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  1. Nestled deep within the far north, clouded behind the whistling winds and blowing snow, the faint sounds of music can be heard ringing through the hills and mountains. Carried upon the winds would be the faint smell of grain, complimented by a tinge of something sweet. The closer one would come to the source, the stronger these senses would become. The music would reveal itself to be a number of string instruments being drowned out by a heavy THUMPING of dozens of boots keeping rhythm, all of which being accompanied by muffled singing and ambient chatter. The scent would grow heavy with alcohol, so much so that some might even claim that the smell alone was enough to intoxicate them. To those who knew the northern Tundra well, there is only one location that could produce such stimulating smells and scents, WYRVUN’S LANDING, located within Ikur’fiyem of the Fennic Remnants, maintained by the famed Quenters. Since the dawn of the Mali’Fenn there has always been an attempt to pass on historical and cultural traditions. For centuries a grand library had stood amongst the ‘Fenn, filled with books detailing the rocky history of the tundra dwelling elves. But as tragedy struck and Cataclysms shook the people to the brink of extinction the library steadily lost more and more of its sprawling collection. As the mighty Fennic Capitals were brought to ruins by all manner of disaster it quickly became evident that a new system needed to be devised, one that could survive the struggles of a Cataclysm and live on through the surviving community. Thus, the Quenters were born at the dawn of the Fennic Remnants. An amalgamation of various artistic forms brought together under a single roof to be practiced, performed, and passed on from generation to generation. Under the guidance of the Mavalmir (Head Quenter) the Quenters have flourished into a sprawling network of cheerful musicians, artists, performers, story tellers, barkeeps, and brewers. Structure and Hierarchy Titles of the Quenters [!] A notice is hung upon the wall of Wyrvun's Landing. In an elegant handwriting it reads... ༺══════──────────────────────────══════༻ While it may appear so, do remember that looks can be deceiving, as Quenters are more than just Tavern wenches and innkeepers. They are the lore holders for the Fennic people and those who have decided to call these walls their home. They are bardic artists, composing cultural ballads and crafting unique instruments of their own design. They are spirit brewers concocting unique mixes and drinks, and they are story tellers passing on lessons and history through tales. Quenters serve as the heart and soul of all Fennic people. If you are an individual who has been captivated with this brief explanation, please seek out one of the many Quenters in Wyrvuns Landing to explain more of the structure of the artistic collective within Fenn. ༺══════──────────────────────────══════༻ Schools of Art [!] At the bottom of the poster a number of tear off off squares can be seen... •──────────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────────• Please fill out and return to a bartender if interested in joining the Quenters. Name: Race: Age: [[OOC]] Username: Discord: Timezone: (Post application as reply) •──────────⋅☾ ☽⋅──────────•
  2. Silence blankets Ikur'fiyem, punctuated only by the song of shrill, biting wind, and the occasional howl of a hungry wolf. Now, even the brown and orange leaves have withered away, and all but the stout evergreens stand bare. Animals once prowled these lands to feast upon berries and prey; now, they have retreated to their caves for a lengthy slumber. Autumn is over. Winter has come to Fin'hesin; for a land of the cold and snow, it is suffocating. Yet, amidst the quietude and silent struggle, the Snow Elves find reflection. It is their holiest season, and so approaches one of their holiest days. From door to door, and even beyond the lands of Fin'hesin, a missive is spread. "Mali'fenn, and friends - I invite you all to celebrate the Solstice of Death with me - a sacred time for our people to reflect upon the ancestors, relatives, friends, and comrades who constitute our honored dead. Since our people's origins, in ancient times, countless 'fenn have departed our realm for eternal slumber in Isvin. Some laid down their lives willingly. For many others, they were given no choice - by steel or snow, they were robbed of centuries. I know none of you to be untouched by our most recent Cataclysm; the fall of the Princedom, and the years leading to our reformation here, cost us much. Together, we will visit the tombs of our dead, make a great offering to Wyrvun at the Wayshrine of Death, and then settle into a respectful silence until our feast, where we might celebrate and eulogize the dead." ________________________________________________________________________________ [[OOC]] The Solstice of Death is tomorrow (saturday)! Schedule 4pm EST: Crypt visiting - Snow Elves and bloodlines will visit the crypts, to see and clean the tombs of their loved ones. ~4:30-45pm EST: Pyre - A great offering will be made before the Wayshrine of Death, intended for the souls being remembered. Pyre-7pm EST: Silence - Out of respect for the dead, complete silence will reign in the Fennic Remnants. 7pm EST: Feasting - The silence will be broken with a feast in the tavern, where the Mali'fenn will eulogize and drink to the dead.
