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A 'Treat' in the Void Endlessly, you traversed the unfathomable depths of the stygian abyss, Amidst the eldritch horde, each preying mercilessly upon the feeble among your kind. Moments of respite were rare in this desolate realm, but at times, a 'treat' would plunge into the yawning void, And your unceasing odyssey would briefly halt. Through eons untold, your path unfurled, Feeding upon the vulnerable, consuming the weaker, Eternally eluding the ancient predators concealed in shadows, A relentless cycle of survival and predation, the abyss's decree. Then, as if orchestrated by some cosmic scheme, 'it' descended into the abyss, A disturbance akin to a single raindrop breaking the placid surface of a forlorn lake, A morsel, a 'treat' that sent ripples of anticipation through your kind's collective consciousness. With insatiable hunger, your kind surged toward the coveted prize, A frenzy of tentacles, jaws, and grotesque forms, all vying for a taste. And 'it,' the unsuspecting tidbit, quivered in response to this voracious onslaught, Yet, amid the chaotic tumult, 'it' found an abrupt, eerie tranquility. In your mind's eye, a vision began to unfold, An image of 'it,' the 'treat,' bearing a countenance defying reason. A soft, subtle smile adorned 'its' visage, Radiating from the abyss's very heart, And it was directed at you, and only you. In that moment, as you gazed into the abyss, the abyss gazed back, Transcending the limits of your eldritch existence, A connection forged through the consumption of 'it,' A communion of otherworldly minds in eternal darkness. The enigmatic smile endured, a paradox of comfort and malevolence, And as you drifted away from the 'treat,' consumed anew by the abyss, You carried the disquieting knowledge that 'it' had left an indelible mark, A cryptic guidepost on your voyage through the cosmic void, A signpost pointing toward inscrutable depths of understanding yet concealed. Within the abyss's inky folds, where nameless horrors reigned, a murmur of unfathomable revelation had brushed against your consciousness—an enigma woven into the void's very fabric. "May the radiant flames in your heart guide you along your path."

Into the Depths of Beleth: The Lost Temple of Teo'Camaxli - An Adventure Log by Faelion Arather Entry 1: The moment I beheld the Temple of Teo'Camaxli for the first time, a profound sense of awe overcame me. It loomed majestically above the cascading waters of The Jungles of Beleth, a sentinel guarding ancient enigmas, its towering silhouette visible from vast distances. Nature had recaptured much of its structure, yet the temple's enduring presence remained undeniable. It exuded an energy that elevated my very spirit, infusing me with boundless wonder and an insatiable curiosity. Approaching closer, I could discern a mysterious aura in the air, a resonance of some bygone magical force. The temple's decayed wooden palisades and serpentine walkways, testament to time's inexorable march and the relentless jungle, intertwined haphazardly across its façade. The true moment of wonder arrived at dawn. The temple's zenith served as a focal point for the sun's initial rays, casting a brilliant illumination upon the plateau, akin to a celestial lighthouse. For those fleeting minutes, it seemed as though the heavens themselves bestowed their radiant blessing upon this ancient sanctum, revealing its concealed secrets. Entry 2: Today, I ventured deeper into the outer precincts of the Temple of Teo'Camaxli. Although I found no apparent ingress to the inner sanctum, my resolve to explore every facet of its exterior remained unwavering. The intricately chiseled stone motifs held a mystique that captivated me, and an unshakable conviction whispered that this place held profound significance. As my exploration persisted, I couldn't escape the intrigue of the Alchemical Signs of Aether, Air, Water, and Fire adorning the corners of the highest level. They concealed an enigma, I was certain of it, waiting patiently to be unraveled. Entry 3: The further I delved into the temple's exterior, the more profoundly I sensed its mystic embrace. With each stride, the atmosphere grew heavier, and the echoes of those who had tread this path before me reverberated in my senses. The very stones seemed to preserve memories of a bygone era, and I stood as an intruder within their sacred domain. Before me stood an imposing stone portal, bedecked with intricate carvings and adorned with glistening gemstones. It was apparent that this door represented the temple's core, yet it remained impenetrable. My fingers traced the cryptic symbols etched into its surface, but their intent eluded me. Entry 4: Today, I persisted in my exploration of the Temple of Teo'Camaxli's exterior. While the passage within eluded me, an unshakable conviction told me that there was more to this place than met the eye. The stone carvings and enigmatic symbols held a significance that eluded my grasp. Standing once again before the sealed stone portal, reverence washed over me. It was as if this door safeguarded the temple's most profound secrets, and my determination to unearth them remained resolute. With a deep breath, I pressed my hand against the chilled stone and silently prayed that one day, the concealed mysteries would yield to my unwavering pursuit.

While diligently organizing the Centurion's reports, your meticulous efforts come to a pause as you stumble upon a substantial document that immediately seizes your focus. Centurion: Faelion Arather Activity: Off-duty Encounter The encounter with [Redacted] unfolded as follows: The first time I met [Redacted], he spoke in cryptic phrases. He wore a perpetual grin and openly displayed his metallic claws. [Redacted] often spoke about death and a concept he called "greater death." He even urged me not to fear him, as he claimed not to embody the death he discussed. Cautiously, I observed [Redacted]'s countenance, which seemed to radiate with a golden glow as I instinctively stepped back. In response, [Redacted] attempted to draw nearer to me. As I maintained my distance, a sudden flash of pain struck me when [Redacted] projected a golden lance of light through my head. My vision was flooded with strange imagery: a vast darkness, a massive lizard, an abnormally large bat, and an indescribable squirming mass of flesh. I also heard voices, though their meaning eluded me. They uttered, "Near to us. Far from us." The images eventually collapsed, leaving me in a void of profound darkness and emptiness. The pain in my head gradually subsided. Gasping for breath, I found myself on all fours, retching, unsure if it was a vision or a complex illusion. As I slowly recovered, Tiwari approached me to inquire about the situation. Weakly, I recounted my experience to Tiwari, who subsequently confronted [Redacted]. I remained too overwhelmed to recollect the specifics of their exchange. While regaining my composure, I noticed [Redacted] brandishing a pure-white, opaque blade, its edge pointed at Tiwari. As [Redacted] advanced toward Tiwari, I swiftly raised my shield to block his path. Positioning myself between [Redacted] and Tiwari, I lost sight of Tiwari's actions behind me. I distinctly remember Tiwari cautioning [Redacted] against any rash moves. [Redacted] stepped back but began to emit an intense radiance, with flames swirling around his form and coalescing near the tip of his blade. In my peripheral vision, I observed that our confrontation had drawn a growing crowd of onlookers. Tiwari scolded [Redacted] for challenging a Centurion Officer and expressed disbelief at his actions. Another voice from behind me ordered [Redacted] to back off. Fearing further escalation, I firmly grasped my lance with my free hand and warned [Redacted] that his actions could lead to a criminal charge. [Redacted] complied but redirected his magical energy towards the direction of a retreating spectator. A towering column of flames soared harmlessly over a spectator's head, dissipating approximately 10 meters away into thin air. With continued efforts to de-escalate the situation, the incident concluded without further trouble.

