what strengthens an ideology, not a slave to it by following it dogmatically. Without this contrast, we are but marionettes, tangled in the strings of weaknesses in our ideologies. VII. The Value of Struggle and Self Reliance Pure benevolence weakens the self, and those to whom it is cast upon. Do not roam the world, dispensing pity and self sacrifice unto others. By giving others the chance to fight their own struggles, internally and externally, we give them the chance to cultivate their own will. Do not be a thief in the night, stealing strength from others where you would mask it with benevolence. If you truly wish to help another, recognize the value in letting them cultivate their strength and will through their struggles. When they triumph, their victory will be far greater than it would be if you would help them. Through your own struggles, cultivate this inner will, and you will find the path to balance. Create a strict reliance on yourself, rather than your connection to the balance, to the thing you protect. Too many druids of our age focus on honing their gifts to better serve the lord and lady above on this earth. I ask you, strip them of their gifts, and what do they become? Only empty shells, incapable of enacting their duty to the balance without the gifts of the aspects. And that is no true disciple of the balance. Without will, we are nothing. This brings us to a fundamental question: If a druid loses her powers, is she still a druid? The way you would answer would depend on your view. If you say no, you believe inherently that only those with the gifts can make a difference in this world, and you are wrong. The devout, druii without gifts, are simply those with greater will. With the proper will, everything can be changed, such is the nature of will itself. Druidism is something greater than simply gifts. Those that would choose death over a life without their gifts are those whose wills are weak, and were unworthy of them in the first place. VIII. The Nature of Life and Death The Mother above creates and cares for life throughout the world, and spreads it over the land. Helps it grow, nurtures it. Heals it. Guides it. The energy of life exists through all living things. Tt surrounds us, penetrates us. It binds the world together, and unifies it all. It is fluid, like the water that carries it. This is known. Death does not exist. This life created by the mother never leaves this world, it merely passes from vessel to vessel. The fallen elk feeds the grasses, and the prey feeds the predator. On and on the cycle moves, life being poured from vase to vase. It holds many different shapes and forms, but at its core, all forms are simply life. We are no exception to this. It is because of this that the role of the father is oft misunderstood, however. He is not death, nor is he the hunt. His name is strength, not for his ability to take life, or hold mastery over it. But for his power to move the energies of life from one vessel to the next. It is from his will that the balance exists. It is from his own will that life moves from vessel to vessel, never stagnating, never finding stillness. It is due to this change that life is truly precious, and each form just as valuable as the last. So where do we lay among all of these vessels? Where does our power come from? We cannot define ourselves by our ability to take life, to control it even or possess it. To do so is to have nothing, truly. Death does not exist, and to define yourself by your ability to usher it, your strength is as fleeting as grains of sand in the wind. But if we define ourselves by our ability to will great change in the world, to move and change the vessels of life as Cernunnos does? That is true strength, lliran. This is what the focus of druii should be. Cultivating the will to usher change. IX. Facing Conflict I speak much against a neutral stance, and this much holds true. One should always act when they have the opportunity to, and when there is greater suffering in the world. But I have not always been clear on what it is to act on, or how one should carry themselves. In my life, I have been through many struggles of my own, and this is the view I have learned thus far, and it is the view I shall give unto the Emerald Way, that others may find a better way to approach their problems. Live your life, and act with great respect and wisdom, for you must be a beacon of change for the world, a fount of knowledge and veneration. Without strong principles to guide us through our own morality, what then can we enact our will from? A principled life, one with a strong basis for which we act is the only life worth living. But what is principle without the perspective to see the world around you as it is? Through rigorous meditation we gain clearer perspective, and can find the solution to any problem. When on your journey through life, take one step at a time, look up from your feet and observe the living world around you. Speak to all you may meet and soak in all the details you can, learn what comes to you. Life is to be savoured, taken slowly. Rashness is the path toward greater suffering. Will. Principle. Perspective. These are three values that the Emerald Way promotes. Through these values, act with a tempered and clear mind, and seek always to see more than what you are shown. From these values, we find the strength to change anything in this world. Even destiny. X. The Place of Gifts and Tools I have said before, the druids rely on the gifts far too much. It overtakes their being, and in some cases, druids cannot function in day to day life without the use of their gifts. It becomes a crutch, one that would leave a druid crippled without it. Such deep rooted dependency is something to be avoided, something to be shut down and moved away from. And even in our divine mission, many rely entirely on this aspect-given gift to do our work. Without them, I don’t doubt that many would fail in their mission, that they would cease to protect the balance without their precious gifts. And I sense an even more sinister plot. That many druids are here only for the power that they may receive from the gifts. Devotion is a scarce thing to see these days, true devotion to the lord and lady above. Many druids fall, and when they lose their gifts, they simply move onto something else that may give them the power they seek to enact their wills. Give many of the druids of the order only silence, and you will truly see who follows the aspects. But you may see this as me having a negative view of the gifts, which cannot be further from the truth. I have only a negative view of druids that rely on such gifts, that depend on them, sometimes to the extent of needing them to live. Such reliance is weakness, and weakens the order as a whole. However, the gifts themselves are not to blame. We have many tools at our disposal to aid us in our mission of preserving the balance of life. Our mind, our physical strength, our charisma, our words, and yes, our gifts. The gifts are but one singular tool with many uses, just like the other tools. You do not need the gifts in order to protect the balance, just like you do not need the gifts in order to be a druid. To believe that one must have the gifts in order to carry out our divine mission is vanity, don’t you see it? I would rather a devout person without gifts that protects the balance to the best of their ability rather than a druid who uses their gifts for personal gain, or one that seeks personal power. The Order should enforce teachings of these inherent tools that we already possess, and their uses in protecting the balance, rather than preparing them to rely on their gifts. Teaching students that only their new power can preserve the balance is a dangerous and self destructive way of thinking, and is the reason behind many of the greatest failings of our order. There is a silent lust for power within our teachings, I think, and we are utterly blind to it. Always, the next step in learning is to master a new gift. At least, this is what I have seen in the world. There is a great flaw in this method. XI. Amongst the Shadows, the Hunter Preys “When the darkness comes, we can rely on no other to face it.” A hard truth that rings out in the Nature of Will. We are alone in this world, and we can rely on no other, be it a nation, or a friend, to protect us from the evils that seek to cause imbalance in ourselves and in the world around us. Sure, others can assist you in your journey to find balance, but ultimately, we are on our own on this path. This includes when the walls of our world come crashing down around us, and when others draw blades in offense. Remember this lesson though, amongst the shadows the hunter preys. Stick to the shadows and become the hunter, not the hunted any longer. The wild hunter works alone, or perhaps in a smaller group, staying away until the moment is right to strike. Be the wild hunter, and stick to the shadows like paste, be they physical shadows or metaphorical. A hunter can navigate through the webs that society weaves just as well as the darkest depths of the forests. Watch always. Strike without warning. Wait for the opportune moment to strike. And train with but a close teacher watching, no others. Do not show others your strength until the last possible moment. Hold your strengths, your tools close to your chest, and they become all the more powerful. When traipsing through society’s webs, blend in. Do not draw attention to yourself. To walk the path of a druid is to live in service to the two balances. Fight for both of them, and little else. Use violence for necessity and defense, never for indulgence or boasting. Survival is key. Balance is key. XII. The Power of Identity In all things, know who you are. Your identity as a person is imperative to the two balances. Control your identity. Form it. Shape it. Let no other have reign over it. For when your identity is controlled, you are controlled, and your ability to serve the balance diminishes. Your name is your own, and no other’s. In terms of your tools, it is among your strongest. Forge a new identity if you must, in order to break the chains placed upon you by others. Take no titles but those you forge for yourself. Self control is the path to true will. XIII. The Importance of Endurance as Mali As mali, our people are fragile. We are few in number, but long lived. Much can happen within our lives, and we must be prepared to face everything. Be it death, war, famine, or genocide. Be it the murders that haunt us, or the misdeeds and sins of the many. Be it our own failures. We must endure through all things. We must stand at the highest peaks, until the wind tears the mountain into the sea. We must live amongst the forests until they no longer stand. We must endure a thousand wars and watch the blood of our brothers and sisters stain the grasses. This is why we must value endurance to the point of zealotry. We must tune the mind and body to last through all these things. We must constantly stand tall, or we are doomed to fail in our mission as druii. As the world changes around you, remain unmoved by it. You have a duty to your brothers and sisters to endure. But more importantly, you have a duty to yourself, and to the aspects to endure. XIV. On Mani I have noticed something that quite disturbs me. It has brought questions that have shaken my being. In the decline of the Dominion, before we were split to the core, I was beginning to see the rise of the worship of mani. At first, I was quite pleased to see it, watching the faithful delve deeper into the mysteries that the aspects laid before us. But before long, I saw trouble brewing. The faithful began directing their prayers only unto the mani. They rose their names higher and higher, and I watched as many began to favor the statues of the mani over those of the aspects themselves. Before long, our faith began dividing itself yet again, its members grouping themselves by their patron mani. When I saw this, I suspected a schism to pass, yet I did little to change the fate I saw before me. And before I knew it, the followers of Morea and Moccus led an exodus from our lands. This disheartens me. Watching my brothers and sisters place others over the aspects themselves. Perhaps it was the natural progression of this faith, I do not know. But even after I watched as many followed down this path, I knew that the aspects are above all. The Emerald Way will hold no mani of its own, that we may show our reverence to the aspects above all else. Revere the mani, yes. Worship the mani, yes. But in all things, the aspects reign over all. The Emerald Path The dedicancy of an aspiring druid is a path that varies greatly between circles, and even between kindred druii. All of our brothers and sisters have been birthed from these various dedicancies, and many great druids have been birthed from it. Yet despite these successes, we’ve been failing our students. I’ve seen two extremes of our failure within the Naelurir. Our students become mindless sheep, unable and unwilling to explore the deeper mysteries of our world. They cannot act until they’re ordered to, and are often the victims of sloth. They do not carry out the tasks required by our priesthood. And the other side are the independent minds. The ambitious ones with their own agenda in mind. Ones that seek power before faith. These are the dark ones that come from our order. We are responsible for them, for their actions as an order. We’ve always blamed them, their own passions and shortcomings, but we’ve never pointed a finger to ourselves. There is great fault in our teachings, a lack of tempering for these minds that leads them to search elsewhere for better answers. Thus, the basic teachings of the Emerald Way; Faith Studies After taking their oath to the aspects in blood, a strong foundation and understanding of the wild faith is important in fostering a deeper understanding from which we can truly become independent thinkers. To pass through the trials, one must have these foundations prebuilt, that they may fully utilize the tasks they’ve been given. Therefore, before tasks can begin, a student should have in depth instruction on at least the following topics, if not further. The Core Teachings Cerridwen, Cernunnos, The Balance, The Mani The History of Mali Taynei’hiylu, Irrin Sirame, Seed Era, Modern History Survival Medicine and Combat Studies of the Mysteries The Eternal Forest, Rituals, Prayers, and Offerings The Insight of Creeds To search for deeper insight. This is the purpose of examining the three creeds of the aspectist faith. It is one thing to know your duties, to perform them to the best of your ability. It is another to fully understand why you do them, and to find a deeper meaning in them that may echo in all of your actions. A creed is not something to tell you how to live your life, nor to tell you how exactly to do your duties. They are simply ways for finding a deeper understanding of druidism and aspectism in your life, and connecting the self to the balance in ways unheard of before. Thus, it should be required of all dedicants that they examine each of them, learn from their heralds about each of them. To understand the contrast betwixt the three creeds is of the utmost importance, even when dedicated to the Emerald Path alone. Path of an Acolyte To further prove dedication to the aspects themselves, and to prove the prowess of the self, dedicants must serve the priesthood as unattuned persons, assisting their guides in protecting the balance through whatever means are required. Whether that be defending a druid during their travels and in their duty, or witnessing a conversion. Through their time as an acolyte, a dedicant should learn how to act as a priest, and how a priest must carry themselves. The Trials After an acolyte has taken the path, and shadowed a priest, the priest overseeing them will announce them to be ready for the trials. The priest must present them either before two high priests, or two oracles to be judged if they are worthy to become priests. If found wanting, they will be returned to the path of an Acolyte. If they have been judged worthy, they will begin their trials to ascend to priesthood. Which trials to be taken are up to the priest overseeing their acolyte. If one has joined a creed, then they may follow the trials of the creed. If not, a teacher may start them on their own trials. If a teacher has not developed their own tasks, they may follow the ones below. Trial of Knowledge: The acolyte must write a thesis on the lessons of the wild faith, and of the Emerald Way to show their understanding and provide a new perspective on either of the three to show critical thinking. If they can find another way to show what they have learned, they may show it that way. It will be left to the judgement of the priest overseeing. Trial of Steel: An acolyte must show great courage and bravery, be it through fighting a great enemy, or facing down against a great evil. Defeating a dark creature, or fighting in a war. Any great feat of bravery must be shown. Trial of Endurance: An acolyte must endure great hardship, struggle, pain, or loss. Be it through battle, or the rending of flesh. Battle scars may suffice. If an acolyte cannot endure loss, or pain, how can they be expected to uphold their own character, and that of the order? Trial of Reflection: Give dedicant peyote or other herb that makes them disoriented. Then, take him to a mountain nearby with a dagger and nothing else to learn about Cernunnos. To feel that longing for food and to experience the grit of the hunt. They must come back with a kill. (OOC NOTE: For this one, make them write a short story about their character’s experience, like a forum post, as making them emote at nothing while they’re on their own in a forest is boring.) Trial of Faith: Perform a public ritual (Wedding/Last Rites/Warpainting/Leading a group offering), with an elder priest to oversee. OR an acolyte may bring two other mali into the fold of aspectism. Or in some way, the dedicant must demonstrate a considerable knowledge of the wild faith. Either will do. GRAND TRIAL: Dedicant comes up with what they want their grand task to be. Guide has to approve it. Must be Grand Attunement “The gifts do not maketh the priest. The priest maketh the gifts.” - The Oracle, Hurricane After their path has been taken, and their trials complete, it has come time for a priest to be attuned, and to undertake the burden of the two balances.
  2. TheDragonsRoost