  3. ╔═════━━━━━───── • ─────━━━━━═════╗ Quenter's Handbook: Fennic Folktales and Myths Collected and spread by Arevthor Tathvir ╚═════━━━━━───── • ─────━━━━━═════╝ ────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── Due to the numerous cataclysms the Fennic population has faced over the centuries, maintaining a consistent library detailing written history has been a difficult task. Because of this, many ‘Fenn opt to pass on stories of history through word of mouth. As years go by and generations rise and fall, these oral tales slowly alter and evolve, being twisted from the once historical accounts. This is most often the origin for Mali’Fenn folklore, existing as a twisted view of reality where nightmarish creatures and outlandish heroes are frequent. While the validity of these tales are questionable at best, most of the written works that could counter these tales has been lost to one of the many cataclysms, thus leading almost all Fennic children and even most mature Mali'Fenn to believe in these tales and the values they hold. The folktales themselves almost entirely take place within fin'hesin, and are often used to explain natural phenomena, teach lessons to children, and urge listeners to aspire towards certain goals and values. The creatures within these stories frequently range from fantastical horrors of the imagination; to deific creatures depicted in religious works; to well known, common monsters. The lessons that are intended to be shared will often be representative of the core values of the Mali'Fenn as well as warnings meant to caution young children. While the range of stories told is vast and ever changing, one of the most consistent points that will always persist is the oral method in their retelling and their ever changing and evolving nature. Bestiary A collection of obscure tales that describe creatures more than an actual story. These range from common house gnomes to horror inducing creatures living under the sea. One commonality of all these tales is the distinct lack of characters, using its time to describe the form and habits of these folk-landish beings. Arctic Elementals In the darkness of night, unlit by fuel-burning fires, some speak of light appearing in the thickness of the black beyond the walls, not of normal shades of fire-light, no oranges or yellows, but rather of whites and blues glimmering at times. It’s as if in a single moment the pitch-black would come alive with resistance in its center as an elemental attempts to wake and wander the walls of Fenn in search of ways in. Some say it’s not a creature but rather Wyrvun gathering power away from the watchful eyes of other higher beings, yet others exclaim it is merely the moonlight scattering in shards of ice and onto the neighboring environment. Vul-kina Howls from afar, through the tips of the trees, through the valleys of snow & ice, through the timber and stone walls of the capital: a deep howl. Many Ivae’Fenn reports recall a deep and ominous howl coming from afar, nothing like any known beast, yet without fail, someone is always found dead near or around the sounds. Some Guardians outright refuse to go anywhere near those sounds until at least a full day has passed, reports of disobeying orders and outright fighting in defiance, as if the deepest part of our strongest fighters is screaming at them “don't go there”, and rightly-so, cases of lone Guardians or small patrols of two investigating and never returning are all too common. Something prowls around for whatever reason, it’s a certainty of death and an impossibility to find, unless it wants to be found. Faesullral The Faesullral is trapped in the sea for most of the year, but emerges from its watery depths in the winter months. It looks like a horse with fin-like appendages, translucent skin, and blood-red eyes. It's gaping maw permeates a toxic vapor that causes crops to wilt and livestock and children to fall ill. The Faesullral is so dangerous that, traditionally, its name is hardly ever spoken, whispered only in hushed tones that are quickly followed up by a prayer. If you see the creature, it will pursue you, and the only way to escape it is to cross a running body of freshwater. As a creature of the sea and of sickness, the Faesullral cannot stand freshwater. The sound of ice cracking over water is said to be the sound of the Faesullral neighing. Malnii’lin These little folk protect the homes of those who invite them in and are known to leave tiny gifts for their house-folk, though often Malnii’lin will pick a home without invitation, almost acting as a pest themselves. Often felt but rarely seen, they act much like house cats, warding off pests and unwanted vermin. In return they will often steal small portions of food and perhaps the occasional sock or small piece of cloth. They often adorn their heads with cones made out of cloth in order to keep themselves warm. While they are fearful of adults, they will often take a liking to small children, viewing their innocence as pure and allowing them insight into their tiny world. If one is to ever find that their food rations are running low, jewelry or puzzles pieces missing, or socks and gloves wind up unfound often the Malnii’lin will be blamed. Folktales This is a gathering of various stories and tales depicting the growth and development of various characters within Fin’Hesin. Many of these stories hold a message within them, sometimes cautionary sometimes inspiring, to help guide young ‘Fenn. Much of these stories exist within the basis reality, referencing historic events and locations, though the events that make up the stories themselves seldom have other works or evidence supporting their validity (perhaps a result of the written works being destroyed years ago). Av’iler, the last son of the Fenn’asul Upon a setting dusk there stood a Fennic line renowned for their skills in tinkering and healing. Fenn'asul is what they called themselves, brandishing the name with