THE FIRST CRUSADE OF REINMAR A REPORT ON EVENTS LAST SAINT’S DAY Issued by the HAUPTMANN OF REINMAR On this 13th day of Joma and Umund of 496 E.S. TO THE PIOUS MEN AND WOMEN OF REINMAR AND WHOMEVER THIS MAY CONCERN, A most momentous event took place on the last Saint’s Day in the year of our Lord. After the concussion of the dual weddings of Helfgott - Berkhoven and Helfgott - Burke. The mad Necromancer Funnybone and his ilk graced Reinmar's firm towers with the blood of man and beast alike in a show of their disgusting cruelty. However, within the walls of Reinmar was the truest form of faith before GOTT. Men and women of multiple races from across Aevos had come to support the most holy union of the two happy couples. So when the party guests, as well as the brides and grooms, saw the cruel action, all quickly ran into action. Under the loose command of Hauptmann von Reinmar but mostly with the Lord’s divine grace on them, the diverse group of Canonist forces engaged the foul darkspawn who had foolishly remained bear witness to the Lord’s wrath. NOTED PARTIES HOUSE OF WEISS Lord Walter and his Wife Marian Weiss, Who had come to the wedding, lived entirely up the name of the ever-zealous House of Wiess, both of them joining the front line against the heretic shield wall. With Walter landing, an important hit on the dark spawn with the House Holy Blade. KNIGHTS OF SAINT JUDE The Knights of Saint Jude appeared in force at the battle, taking the bulk of the front line against the enemy shield wall. Their most holy force held the line against the dark spawn line for the bulk of the battle, aided by other good men of Canonism. And prevent their taint from moving even an inch closer to Reinmar once the battle began. The Landser would like to express their utmost respect for the knights of Saint Jude and their desire to work together again, as their order in battle was exemplary. We were also honored to see a new faithful join their ranks after the battle. LANDSERS VON REINMAR The Landsers von Reinmar, including all four of those who had their wedding just prior, stood fast alongside their Waldenian Brothers, with Particular not to a very amusing fireball fired by Oberlandser Mage Arthur Burke, which caught the scum Funny Bone causing him to eventually flee the battle screaming. 'Put it out! Put it out!' as well as Leutnant Avya Berkhoven, who slides the massive head from the bear-sized flesh golem. Overall, the Landsers all conducted themselves well according to their roles. Using properly combined warfare with magic, alchemy, and slayer-steel brute force. FORCES OF MINITZ The Forces of Minitz, including their templar, managed to break into the center of their formation, with their templar blasting and shutting down any more range attack from the Iblees forces. The Prince of Minitz Ferdinand Barclay, standing and fighting alongside his cousin, his Princely Grace Manfred Barclay, the second. PERSONAL MENTIONS Laurissa von Haense for her efforts in targeting the most dangerous of the enemy and going to great physical lengths for our holy cause. The House of Colborn, while they may not have intended it, sent a very big soldier in a small package. MESSAGE TO THE FAITHFUL Canonism won the battle this day, but the war rages on as Iblees forever attempts to corrupt our world. So never let your sword dull or become ignorant to corruption, for he who rests rests. Wer Rastet, Der Rostet. With the glory of Gott's victory in your hearts. I encourage you reading this missive to remember we are Gott's blades, and our one true enemy is Iblees. So, never turn your back on your fellow canonist, no matter their secular allegiance. Now, all good canonists, go with Gott and steel yourselves against corruption! CLOSING PRAYER Saint Edmond, model of all knights, possess me not with fear; grant me peace and strength in the hour of battle. Let God think not on my faults but on my potential. I swear that if I come through this day with courage, I will strive to embody the honour that thou didst: I shall show clemency to the prisoner, give succour to the widow and spare the peasant. Amen! GOTT MIT UNS, ,Hauptman of Reinmar Thank you to @Petsch2k@Trey@Balthasar for playing the baddies and giving everyone a fantastic event!