    Wrath of the Darkness

    Previous story “The World Timeline [ET Story]”: =========={(++)}========== “Energy. Mana. Amber. It’s all the same, but under a different name. No magic that is known to those in Atlas is destructive but yet offers creation. At least, not yet...” Some stories don’t end the way you expect it to. From those that offer salvation of the aeguls to those the crave eternal torment of the archdaemons, there is no greater battle than good versus evil. Yet, even though the battle is fought for millennia from the beginning of known Time, we always forget that there is no true evil or true good. Ascended are not truly pure of soul as they wish us to perceive them as and those who wield dark magic are not truly psychotic as many are led to believe. Most of those that wield the powers of the ether do not understand the true consequences of magic and nor would they. At least not at the beginning. Each one of those who wield magic are never able to scratch the true depths of light or dark and are forced to understand little. Until it begins to manifest in its own magics. Shades are merely a drop in the ocean compared to those forces that truly allow casters to do magic beyond the normal capabilities of a descendant. Necromancers are people who see no boundary between the forces of life and death, but are weak in power, even at their greatest of heights. True dark magic is never achieved by simply tapping into the soul and casting spells that remind all of their mortality, but it is when you have suffered through the very depths of pain and torment that even a daemon’s torture would seem like child’s play. That is the power that is behind the magic of darkness. The true forces of Oblivion itself. Born of suffering, of torment, and of pure rage, those that have been through Hell and back can feel their rage grow into a pure destructive force to where even those that walk in the Mindspace would be unable to quell such craving of destruction. The light within their souls becomes no more and transforms into a Black Soul, forcing no more joy or happiness to arise and only the pure dark emotions to exist. No sane person would ever wield this kind of power and survive intact, but even those driven into a pure frenzy of bloodlust, of carnage on a unheard of scale would appear to be normal folk until they let their true banners fly. Masters of concealment and trickery-while being true psychopathic monsters-those that wield this power are forever barred from the Seven Skies and those within the very depths of Hell would writhe in fear of those tormented by such dark feelings. Pure shadows of their former selves-daemonic in nature-they can never truly return to their old lives and for those that suffer in their presence, they are faced with the true face of those possessed by the very dark emotions our souls filter through. Darkened beyond the blackest of nights and eyes that become purest black, those that are faced against such a creature are never intact again.... If they are lucky to escape with their lives. All of existence should tremble in fear of these that succumbed to their pain and rage, but even they are not gods. Merely creatures that live forever-that are bound to their darkest of natures and are quick to respond violently to those who dare to cross their paths. Death lives among those who notice not its presence, but its cold grasp. ==============={(++)}=============== OOC: This isn’t an ET Story and holds no relevance to the previous story, but it is worth mentioning why I created this story. I’ve always been fascinated with dark magic (yes, it’s true) in any fictional story and roleplay server. Even on LotC, it is true that OOC’ly I am fascinated by the concept of Shade Magic, Striga, Necromancy, and even Liches (hence why they are mentioned here in the story), but this fascination is what drives me to create stories with not-yet-existing magics that have truly dark origins and have some kind of tie into those that wield it. Even the concept of Oblivion itself isn’t like my previous illiterations of it, but I strive to make it something that is powerful in its own right and yet offers itself checks and balances. Of course it can be said that I’m a “mega-nerd” for magic, but all I can say is that they aren’t wrong. I do love magic and the endless possibilities it offers to help further a story along (though only in the fantasy genre). Anyways, I do still plan to write up this magic for LotC (while my own rp version of Oblivion is not going to be on LotC since the lore wouldn’t be usable on this server) and make it possible for all to enjoy than just me. I hope you enjoyed this story “Wrath of the Darkness” and I wish you a good day! -TheDragonsRoost
  3. Fid

