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[A painting of a field of heather] For far too long the Wood Elves have been unaware of the growth that has been taking place outside the walls of Amaethea and The Vale- I, Ehrendil Taliame’onn, took it upon myself to take the name of Chieftain of the Taliame’onn after the disappearance of the previous chieftess, Melawen, my lari’onn, several years ago. Despite my exile from the Wood Elven nations at the time, I endeavored to restore the seed after Melawen left it in turmoil. When I started passing along parts of our culture— some of which had been believed to have perished with Briar Taliame'onn— to my children, who underwent the traditional trials, the seed slowly started to resurface. I rekindled old ties with my mal'onn, La'io Taliame'onn, by expressing my intention to assume the chiefdom's obligations also while spreading the seed outside my immediate family. Kholi’brii asks that we bring vibrancy to this world and I worked for decades to do just that and bring honor to my seed after my own failures in the past-- both to my seed and my people-- and the unfortunate happenings that the seed had endured since Briar’s passing. Since the scattering of my people, I've amassed ten members who are currently alive and strong, there were several more who have regrettably passed away since joining (Aspects guide them on their path to the Eternal Forest), and various others who have joined but are indisposed for a variety of reasons. I encourage all of the members to wander freely for, as the chief, I do not believe that the forest's children should be chained to one location. We are, after all, "of the trees." We have no allegiance to any nation and are subservient to no one other than the will of our Mani- we are to bring vibrancy to a world that is ever covered in darkness. Some may question my decision to rebuild the seed without a public proclamation- and to them, I understand your concern, why do I decide to announce this now? To what advantage do I have to proclaim this today? With my exile from Amaethea now lifted, and the seed strong and healthy as a mighty ironwood tree- I have decided to name the individual that I wish to succeed me, my eldest daughter -- Raell Taliame’onn, for I have laid the roots of a tree that may thrive under her leadership. She understands the customs of our people, and she possesses leadership qualities so great that she takes it upon herself to teach others what I have taught her of her own volition. She brings vibrancy to every room she walks in, and embodies what it means to be chief of this seed. To name her as my successor and to soon lead the seed that I have nurtured and loved for more than a century fills my heart with immense pride. I also write this message so that all Taliame’onn that I have been unable to contact since I took the mantle of Chief know that we have not been crushed under the weight of the splittings of our seed and our people. Furthermore, I welcome anyone, Wood Elf or otherwise, who chooses to join the Taliame'onn and aid in our creativity, so that we may continue to be a beacon of vibrancy in this world full of darkness. You may find me or one of my kin among Vikela or Amaethea. Chief of the Taliame’onn

─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─ ⤞The Arvellon Seed⤝ [Arvellon sigil drawn by ClassyNewt] ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people simply exist, and that is all. Spread laughter and chaos wherever you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier. Suddenly they will realize life wasn’t about surviving. It was about living.” -Carsul’il ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ [The Firefly Grove by Mathias Zamęcki] ⤞The Autumnal Lore⤝ The Arvellon seed was one of the smaller and lesser-known tribes amongst the first migration of Mali’ame. While most adorned themselves in unique and colorful markings and apparel, the Autumnal watchers were identifiable by their shared physical traits and their name, yet even this left them confused with their seedless kin. For many centuries, they did not mind this and even enjoyed the ease in which they could meld within the rest of tribal society, watching and listening as the Wildcats of Felixii do. Little is known concerning their worship of the Wildcat Princess, as is most things with the feline Mani. Similarly shrouded is the seed’s adoption of worshiping Kwakwani, the Trickster Raven. Though they adapted to the new ways and melded them with that of Felixii’s, creating a unique and unknown culture that they are in the modern age. During the times of Malin and the nomadic Mali’ame, the Arvellon were led by a man called Carsul’il. Known amongst his kin as the Laughing Lynx for his hearty attitude and his peculiar style in hair. The Lynx was the first to take on the name of Arvellon, and was the founder of their ame’lie. A grove considered to only be a myth and named the Harvest Wood, for some said it was a place of perpetual Autumn that was always bathed in a copper and gold light from the rays of sun shining through the canopy. Trees soon to be called the Taliame’miruel, meaning Eternal Autumn. Many thought the grove was a legend, as very few knew of its name. Much less of its existence. These trees produce a dense fog that the Arvellon used to their advantage, living within it to hide themselves. Many believe this is where they received their moniker, the Autumnal Watchers. While most of the tales sprung from this age, and of Carsul’il specifically, are considered myth and the true events that happened are lost to the winds of time, the more modern era of the Arvellon is easier to recollect if similarly unknown to anyone but the Arvellon. The Autumnal Chieftain eventually disappeared into the wilds as most ancient Mali’ame do, leaving behind his ways for his second child, Merriel Arvellon. Unlike her father, Merriel did not have many daring adventures, as she preferred the quiet and watchful side of their ways. Living her life upon a simple farmstead with her mate and listening to the breeze for all manner of news and secrets until the day she