-=+=- THE KROVAVAYA SVAD’BA MENU -=+=- [!] A Sakcharin Catering services booklet made of thick paper and stitched leather lies open to the front page in your hands. Golden trim details the menu and a flourish of text rests upon the top line: The Krovavaya Svad'ba Menu. Underneath, several sections are written in Common with bold, precise strokes of ink. -=-=- Alcoholic Drinks -=-=- De Beurre Sours From all appearances, it would seem almost akin to an iced coffee, creamy and caramel in appearance with grated tonka beans over top. The drink itself is whisky poured over gomme syrup, lemon juice, egg whites and liquorice bitters over ice. While the drink may seem like it would taste sour entirely, it would have a rich, nutty vanilla flavor with hints of sweet and spice alike when served. The Aigre Liquor This beverage is a deep purple in appearance, citrus vodka, lemon juice and a parfait liquor is combined in a shaker of ice before it is strained into the cocktail glass and garnished with a lemon spiral. An alcoholic beverage with a citrus taste. -=-=-Non-Alcoholic Drinks -=-=- Raevir e Auvergne This beverage is made with strawberry juice alongside boiled lingonberries, giving it a vibrantly colored appearance. Diluted with water, and sweetened with sugar and honey alike, this drink would cater to the ultimate sweet tooth among us. Bonheur Bliss Tea From all appearances, the liquid is frosty, pale and pink - and creamy as well. The tea is made from a mixture of pressed green and black tea, brewed with melted butter, salt, and goat's milk. Nutmeg and peppercorn is stirred in, the sweet in appearance tea having a salty and tart taste alike. -=-=- Appetizers -=-=- Blini e Creme Fraiche This Raevir-Auvergne fusion consists of thin pancakes made with buckwheat flour, warm to the touch with a nutty, toasty flavor to accompany it. Creme fraiche is dolloped over the top, the heavy cream sinking in with a dash of sea salt. It is further topped with caviar and garnished with dill, allowing for a tangy appetizer for one to try. Escargot e Raevir This dish consists of snails boiled over a Raevir vodka, herbal butter alongside shallot, garlic and parsley. Tomato sauce with a mixture of red wine is drizzled over it, giving it a crimson appearance. Upon the side is toasted bread puff, with a dollop of the same herbal used above upon the side for use. -=-=- Main Courses -=-=- Pissaladière e Salmon This Raevir-Auvergne fusion dish consists of charcoal smoked salmon slow-marinated in vodka for many hours, allowing the added flavors to sink into the meal. It is served with an Aurvergne-style onion tart topped with olives and anchovies alike, the tart aiding in soaking up the meal that is to be eaten. Julienne au Vin This classic Auvergne dish is one of chicken slowly braised in red wine, the meat melting off of the bone and stripped away to be added to a mushroom julienne base. Sliced mushrooms are baked in a creamy cheese sauce, adding the Raevir twist to the meal being prepared - and making the meal more akin to a soup. -=-=- Dessert -=-=- Tarte Crème Tatin This Raevir-Auvergne fusion dessert is one with a rich custard base, with a layer of caramelized sugar - followed by a fruit caramelized via use of butter and sugar. A pie crust is added upon the top, making the upside-down caramelized custard tart. A supremely sugary dessert, achingly sweet.