    The House Sylvaeri

    “And verily I say unto you, go forth and fear no darkness; for ours is the way of the Light, and no foul evil may turn us away from our Oath.” -Aegnor I Starfinder, first bearer of the Seastone Crown. The Venerable House of Sylvaen Mar’lin Sylvaeri The House of Sylvaen, often known colloquially as the House Sylvaeri, is an ancient Elven bloodline which traces its furthest roots to the ancient homeland of Malinor. Alongside the elder Elves of the House Silma, they serve as representatives of the Elder Bloodlines upon the Continent. While the extent of their early history is best told in the Lay of Aegrothond and other tales, they have made their mark upon modern Elven history as well; many have served as High Princes, Princes, and Lords in Old Malinor, the Dominion, and Aegrothond. The Sylvaeri Despite the great span of years which has passed since their formation as a distinct bloodline, the House has remained generally uniform in appearance and in phenotypic traits. They are almost always possessed of peculiarly grey eyes, akin to their forebear, and this is the surest method of discerning pure blood. They are more varied in the colour of their hair- while the dominant colour has always been dark, the Sylvaeris of the Atlasian era are largely fair-haired. Their skin is also fair, though tends towards tan in those who spend a great deal of time in the sun and sea-spray. The House dresses primarily in shades of crimson and gold- simple garb, and fitted for the active trades. Common also are earthy tones, and sometimes autumnal wreaths, though these are considerably rarer. They are not, despite their other vices, particularly prone to vanity- as such they rarely adorn themselves for the benefit of others, and only do so to their own humble satisfaction. To this end they have a greater appreciation for jewelry, especially in the realm of gold and precious gems- but they love silver best, and pale diamond and opal-stones which are found deep beneath the earth. They are not miners themselves, however, and as a result the House has often made alliance with representatives of Dwarven Mountain Clans; they are welcome in their woodland halls, and the Dwarvish language is commonly learned by their children. The sons of Almenor are with few exceptions proud and haughty, and value personal honour highly; the spirit of fire associated with their ancestor burns true within their hearts, and ire comes more easily to them than to other Elves. Grudges and feuds are seldom left unpunished when slight (perceived or true) has been done upon them- though these resolutions may come many generations later. Some who bear the blood are by this virtue grim, and even dark-hearted- but most tend towards a nobility of spirit, and do no evil. The Forges of the Almenodrim Of all the families of Elvendom the forge-craft of House Sylvaeri may be considered chiefest and greatest; by virtue of their friendships with the Dwarves they long ago grew wiser in the lores of metals and gems, and developed their own styles to better suit their Elven natures. Therefore the steel wrought of their forges is considered to be among the best in the world, and is prominently reinforced with woven natural magics and other, more secret arts which are taught only to few. The Oath of the Seven and Bloodsilver Rings There are few customs which define the House of Sylvaen more clearly than the Oath of the Seven, which is sworn by all of-age members and is considered the rite of passage for young Elves. The Oath, and the accompanying tradition of forging rings made with the blood of the oathkeeper, find their roots in the establishment of the House by the Seven Sons of Sylvaen. This tale, and its meaning, is fully told in the Tale of Dagnir, which is a constituent part of the Lay of Aegrothond. Symbols and Banners Most prominently featured upon the crimson banner of the House are the hammer and anvil of Sylvaen, which are set below a crown; the latter represents the Crown of Malinor, which was worn by their ancestor Eleron, last royarch of that fallen Princedom. The seven stars which flank the arms are of the constellation Narnir’vallei, which is known in Common Speech as ‘The Mariner’. It is beloved of the House, and the grouping can often be found in their works, and even sewn upon their garments. The use of the arms follows the practice of a quintessentially Elven form of feudalism; they can be worn by any sworn to the House and honour of Aegrothond, and as such are not reserved solely for the bearers of Sylvaen’s Elder Blood. Heirlooms of the House Due to the rich tradition of forgework kept by the family, the Sylvaeri clan are possessed of a commensurate amount of relics, artifacts, and jewels of rare and unmatched craft and beauty. Most of these were wrought in the old lands of Almenor, but some are more recent- and with few exceptions are associated with great deeds and Elves of yore. The Necklace of Stars Known also as the “Light of the Almenodrim”, the Necklace of Stars is one of the greatest treasures of all Elvendom, and the work of Sylvaen’s own hand. It is set with a great multitude of diamonds and other gems, cut to perfection by the ancient hosts of Aegrothond. It bore for a time one of the Crown Stones, taken from the circlet of Malin. Belethil- The Star of Morning A gem crafted by the hands of ancient Dwarves, Belethil is steeped in the traditions of Malinor, and greatly treasured. It was lost when Sylvaen cast himself into the sea, and none have seen it since. At times, when the moon is high, it is said that the path which it traces upon the surface of the ocean will lead a traveler to Belethil’s resting-place. The Crown of Storms A younger artifact than the first few, the Crown of Storms is representative of the later deeds of the Almenodrim- most specifically of Aegnor Starfinder and his descendants who dwelt upon the shores of the Sea (and for whom it was made). Though the Crown itself has been lost to time, it was fabled to render unto the wearer the wisdom of the ancient mariners- to render them safe from the furies of the storm, and even to prevent drowning. Whether these tales are true or not, is entirely unknown.
  4. Edrahil and the Dragon Which is the third part of the Lay of Aegrothond, in which the deeds of Edrahil are told. In the elder ages of the world, when the Sun and Moon were bright and untarnished by years uncounted, a fair realm was spread between the mountains and the sea. In those days the paths of the Elves were greatly sundered and broken, and not least of all these rifts was the breaking of faith between the Almenodrim and the Crown of Malinor, of which the Song of Dagnir tells. By this virtue most who departed Tavule had come to follow the Great Houses, which had come together in order for to be known as the wider realm of Aegrothond. For a time they were guided by Sylvaen the Everflame, of whom many a tale is told- but by the time of this telling he had passed into oblivion, and led no longer. Now Prince Aegnor the Starfinder ruled over the holdfasts which had been his father’s, and he took upon his own shoulders the mantle of Lordship of the Almenodrim and the stewardship of the land and the people. Six brothers remained to him, left over from exodus- and each was possessed of a craft and mastery so that their holdfast flourished and grew. Thus they together spread their princely wisdom, and all the lands were glad for it. One among them was foremost in martial skill and ability, and it is he that will feature most prominently in this tale.Lord Edrahil was his name, which is well-remembered, and he was the fourth son of Sylvaen. Great faith he kept in the Oath of his House, and a will indomitable to purge the darkness from the fouler places of the world; to this end he traveled often beyond the far bounds of the realm of the Almenodrim, to seek out all evils and break them beneath the power of his bright will. Thusly were the lands of the Elves kept safe from harm, to grow and be fruitful. Now in the northern mountains in those years the dwarf-manses were in constant strife with all manner of dark creatures which grew and multiplied, having been left behind by the wraths of Iblees and other, older evils which have no name. Chiefest among these at that time was the wyrm Ankar, which had fled to those parts after the first breaking of the Deceiver. From the high peaks this beast commonly ventured to terrorize the peaceful Dwarves- a terrible wrath incarnate, borne upon a sudden wind and a gout of freezing breath. Ere long it came to be that the wyrm’s hunger was not sated with dwarf-flesh and gold, and it began to hunger for the far sweeter meats of the south. The first settlement beneath his wrath was called Myrdaen, a village known for its refining of fine wool and ornamented cloths of all kinds. It came like a cold wind from the north, and tore the land asunder- feasting upon the sheep and cattle, and driving aside the stones of Elvish buildings with brutal force. Of all who dwelt there, few survived- and in great clamour the Lord himself was felled by the snapping jaws of darkness incarnate. Some managed to escape, and hastened to the shores of the Sea where the Court of Prince Aegnor was held. There the beleagured Elves made their plea, and were received in dour mood by the Prince and his lordly brothers. So it came to pass that Edrahil heard of this grey terror of the high mountains, and his mind at once was set with fateful purpose. “By what right doth Ankar claim the mastery of the skies, who was made in mockery of Creation?” he cried aloud, and his eyes shone with a sudden flame. “Too long have we allowed this danger to play upon our borders, and done nothing! Give me leave, brother, and swiftly shall Ankar’s monstrous head adorn your mantel-piece.” And his Company of friends struck their spears against their shields twice with great clamour, calling their assent. But Prince Aegnor sat a while in deep thought, causing even the rowdiest Elves of the Court to fall silent. “Cheaply valued is thy own life, brother, and the lives of thy Company,” he spoke at last, and his eyes grew dark with foretold doom. “Great danger lies upon the paths of the northern mountains, and small comfort will pride be to thy widows if thou art slain in pursuit of this beast. If thy hearts do not know fear, let them at least know wisdom. Death and grim fate shalt thou find in the North, and naught more.” All eyes were upon Edrahil then, who was silent, his eyes aglow behind his golden mask. But it was Erendriel the Bard who spoke, and stood forward from the other nobles with hand upturned- whereupon glimmered the ring of blood-silver, bound and sealed with the Oath of Seven. “Hearken to the rings of our brotherhood, if thou shalt not hearken to the pride of thy brother! For we are not of those who step back from perdition, and stand idly by, while brother-Elves are so cruelly put upon.” And the Prince was given pause, saying- “Rightly dost thou speak, Erendriel, though calamitous doom of one kind or another I presage of you. Wyrms do not tire easily of Elven silver, or turn away from simple cruelty.” Then he stood, and upon his brow the flames of the Seastone Crown glimmered with a ruddy light. “Go forth, then, ye twelve Companions, and as a token of hope take with you the Helm of our Father, who is perished.” And Edrahil received the Helm, and bowed deeply, for it was a high gift. Within the fortnight he set out north, and thusly began the great quest from the citadel of Tamun. Here it will be noted that this citadel was at the very edge of the realm of Old Aegrothond- that is to say, at the juncture shared by the mountains and the lowlands which swept down towards the Great Sea. This was because the Almenodrim (and indeed most Descendant Peoples of that time) kept to the ancient laws set forth by the Four Brothers, who demarcated all the lands of creation for their descendants. Therefore Men were granted dominion over the plains, Orcs over the deserts, Dwarves over the high mountains, and Elves over the broad forested lands wherever they may be found. In keeping with this practice Tamun was raised upon a wooded foothill, not far from the true mountains of the dwarrows, and served as a border-fort for general purposes. In any case, as the northernmost fortress it had been first to receive news of Ankar’s attack on Myrdaen, and thus the mood was high when the crimson banner of Edrahil was seen approaching from the south. Twelve there were in total, alongside their Lord- the aforementioned Company of heroes, and Erendriel the Bard who chose to ride with them. Hardy Elves were they, who had seen many a trial in their time and had sailed west with the Seven when the call was sounded. They had participated in the wars of the old homeland, and knew well the sting of dragon-breath. The keepers of Tamun received them gladly, and informed them of the state of the Northlands. In the time of their marching it seems the wyrm had grown bolder, so that even the fortified cities were no longer safe, and feared him. But Edrahil only smiled, and called for more mead, saying: “It is he who should be trembling, good Elves. Soon, we shall make a fine powder of his ancient bones.” And so it was that the final night in warmth was passed, and there was little trepidation (far less, as you shall soon see, than there should have been.) The dew lay heavily upon the path into the Vale of Tamun as the Company of Edrahil set out, and clung to their scarlet cloaks in silvery droplets which shone in the morning sun like so many stars in a crimson firmament. Well-armed and armoured they were, for each among them bore a sword and a spear, and a shield rendered by the highest arts of the Almenodrim. Upon their faces were fearsome mask-helms of gilded steel, but beneath them the Elves smiled and were merry- for Edrahil led them whom they trusted, and Erendriel seldom ceased to sing and jest. “A score of red-breasted robin-fowl we look!” he laughed in melody, and the songbirds sang along with him in lilting tones. “To pluck the worm from the northern mountains, hear hear!” And a great shout of mirth and joy rose among the Company in march, for they did not know fear. Edrahil ordered then the banner to be lifted, and together the voices of the Elves rang farewell in ancient song as the town sank into the hills behind them. “Again they come, and swift they ride, “For Elvenesse, for Elvenesse!” Their voices rise with ringing pride. And trumpets high above them soar, for elder fathers, dispossessed for many kin, who fought and died, And nations torn and rent by war. For fear is foreign to their hearts, and blades with gladness strike and reave, Through forest air grown thick with darts, And long-spears wrought by Elven arts, Which forest-cloth like needle weave.” And so forth they sang in joy beneath their seven-starred banner of scarlet, as the road turned northwards and the foothills began to grow great and dark to either side. Ere long the heads of the mountains became hidden in the clouds, and the forests of Elvenesse gave way to stone and fallen gravel. As the last great tree faded beyond a ridge the group made camp, and settled in for an unhurried sleep. When the sun rose upon the second day the Company of Edrahil set out once more, though they sang less and spoke sparsely to one another; for the path had become difficult, and in places it wavered and fell into sudden crevasses which had doubtless been the death of many a reckless explorer. All about the road were tall crags of grey stone, interspaced atimes by small springs of clear water too cold for drinking- they had flowed down from the glaciers which crowned these mountains, too high above to be seen. The band stopped for short luncheon at noon, having brought with them a wealth of provision from the grateful Elves of Tamun, and set up a way-camp to rest their weary feet. Some jested that they hoped that the greater part of the journey was finished, but most remained silent- marveling at the broad tallness which was arranged about their fellows. So it was that one of them spotted a small creature crawling upon the rocks far below, which were woven with mists. He called to his companions, and Erendriel nocked a swift arrow in his heartwood bow. “Hark!” the Lord Edrahil cried into the abyss, and the astute Elven eyes of the Company discerned that the creature was in fact a particularly hairy dwarrow of auburn mane and pale complexion. “What business have ye here, in the lands between the forest and the mountain?” But the Dwarf did not reply, instead waving his short arms and swiftly scurrying from sight.“How odd,” remarked Edrahil, “I did not recall the Dwarves to be so fearful of Elves, especially in these parts. I wonder what it was that caused him to flee?” But no sooner had the Lord spoken, than a warbling cry pierced the air alongside many black-hafted arrows. [To be Continued]
  5. The Tale of Dagnir Which is the first part of the Lay of Aegrothond, and the earliest story of the Almenodrim. Among the tales of sorrow and ruin which come to us out of the elsewise forgotten years before the rising of the Moon, there are yet some in which the eldritch dolour is lifted, and a light is shown to endure even beneath its gloaming shadow. Of these histories perhaps the most stark is that of Sylvaen, and of the Almenodrim who were his progeny. It is told fully in the Lay of Aegrothond, the longest of all Elvish ballad-poems, which concerns in its majority the Parting of Kindreds and the many deeds, both fair and ill, of that family in the First Ages of the world. It is retold here in prose to lessen its length, for alike to all Elvish poetry it is prone to elaborate musings which are not conducive to the educational purposes of this text. The Lay begins in the ancient land of Malinor, wherein the great Eternal King kept his court and dwelt undying beneath evergreen boughs of yore; Malin was his name, which is honoured forever, and upon his brow was a crown unquestioned. His sons were as one, their ways unparted, for neither false prophets nor forces of earth and heaven could dislodge the keeping of blood which bound them hence. They loved well the trees and valleys of their realms, and delved in the deepest reaches of the forest to build their villages, being foremost among woodsmen. Among them, firstborn of the Father, walked Sylvaen Everflame, of whom this tale is told. He was tall, and fair of face, and resembled in all ways his father save for his locks, which were of raven-dark hue, and for his gaze, which was of piercing grey akin to the sea-floes of ice in winter. While his kin walked the deep forests he took a different path, and instead traveled to far western reaches of the Kingdom, near-to the mountains which held some erstwhile manses of the young Dwarves. In that land he built his holding, which he named Almenor, and few citadels were fairer in that time, or in any time since. In that place of silver fountains he came to know Serinwe, who would come to be his wife- and together they reared the Seven Sons of oath and legend, who led their people to glory and tribulation in equal measure. Their names were Aegnor, Edrahil, Renarion, Muindir his twin, Ilurien, Vitras, and Erendriel who was youngest of all; and they themselves were fruitful, so that the pillared halls of their kin rang with the laughter of children which the Elves valued more highly than any treasure. This great family was known as the Almenodrim, and they are remembered thusly in many songs, most chiefly by their own descendants. In the days before the Curse they were greatly peopled, so that several distinct Houses sprung up among them- but each bore loyalty to the Everflame and wavered not from their path alongside the Seven, throughout all of their history. Of all the children of Malin Sylvaen was the greatest in forgecraft, and in the tempering of steel and the making of mail he and his descendants were never outmatched, save perhaps by the most great-skilled of the Dwarf-smiths of yore. The hauberks and plate of their forges did not rust, and did not sustain the tarnish of age and weather, shining new-burnished even after an age of wear. All of their works were highly treasured, for they were crafted with arts which were not known to other wrights, and have been forgotten. It must, too, be noted that steel was scarce more than a servant to them- and it was in the working of silver, gold, and precious gems that they truly excelled, ultimately peerless. Made in those elder days were some of the greatest and most beautiful treasures of all noble Elvendom, which were beloved of all the Elder Folk and held in regard even in the furthest reaches of the continent. Among them were the Necklace of Stars, and Mίr n’Ardhon, and of course the great carved gem Belethil which was lost, of which more shall be told in other tales. All which could be wrought by hammer and anvil they excelled in creating- but no weapons, for the sons of Malin had no need for them, save of course for spears of alder and bows of yew, which they used to hunt wild game. In those days there was no strife, and all Elvenkind dwelt in harmony and peace. But even as Sylvaen and the Almenodrim laboured with great zeal and saw no ending to their works, doom of an eldritch sort came to the halls of Almenor. It began, as such things are often wont to, with a falling star, which tore the heavens and fell burning from the firmament. A clash like thunder heralded its coming to the plane of Aos, and a great fire and clamour levelled the forest about its landing- for such was its heat in that time that all which came in contact with it was immolated entirely. With a roar of splitting earth a chasm was opened about it in that wilderness, and there it would have remained if not for the curious whim of fate. It was Aegnor who found it, riding upon the great northern hills with his banners- and ever after for this reason he was oft-called by the name Elpharon, which means ‘star-finder’. Marveling at the desolation, he delved into the blackened cavern at its center- and though it burned his hands, he could not find the will to leave the glede-star behind. All marveled at it, and at its providence, for even the most experienced among them had not seen such ore. Concluding their businesses in those lands the Almenodrim brought it to their home, and though none could foresee it, sealed the fate of their House. For upon that metal lingered an evil which had no name, born of the darkness and vapour of primordial creation and forgotten by Gods and mortals both. At that time Sylvaen, being come to his full mastery and eminence, was filled with new intent and purpose- and growing bored in his lordship over forgecraft the great wright took great interest in the star-iron discovered by his eldest son. Many months after its arrival the metal did not lose its immense heat, and would burn those who laid hand upon it; Aegnor had failed to tame it, and it had scarred the reach of Muindir who was Sylvaen’s most promising student. So it was that at long last the father of the Seven came first to behold this curse of his family, and resolved to make something of it forthwith. But as he took up his hammer to strike upon the ore the smith beheld a great darkness which descended upon the great fires of his forge, alike unto a black grip which sought to take him in vice. And it spoke to him, this being, in a voice alien as the rubbing of coke on steel. “I have seen thee, Everflame, and all thy purposes and works are laid bare before me- but I deem them to be lesser far than those of thy Father, who is Malin. You shall fade, as leaves of autumn in the winter wind, and none shall know thy small name in posterity. As paupers thy sons will be, and grim fate shall find each among them in his time.” And the elf-prince was stricken by sudden doubt, for in his heart stirred a fear which had not been known to any in those blessed years; it was an evil not of this world, but rather of the one which had come before, and was never meant to linger. “By what vile sorceries dost thou speak unto me, creature of darkness, and what false poison dost thou pour upon my mind?” he cried out, and stepped back from the forge-fire which burned not yet so hot as the metal before him. “In skill of hand I have no single peer- all shall remember my works, and those of my sons, who shall be lords when I am gone.” But despite his remonstrance the creature of gloaming had seized upon the core weakness of his being, for though Sylvaen was foremost in cleverness and craft, his brilliant mind of metal and stone had become flawed in its vainglory, and in the obsession with legacy which was to haunt his line forever. “Stay thy despair, my child- for I sense a greatness in thy blood which shall surpass thy brethren,” the fallen star whispered, in tones of dulcet, layered upon with the cloy of paternal sweetness. “I will show thee much of that which thou knowest not, and change the path thou treadst- for great wisdom I see in thee, and a great promise also, which shall change the doom of the world in its stride. In my image thou shalt shape what none hath shaped before, and all shall know thy will, and fear it.” And though Sylvaen was not yet won over, his mind was curious- as all wrights he wished primarily to expand his art, and to craft ever-greater things until he had exhausted all possibilities of matter and shape. It occurred to him that to bind this star to his will would be the greatest achievement of his time, and a fine treasure in the vaults of Almenor; no creation had yet been beyond his ability in all his life, and no metal could give him pause at the height of his expertise. So it was that a fateful artificery began, which would last many days and many nights. Three times the smith began his work, and three times the metal defied his expert hand- for the spirit which perched upon it was possessed of its own design, and did not lend itself to mastery. For many hours they strove in the deeps of the Almenodrin forges, until the anvil of the wright glowed hot, and the smith himself was nearto spent. At last, putting forth all his lores and knowledge, the Everflame made corporeal the doom of his House- but it was not of his design, and the great shadow was upon it. So it came to pass that the first sword was born, and the Gods wept, for in the hand of Sylvaen it was destined to cause great pain and strife. The visage of the blade was as wrought iron, black and cruelly sharp, and it shone with a dull polish which caught and twisted the faces of those who would look into its surface; its guard was alike unto an umbel of upthrust thorns, and its hilt bound in pallid corded wire. Dagnir was its name, which was given to it by its creator, and harshly indeed did he lament its making; deep into Almenor he bade it be taken, and set inside a dark chamber to which no elf went willingly. And there Dagnir lingered, awaiting its fate. Sylvaen and the Seven soon forgot the star-stone in its entirety, and returned to their works of art and craft, growing more fruitful even than they had before. In those days the halls of Almenor were second only to the capital in populace, and greatly rich also, for they continued to trade with the Men and Dwarves who dwelt beyond the borders of the Greenwood. But the peaceful days of the First Ages were swiftly drawing to a close; and darkness festered in the far deeps of the world, marked by none save the delving Dwarrow-kind, who could not comprehend it. For Iblees’ work upon the Nether had been done, and the days trod ever-closer to the great war which would change the course of history forever. [To be Continued]
  6. NolandTheNovice