had her first and only child. Miklaeil. A boy that was bound to take after his grandfather from the day he began to walk; always grinning and dashing about from one adventure to the next with the clever wit of a cat. Only his mother could truly tame his lust for the thrill and unknown, until the day he came of age for manhood. Miklaeil gathered what few things he possessed and set off into the realm, leaving a supportive but deeply saddened mother behind. Years passed and the young Arvellon found himself in what was known to be the Dominion of Malin. It was in the Dominion that Miklaeil decided to first attempt at securing a steady life after thirty or so years of travel, though doing so cost him the identity of his ancestors within him. He donned bronze and silver platemail, shouted war cries in the name of various princes and princesses, and even took on the name and beliefs of another seed entirely in his patriotic vigor. He began to look less and less like that of Carsul’il, and the letters to his mother were more filled with his grim and dark experiences rather than with their usual joy and wonder. It was around this time that Merriel Arvellon passed, caught in an accident with farm equipment. Years passed and Miklaeil gradually fell back into the old ways of his grandfather. His constant grin and cheeky quips became his trademark along with his vigilant and cat-like eyes that were always watching with a certain mischievous glint. Long after the Dominion collapsed, he became a Lord upon the council of Aegrothond, and it wasn’t long after that he met the lovely Empyreal Princess of Alderyn, Layla Le’Cai. It didn’t take him long to notice the same playful glint in her eyes and he fell in love and fully returned to the ways of Carsul’il. Between the two of them, the Arvellon seed’s history and culture were reborn into something new and old. After several decades passed, the Arvellon grew and changed beyond what they were upon Miklaeil’s reclamation. It was around this time that the seed was begrudgingly convinced to join the fledgling Forest Realm of Irrinor. The reluctance of the seed’s chieftains to take such a step proved to be exact when the Aspectist nation fell to infighting, leaving the Arvellon to flee back to the Talus Grove. Disillusioned with the politics of greater elven nations following the fall of Irrinor, Miklaeil declared the rite of Maya’meracahe to prevent more misfortune befalling the Arvellon. Several families were born and brought into the seed’s warm embrace following its departure from Irrinor, allowing the group to spread out and diversify amongst themselves as they chose according to the rite of Maya’meracahe. Despite this rebound, Layla and Miklaeil were left tired and in need of respite from the civilized places of the world. A moot of the seed was held in the Talus Grove where Eretria and Nerrin were chosen to be the next chieftains, allowing Layla and Miklaeil to delve into the realm’s deep wilds where they found solace. After the departure of Miklaeil and Layla, things soon fell to ruin. The misfortunate acts of a handful of Arvellon led to their dismemberment from the seed and forced them to move away from their Autumnal kin. The seed fell stagnant not long after as Eretria followed in her brother’s footsteps, overwhelmed with the circumstances of her kin, and fled to the wilds to find solace for some time. Seeking hope and guidance during her absence. When the Chieftess returned to their hall in Siramenor, she was one of the first to welcome a new Arvellon into the seed. A joyous occasion yet she still felt lost and needed answers; ones her people could not give her no matter how hard they tried. The Arvellon were small and despite their best efforts, they could not seem to restore the seed to its former prestige. She remained for some time, guiding others and trying to repair the state of their seed alongside Nerrin, even in Elvenesse, before she once more fled to the wilds. Nerrin would join her not long after, once more causing the seed to fall stagnant. After time had passed, Eretria decided it was time to stop running and return to her people. She found herself amongst the small group of people of Nevaehlen during its early days of discovery and reclamation. Time was spent in the small mali’ame village before she decided this is where she wanted to establish a home for her Autumnal kin again. In recent days, this is where the Arvellon reside. Living in a village rich with the culture and ways of the mali’ame people, where they thrive together and live within their hall marked by the Taliame’miruel trees. Eretria is the sole Chieftess of the Arvellon, and she continues to welcome new members into the seed with a warm embrace. ⤞Overview⤝ ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ “Given a wink from the Wildcat and a grin from the Raven, Carsul’il set off into the woods.” ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ The ways of the Autumnal Watchers are deeply rooted in Aspectism and the Mani Pantheon, their various styles and values based upon the old ‘ame teachings. Their patron Mani are Felixii the Elusive Wildcat, and Kwakwani the Trickster Raven. Most of their values are derived from each Mani and each one is an inspiration for their love for fun, and their ability to keep secrets. The Arvellon are a close-knit group who are known to have a lust for life, often being the source of a harmless prank and the cause of a good laugh. They are a cheerful and chaotic bunch of people, making it their goal to keep things light-hearted in nature amongst the many evils and stress-bringers of the realm. [The Smell of Dead Leaves by Anato Finnstark] ⤞Religion and Seed Values⤝ ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ "One life. That is all we get. Just one. Why aren't we running like we are on fire towards our wildest dreams? We need that chaos in our soul.” - Eretria Arvellon ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ Religion Aspectism and the Mani pantheon are both well-cherished parts of the Arvellon culture, most everything about them being derived from these practices. However, like