WHAT IS LOST IS FOUND "Mom-killer." "Womb-Wrecker." These were the words that Grigoryi grew up with, words that would become as commonplace as greetings. There wasn't a day in his childhood that he went without these words. If only his father Ailred had known, maybe he would have stopped Grigoryi and Boris from being bullied by their older siblings; it's not like they asked their mother to die in childbirth. Those words came from Rhys, Stefaniya, and basically all of his siblings except Angelika. Yet, everything was Grigoryi's fault. He was expected to apologize for everything but never once received an apology for those years of unrelenting torment. The young Ruthern grew more estranged from his family daily, often sitting on remote rooftops just to have a moment alone. Yet, Boris fell in line. Somehow, he wasn't weighed down by all the trash thrown onto him from birth; one twin was successful while the other walked the low road. There was only one thing he looked forward to as he grew a little older: a glimpse at his first crush. Vasilia was so.. real. He tried to socialize with her for once, no matter how distant or cold he was. Unfortunately, nothing could happen there. Grigoryi discovered they were direct cousins, so his hopes were dashed harder than shattered glass. She got married and was shamed by many for what life threw at her, yet he was happy she found love. Grigoryi was always outside Vidaus or locked away in his room. He hated being there; he hated that no one was stepping in. Childhood was flying fast, and Boris had joined the BSK. Grigoryi went the other route, going so far as to drop an egg on the top of the Lord Marshal's head and pose as Boris; it didn't succeed very well, but at least Grigoryi could outrun the guards. He was an enjoyer of chaos, as cliché as it would sound for a hated child. The young boy even helped smuggle alcohol out to other kids, though he knew better not to get hooked too; that's how he met Vasilia. She managed to stop those young kids from drinking alcohol. The boy nearly ate gravel with how hard common sense smacked him. Though no longer a troublemaker, Grigoryi continued to grow up cold and distant. He was always watching, always listening. "NO! VY ARE LYING!" Angelika screamed at Grigoryi before her blonde locks sought safety in Rhys' embrace. "What in Godan's name are vy doing?" Rhys scowled at his younger brother, his hand patting the top of the blonde's head to calm the crying child. "Ea was telling Angelika ve truth, Rhys. Vy pretend to be ve loving big borsa, ag yet what did vy do just now when her mamej died? Ea heard vy two by Madalene's casket, calling her a [wench], saying that vy were happy she died." Grigoryi clenched his fists, upset that he couldn't get Angelika to see the truth, that this family was a horrible one she should not get attached to. A family of backstabbers, smiling snakes. Ever since Fenika passed, they seemed to hold this bitterness. "..Vy were hoping she would niet make it to be Seven Skies to be with papej." "Don't lie. Vy hated Madalene!" Grig spat out, knowing he was telling the truth. Rhys scowled, his brows furrowing in disdain as the funeral wrapped up outside. "Everyone back to ve keep, except Grigoryi." Grigoryi threw down his gloves in anger when they exited the palace. Fenika's death had affected Ailred so badly, yet his eldest children could not see how much Madalene loved him and how much she helped him. Years passed, and Grigoryi found his success in doll-making in Urguan. Due to the war in the area, the cold young man took on a pseudonym: Greg Ruthers (unaware of the history behind the name 'Ruthers'). The dwarves loved his dolls, as crazy as that might sound. They often requested dolls made of Yemekar or dolls of themselves to give to their kids, though he didn't question it. He was a success until he lost everything. Grigoryi tried to be useful as a Ruthern. Even if he disagreed, he would marry a noblewoman, though his heart was already hardened. The noble bloodlines of Haense were too intertwined, diluted, and inbred. Grig could contribute the muddled bloodline as the cause of the temper and arrogance of half the nobles he met. He decided to search for nobles in allied nations, starting in Elysium. The night started rocky. Grigoryi could not find a suitable noblewoman, and some of the commoner women were unhappy with him despite his attempts to make it right. He stood on the balcony that overlooked the rest of the masquerade until he felt a graceful pair of hands on his back before finding himself shoved over the railing. A few servants carried the injured man to the clinic, pressing the rag against the crack in his head. The masquerade continued into the night without him. It would be almost a week before the injured man could step outside the clinic, but something was different about him; it was weird to see such a negative guy smile. The man giggled aloud, his laughs interrupted by the grimaces of pain as he held his bandaged head. He gazed down at the Mondblume, who was walking the man around Elysium. She pursed her lips, stopping the amnesiac to look him over. "I know you remember nothing, but you need a name." She gently patted his shoulder. "Your eyes are so blue. They remind me of water.. so I'll call you Lev." The woman smiled wide before taking out a small, leather-bound journal and handing it to him. This moment was special. Lev had never received a gift, at least not one he could remember. "Ea canniet decide what Ea love more, ve gift or mea new name!" The man smiled, holding the journal close to his chest as Amelia departed. Daily, he doodled in the journal things that haunted his dreams to make sense of them. [Missing Poster - FOUND MAN] Lev gently knocked on the minister's office. Minister Aylin de Astrea was such a nice lady. This motherly figure had almost adopted the Ruthern ever since he lost his memories. Lady Aylin was pouring over paperwork before looking up at him. "..Is there any-" "No.." She interrupted, not wanting his disappointment to last much longer. "I'm sorry, we keep contacting the kingdoms and their nearby nobles, but.. no one has reported a missing family member." Lev quietly nodded afterward. He didn't understand. He wondered if he had family or if his family would rather he stayed a cold case; maybe the minister was looking in the wrong kingdom. Lev worked away, sweeping the tavern in his spare time. He'd been left in Elysium so long that he gave up every hope. The nobleman was finding it hard to make a living in Elysium, given all the raids and killings at the hands of the orcs and ferrymen. He was sweeping the entrance to the tavern when a horse stopped in front of his path. The strong woman looked down at him, examining his features. "Who are vy? Ea would recognize those features from anywhere. Vy are a Ruthern, nie?" Tavisha dismounted her horse, looking over the bewildered man; he thought this day would never come. Lev quickly set his broom aside, beckoning the dame to his small house. "Do vy recognize any of these, balyzm.. Ea dream about them many nights, but they are never clear." Lev would carefully set down somewhat abstract paintings. It was the crude recreation of their family portrait used to hang in the duke's throne room and a crude painting of the red keep surrounded by the harsh snow. Tavisha looked over them, her suspicions growing stronger that she was right. He could finally go home. Lev stood by the funeral pyre. Though he had no idea who died, he wanted to pay respects. When all was said and done, and the Haensers returned to their day, the man noticed a woman alone. Though never a fan of blondes in his youth, her presence caused his heart to pang. Lev took off his coat, offering it on the freezing shoulders of the beautiful woman. "Vy aren't from around here, are vy?" He grinned before dipping his head to her. "Non, was it that obvious?" Sylvie pulled the heavy coat around her tightly, shielding herself from the harsh winter. "It was a long walk from Balian." Lev put his arm out. "Ea hate this cold too. If vy like.. Ea could escort vy back to Balian. Being alone on ve roads with all ve bandits is very dangerous." Sylvie took his arm, unaware that this was the man she was betrothed to marry all those years ago. Grigoryi clenched his fists softly, looking up at Rhys. Grig was trying hard to remain calm, but his expression faltered, upset, confused. "Ea