    The Evar'okarn

    The Evar'okarn Preservers of the Oasis Overview The Evar’okarn is often described as the pillar of the Fennic government, and that which keeps the mechanisms of the state running from day to day. These functionaries tend to a number of professional matters that call for work of a more academic nature, and deal with core functions of the Princedom. Due to the nature of their work, those who wish to enlist in the Evar’okarn are subject to a high degree of vetting for competence, dedication, and loyalty. The Evar’okarn has three distinct branches, each led by their own respective Grand Council member. The rank structure is universal between the branches. Each branch is led by a Grand Councilor, its regular members are generally referred to by the rank of Functionary, and its newest members are referred to as Applicants. It is recommended that Applicants only pursue one branch of the Evar’okarn, though on occasion entrance into more than one may be permitted. It is recommended that only those who have ample experience in the Princedom apply. Justiciars - Evar’tirn, Preservers of the Law The Justiciars are a distinct breed of academic within Fenn. A hybrid of scholars and judges, Justiciars engage in research and scholarly pursuits, whilst simultaneously serving as the interpreters of Fennic law and arbiters of disputes within the Princedom. Thus, they are expected to be highly educated. The Justiciars serve these dual roles due to the roles’ shared necessity for intellectual rigor, and the fact that the experiences gained in each only serve to benefit one’s abilities in the other. It is the duty of Justiciars to know the law, suggest changes to the law, and to interpret the law in the courtroom in arbitration over Fennic trials. The Justiciars are also integral for maintaining the Princedoms’ records and histories, including those of bloodlines - giving them the duty of aiding Snow Elves in discovering what bloodline they may belong to. If interested in joining, applicants must undergo an interview with the High Justiciar. Led by the High Justiciar, the ‘Functionary’ equivalent is simply known as a ‘Justiciar’, and those who are new or in trial for the branch are known as ‘Justiciar-Applicants’. Diplomats - Evar’hileian, Preservers of the Peace The Diplomats are the face of the Fennic Nation, bridging the political gap between the icy elven kingdom and far away lands. These consuls act in the High Emissary’s stay, meeting with other nations, organizations, or parties when he is unable to do so. Furthermore, it is their duty to aid in the creation of diplomatic amendments, and general overview of Fennic foreign policy. For these reasons, Evar’hileia are chosen based on their political experience, loyalty to the nation, sense of propriety, and a degree of charm. If interested in joining, applicants for the Diplomatic Corps must also arrange an interview with the High Emissary of Fenn as a supplement to their application. The ‘Functionary’ rank is known as ‘Diplomat’, and those who are new or in trial for the corps are simply referred to as ‘Diplomat-Applicants’. These applicants are able to serve as aides to the High Emissary until becoming a full Diplomat. Stewards - Evar’lin, Preservers of the Home The Stewards are an integral part of the Princedom’s inner mechanisms. It is their duty to oversee all housing within the Princedom, but also, to see to it that those who travel to join the Princedom are adequately settled into society. The Stewards oversee evictions, taxes, house distribution, shop distribution, and other matters related to the Princedom’s vital infrastructure. If interested in joining, applicants must undergo an interview with the High Steward. They are led by the High Steward, with the ‘Functionary’ equivalent being ‘Steward’, and those who have not yet received training as Stewards being ‘Steward-Applicants’. Applications Justiciar Application [OOC] Username: Discord: Timezone: [RP] Name: Gender: Race/subrace/culture: Place of residence: Prior relevant experience: Do you swear obedience to the Princedom of Fenn, and to the Grand Prince?: Diplomat Application [OOC] Username: Discord: Timezone: Availability for RP Interview: [RP] Name: Gender: Race/subrace/culture: Place of residence: Prior relevant experience: Do you swear obedience to the Princedom of Fenn, and to the Grand Prince?: Steward Application [OOC] Username: Discord: Timezone: [RP] Name: Gender: Race/subrace/culture: Place of residence: Prior relevant experience: Do you swear obedience to the Princedom of Fenn, and to the Grand Prince?:
  7. ThumperJack

    The Silma

    The Silma - Keepers of the Hearth ___________________________________________________________________________________ ((Art by Numirya ^)) “We are dedicated to the betterment of elvenkind. Keep a strong heart in the face of danger, keep a strong mind in the face of hardship.” Siol’Igne Silma, the first Keeper of Malin’s Flame For centuries, Mali had found themselves facing constant dangers. Whether it be from the heavens above or the very world they tread upon, the precious lives of each elf is a gift that must be maintained. The elves were once a peaceful people, these dangers have caused them to grow and adapt into powerful and competent warriors without equal. While many have taken up arms in the defense of elvenkind, others have taken up the defense of faith and beliefs held close to each of Malin’s children. House Silma holds each elven life above all else and are willing to sacrifice what it must to ensure the survival of Malin’s Flame. The Flame itself is not a literal entity, but rather a metaphorical representation of elven blood and culture. As the world has aged, so too has the beliefs and lifestyles of the elves. With the rebirth of House Silma in the modern age, the family has taken on the responsibilities of cataloging and maintaining what makes the elven people who they are once more. The Silma - Ancient History ___________________________________________________________________________________ Siol’igne, the First Keeper of Malin’s Flame in Ancient History, Progenitor of House Silma Siol’igne was the founder of House Silma and first Keeper of Malin’s Flame. The responsibilities entailed by the role were unknown, due to his departure after Malin. However, the youngest of his two living sons, Sae’kel Silma, carries with him the tale of his father’s greatest sin; the event which birthed House Silma and the position of Keeper. Siol was a capable warrior who served the elven people on the field of battle. In his time, he was without peer, both feared and respected by his fellow elf. This eventually got to the young elf’s head. From tempered and disciplined, he became prideful. With this pride came rage and other negative qualities that eventually drove him to abandon his position on the battlefield, seeking greater glory. Due to this, dozens of elves fell in a battle lost to time, the blood of many on his hands. After this battle, Siol laid down his blade and took an oath of eternal peace, dedicating his life to the memory of the elves who fell that day, as well as the culture that which surrounded his people. During his life he met and married the mother to his two children, Viehl Silma. From their marriage two children were born. The firstborn was Loriens Silma, chosen to succeed his father as the Keeper of Malin’s flame. The boy was taught of elven customs and culture, to wield the quill as well as any blade, but above all else Loriens was taught discipline and responsibility. His upbringing was stern and strict, years of his life dedicated to the betterment of his people. It left a taste for more in the young Mali’s life. As he came of age, Loriens abandoned the duties left to him by his father to not only find himself but find his place within the world. Centuries later came Sae’kel Silma, the final son of Siol’igne and Viehl. Unlike his elder, Sae’kel was raised primarily as a warrior, the duties of his father cast to the wayside. Siol gifted his lastborn with a letter to be delivered to his elder brother before departing with his wife, Viehl. Siol sought the last and greatest king, Malin, in hopes of continuing his duties and finally fulfilling his oath. The Silma - Modern Day ___________________________________________________________________________________ A depiction of a festival held by House Silma, welcoming all of Malin’s children to gather and celebrate what it means to truly be Mali. While the Silma of old bear very similar appearances, fiery red hair, fair skin, eyes of golden pools; the modern family is lacking in such. Due to Loriens’ and Sae’kel’s birth, they do not fall into any of the subraces that have evolved into existence. However, the House has opened their doors to any who would seek entry. Whether it be Mali’aheral, Mali’ame, or Mali’ker. House Silma does not seek to maintain purity of body, but instead purity of the mind and culture. Already, the modern House has accepted those of this day within it’s halls and aims to maintain a proper cataloging of culture, faith, and beliefs within its library. With Mali’ker and Mali’ame living in the Silma Sanctuary, the elders of the House believe it best to maintain open doors to the public. Whenever sanctuary is needed, the Silma offer it to any who seek it. There is only one such time that the doors to the Sanctuary would be locked and closed to the public. The doors would be mirrored by the Flame maintained by the House being extinguished. In times of great tragedy, the death of a family member, or death of an honored elven individual; the flame would be allowed to die and the doors would remain closed to the world. Each member of House Silma is tied together by one joining factor; an Ilmyumier. While it was initially adopted and designed by the Ancient Seeds of the Mali’ame; both Loriens and Sae’kel believed adopting it into the house would aid in both the family’s assimilating into modern culture as well as the representation of such culture in this day. The Silma Ilymyumier is a powerful oak tree that runs up the back, the tree itself aflame. It is to represent the importance of flame. The burning foliage represents the literal rebirth and metaphorical rebirth of House Silma. The oak is to represent the power of elvendom as a whole. The elves came from the forests, there they must stay. The Silma - Beliefs and Traditions ___________________________________________________________________________________ Silma Trials Trial of Beauty Create a work of art (Any kind of art) that you believe symbolizes and describes Malin’s Children. Trial of Roots Learn about the various cultures made by Malin’s offspring, then bring back what you have learned to your overseeing Elder. Trial of the Hearth Speak to the Keeper and Elders of the seed, ask them about a defining moment in their life or fond memory. Trial of the Immortal Commit a heroic deed in service to Malin’s Children. It can be anything from saving a life through medical prowess, or slaying a beast that threatens Mali lives. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Credits to Loriens and Dromui for creating the traditions and history
  8. The Soulbound Servants: Didacts of the Forest Holy Ghosts of Druids An elven druid returns as a Soulbound Servant, watching over the forest with a careful eye. It is a well known truth among druii and those that study the aspects or their faith, that devout druids who die ascend to the realm of the fae, to serve out their days as Soulbound Servants. In the realm of fae, these spirits of passed druids are revered by all as wise men and oracles. Creatures of the fae flock from every corner of the realm to hear their words of wisdom. In the realm of fae, they are considered demigods, chosen of the aspects themselves. (The Fae Realm). In death, these sages reflect the souls of what they were in life. For those that sought the taste of battle in defense of the balance, they may find themselves as a spirit of fury, blessing those of the Twilight Bound. A gentler druid, a healer perhaps, may find themselves as a mending spirit of the Dayward Way. All these such spirits are revered amongst the fae creatures of the world. The servants can take the form of an incorporeal spirit, the physical body they had in life, or even as a reflection of their own spirit animal. Respected and revered by all races of the fae as the chosen vessels of the Aspects themselves, the Soulbound enjoy their afterlife by serving as wise men and priests. The most dimwitted of rock-creatures to the most cunning of Imps will travel across the entire Fae for the chance to meet one of the Soulbound and receive words of wisdom. Like all fae creatures, they possess the ability to traverse over one of the many thin threads that hold our realms together, through a fae ring. For one that may find themselves facing one of these spirits, they can expect only unbridled wisdom, for they gaze upon a fragment of the fae realm itself. However, while they were able to become corporeal in the Eternal Forest, their journey to the mortal realm has diminished their strength, and they hold but a fraction of the power they hold in the Fae Realm. A soulbound servant, in the mortal realm, is little more than a spirit of the fae. They cannot touch or interact with the world. They will never again feel the embrace of a loved one, nor the wind on their cheek. They are dead, lost to the world. Incorporeal beings that merely exist as a passer of knowledge, a wielder of the torch of druidic power. Even when their connection to the Eternal Forest is strongest, standing within the fae ring, they are unable to lay a finger on the world of the living. One may ask, why would a soulbound servant return to the mortal fold? What other reason than the one they hold in the realm of the fae. They serve as ancient teachers, passing on the wisdom of their many years. It is the primary mission of all Soulbound Servants to pass down their own knowledge of the balance, and to guide the druids of the world towards a heightened understanding of what their duty is, and how they might attain it. They serve as powerful guides to all that follow the path of the aspects. To dedicants, they serve to inform and teach. To Druii, they seek to offer their different perspective on the world and how it may function. And above all, to Archdruii, they serve as powerful advisers in the face of great adversity. But they are just that. Guides, advisers, wise-men. Vessels of knowledge. Due to the distance from the realm of the fae, and their diminished power, they are unable to use the gifts that they had throughout their lives as druii, but they still retain their ancient knowledge of the arts. To fulfill their mission, these spirits are able to pass on their understanding of the gifts into the druii of the world in several ways, detailed a bit later. In addition to this, the servants have access to a few smaller tricks from their time in the fae realm that they would use in pursuit of guiding dedicants, druids, and archdruii alike, without impacting the world on a physical level. Blessings of the Aspects Gifts From the Eternal Forest A druid completes a task with the oversight of the Soulbound Servant Soulbound Servants tend not to intervene in worldly affairs, beyond their task of guiding others, and serving the balance. Without the ability to hold a sword, or travel far beyond their fae rings, they take up a more guiding role, using their abilities to teach, rather than lead. Their time spent in the realm of the fae shows now though, and Soulbound Servants find that they have a few lesser abilities that they didn’t have before. These can be very straining for the spirit to perform, and only one may be used per day, that they might serve the spirit in guiding others. Greensight Soulbound Servants mimic many of the abilities of regular ghosts, being able to use their own version of Horrorchill called Greensight. With this ability, Soulbound Servants have the ability to reach out to attuned minds, and are able to incur visions of the past, things that the servant themselves have seen, or even things that the subject has seen. Through this, they can evoke calming memories, or through their own memories, lessons of the past. These visions can be as vivid or as vague as the spirit wills it. This ability, unlike horrorchill, only works on a willing subject who knows they are being affected. This only affects attuned druids, and those affected by fae rings. Oversight Similar to the talking host ability that usual ghosts have, soulbound servants are able to bind themselves to a druid for as long as they wish, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, allowing them into their thoughts. However, this must be entirely willed on the part of the druid and the servant. During this time, the druid is marked with a fae rune upon their forehead, showing that they are a vessel of the spirit. This lasts until the subject no longer wills it, or the spirit decides to leave the body. If the host is killed while the servant is inside of the body, that spirit demanifests as they gather themselves again. In addition to these two abilities, Soulbound Servants can do several abilities like their ghostly cousins. Soulbound Servants may shift between visibility and invisibility at will, disappearing or appearing in a flash of their fae energy. Soulbound Servants can interact with the environment in limited ways, such as opening doors, or nudging objects. (In the same way that ghosts do.) Soulbound Servants may float (In the same way that ghosts do) Soulbound Servants give off a glow that reflects their fae energy. Soulbound Servants can change their appearance in a limited way, such as gaining fae attributes, or taking on the form of their spirit animal Due to their distance from the realm of the Fae, they cannot fully return to their physical form. However, when in the Eternal Forest, they can regain such a form. Instead of decaying life around them, and feeding on it, Soulbound Servants serve as a conduit of fae energy, and many may find the world around them blooming to life as the world is touched by the mystical energies of the Eternal Forest. Soulbound Servants do NOT have telekinesis, unlike their ghostly cousins. Guides and Redlines Soulbound Servants must have been at least a T5 in Control and Communion before their death to be brought back. Soulbound Servants require a CA to be played. Soulbound servants are the spirits of druids that return to the mortal realm to continue their duties as druids. In order to be brought back from the realm of the fae at first, the spirit must be guided back by a druid using transcendence. They cannot be forced back if they do not want to come back. If a druid already knows the Transcendence feat, they can bring themselves back. Soulbound Servants can appear as a manifestation of their former selves, or as a reflection of their spirit animal Soulbound Servants can interact with the environment in limited ways, such as opening doors, or nudging objects. (In the same way that ghosts do.) Soulbound Servants can no longer perform control, blight healing, or herblore, shapeshifting, unattunement, attunement, or powersharing. Soulbound Servants can no longer teach unattunement, attunement, or shapeshifting. Soulbound Servants can still teach druidism, including control, communion, blight healing, and herblore if they have a TA A servant doesn’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe; they may survive indefinitely without damage Golden Weaponry affects the spirits as a normal weapon would to a person, and cannot use any of their abilities on gold. To banish a servant to the Eternal Forest, one can summon a cleric, shaman, Fi’ user, or alterationist to perform an exorcism. This demanifests the ghost, but is not a Perma-kill on the Soulbound Servant. It is not necessarily possible to "kill" a Soulbound Servant, but they can be forced them into the Eternal Forest. This causes the Ghost to demanifest for 30 minutes, akin to death for other Descendants, and leave the area to go to the Eternal Forest for a prolonged amount of time. OOC Note: What I really tried to change with this rendition of the lore was the “how” one becomes such a thing, and the abilities. I really tried to trim down the lore piece from Shade lore levels of length to a nice, easily read piece. Short, sweet, simple. I’ve turned it into a lore addition, as a way to extend the ghost lore into other aspects of the server. I’ve translated a lot of the “horror” of the abilities into more Fae abilities. I wanted to create a way for druids to return as ghosts without relinquishing their connection to the Emerald Forest. So, druidic ghosts!
  9. TheDragonsRoost