pride. Tragedy would strike however in the form of a Cataclysm, demolishing the bloodline and leading any remaining members to be hunted. There was a single ounce of hope for the survival of the bloodline in the form of Av’iler, the last son of the Fenn'asul. With him he carried the collective knowledge of his kin and their ancestors. His fate was already sealed however, as he was hunted and killed by enemies of the Snow Elves. It is said that Wyrvun offered Av'iler eternal slumber within Fin'ciwn, but he refused the offer. Rather he insisted that he be sent back to Fin'Hesin as a Diraar'maya, taking the form of a bear reminiscent of his family's crest. To this day Av'iler wanders the tundra, seeking to remind the Fennic people of his ancestors, and the ancestors before them. A whistling sound can be heard echoing through the tundra, said to be the call of Av'iler, the Last Son of the Fenn’asul, calling for all to remember. Fiym’fih Faitil was a young Fennic man who had struggled all his life with his devotion to Wyrvun, failing to believe in his strength. One fateful day Faitil found himself on a hunting expedition with a group of like minded men before tragedy struck. A blizzard rolled in, stranding the party in a nearby cave for shelter. Days went by and the party still found themselves stranded within the cave, struggling to find the necessary rations to survive. Faith was held by all that Wyrvun, Aengul of the Deep Cold, would guide them to safety and relieve the storm, all but Faitil. In the dead of night he slayed his companion and feasted upon their flesh. Wyrvun was furious at the lack of faith and the willingness Faitil had to turn on his fellow man. A curse was placed upon the young ‘Fenn, transforming him into a Fiyem’fih. Fiyem'fih walks the lonely stretches of taiga far in the north, constantly searching for a new hunt. Though it towers at a whopping fifteen feet, Fiyem'fih is often described as being emaciated, suggesting that it is never fully satisfied with its cannibalistic urges. It gives off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition. Unlike other carnivores, it does not rely on chasing its prey; rather, it mimics human voices to lure people in and draw them away from civilization. Myths Synonymous with historical events, these Myths depict very real events that have happened within Fennic history. There are many ‘Fenn still alive who remember these events, some even were apart of them, still sharing their perspectives to this day. Of all Fennic tales these are the most valid stories, with multiple sources referencing their validity. The Call to our Ancestors Fennic folk are quite familiar with finding themselves fighting an outnumbered battle. While any other would drop their weapons in fright, the ‘Fenn are far too stubborn. In order to even the odds, a Call will be made to their ancestors, asking them to leave their slumber within Fin'ciwn for but a moment to bear witness to the glory their descendent carries. The call takes many forms, a muttering of chants, a song limerick, the banging of one’s shield, or even a simple whistle. It is said that the ‘Fenn can feel the presence of their ancestors’ spirits fill the surrounding area, slinking from the shadows and the rolling forest, perhaps even being glimpsed by a lucky few. These onlookers will never lift a hand to their descendants aid, rather believing that they possess the strength to bring glory to the ‘Fenn by themselves.
  4. From their perches atop the withering foliage, the caws of crows sound off stone and dirt, echoing through Ikur’fiyem. Autumn had arrived, and even in Fin’hesin, that land of stout winter, did life wither. Green turned to orange, orange to brown, and brown to nothing. Brisk winds from the north chilled to the bone; a harbinger of what was to come - for following autumn would be winter, and the winter of Fin’hesin was a deep, lifeless freeze. And so, while they could, fauna and ‘fenn alike scavenged the lands, picking them bare in preparation for their hibernation. Those who failed to secure their resources before the deep freeze would wither away and perish in Wyrvun’s frigid breath. It was a time for competition; a time for war. And so, among the faithful of Isvinity, word was spread of the impending Equinox of War - to be held at the very height of autumn. “Hark! Mali’fenn - As faith demands, and tradition encourages, we will celebrate the Equinox of War - a time for you to help our Remnants gather food in preparation for winter’s hibernation, and prove your martial strength. We shall hold a hunt, whereby the individual to collect the most pelts will be awarded the title Ihnsil’fenn. Thereafter, come and feast in the tavern, and listen to stories of martial prowess. Further, a melee tournament shall be held, and the winner crowned Wyrvun’s Champion. They shall be granted a professionally forged weapon, and may ask one thing of their prince - to be delivered so long as it is within both power and reason.” _______________________________________________________________________________ [[OOC]] The hunt will be held this Saturday at 7pm EST, to be followed by a feast in the tavern. The winner of the hunt will be determined by a rolling system, and will receive: -The title “Ihnsil’fenn” -A free bust sketched by the very talented @JJosey The melee tournament will be held this Sunday at 7pm EST, and is open only to citizens of the Remnants (though spectators are welcome). The rules are as followers: -No leaving the arena -No ranged weapons -No mounts The winner of the melee tournament will receive: -The title “Wyrvun’s Champion” -A custom RP weapon -The ability to ask one thing of the prince, to be granted so long as it is within power and reason _______________________________________________________________________________ Tournament Sign-up Please respond to this thread with the following information MC Username: RP Name:
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