waited for years, lost in the west, hoping that Ea had a family that would come for me. Why did niebody come?" "Vy were an adult, Grigoryi. Adults sort themselves out." Rhys scowled, beginning to depart. Rhys was old, reduced to using a cane; perhaps karma had come around. Grigoryi's heart sank. No matter what he said, Rhys remained silent. "Mea memories are gone, everything I knew is gone. Vy are ve only one left alive, tell me who Ea am! Why do vy have niething but silence?!" The old duke shook his head, and that knowledge remained with him to the grave and seven skies. The pair wanted to marry and fix up Sylvie's old family manor to the east. There was just one thing to do though, and that was to confront the new patriarch of Ruthern; Rhy's son. Mikhail quietly looked down at the two of them, Sylvie and Grigoryi. The young duke rubbed his chin. "Vyr past does niet matter, aedypapej. Vy are here now, ag whatever happened between vy and mea papej is forgiven now." He looked between the two adults standing beneath him. "Ea will let you live here, pick a farmhouse. Vy wanted a homestead? Vy can work ve fields." Grigoryi softly raised a finger when Mikhail finished. "There is.. one other thing. Ea would like to wed Lady Sylvie, vy are mea duke. Ea would need vy approval." The Ruthern quietly kissed Sylvie's forehead, looking down at the red infant in her embrace. Lev was amazed such a small bundle could bring such a multitude of feelings. "Eja, little one.." He quietly whispered, gently taking little Vasilia's hand around his finger; little Vasilia Louise vas Ruthern. She would be the first of three. Her two siblings would follow in the coming years: Juliyus Ailred and Cecilya Petra. “She’s only just arrived, yet I can't wait for her to grow.” Their family was complete, even if the farmhouse was a little cramped. After completing her walk of humility, Angelika arrived at Haense in her sack clothing. People lined up on the side like it was an event. They didn't care about the person, just that they got to throw all sorts of things. Grigoryi frowned, pushing his way between people to try and follow the procession. He felt guilty; she shouldn't be the only one up there. Grig was guilty of sleeping around before he was married, but he was too scared to walk the same path Angelika took; he was a coward and ashamed of it. Seeing her head as bald as an egg, Grigoryi followed suit that night. He took his path of shame and shaved his head in solidarity. Grigoryi threw the hay bales into the duke's storage. The work was hard, having to harvest, bale, and stack. It was tiring for his aging body, but deep down, he was happy to be useful. He could just undo whatever past he had. After all, no one who remembered his past remained alive by now, like a curse to keep him from knowing himself. At least he had a new past. This generation and the ones after it only had interacted with a sweet and nervous Grigoryi. In some sense, he had been reborn. The aging man opened the door to the small farmhouse, only occupied by his beloved. Vasilia started a new life in Balian, Juliyus was off sailing, and Cecilya was enjoying married life with her family. An empty nest, a sign of success, but a lonely sign nonetheless. Destruction and death were inevitable, but it was still a shock to the descendants as the Mori emerged. Their demands and their brutality never seemed to stop. They kept getting closer. First, it was Amathaea, and then it was like a domino effect; one by one, more lands fell. Grigoryi, despite all the memories in this decrepit farmhouse, left and took his wife into the city. He figured they would be safe from the Mori behind the impenetrable red walls that kept Karosgrad safe. What is the point of memories if you're not alive to cherish them? It was one of the smallest houses in Haense, but it was safely nestled deep within the city. This home was theirs, a private little hovel with what they needed to get through the difficult times. There was so much going on, and it was as if the world refused to slow down and take a breath. It refused, and yet amidst all the chaos, humanity had yet another war. Grigoryi couldn't believe it, Adrians and Haensers fighting. If the rumors were true, but the old man was unbelieving. How could two cousins of culture turn on each other like this? Perhaps it was meant to be a generational clash between Adria and Haense; it had been this way since the War of the Two Emperors when the Koeng allowed Adria to burn to the ground. However, he couldn't recall whether it was Marius I or II. With each hearsay and parchment he received, he used it as fuel to heat their small home. It was useless; humanity was only safe when united. That was the only good thing about the Mori. They united everyone. Grigoryi had grown sick, and eventually, his smiles couldn't hide his deterioration. The medics didn't know what was happening, but something was slowly destroying Grigoryi. Sleep eluded him, and pain ran rampant through his body. He tried changing his diet and following folklore and wives' tales, but there was no change. It overwhelmed him, and he could not travel far from their little house. It pained him greatly to miss Ceceliya's wedding, as he would have given anything to be there. He hated this, being unable to walk his daughter down the aisle; his privileges of being a dad slowly disappeared. He would find relief sometimes, but it normally came from the powdered drugs often sold in Karosgrad's sewer. The Mori's victory was inevitable. Humanity and their fellow descendants were uprooted from their homes once more. Grigoryi looked up at the red family keep, filled with sorrow. Even though his late brother might have been the last one with the key to Grig's identity, he hoped there might have been answers in that keep. The old Ruthern had only seen his family's portrait so far, as he couldn't walk deeper into its walls to discover more. Still, now he was truly going to lose it all. Any clue to who he used to be, any clue on what his family was like, he had to abandon it. He sent his wife along with the first evacuation party, as he wanted to grab a few of the family's memories to take with them. Savoy was so crowded. No matter how long he looked, he couldn't find his wife. He found his granddaughter, though, deciding to stick beside her to try and keep her calm during this chaos. Grigoryi salvaged a few materials, and soon enough, he was knitting a small doll for her made of various patches of fabric. It wasn't as pretty as the Haeseni Girl doll, but it was made special. “Here, nie girl is complete without a little faithful friend by her side.” The man handed the patchy doll over. He remained beside the campfire for as long as he could- but his dose of sewer drug was running out. Grigoryi could feel the pain creeping up his body like a hive of ants overtaking him. The old man wished his wife was here to show her what a spitting image her granddaughter was. They came with the storm, the Mori. Not even Savoy could keep the descendants safe for long. The ground broke open, the storm beginning to rage on as they attacked. People fled below ground, no matter what the depths brought. Grigoryi ran towards the opening, but he was stopped short by a sharp pain ripping into his back. The Ruthern looked down, his hand trailing over the bolt that stuck out of his stomach. The silence was deafening, his ears roaring as the screams gradually flooded back in. Everything happened too quickly. Grigoryi woke with a small gasp, glancing around the makeshift clinic. His pain was mostly gone, probably subdued by what little medicine the medics had left. The man reached down to look at his stomach, stitched up, and wrapped it with improvised bandages. The bolt was gone, but not everything was healed. Grigoryi felt himself slowly worsening as the days passed. It was an internal bleed but so slow that it hadn't been caught. He released himself from the clinic and nearly jumped to follow everyone to the new world. The descendants emerged from their blue refuge, overflowing into Aevos like a broken dam. Many people never realized how much they would miss the little things until they lost everything. Birds were just birds, but to hear them sing once more- their song was unlike any other. The sky was still the sky- but today, the sky had never been more beautiful. GRIGORYI DEMITRIUS VAR RUTHERN 1833 - 1927 (SA 37 - SA 131)