    The Phoenix Blight

    The sight hurt. Jarsek Myrsta, upon finding his homeland destroyed and full of damaging magic, was not pleased to find his home in such a state. He blamed September for destroying such a beautiful place while he was away and himself for not being here to defend it. Sometimes, it is enough to find hatred in destruction. He was a pure high elf in every sense of the word, but even he had his faults. No one was immune to emotions running rampant and this included Jarsek. His own emotions were not like most high elves, but this would prove to either be his greatest strength or his weakness. Jarsek felt no pain or sorrow once he looked upon Haelun’or, but rather he felt something else. Something that was beginning to add fuel to a bonfire that would last for the rest of his life. Cursed or soulless? No one knew. Not those left to see the day as this was my own challenge to overcome. He hated the fact that his grandson had been an impurity in his own house. The news of his death did greatly satisfy him, but it was not enough. He wanted to rid his grandson from the history books and make it to where he never existed in the first place. This kind of task would require a great cost, but it was one he was willing to pay. Even in death, his impurity rots. In life, I thought he would grow up to be a scholar working in the Eternal Library, his unyielding curiosity granting us more knowledge. No, this was not to be. After seeing his home destroyed, he came across a fellow high elf. One that even he thought seemed a bit suspicious. This high elf had told him that his name was Illiran Drennan, but he had never heard of such a name before. Even on his journeys abroad, he never once heard of such a house. It was at this moment that Jarsek decided to investigate this house through Illiran, but the risk of having this trust broken was too great at the time. No, he would slowly gain this elf’s trust and try to learn more, though this would also take its time. No greater shame exists than having someone in your own house be impure. Yet, this was something that could be inferred as irony. My grandson was impure and my own impurity stem from the blood on my hands. I took no joy or pity when I fought in battle, but felt nothing at all. This was something that no magic in the world could do to me as I was born with the ability to wield my emotions like a two-edged sword. It was what made me a good warrior, but it can also make me a monster. After talking to Illiran, Jarsek left the site of his old home and journeyed back to the Kadarsi, a cold darkness in his gaze as if he had shut himself from his own emotions. He didn’t know fear or loss, but he did know anger, fury, and rage. This could prove to be his downfall as the sight of his homeland did affect him, but not in the normal ways that a blighted land did. No, he was a blighted phoenix...
  10. Imperium

    We Came As Crows

    Siege of Last Hope Men of the Empire storm the battlements of Last Hope, 1692 Banners from across the Empire flew in the blizzard, as an alliance of men and elves rally in the valley. Before them stood the fortress of Last Hope, the Red Vaeyl’s stronghold. Trebuchets lead by Brog Dhoon, and Marshal Henrik Kovachev get into position to assault the fortress while Rhys var Ruthern rallies the Infantry at the base of the valley. On the battlement vaeyl knights line the walls motionless, then fire lights up the sky as hundreds of flaming arrows fly into the ranks of the alliance below. “Shields!” Rhys yells, as the ranks of men and elves hide behind their shields the trebuchets fire at Last Hopes gate. In a stroke of luck, the third shot smashes into the gate, creating a breach. “Charge!” The host of men and elves surge forward into the breach, meeting a legion of Red Vaeyl on the other side, while the imperial trebuchets pound the walls of Last Hope. Bitter room to room melee takes place within the walls of Last Hope. Those poor men who were separated was picked off one by one. The main forces met the remaining Red Vaeyl within great hall. The Vaeyl attempted one last devastating counterattack, to drive the Alliance forces back. As the fighting died down, it became clear the Vaeyl had been annihilated. The halls of Last Hope fell silent, but the celebration is cut short as the wall itself starts to consume Last Hope. The Alliance army was forced to flee the crumbling castle, watching as a small band of Red Vaeyl flee west. “The fights nie’ over yet...” Rhys motions remaining men to follow him as the chase the Vaeyl west. Word spreads quickly across Atlas of the victory at Last Hope. With the Red Vaeyl stronghold now in the descendant’s hands, they march to seize the remaining castle of Endmoor held by the Red Vaeyl. However, rumors begin to spread that the vaeyl unleashed something the darkways...
  11. NolandTheNovice

    Carrion for the Crows

    Dark and heavy are the clouds above Hesin’fin, the tall stone walls of Talar’ikur casting shadows of grey upon the snow-strewn entrance to the city. Despite the usual countenance of the Fennic capital, however, a peculiarity dances in the biting wind. From the gatehouse is dangled a singular body, secured to the stone by rope and noose, abandoned to drift aimlessly at the mercy of the whims of Wyrvun’s breath. The corpse is left in naught but rags, strips of flesh dangling from its frame, as though hewn apart by a dozen steel blades. Nailed into the decaying flesh of the would-be assassin is a simple wooden sign - secured by a singular spent crossbow bolt through wood and flesh - with two neat words etched upon it. “Try again.”
  12. Ragnio

    Fahron Daluon - The Hermit

    General Information Name & nicknames: Fahron Daluon, the wandering Hermit Race: Wood Elf, with parts of Farfolk-Blood in his veins Gender: Male Year of Birth: 1655 Religious Belief: Aspectism Voice Reference: Aruvn - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijKAd4CjRqM Physical Description The average height of a Daluon man is at around, 5’9’’ feet, although the tallest reach heights around 6’3”, often peeking out of most Heartlander males due to their height. Following such genetic structure Fahron is standing, thanks to his elven genes, at a towering 6’2’’, often being able to glance over the heads of most folk easily. Thanks to his daily training and the travels he does every day Fahron holds a muscular body-build holding the weight of 209 lbs. Due to amber-colored eyes from his mother and the golden-sandy-colored eyes from his father Fahron has a rather gentle and soft mix of those colors, giving him a rather bright orange-golden eye color. Thanks to the same reason Fahron is also holding a rather tanned-olive skin, as his father already had fairly dark skin and his mother being on the tanned skin-tone side, causing him to develop such skin color. However, unlike most Daluons Fahron doesn’t possess white hair, due to his mother being a wood elf and his father already being a crossbreed of a farfolk and an elf, causing his elven genes to be more dominant and giving him a brownish hair color. Like his father Fahron is also keeping his facial hair cut down to the minimum often showing some stubbles, but barely more than that. While he keeps his beard shaved Fahron is often letting his body hair grow out, either due to the fact that he hates wasting the time to shave or due to the fact that he simply doesn’t care about it as much. As such he is often displaying far-reaching tufts that cover most of his body. Personality Energetic: Fahrons primary trait is his energetic enthusiasm. He is always filled with energy and helps others out whenever he can without any hesitation. This trait is also very helpful for his travels and his daily life, since it often leaves him in a good and energetic mood. Free Spirited: Unlike his father Fahron is known as a rather free spirit, trying to follow his own path and ideals, and staying true to those as much as possible. As such he wouldn’t agree on doing something he isn’t feeling comfortable with. Fearful: Fahron is known to show a rather kind and gentle side, yet, despite such a facade he is also able to bring fear to those that are acting against his ideals, not hesitating to let his voice be heard and him taking physical actions. Besides from such his talents in strategic thinking is turning Fahron into an enemy no one wants to fight against. Unorganized: Like father, like son, Fahron is fairly unorganized, often losing stuff or being unable to find important documents. Most of his backpack seems cramped and is so unorganized that it can take Fahron more than a few minutes to find a single item within. Strengths Helpfulness: Unlike most people Fahron is often trying to help people instead of himself. Sure, he wants to achieve his goals, but he also wants to support the people he likes, may it be physically, mentally or any other possible way. Fast thinker: Fahron might be a hermit and wanderer, but in reality he is a rather fast thinker, using his surroundings and given information rapidly, for example to create an escaping plan. Being a fast thinker is also helping him in his daily life, especially in the wild and in other dangerous situations. Experience in Shortsword- and Kama-Usage: Unlike most folks Fahron prefers the usage of shortswords or Kamas about everything. He was trained in this form of combat for most of his life and he knows where to place his hits to take an enemy down in the shortest amount of time. Weaknesses Arachnophobia: Despite befriending many animals and creatures easily, almost inherently, Fahron hates spiders more than anything else. As soon as he sees a spider around him, he will try to put as much distance between him and the arachnid as possible. Another way of Fahron to take care of spiders is it to throw a lot of stuff in the spiders direction, trying to kill it with the impact of, as an example, books, plates and even flower pots. Arthritis: Due to Fahrons lifestyle and the overuse of his whole body he started to develop a form of arthritis. Most of the time he feels a slight pain in his hands and wrists, but is often trying to ignore the pain in his daily life. However, he is receiving a rather strong drawback of the arthritis after every fight, causing his eyes to water up and to curse, due to the amount of pain.
  13. Nearly two score years ago, our nation was wrought with turmoil. Bronze and Emerald clashed in a war that shook our nation to its very foundations. Brother fought against brother, and elven blood painted the grasses of Axios. It was of our darkest hours. But all changed with the Treaty of the Adriante, a blessed union that brought together our brothers and sisters for an era of unprecedented peace and prosperity. All of malin’s children flourished. Now, that union has broken. Bronze and Emerald are once again separate, and we must change to survive. That is why I regret to announce that this is the end of our nation. In my first and final act as Queen, I hereby dissolve the Dominion of Malin. But it was not in vain. I would gladly give my life a thousand times over to see such prosperity and cooperation again. We have learned a great deal, and we must pass on these lessons to all our kin, that we may learn from them. In the coming days, let us do what we can to mend these wounds between our peoples, instead of pushing them further away. I urge you, do not scorn your fellow Mali for leaving this place. They are still our brothers and sisters. Oraelon Ignera Signed Awaiti Aureon, Former Queen of the Dominion of Malin
  14. Imperium-Septimus

    The Elven Contract, 1689

    ========================================= Name of the Treaty: The Elven Contract , 1689 ========================================= Type of Treaty: [Alliance, Non-Aggression and Defensive Pact] ========================================= [Nation / Freebuild] [Name: The Empire of Man] [Nation / Freebuild] [Name: The Sable Enclave of Vira’ker] ========================================= Date of Signing: 13th Malins Welcome, 13th of Owyn’s Flame ========================================= The Sable Contract, 1689 A world at war draws any and all to the table. The fledgling remnants of the blood of Ker’nor had sought to keep their newly proclaimed freedom since severing ties with the Dominion, offering assistance in the upcoming battles to the Empire; that should the wars to come sway in their favor, they would thrive thereforth. Entering the fray alongside the Ichorian elves and reformed ‘aheral, the elves now join the war in full. CEASE WITH THE FLUFF The Terms, agreed upon by both nations, are as followed: They will enter an Alliance, Defensive Pact and Non-Aggression pact for the duration of the war that will commence against the following: Enemies of the Empire, Enemies of the Vira’ker. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Aurelius Horen, Emperor of Man HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Augustus Horen ,Crown Prince of the Imperium Septimus SABLE PRINCE, Ganzorig Vincrute, Hierarch of the Div’cruan
  15. TheDragonsRoost

    The Fall of the Phoenix

    Everything burnt to ash in a matter of seconds. The blade was dripping crimson blood as the black robed figure burned brightly with a fire in his eyes. It was slaughter of many rogue elves that had consorted with the humans and the orcs to engage in a war that was never to pass and the fire consumed the bodies of those that fell. He did not want any evidence of what transpired here to exist so that the evidence would be transported back to Okarn’thilln and exile him and his family from the silver city. He began to wipe his blade of the blood that once pumped through the veins of the elves and humans he slaughtered. Ironically, he wouldn’t even partake in the flesh of those he had considered impure so that he could not be tainted before setting the bodies alight. Once the job was done, the figure sat down and watched the place be consumed by the flames that escalated into a bonfire. He sighed as he felt pleased from this sight and began to mutter softly. “My job here is done.” He softly muttered, sheathing his blade. “May their gods look over them and send them to Iblees himself for their deception and betrayal. Now then, I must make my way to Atlas. I have business there to attend to...” OOC: Due to some things that are best not mentioned, I’m making this edit to say that this story is non-canon and is not endorsed by the LT. This story is only meant to be a entertaining piece, nothing more. Thank you.
  16. TheDragonsRoost

    The Ticking Clock (Character PK)

    OOC: Before you go commenting crazy, let me tell you that this was roleplayed in the Mother Grove in front of witnesses to the event. Nivndil, DaHazelWeasel, Archipelgo, and more have participated in this and here, I present “The Ticking Clock” which is Karren Mrysta’s “Eleventh Hour.” ~(+)=(+)~ Karren felt it once again, the feeling of one’s life slipping away. This worried him a lot as he was unsure of the regeneration powers of the Totem that saved his life so long ago, but one thing Karren did know was that it came with a cost. His own life was used up to keep himself alive for as long as he did, but even this seemed futile when faced with the memory of what had waited in the darkness. For this, he sought out the druids of the Mother Grove to help him end this suffering of eternal living death. They obliged, of course, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back a few hours before his death so that it can be understood on why his life was taken from him. ~(+)=(+)~ 4 hours before death “Hello!” Myrr had shouted into the night. Karren heard distant shouting of his friend (and young human) Myrr. He never learned his last name. The young human that he was happy to serve alongside in the Kadarsi army sounded almost cheerful, though it can be difficult to tell for the high elf to discern. After a moment, Karren screamed out “Hello!” in response. “Hey Karren!” Myrr replied to Karren’s shout upon recognizing the voice. Most of the conversation was greeting each other and talking about the night as well as Myrr’s new mask that he purchased from Cloud Temple. However, things took a turn for both the human and Karren as the subject veered towards magic. “Trust me lad, magic of any kind always comes with a price. I've researched all kinds of magic from Voidal Evocation to Shade, all of them not worth risking your life over.” Karren said to Myrr, sounding serious. In this, he was correct as he both researched and experienced voidal magics. Myrr didn’t seem to be fazed as he replied “I want to learn magic. I need to learn magic. I feel it deep down, I don't know what it is, but I feel it in my blood, my soul. I need to learn it.” This turned into a one-sided argument, which Karren explained “You were lucky with losing your memory boy but you never felt death take hold of you and your life slowly and surely ebb away into the coldness of mortality. You were never affected by the dangerous form of death of oneself by oneself to only regenerate back to life at the drop of a hat. You want magic so badly but yet one has tried so many times and failed an equal amount of times.” Myrr began to sound angry, but what he wasn’t aware was that he had witnessed Karren’s life begin to decay even faster as his anger had made the Totem’s power of regeneration wane even more. “Leave me be. And do not call me boy. Kalí méra to you.” This would turn out to be the last time Myrr (or anyone in the Kadarsi Caliphate) would see or hear from Karren ever. As Myrr left, he felt his life slip away, reducing his lifespan to only a few short hours. Karren did not have much time left to live either way, and decided to go to the place where his life would end for the final time. To the place where his life began to turn into a downward spiral. To the Mother Grove. ~(+)=(+)~ 1 hour before death (Present Time) Karren had been breathing heavily as he made his way towards the biggest tree in the Grove, however as he made his way towards the group of druids that were talking, he collapsed to the floor as if his body had been aging rather rapidly. Nivndil and the others heard him fall to the ground and Nivndil walked in an elegant stride towards his body, not aware that Karren was clearly dying very quickly. The druids began to gather around the fallen high elf, seeing him breathe his last, but he whimpered softly that Nivndil had to get close to hear it. “My..... time........ is...... up........." He whimpers as he feels his life being taken away, his gaze becoming foggy and unable to see. "I...... didn't...... realize........ m-m-my...... T-t-time..... would...... b-b-be..... u-u-up....." Karren said more to Nivndil, practically begging for her to kill him so that he may finally die. She did grant his last request. With her pulling a knife and pressing it to Karren’s throat, Nivndil said to Karren “Hileia Mali.. be at peace.. think of home" in a soothing, gentle tone. This pleased Karren as he began to think of the good he had done in his life and with that, he felt his life finally end with the sound of his throat being cut. His last words to the druids were only told to the druids present at his death, but it was something beautiful for his last words or at least he had hoped it was beautiful. Now a spirit, soon to be departing the world of the living and join those in the afterlife, he stuck around for a moment to watch as his physical body was dragged and buried in an unmarked grave. He waved at Elenora, who handled his corpse, though it was a mere trick of the light to her. Finally, as he departed the world of the living to join those in the afterlife, he smiled as he flew into the astral Afterlife.... ~(+)=(+)~ The Will Nivndil was given a will that Karren seemed to have written up just a day prior by his old pet owl alongside a letter. In this will, which is released publicly as “The Will of the Madman,” the following was said: - In the event of my death, all of my worldly possessions would be turned over to the Kadarsi Caliphate to be used however they wished. My mina, however, would be given to the Mother Grove as compensation of my transgressions and to be used however they wished. - Upon my death, I wish to have my body cremated so that no defilement can be done by any kind of magic. My ashes should be given to the Kadarsi and spread upon the ground in front of their gate. ~(+)=(+)~ OOC: Okay, that finishes up Karren Myrsta’s story (for good this time) and from this, I’ll be taking a 3-day break from LotC and then begin my adventure as Sorelis Daevear. See you guys later!
  17. sophiaa

    An Exodus and Trial

    - Grasslands of Northern Atlas - A great trail of mali crossed the plains of northern Atlas. Every mile or so there would be a wagon train of three, being pulled along by a sturdy pair of oxen. On the sides of the caravan of people was an occasional guard, bearing a bronze shield and gilded spear. A clan of ‘ame trailed behind the mass of people murmuring blessings and chants to their ancestors, the Prince of Cervidae, and the The Great Eagle, banging on drums and keeping a rhythmic tone. Ahead of the march of people was their chieftess, Aelin Caerme’onn. She walked with grace as her green shrouded cloak covered her body. Ever so often a faint clink would echo from below her as her staff cracked a rock, and they trailed down the northern road onwards towards the hills of the northern half. The air was uninviting and dreary. The winds battered the Caerme’onn clan, as the clear skies became foggy with grey clouds. Distant roars of thunder were resounding in the distance, as a light shower of rain bore down on the trail of people. What was once solid ground became muck and grime, as it grounded wagon wheels to a halt. A few horses lost their footing and broke their legs as they became trapped within the consuming mud. It was then a mudslide occurred, slamming into the caravan, causing mass panic. People desperately attempted to find higher ground, as they clambered over the top of each other. Unfortunately several of their oxen and other animals were lost in the mudslide, being crushed under the weight of rock and earth. Boxes and crates of various wares and rations were utterly destroyed by the torrent of chaos, shattering heraldic icons and ancestral heirlooms. … In the afternoon of the following day, the same chants of prayer and festivities from the prior days were replaced by cries of mourning and dead silence from others. An air of dread had come over those who carried on. Aelin was troubled, had she lead her people in a vain attempt at a new life? Should they have stayed within the forests and lush greenery of the Dominion? Self-doubt had filled her mind, and the stress of the endeavour bestowed onto her was eating her very senses. It was then her thought was interrupted when a daunting horn blew. They had made their way into the Wonkawoods, dangerous territory for the mali, and disputed territory with their greatest foe, the Uruks. A raiding party of orcs surprised the Caerme’onn’s caravan, starting a bitter fight for survival. The outer guards were quickly overrun by the savagery of the orcs, butchering their sworn enemy from the days of the Loftywoods war. The last of the caravan made ready for a desperate last stand, using their coaches and wagons to form a defensive barrier. Man, woman, and any child able took up arms, their chieftess readying herself with gladius and spear, eyeing the rampaging orcs around them. It all seemed lost. They were all doomed to die. … A distant horn blew from within the trees, grabbing the attention of the orcish warband from their pillaging. It was then a hail of arrows struck and pierced the remaining beasts those of Caerme’onn had not downed themselves, followed by cries and hollers of what sounded like ghosts and banshees. Aelin’s surroundings were not that very clear, as those around her were cautious of what was occurring beyond their makeshift wall. Sounds of battle echoed around them as the canvas on the outer wall of the wagons were painted in a fresh coat of blood. Then there was silence. Had it ended? Aelin thought to herself. It was then she heard a tearing sound from the canvas wall, and with instinct, she stabbed her spear at the struggling figure. There was a surprised yelp as she tore the spearhead back from the wall, a retinue of her clan made ready with a spear wall, all pointing towards where the noise came from. “What a way to treat people.” was what a voice said from the other side. The figure popped their head through the opening, and with a collective sigh of relief, he was mali’ame. His traits rather wild compared to what many were used to. He sported a beard of black with a shaved head, save for a tied back patch of hair atop his skull. Blue markings painted the sides of the ‘ame’s head, similar to the iconography of clan Torena or Ithelanen. “Come on now, we dealt with the baddies, you’re safe.” The man offered an outstretched hand to Aelin, who at first was still distrusting of him. “An Ithelanen?” She asks curiously, a brow raised. The man seemed confused at first, before smiling, “Where are my manners, I am Orist of the clan of Ithelanen. You are within the care of the Avchirran ito Gladewynn.” he’d say, going to offer his hand once more. Aelin’s display of distrust slowly vanished as she listened to Orist’s words, before going to grab his hand, “Well met, Orist.” she nodded before going to lift herself out of the barricade. … The caravan had continued out of the Wonkawoods and now climbed up a mountain pass. The Caerme’onn clan had endured hardships throughout their travels, but now they approached a set of wooden palisades. They had passed several watchtowers along their trek up the pass, each had been manned by a guard adoring the armor of Gladewynn. Aelin had simply felt relief as she was lead by Orist in front of her. They had finally made it, to their new home. It was time to rebuild. Click me to learn more about Caerme'onn! (credit to the super duper awesome @Wolfdwg)
  18. OOC: While I may have left LotC, I still have work to do and thus have overturned my decision to leave LotC. This story is based on semi-canon portions, including what happens when one person uses magic not normally taught or found in LotC and will be a magic I’ll write in the future while I also work on my own project. I hope you enjoy “The Power of the Soul” by TheDragonsRoost. ~(+)==(+)~ Karren had lived many days within the forest where he gave himself the penance. For many days, he lived off of the land and the wildlife that roamed the forest, surviving off of the steak and pork that he collected from the wildlife. He had a lot of chances to leave the forest and be a part of the world once again, but he refused to leave the forest until he had served his penance through. Karren wanted to make sure that no trace of his former self remained and that it wouldn’t ever resurface. He didn’t have the magical power he wanted, but he had learned that some things are better off being done by one’s own hands than using magic. This included the irritating and unreasonable lust for magical power. One thing that his Regeneration had failed to get rid of all those years ago. The sun began to set and Karren, in his ruined clothes, had begun to set a fire near his tent. A small campfire that would become a small beacon to monsters that wished to claim his life. Not that Karren minded, but when he took his penance, he was not aware that monsters roamed the forest at night, willingly stalking their prey before killing them with sharp claws and pointy teeth. Over the years he served his penance, he had a few encounters with such beasts. Karren didn’t have much to his name, but he made do with his surroundings being his weapon. However, this night would turn out to be his last night serving his penance. As he watched the campfire blaze to life, Karren felt his soul warm up as if he could feel the emotions that ran so rampant during his Regeneration. He wasn’t sure why his soul began to warm up in this way, but he’d begin to feel his life slowly ebb away as if his own soul began to burn away his lifeforce, the force that sustains a person’s life. Karren began to feel his body slowly deconstruct itself with an amber glow, which made him scream in pain into the night. This kind of power he felt once before, when he held the Totem of Undying in his hands. It swallowed up his body whole and he became an Ethereal Light for a short time as he felt this strange power flow through him. While he was an Ethereal Light, he felt a strange, yet powerful force drawing him towards Cloud Temple. He knew he wasn’t dead, but this was something that couldn’t be overpowered. Karren followed this strange feeling towards Cloud Temple and once he arrived at Cloud Temple, he felt this power begin to fade and his body beginning to take form once more. He appeared as he did prior to his penance being served, but with some changes. He no longer felt the need for magic and he seemed to grow a bit. He also didn’t see the point in fighting or supporting the September Prince as he felt his mind begin to rewrite itself, almost as if it was reenergized beyond mortal standards. Karren also had begun to go through a massive wardrobe change as well, no longer wearing his green robes and normal clothing, but wearing something entirely different. “Well, this is certainly new...” Karren commented as he’d see his new clothes, completely unsure of what to make of them. Either way, he walked down the steps of Cloud Temple with the new wardrobe change and begin his adventures anew... ~(+)==(+)~ OOC: As I said before, this magic will be a Magic Lore Submission (presumably Deity or Dark Magic, though I’m leaning towards a different style of magic) and I’m thinking that Karren might like his new wardrobe. Anyways, I’ll be coming back to LotC within the next few months and I thought I’d get this started. Will be getting the skin for this made soon! Anyways, see you all in Atlas! -TheDragonsRoost
  19. OOC: This is a canon story to Karren Mrysta, my main elf character, and his personal journey through the world of Atlas. “Delving into the Dark” is meant to be the end of his second chapter and this marks him being shelved for an undetermined amount of time. Chapter Three will begin once I decide to unshelf the character. The premise of this story is to tell Karren’s transitioning into madness for magical power that has begun to take over his mind, consuming him to the point where not even the deity Zarelek would grant him the powers of Oblivion. Karren’s inability to accept who he is and forceful change has begun to make him go mad with lust for power, wanting powerful magics in order to stop the September Prince and yet has made him an outcast. Find out more in “Delving into the Dark” by TheDragonsRoost. ~(+)==(+)~ Karren Myrsta felt like everything was crashing down around him. The feelings he thought he was rid of during the Regeneration have come back in full force, tearing him up in his mind to the point that he began to suffer drastic physical changes. He no longer had beautiful wavy silver hair, instead had ragged and unclean silver hair that seemed to carry a great amount of stress. His eyes no longer had their vibrant emerald green color, but yet were prematurely growing dimmer. His clothes became dirty and unclean, making him look like a rugged homeless person than a proper high elf. In the short and brass terms, he looked like ****. In the growing dimness of his own campfire within the southern portion of the continent of Atlas, he started to reflect upon his choices that he had made that led him to what he was in the present time. Karren reflected upon his choices in the Mother Grove, Dominion of Malin, Haelun’or, and many other places to where he felt he had wronged himself and many others in his pursuit of power. He sighed as he stared into his campfire, which grew dimmer every minute that passed. “It seems that I have done a great many things. Too many things.” He said to himself, leaning over to his bag and pulling out a bundle of papers with a bunch of diagrams and mathematical equations. It seemed to be his research. “All for this. The most useless thing I’ve spent years to complete and I am no further than where I was at four years ago.” Karren looked over his research as he’d undo the twine that bound the papers together, slowly and carefully. He sighed as he poured over the papers and said simply “I wish I never started this. This has caused me too much heartache and has made me something that I could never be. Arelion was right. I’m not worth being taught magic.” He did not need more convincing than what he felt. He soon tossed the papers into the fire and watched as the fire grew a tad brighter as it happily consumed the research that Karren had given it. Karren, however, did not feel any better for tossing the papers into the dimming fire. He just stared into the fire as it produced more heat from consuming the papers, warming himself up from the growing coldness of the night. It would also be Karren’s last campfire for a long time as Karren decided to go into his tent and get some sleep. What Karren did not realize was that this led to him live in that same forest for a long time, hunting and feeding off the natural wildlife for years to come as a sort of self-induced penance for his “crimes” of lusting for power. ~(+)==(+)~ Zarelek watched through his Ethyrian Star of what Karren had done and he was outright annoyed. He had wasted that time on that boy just for him to burn his research to ashes, rendering him unable to learn his magic. Within the Realm of Oblivion, Zarelek nearly made his castle rumble with his anger and annoyance towards the high elf, but he caught himself and restrained his anger and annoyance. “That boy is smarter than I thought, destroying his research.” Zarelek said to himself, his voice echoing throughout the throne room. “But still quite idiotic. This decision has made me decide to best put my efforts elsewhere. Someone that has the same aura, but not wanting power or at least lusting for it like this foolish mortal elf.” Zarelek sighed as he used his powers to curse the high elf to stay within the forest for a time that he would let him free, punishing him for his lust for power and proving to be unworthy to wield the powers of Oblivion. He did not feel the slightest bit of guilt for keeping the boy locked up within the forest, but he was not truly angry with the boy. Once he casted the spell, he introduced a few clauses into the spell that bound him to the forest, and all of them were pretty simple. He only needed to repent from his ways of lusting for power, serve his penance for proving to be unworthy, and spend his whole penance in isolation from civilization. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the boy to serve out his time within isolation, but then again, even he was not all-powerful or all-knowing. He leaned back into his throne, sighing a bit and saying to himself “Now, who in Atlas shall I distribute my efforts towards? The warring humans? The peaceful halflings of Dunshire, perhaps? No,” he’d say to himself, looking at his Ehtyrian Star once more. He had an idea brewing in his mind for a particular person he saw once. While observing the world of Atlas, he came across a particular mali’ker. He didn’t have the prismatic aura he was looking for, but he had this bright vibrant emerald green aura, almost the same as his own. He didn’t understand much about this mali’ker, but from he knew, this dark elf (mali’ker) was a bastard son of one of the tribes in the Warhawkes. His knowledge of the Warhawkes did not extend thousands of years, but he knew that they emerged within the last few hundred years. He stroked his chin while he thought of what this mali’ker was able to do. During one of his sessions, he spotted this mali’ker while he was talking to his young high elf boy, who seemed to be around thirteen solar rotations old (13 years old) and how he attempted to defend the child from the dark mage that altered the boy’s soul, granting him the power to set things aflame. Zarelek was aware of the spell used on the poor boy and he knew that it would last quite some time, but would forever alter the boy’s soul. This didn’t hinder the boy from learning much magic, but he wouldn’t be able to learn druidic powers even if he wanted to due to the soul being altered. Zarelek clapped his hands one time and rubbed them together, saying with a small amount of glee “This mali’ker is whom I shall oversee. Perhaps even attempt to teach him the magic of Oblivion, but however, I must keep my influence small lest I wish to have the boy notice that he has my attention. This means I cannot make the same mistakes I made with that high elf with this mali’ker boy. Let us see how this boy handles his daily life and its challenges...” This began Zarelek’s own round of testing the boy. Seeing if he will prove adequate enough to be taught the magic of Oblivion. ~(+)==(+)~ OOC: (For the LT) Even if Zarelek isn’t accepted yet, I feel like he is a good character to have in my stories and thus shouldn’t be considered canon to the deity’s story until being accepted. Also, this means that for the time being, Oblivion Magic (and the relevant instant t5) will go to my dark elf character if the magic of Oblivion ends up being accepted alongside with the deity. This isn’t meant to be one of those “oh your just making special magic for your characters to make yourself more powerful” situations, but merely a narrative of Karren’s and Zarelek’s story. (For everyone else) I hope you enjoyed “Delving into the Dark” as there will be more stories to come in the Creative Writing section.
  20. Melkor__