[!] All through Aveos through each town and village even scattered in the wind was a missive written on a thin paper sheet that smelt of slightly of cookies to grace a reader’s nose “Good morning, afternoon, evening, or even night reader. Did you know that you are invited to a grand picnic in Babblebrook, Dunfárthing? No this isn’t a joke this is your invitation to come and sit with the weefolk and us even weer friends of theirs, the Musin! This gather is to take place in ten stone days. It will include plenty of food and drink and we invite you to bring your own special dishes along with fishing and at the end a competition using nothing but junk and scraps that you must create something new and original out of for a prize of 50 mina and I will pay your taxes on a property you own for that year. We look forward to seeing you there.” -Sincerely, Ser Do’Spuds Loa’chil

[!] This information is not public IRP knowledge.

Written by Catriona Eilidh Baruch The Trolls of Billy Goat Grove is a cautionary fairytale, inspired by events earlier in this Saints day and by Lord Arn Colborns warning on the trolls who will come and trade their children for our own!

Small, tightly wound letters fill the missive - seen upon black as midnight paper. “Exalted Horen and Saint Julia, behold us prostrate at your feet, learning by your most noble example. Through God our Lord, grant us peace and harmony, and, through the abundant graces God hath given to you, bless us in times of need and plenty alike.” My Dearest Brother, the Duke of Stran, Ser Istvan Ivanovich and my Honorable intended, the Baron af Brasca, George af Brasca, I am writing to you with a heavy heart, as I find myself torn between the brother I grew up with and the man I have come to care for. As you are aware, the Baron George af Brasca has sought my hand in marriage, and his proposal has left me with a difficult decision to make. I care deeply for each of you, and I find it unbearable to think that a dispute over my affections might lead to a result no one wishes to see. I implore the both of you, with all the love and sincerity that resides in my heart, to approach this situation with humility and a commitment to humanity. The prospect of a duel, a clash of swords, is a time honored tradition - one I would dare not stop. This letter is simply to request one thing of the both of you, so I may look forward to the duel instead of lamenting it with bated breath. I ask you, my dear brother, to consider the profound bond of family that we share. Our relationship is a treasure beyond measure, and I cannot bear to see it strained or severed over a matter of the heart. Baron George, your intentions have touched my soul, and I have come to appreciate the depth of your character. Please, look to our growing bond and consider my plea. I beseech you both, whether win or lose, to offer not harm to the other. The terms set were that of the winner having the ability to request what they wish, and as I know you are both honorable individuals, I know you will accept my plea. As the winner, offer no cruelty but instead dignity and respect, considering the feelings of all involved. I am confident that the love and compassion you have shown me can extend outward and to either side. My heart aches at the thought of causing strife between the men I care for so deeply. I trust in your wisdom and goodness, and I pray that you will heed my plea for a humane and harmonious resolution to this upcoming duel. “God, who alone art perfect Charity, if I should speak, think or do things in unkindness today, rebuke me, but, before that, strengthen my own meekness and mildness, that I might be the font of Thee.” With all my love and gratitude for your understanding, Her Ladyship, Viktoria Helena Ivanovich, ward to the Princess Adeline of Aaun @Pork@WaveLincoln

A Reunion of House Seregon and elSullas Talonnii As written upon on this 10th of Malin’s Welcome, 144 S.A. From The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil and the Lordship of Caladras "Diligence in the face of ignorance.” "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” To the Esteemed Members of the Sullas Talonnii and those of House Seregon, as well as Friends of either Family, Miven Caerme'onn- @westcarolina Eonan Norvayn @thumperjack Valmir Arvellon @drusus We hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. It has been far too long since we last gathered together as one family, united by blood and bound by love. With the blessings of this Autumn season upon us, and the readmittance of Elerríon into the Sullas Talonnii, we extend our heartfelt invitation to you all for a grand reunion in the Lordship of Caladras. The bonds of family are some of the strongest and most cherished in our lives. As we have each pursued our own paths, our hearts have remained forever connected by the ties of blood and kinship. It is our deepest desire to once again come together, to share stories, laughter, and memories that span the years. Caladras, the beloved bastion of House Seregon, stands as a testament to the resilience and strength we hold dear. It is only fitting that we gather within its walls to celebrate the enduring legacy of both the Sullas and Seregon families. The reunion will be a time of joy and festivity, filled with activities to suit every age and inclination. Whether you wish to indulge in hearty feasts, engage in friendly competitions, or simply bask in the warmth of family, there will be something for everyone to enjoy. Mark your calendars for the appointed date, and make your way to Caladras, where our gates will be open to welcome you with open arms. Let this reunion be a testament to the love and strength of our families, a time to celebrate the past and embrace the future. We eagerly await the moment when our family gathers once more, under the banner of unity and love. maehr'sae hiylun'ehya, Friday, September 8th @ 7:30 PM Eastern Lord Elerríon of House Seregon, Lord of Caladras, Seneschal and Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Huntmaster to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Ranger Captain for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Lady Cálienë of House Seregon, Lady of Caladras, Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Physician to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Serjeant for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm

[An artist's peaceful rendition of Astrid and her son, Matthias] The day Astrid Parvana Rosiliya Colborn was born was a stormy one, with her first impression on the world was a blood-filled cough. Weak lungs and poor health plagued her youth, though it never squashed her devotion to music. Her first instrument, the violin. Her first song, a wheeze. Thankfully, as days went on, her health and skills improved. She performed, played, and taught through her melodies. Sadly, every song must come to an end. The day Astrid’s voice could no longer reach her highest note was a grave one. The woman declined until she was once again bedridden, trapped to the very pillows that imprisoned her childhood. Pale skin, sunken cheeks, and a frail figure signaled the worsening of the woman’s condition. There was no cure, and the doctor assured her of little hope. Still, her song was not finished. She craved a family. The day Astrid’s pregnancy announcement was greeted by a frown from her doctor, she knew she had a choice. She was weak, and only had the strength for one person. Her or her child. The choice was obvious, and she shut herself back into her pillowy prison to keep what little strength she had left. The day Astrid Rosiliya Colborn Barclay's child was born was a sunny one. A warm afternoon, with colorful birds littering the sky. Rays shone down on Matthias' rosy cheeks as he slumbered peacefully. Peace. Peace. A peace Astrid longed for as she rested her head. Peace. Peace. A peace Astrid recieved. ---------- The woman’s remaining time was filled with writing. Lots of it. Some songs, some notes, but especially a lot of letters. Messages to everyone that had impacted her life. Dear Mamej, Dear Papej, Dear Carolus Colborn, Dear Brendell and Nikolai Colborn, Dear Anabel Colborn, Dear Konstanz Barclay, Dear Virgil the Darkspawn, [A portrait of Astrid's final moments]