    A Prologue

    I've been flirting with the idea of doing my own writing thingy for a while but never did. I feel like I started this off really well and I feel like as time went on, the writing got more sloppy, but whatever. That's what running on 3 hours of sleep does to ya. Anyway I hope whoever reading this likes it or finds it interesting at the very least. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The day was young. The sun shined bright over the forest. The grass that day seemed as green as ever and it was complimented by the various patches of vibrant flowers that were scattered about the clearing. There was a light breeze and with that came the calm rustling of the trees above. The wildlife was also quite alive that day. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried about through the grass and a family of rabbits had lived in a patch of bushes towards the edge of the treeline. Deer would often pass through for short times to graze and sometimes the occasional fox would also arrive. The birds above sang in perfect harmony. Robins, sparrows, cardinals and bluejays alike. Far down at the end of the clearing, one could see a gap in the trees that would show a beautiful scene of the Silver City far in the distance with the ocean at its side. Gray stormclouds lingered over the ever so distant horizon. The day was young. The day was beautiful. "Illiran!" A voice called. Illiran turned around when his name was called. He was relatively young Mali'aheral, with long silver hair that was well kept. He had bright yellow eyes with a look of confidence in his eyes. The look that all young men have in their early years. He was in his early two-hundreds, relatively young for a high elf. (though of course nobody that looked at him would be able to tell the difference). "Maln needs you. Come home, brother." "No." Illiran shook his head and turned away at that "I'm not coming home. Not after that." "Illiran!" His brother shouted before he'd be interrupted "No, Haldir. Just leave me be. I'm not coming back." Haldir would step forward, putting his hand firmly on Illiran's shoulder. Illiran would pull away, turning around once more to face his brother. "Don't touch me." "You aren't well, Illiran... you've been angry.. reckless, even. It's frightening. We worry about you. Please come home, brother." "No." He'd pause "Now get away from me." "I can't do that..." Haldir takes a few more steps towards his brother. The tension between them at that would get even stronger between them. Illiran sighs, glancing briefly to the ground and then back up. His brother would begin to take strides towards him and Illiran would immediately begin to rush forward, plowing into his brother. Haldir was brought to the ground as Illiran would begin to pummel him. The two fought for a few moments, Illiran having taken nearly equal damage. Ultimately, Illiran had found himself looking down on Haldir with his hands gripped tightly around his throat. He struggled to make his brother, Illiran, let go. He clawed at his face. And then at the soft grass below him. Illiran's psychotic eyes stared down. Haldir's blood ran cold. He was no more. Haldir was never seen again. The last person having saw him was the very man that took his life. His brother, just before he let the corpse disappear into the ocean. Illiran left for the road that continued on away from the Silver City. After some time, minutes, maybe even hours, another young 'Aheral would cross his path. She was quite small with long white hair, except she had light blue eyes. Many small scars and lacerations would be scattered all over her face and her arms. She'd smile up to him "Hello!" she'd say. "Ah, hello.." Illiran would reply "Are the gates in the city open?" He asked, looking up to him. He wouldn't comment on her scarred appearance. "No, I don't think so." He shakes his head "You seek entry?" "I do." She'd say rather plainly, "Anyway.. I'm Ro'ya." "I'm.." He'd think ".. Melkor.." He'd mutter out, reluctantly, knowing he'd have to travel under a different name so that his family may not find him. "Good to meet you, Melkor!" He smiles once more "Anyway.. I could be going now." The elfess would nod and continue off down the road "Van'ayla!" Illiran nods and also goes his own separate way. The day was coming to an end now. The sun was setting. The clearing in the forest was silent now. No squirrels or chipmunks or rabbits now lingered there. The storm clouds over the sea now drew closer. The night was quiet. The night was cool. It was beautiful.
  21. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] The Peace of the South

    Karren Myrsta had lived a peaceful life within the town of Caras Eldar before he ultimately left the Dominion of Malin and ventured to the most southern regions, avoiding raiders and bandits along the road to a small human colony called Austrasia. He arrived to Austrasia, starving to death, when his friend Nenar came through the gates and gave him pieces of bread for him to feed upon and gain his strength back. He had a charismatic charm to his kind soul as if his soul burned with an intensity that allowed him access to a very special kind of magic that not everyone understands. This kind of magic cannot be taught by anyone or found in a musty old tome full of ancient diagrams and written words of those long past gone, but yet all the people know of it. It allows access to the greatest ideas and allows for innovators of both scientifical and magical origins to create things that no one has ever seen before. To allow for the greatest of heroes to be forged in the coming days of Atlas and even make things come from the parchment to life. From the smallest halfling to the biggest orc, this magic flows through all people of any origin or culture, unbound by the restrictions of magic and burns within the person's soul without being quenched by the darkness of Dark Magic or being amplified by those of Holy origin. This magic allows for new beginnings, creation of eras in both magical and scientific progression, and can even unify a people determined to live together in harmony. He never allowed himself to be down when it mattered. Karren had a special kind of heart that meant he could move the stars themselves in order to save his friends. He felt that power surge within him, even as he tried so hard to obtain magic to only never gain magic. As a young child, Karren was endlessly fascinated by the prospects of innovation and utilizing magical energy to help others than just himself. No matter how hard he tried to gain magic of any kind whether it be Shade, Voidal Evocation, or even Druidism, he never truly wanted that magic for himself. He never craved power just for the sake of power, but he craved power to help others. He didn't wish to cause others harm or let harm befall those he believed or knew were innocent. He wanted to be a role model for the children and to give them that sense of wonder he himself carries. He wanted to push beyond the cultural differences of the magical types and let his own self feel the magic that burned within his soul be his guide to being someone that he knew he could be. Now, he still hopes to achieve that goal. Even though he is now sixty-one years old, Karren still believes in the magic of Hope. [OOC] This is meant to be a creative writing story that is canon to my character's personal story, but not known in-character. Please do not metagame any of this information.
  22. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] The Depths of Madness

    Sometimes you just don't understand. Sometimes you want to understand something that cannot make sense. This is what happened to Karren Myrsta one night while doing the calculations for the magic he was desperately trying to crack. His soul yearned for the powers of Magic, which seemed to repel all the divine attention from him, keeping their gifts far from Karren and lending him no aid to the unruly calculations. It seemed all hope for Karren doing these calculations would be dashed... ...Had it not been for one very odd dream he had some time ago. ~(+)=(+)~ He slept normally as he did in the small southern city of Austrasia, laying in his own bed within a small tent of his own making. He was exhausted of the day's events and slept hard and then it became odd from the start. He dreamed he was floating in a pit of nothingness, no light or sound. He couldn't see much or less feel. Well, thats would turn out to be a lie once he started to feel something put its eye on him as if it dragged him into this pit of nothingness. "You wish to make a deal?" Karren would hear in his mind. It sounded male, raspy or rough Karren could not discern. The voice seemed to be quite serious. Karren thought about it and before he could speak, he heard the voice in his head again. "So you wish for knowledge to crack your mathematics on your magic. I can offer that knowledge, but this comes with a cost you will pay for in the future." "What cost?" Karren quickly thought. "You shall find out. In time." The voice said and before too long, Karren woke up with a beautiful sight of the sun rising. ~(+)=(+)~ The mysterious voice stirred up a physical form in Atlas. He, of course, would not be visible to the Descendants or to the creatures yet as he longed for the boy to finish his calculations to which he helped seal the deal in his dreamscape. He offered the boy the knowledge he desperately required, but he had no idea that he had signed away something that he'd come to find out in the future which made the man smile a little. His physical form was always something he preferred the most to look like though he had no real physical form to speak of. The future of the research he had plans for, the man thought, would be destroyed once he completed it with the knowledge he provided him. At least thats what he planned for in reality. "He has no idea that he is beginning a whole new era of magic. Of Dark Magic." the man smiled as his vocal chords were fully formed once more, walking away from Cloud Temple with an aura of a chilling coldness that rivaled even that of Death itself....
  23. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] The Realm of Dreams

    Waking in a strange Realm is always shocking, but to Karren Mrysta, he was met with the complex thing in the world. He woke in a strange field of wheat on an endless plain, stretching from horizon to horizon where Time had little meaning. He was dressed in garb that seemed to be completely white as if it represented his purity of the soul and he felt like these plains had meant a lot to him as if the field of wheat meant the potential he had as a person instead of just a High Elf. With this, he did not understand what has happening until he began to notice someone else in the field of wheat with him. A man walks up to Karren, seemingly around the same age as Karren, wearing robes of a vibrant astral blue color with a golden trim in his cloak. He also has a black tunic with black pants and he also wears hard leather boots, however it seemed to Karren that this man looked like a High Elf, though not really. Karren wasn't sure who this stranger was, but he did have a familiar feel to him as if somewhere in Karren's mind, he knew him. Perhaps he had read about him from someplace? "Hello, Karren Myrsta," the stranger said to Karren. "Welcome to the Far Glade." Karren was speechless, but he would remain speechless for a time as the dream would seemingly take a long time before it would allow him to speak. What seemed like a half-hour of silence, Karren found his voice and spoke up. "Why am I here?" "Because there are mysteries that need solving, Karren. The Primal Schools of magic aren't to be tested, but however, in my Realm, I can tell you the only thing that your missing." the stranger told Karren. "You're missing Time." With that, Karren suddenly woken up and the world took a moment to snap into view as he felt like he slept so hard that he slept for two years...
  24. ChaseusBelli

    Talareh'sae, Spreading of Stone

    Talareh’sae, Spreading of Stone ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ An artist’s depiction of Talareh’sae, circa 1683. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Introduction Talareh’sae, Spreading of Stone in Elvish, is a large scale military outpost south of the Dominion of Malin’s Capital, Caras Eldar. It stands watch over the borders of the Dominion’s lands. Tall and proud on the cliffside, facing where the Uruk encampment ‘Fort Stronk’ once stood. It is governed by a sole Reeve (Formerly a Lord), who watches over the fortress, oversees production of siege weaponry, and maintains general upkeep of the institution. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ One of Talareh’s siege towers, prepared to march on San’Kala, before King Kairn Ithelanen ended the Decade Long War, Circa 1671. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ History of Talareh’sae Talareh’sae was built to oppose the Uruk-built ‘Fort Stronk’, and to stand guard over the borders of the Dominion. Spearheaded by Renn Calithil, along with Aewion and Arwenia Silma as head builders, Talareh was erected from the ground up, in an impressive four months. Upon the War for the Loftywood’s ending, with the death of Rex Morlak’lak at the King’s hands, the fortress Talareh sits patiently., overlooking the main road to the capital, standing watch over the edge of the Dominion’s territories. While the fortress lays in wait, it houses the construction of siege weapons for use by the Dominion of Malin. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Hierarchy The hierarchy of Talareh is as follows: Crown Monarch - The reigning monarch of the Dominion of Malin has full authority and final say over any decision pertaining Fort Talareh’sae. Reeve of Talareh’sae - The acting Reeve has full authority and final say over the military institution, provided a majority of the Council, or the Monarch does not disagree. The current acting Reeve is Evar’tir Ithelanen. Praetor - The Praetor, as the head of the full military and guard of the Dominion of Malin has authority within the Fortress, granted their actions do not cross against the wishes and or orders of the Acting Reeve. Virarim Halerir - The officery of the Virarim serve under the Praetor, and help enact their orders. While acting within Talareh, they are also under the Reeve’s command. Citizenry - Should any citizens decide to reside within the fortress, they would need to be accepted by the acting Reeve. While housed within Talareh, they are liable to assist in hard labour, such as: repairs, upkeep, and construction of siege weaponry. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ A Virarim member taking aim upon the walls of Talareh’sae. (Credit to JasonTN on DeviantArt) ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
  25. Aureon - Seed of Nature and Kin My soul breathes the life of the Mother and my body preaches the strength of the Father. The seeds of the Dominion of Malin are the core of the very tradition the mali’ame hold dear today. While some may boast of lineage and others of power, the Aureon’s boast neither. As the founder of the Aureon seed, El’Annil Elvrohir Aureon, being the last of his lineage, he sought to breathe life back into his seed with indoctrinating outsiders of the same mindset and beliefs. While few of the Aureon’s are related by blood, their bonds are no less stronger. Each member proudly calls the other brother or sister, and treats them as no less. Holding the title of a Noble Seed and bearing a seat on the Council of the new Dominion, the Aureon’s influence within the Dominion remains. Made up of a vast majority of skilled Virarim warriors, dedicated Naelurir druidic priests, and skilled craftsmen, the rich tradition of the mali’ame courses through the very life blood of the seed. Founded by Elvrohir Aureon, the Aureon Seed is currently governed by the chieftain, Guyden Aureon, a longstanding priest of the mali’ame since the days of Axios. With a firm hand, and kind heart, he leads and guides his family in this ways of their people and culture. Ancient History Elenwë, the First Maiden of Malin While the world was still young, Malin lead the elven people, and a particular mali’ame woman held his favour. Elenwë, a fearless and honourable warrior strove to help guide her people in the ways of the forefather. Her skill with the blade and eye for the bow outranked many of her compatriots, establishing her within the sights of Malin himself. Pleased with her skill, he bestowed upon her his own spear, encouraging her to continue leading her people with a firm hand. With the disappearance of Malin and the division of his people, Elenwë remained in the location of his disappearance, along with the people entrusted to her. Choosing instead to rest in one location, they were the first of the seeds to live in a non-nomadic lifestyle. Her, along with others, then began the formation of the seeds. Settling into permanent lodgings, a concept unheard of in this time, Elenwë, and a few steadfast individuals, supplemented their life to hunting and gathering with the blessing of the Aspects. As the years passed on, they mastered the art of tree harvesting. The Home Trees provided them with shelter, the Iron Barks produced superior hunting bows, and the fruit trees bore a surplus of food. This artificial forest, called Ame’lie, grew in tune with nature, and served the Aureon Seed well. And in this way, they existed through The Era of Seeds. Elenwë, Chieftain of the Aureon Seed, resided over her people for many years, sustaining leadership even when her strength and vitality had began to fade. She was a beloved grandmother to her kin, and no one could find it in themselves to question her. Unfortunately, the Uruk did not share this affection. Now despite being exceptional hunters, the Aureons were not soldiers. When the time came, they could do little against the ironclad Raiders of the Uzg. Elenwë died in battle, and her spear was taken, leaving the Aureons without a leader and without a mother to guide them. When Prince Artimec Camoryn called upon the mali’ame people to remember their Seeds and rebuild them, the Aureon people were one of the first to answer the call. They strove to bring back the life the forest sustained them with and to this day, continue to do so. The Seed of Today Bound by Honor, not Blood After many decades and having borne no offspring himself, Elvrohir established a wide diversity of malii within his seed. While the Aureons of old were striking in appearance with their longer than average ears, light russet skin tone, vibrant green eyes, and reddish-brown hair, the Aureons of today share a wide range of characteristics. As the beginning members of the seed consisted of Aelthus, a fair skinned mali’aheral, Veravia, the elegant sister counterpart to the ‘aheral, Fawynn, a bronze skinned mali’ame, and Katar, a copper haired wood elf, the diversity was already in the works. While some bear the tell tale blonde hair and violet eyes of the mali’aheral, others show off their dark locks and deep set brown eyes. Most, if not all, come from various backgrounds and traditions, but one thing unites them all: their devout loyalty to one another. Due to the events of the Bronze rebellion, many of the Aureons have been scattered to the world. Some can be found in the far reaches of the world, still yet devoutly practicing the beliefs of the culture and of their family. Though many yet remain within the crown jewel of elvendom, Caras Eldar. And there lies the current chieftain, Guyden Aureon. Though however far apart members may be, they remain family. Ilmyumier The Aureon seed marking, Ame’lie As the ancient history of the Aureons spoke of their ties to the Ame’lie, it held a deeper meaning to them. For the Aureons, the Ame’lie meant the difference between surviving and perishing. Without the Ame’lie, they would have had no homes, no food and no means of continuing on. And so, the Aureon’s became known as the protectors of the Ame’lie, helping guide their forest in tune with the Balance of Nature. The Balance relays the cycle of life, of existence and death, of fruitfulness and rot. And thus, the illmyumier of the seed relates just that message. Traditionally tattooed in a visible area of the body, the Aureon seed members bear their markings with pride, telling the tale of how their ancestors helped keep the life growing, not only in the Ame’lie, but within themselves too. Core Beliefs and Initiation While the Aureon seed is a notable and honorable seed, tradition is held highest among its members. With the ever growing family, it came to the attention of the wife of the chieftain, Lady Steward and Naelurir Archdruid Arahaelth Aueron, that those wishing to incorporate themselves into the fold would need to prove themselves to the existent family. After many years of delving into the ways of the seeds and teaching her dedicants the Balance and Aspectism, she created a structured manuscript detailing the key values of the seed, along with how aspiring members would prove these values to the Aureons. These values and trials are as follows: Faith - The culture of the mali’ame is deeply rooted within the teachings of the Aspects, Cernunnos and Cerridwen. While many of the wood elven people are at least aware of the deities of the forest, many more are ignorant to the tradition. With this, the druii are the most reliable source of teaching. With a number of Aureon members being attuned druii, the aspirant is required to be taught the mali’ame ways from one of said druii. Once the teacher is pleased with the aspirant’s intake of knowledge, the are required to sit with Archdruid Sister Sparrow and relay all they have been taught. Should they succeed in pleasing her with their new found knowledge, they may continue on with their trials. Should they fail, they will be required to continue their learning and will be re-tested. Kinship - Family ties run deeper than blood within the seed. And thus, it is required for an aspirant to prove they can meld with the life of a family. Along with the observation of the elders, the aspirant will need to prove, through action, word and deed, that they can set family before themselves. Should brother turn on brother, or sister turn on sister, the whole family suffers. As the aspirant begins their initiation within the seed, they will be kept under continuous scrutiny by all the existing members, with all reports returning back to the chieftain, Katar Aueron. Honor - Reputation and dignity go hand in hand with the Aureons. With many of the members being dignified soldiers of the Sirame, reputable clerics and even political figure heads, the way an Aureon is viewed by outsiders is of the utmost importance. While the aspirant will not only be looked upon by the Aureons, most civilians and other seeds will scrutinize. As with the Terins, Caerme’onns, and Calithils, and others, should the aspirant be viewed as dishonorable to the seed by the aforementioned, along with the people of the Dominion, their chances of entering the seed are drastically lowered if not obliterated. This includes breaking any of the lawful standings in the cities of the Dominion (Ker’nor, Norseth’onn, and/or Linandria). Cohesion - Without unity, there can be no community. And with no community, relationships can not be formed. That being said, it is well routed within the ways of the mali’ame that working together is the most prosperous and efficient method of getting things done. For the aspirant, they will be pushed to many limits in order to prove that they can, in fact, work together with their counterparts and establish cohesion with their brethren. Depending on the aspirant, their first of many trails in this value may consist of harvesting and bringing the family a fallen tree (accompanied by at least one other member), hunting large game, aiding in the teachings of the Aspects (should they have completed the trial of faith) or any other trial deemed appropriate for the aspirant. While it is important for the aspirant to be tested, both physically and mentally, the Aureon’s are not cruel and will help find a balance when it comes to the position of the individual. Self Worth - Personal integrity is an important aspect to the uniqueness of an individual. It is this uniqueness that makes each malii their own person. With this value, the aspirant must demonstrate what makes them who they are. While many of the Aureons are established craftsmen, a common method of proving self worth is to construct an object of importance on their own. Should an aspirant be an unskilled artisan, there are other methods such as transcribing stories, learning old elven ballads or even inventing new ideas and concepts for architecture, weaponry, battle strategies and the list goes on. No one is without individualism, and this characteristic is important to creating a sense of self and belonging. Knowledge - While some may argue that the traditions of the mali’ame and the ways of the Aspects are one, the Aureon’s do not believe this is so. Just as the druii must be educated when it comes to The Horned Lord and The Green Lady, any aspirant of the seed of the Dominion must be educated in the culture and history of the people. In this trial, the aspirant must not only research and study the mali’ame, but they must also go out into the city and interview the notable figures, asking to learn in the ways of oral tradition. While it is not limited to these individuals, a select group that would be wise to ask for include: Brother Hawk, Artimec Caerme’onn Brother River, Calius Terin Sister Hurricane, Awaiti Aureon While these values are held high and are considered of the utmost importance to the Aureon household, they are many others that the aspirant may be required to prove. While initiation into the seed may take time, the time that they spend and the devotion they put into it will be taken into account and be appreciated by all. The Aureon Seed In no particular order or fashion, below consists of the current members of the Aureon seed: While the Aureon seed is a lively and plentiful family, they have not gone without loss. As honor is a core value for the family, that applies also to those who had passed on. For the seed, they honour and respect the family they no longer have the chance to experience the joys of life with. Veravia Aureon, having not been heard from in many decades, is presumed to have perished. While not known to many of the seed, she still holds the title of an original member and asset to the Aureon seed. With El’Chirr Aelthus and Fawynn Aureon, both original members have moved on from this realm and into that of the Aspects plain. Having served the seed dutifully in it’s building stages, they will always be remember within their seed. But there was one Aureon, one without a name, that did not get to experience the joys of family. An unborn child of Arahaelth Aureon did not get to breathe in the sweet scent of life. Taken to be with the Aspects too soon, the babe is also honoured by the seed, as not only a past family member, but a precious mali child. She was followed by her mother, Arahaelth after. Many others have fallen as well. Wistari Aureon. Meri Aureon. Nathan Aureon. Katar Aureon. Many of the blessed brothers and sisters of the seed have fallen, and there will be more to come. The remaining Aureons remember them dutifully, in all they do. Oath of Initiation Once an aspirant has successfully completed their given trials, they will be sworn into the Aureon seed by declaration of an oath and sealing said oath in blood. Not unlike that of a Naelurir dedicant agreeing to pursue in the tasks of a student, the aspirant will promise their life unto the seed through words and through the offering of their life source in the sight of the Aspects. The oath, transcribed by Leo Aureon, is as follows: Let the blood that hisses within these flames be my word. Let the flesh that I tear bind me to the troth I make today Nay, be the blood, for the troth runs deeper. My body is the shield of my kin. For my brothers and sisters I will lay down my being if need be. With passion in my heart I strive. I strive to protect my family. My bow stays true for the Father. My heart stays true for the Mother. Here, I become an Aureon. Here, I become one of Elenwë. Kae halere; I swear