The Illness of The Countess of Emalyne ( art by 28idle ) Within the cavernous cysts below the lower forests of Veletz, the Countess of Emalyne had finished to spin a broth of remedial liquids, the boiling spine of its kettle red-hot by means of the hearthfire wherefrom it had been unearthed seconds before. Her freed hand raised a silver ladle to her cheek, clicking 3 times against the spot where the bone of the jaw met the neck- an action of habit -and lowering to chance a whiff of the steaming mixture. She could feel the illness evaporating from her for just this moment, when the heat consumed her aspects and drowned the morbidity pervading her. The burning scent of her skin’s grip ‘round the ladle’s handle did not deter, as the stones of her health desired livening warmth. After years of sitting in ill-begotten flaccidity, heat was all she could feel on this earth. The sunlight had begun to hurt, yet the cloak of the fire within these dark caves instead healed. She had sworn to several that, at times, the flicker of moonlight against her cheek mixed with the kiss of a burning candle radiating beneath her index finger charmed her mind to lucidity. Hans had searched far for medicines to soothe the endless fainting spells & drying coughs, as well as the affectations of the head, the clamping of the stomach, the reddening & grating of the skin. . . all failed, only serving to amplify the weakness of Suzana’s aging humors. With each child it worsened; her contamination capitulated with Janek, who was born bleeding uncontrollably from the nose, as so often the Countess did in the black of night. In a night of mind-numbing tremors that left her of poor psyche & rationale, Suzana’s ailing body was compelled to tremble its way through the trees of the alderswood. She came upon the cave where she now stood, alone with bodily sweats acting as the water of her eyes. The lit fire within had called to her, and sans the hesitancy that a person with a fear of death might inhabit, the Countess had strode forth to discover it untended by any. Seeking desperate repose, she descended to the unkindness of the cave ground, and later awoke to find her pain numbed. Persisting on the curative properties of this specific pyre, Suzana had begun to return to the subterrane dwelling on each midnight since, should sickness not immobilize her entirely. Thus, she dubbed this cave the wielkapli (great giver). 1937 On every night whence she made the journey up the Eagle’s Peak, the Lady Suzecht would endeavor to collect twigs and fallen branches in her leather satchel to fuel the wielkapli’s bonfire, that which had become her foremost confidante. However, these wee articles were soon exchanged for more sacrificial items: a nest of beetles, a hummingbird’s egg. . . futile life would be surrendered as ember in exchange for her recovery. Most recently, she’d had her guardsman heft a cauldron of silver to erect above it as a pot from which to incense meltwax balms from the critters she’d plunder from the canopies. Yet when it became known to her that it had not been only her life that had been robbed of its early delights, the orange, blue, and scarlet of that inferno grew cold to her. The Lady hungered for a heat like fever. How to achieve it, she could not gather, but from this day forth, she would begin to boil & brew until such a solution was found to her. Sleet fingers dripped with the blood of a pig, falling like droplets of rain to hiss as they hit the foam.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Song Sparrow ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I. Introduction II. Crew Rankings III. Culture and Traditions IV. The Privateers Oath ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I. INTRODUCTION The Song Sparrow is a crew of independent privateers who sell their services to any who might want to buy it, be that a trader in need of a shipment being made, or a city looking to hire a vessel to protect their shores from invading nations. While they believe in helping their fellow man from time to time, the crew of The Song Sparrow are no strangers to misdeeds as well, and will plunder other ships and opposing nations, should someone hire them to do so. At it's core, The Song Sparrow was still formed by two outcasts who turned to lives of thievery in order to survive. Joining The Song Sparrow is far more then just setting sail for the fun of it all - on this ship, it's a way of life, and in to survive one must have the courage to look danger in the eye and spit back at it, they must have the knowledge of how to sail the open sea, and they must have the passion to live a life of freedom and independence, answering to no one but their Captain. While freedom for all rests among their core values, one must still be willing to take orders in battle and follow them accordingly, else risk being thrown overboard. If you, or someone you know, is a sea-fairing individual come visit the crew of The Song Sparrow, currently found at dock 3 in Lurin found towards the very back of the city. The Song Sparrow is always looking for brave men and women of the sea to set sail with and while our crew may be small, we treat each other like family. Join us, and set yourself free with one of the finest sailors to grace the high seas, Captain Vicnan Hawkins. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ II. CREW RANKINGS CAPTAIN Vicnan Hawkins QUARTERMASTER Wilamen Macloed HELMSMAN Balkas Balo LOOK-OUT Amir Gonzalez MASTER GUNNER Adrian Falker Heskynne SEA DOG -VACANT- NAVIGATOR Adela Proudbottom SURGEON Marol Malthengolv SHIP WRIGHT Masayoshi DECKHANDS Rafi -VACANT- -VACANT- -VACANT- IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER SKILLS THAT YOU BELIEVE MAY HELP OUR CREW, DO NOT HESITATE TO SAY SO! ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ III. CULTURE AND TRADITIONS The crew of The Song Sparrow take sailor culture very seriously and partake in many activities that honors the culture of sailing the open seas. DRINKING GAME: GROG & HORSESHOES One of the favorite drinking games of Captain Vicnan Hawkins, Grog and Horseshoes is a rather simple game to play. Two sailors take a pile of horseshoes and try to toss them around wooden poles set up on the ship, should a sailor MISS, they are required to take a swig of Grog. Should one sailor successfully get a horseshoe around the pole, the opposing sailor must take a swig of Grog. The winner is whoever successfully gets all six horseshoes around the wooden poles, the loser is then required to drink an entire tankard of Grog. THE HYMN OF THE SONG SPARROW While the crew of The Song Sparrow take part in singing many sea shanties, the favorite of the ship is one Vicnan wrote himself after he stole his first boat. Where can you find pleasure? Search the world for treasure? Where can you sail the open sea? Make all of your dreams come true, and drink until your face turns blue... It's here in the ocean! Yes, you can sail the open sea! Here in the ocean! And you can drink until you pee! In the ocean! Come on now step aboard and take a stand! Right here in the ocean! THE SEA LEG CEREMONY When a new sailor finally receives their sea legs upon the ship, Captain Vicnan Hawkins takes it upon himself to congratulate them in taking their first major step in becoming a successful privateer of the open sea. He does so by holding a small feast and gifting the new sailor with a golden earring, which is believed by many sailors to prevent one from drowning. It is a small ceremony but one the Captain takes quite seriously. FEASTS Among many other things, the crew of The Song Sparrow loves to host large feasts upon their ship. Whether it be in celebration of a victory in battle, or to honor a fallen comrade, the crew will always find an excuse to host a feast. Any and all who are friends of the crew may join where they may partake in the food and the Grog. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ IV. THE PRIVATEERS OATH Before officially coming aboard and joining the crew of The Song Sparrow, every sailor must take this oath and uphold it to the best of their abilities. I. I shall not steal from a fellow privateer, and will only steal from non-privateers. II. I shall remain loyal to my fellow crew members and my captain. III. I shall never harm an innocent woman or child. IV. I swear to protect my ship and my crew until the sea takes me. ANYONE CAUGHT BREAKING THIS OATH OR ANY OTHER LAWS OF THE SEA WILL BE APPTLY PUNISHED BY THE CAPTAIN HIMSELF! ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ APPLICATION OOC INFORMATION Minecraft Username: Discord Username: RP INFORMATION Persona Name: Age: Race: Applicable skills: Affiliations:

Fox cubs Orphanage I am proud to announce that as of today the orphanage of helios after half a year of construction Is now opening its doors. We are now prepared to take in children from ages 0 to 17 During the orphanage's construction I have already been left with three infants one toddler and one ten year old. They were left at the orphanage over the past couple months. Potential parents are welcome to send me a letter to come visit children. I would like to reiterate that the purpose of this orphanage is to keep these children safe and sound, fed, and educated. In this mission we will now be accepting donations of materials, food and toys for the children. I wish to make their environment and time here as peaceful as possible. We will accept all children big and small so do not hesitate to bring any lost or abandoned children to our doors or send me a letter if you find one. Children are our future and they’re potential is boundless we must protect and guide them. Fox cubs orphanage is a place for them to grow and learn and just BE children. With that said I bid the people of Helious and Aevos a good elven year It is my hope that the fox cub orphanage becomes a safe haven for children all over aevos Signed, Aspin A. Munnel

Orphanage of helious Over the years I have come to the realization that there are many needs in life. Food, water, education, and protection, The need that I come back to most tho is the same one i needed so long ago. A Home, A place to be safe and sound and away from all the dangers that Surrounded me. A place to come back to where there is always food and a bed. A place where I would be educated without having to worry over where I would go to sleep that night. I see a need for a place where Orphans, such as I once was, to be Protected, fed, sheltered and educated till they can be Matched with a set of Guardians or a single guardian who wants to build a family. Or until they have become adults and are then old enough to make their own homes. Therefore I am proud to announce the coming of an orphanage in Helios where all children that are lost, scared, alone, or hungry are welcome. no matter where they came from, who they are, or what they are. The First Orphanage of helious, Fox cubs orphanage, will accept them. the Grand opening of Fox Cubs Orphanage Will be announced as soon as possible. I will be building the orphanage with my own two hands. Once it is finished we will start accepting children Immediately. Signed, Aspin A. Munnel

A Union of House Seregon and elSullas Talonnii As written upon on this 6th of Malin’s Welcome, 139 S.A. From The Exilic Kingdom of Númendil and the Lordship of Caladras "Diligence in the face of ignorance.” "Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road.” To the Esteemed Members of the Sullas Talonnii and those of House Seregon, as well as Friends of either Family, Laurir Aiera Sullas @Stump Malaurir Ikur Sullas @- Pastry Elarhil Sullas @riorr Caelius Sullas @ErikAzog Celadon Sullas @Commander_Jester Andwen Sullas @Amelica Rhaelanthur Seregon @Cypher_nicus Daerine Meracahe’onn @Vic Valmir Arvellon @Drusus With hearts brimming with joy and excitement, we, Lord Saoren and Lady Dele of House Seregon, cordially extend our honored invitation to you on behalf of our cherished grandson, Amaethii, and his beloved Aelwyn Sullas, as they unite in the eternal bond of matrimony. This momentous occasion of love and unity shall take place at the enchanting Lordship of Caladras, nestled upon the northern end of the Kingswood. As the ancient trees bear witness, let the soft whispers of the breeze carry the tidings of this joyous union to your ears. In the spirit of both elven traditions and those influenced by the Daelish, the ceremony shall be a wondrous celebration, steeped in grace and elegance, as two souls intertwine to form an unbreakable bond. Surrounded by the beauty of nature and the blessings of our ancestors, Amaethii and Aelwyn shall pledge their hearts and lives to one another. Following the sacred union, a grand feast shall be laid out in the gardens of Caladras, where fine delicacies and wines from our lands shall delight the senses. As possible bards or minstrels regale us with songs of love and valor, we shall revel in the company of cherished family and treasured friends. With this missive, we send forth our messengers, guiding them to your abodes with utmost care. May they find you in good health and high spirits, and may the journey to our Lordship be swift and safe. Let us gather under the silver moonlight, as we celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of Amaethii and Aelwyn. Your presence and blessings are an invaluable gift, adding luster and joy to the celebration. We eagerly anticipate your arrival at Caladras, where love and unity shall reign supreme, and where memories will be woven into the tapestry of our hearts. Until the day of celebration dawns, may the light of the stars guide your steps and the blessings of the ancients protect your path. In merriment and anticipation, Lord Saoren of House Seregon, Lord of Caladras, Seneschal and Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Scribe and Tutor to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Ranger Captain for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Lady Dele of House Seregon, Lady of Caladras, Steward to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Physician to the White Court of the Númenaranyë, Serjeant for the Royal Guard of the Númenaranyë, Templar of the Aengul Malchediael, and Knight of the Realm Amaethii of House Seregon, Groom of House Seregon Aelwyn Sullas, Bride of the Sullas Talonnii

THE FIRST GIMME YER BELT OF AEVOS ᚷᛁᛗᛗᛖ ᛁᛖᚱ ᛒᛖᛚᛏ Since the demise of Almaris the Dwedmar of Urguan have challenged the realm and battled against the world forcing itself upon them. From the Mori Invasion of Almaris to the raids on Kal’Kadrelaz in Aevos the Dwarves have persisted. There are many things going on within the city and the realm that have distracted us from daily practices but we must not forget the ancient traditions of our cultures. The Clan of Ireheart shall be hosting the first Gimme Yer Belt tournament of Aevos since the fall of the last city. All that is required is that you enter your Belt into the competition and risk it upon the victory of battle. Champion of the 1st ALMARIS Gimme Yer Belt: BAKIR IREHEART Champion of the 2nd ALMARIS Gimme Yer Belt: RAGRIN IREHEART Champion of the 1st AEVOS Gimme Yer Belt: TBD IT IS TIME FOR THE BATTLE OF THE BELTS DWARF WRESTLING TOURNAMENT ! Saturday, July 29, 2023 4:00 EST ROLEPLAY ITEM BELT REQUIRED FOR ENTRY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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