most other Seeds, the Arvellon worship a select few Mani in particular. Those being Felixi the Elusive Wildcat, and Kwakwani the Trickster Raven. Both of which heavily influence the day-to-day lives of the Arvellon, making for Elves with an odd mixture of secretive yet colorful personalities, flitting back and forth with words and actions like a cat or bird at play. Oftentimes these Elves make offerings to both Mani in the form of tricks and pranks upon those deserving of it, or merely for the fun of it. With regards to Felixii, the Wildcat is seen as the head of a lesser pantheon of her own that includes the other feline Mani gods. The Lion, Tiger, and Panther Mani all fall into this grouping though are not quite so revered as the Wildcat herself. Many decide to incorporate the teachings of these individual Mani princes into their worship of Felixii. Those Arvellon particularly devout to Felixii tend to tread through life with care put toward their own actions yet are not afraid of the spontaneous. Witty, clever, and watchful are the best descriptions for an Arvellon Wildcat follower. It is taught that a proper Wildcat follower should remain ever vigilant for what knowledge they can collect or what whispers they may hear. This is usually referred to in regards to one’s own pursuits or craft, meant to encourage learning and growth in the mind. The Trickster Raven teaches her Autumnal followers the ways of artistry, beauty, and fun-loving attitudes. Those devout to Kwakwani are often the most playful of the seed prone to pranking their family and friends when it is least expected, or developing skill with their hands in the way of arts and craft. Many Arvellon take up trades in things such as painting, jewelry, writing, or even blacksmithing and woodworking. Their work is done with the intention of creating beauty with their very own hands, worshiping the Raven in the act alone. As per the teachings of their ancestors, Aspectism is a large part of the Arvellon Seed’s beliefs. They are taught to help uphold the balance and to protect nature. To not over hunt but to make sure there is not too much growth spreading about. Along with being Aspectists, the Arvellon are taught to involve themselves with the Wild Faith; a collection of their ancestral cultural ways of worshipping the Mani and the Aspects, as well as teaching and learning to keep their faith alive. Values ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ “Live your life to the fullest, my child. Raise your boy, love your family, and see them flourish as I have.” - Carsul’il to his daughter, Merriel Arvellon ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ When the Arvellon realized that the world is much too dangerous to face alone, they began to stick closer together to ensure safety and prosperity despite the hardships that the Descendant world is prone to endure. Thus, their ideology grew over time to incorporate values based upon the creation and protection of family. ⤞ Family is treasured above all else to Arvellon. To protect and provide for one’s family is the highest priority and one that each Arvellon is expected to see done. Providing for the family also includes having children with which to fill it and continue the legacy. Due to the elven curse of infertility, adoption is not unheard of amongst the seed and is even considered honorable. With family comes Love. It is a sacred emotion connected to the very soul of a person that shapes them as it grows and evolves over time’s passage. An Arvellon couple is accepted as an eternal bond and a testament of passion and loyalty for such long-lived people as the elves. To break off that bond is a break of trust that many consider to be deserving of no less than a shun or, if the cause of division is so revolting, death. Love does not extend only to romance either. An Arvellon finds love in anything that they wish to look for it in. Some pursue trades and crafts to pour their passions into. ⤞ Trust is built through experience and time together. An Arvellon without the trust of their kin is an Arvellon surrounded by the hounds of darkness, bound for an early rise of elven madness. Along the same vein of thought, Unity within the seed is expected by all its members to uphold fervently. According to the rite of Maya’meracahe, the Arvellon should never allow the frivolous squabbles of greater elvenkind and the Descendent world as a whole to divide them. ⤞ Cheer and light-heartedness are seen as desirable traits among the Arvellon. Being a fun-loving people, they seek it out with a Lust for Life that goes unheard of among many other elven cultures and even in the mali’ame themselves. Adventure, pranks, good fun amongst their kin, all this and much more are the deep thoroughfare to an Arvellon’s heart. ⤞ Survival is often seen as the willingness to do what is necessary. Most Mali’ame are taught how to survive in the forests at a young age, though the Arvellon are also taught how to survive in many other ways such as hunting to provide for their kin, combat to protect them, and even something as simple as how to keep a secret. These traits are taught so each Arvellon can be fully equipped to help protect their kin in any way necessary. ⤞Appearance⤝ ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ “Touched by the season of Autumn in body as well as mind.” ─━─━─━─━「₪」━─━─━─━─ [Art of Eretria and a Karin by Mikki] Arvellon born elves typically share the same set of physical traits, depending on the circumstances of their birth. A true born Arvellon would carry the traits of one, bronze or tan in skin tone, usually a warm hue of some sort. Their hair tends to be curly or unruly while varying in shades of red and brown. This, coupled with brown or green eyes, make them quite suitable for their favorite season - Autumn. Although not every Arvellon is born from the Autumnal bloodline. The modern generation of the seed is a wide variety of adopted members and members who married into the seed, with the proper rites taken. This means one could find most any elf with any mix of traits donning the Autumn paints of an Arvellon. They are often seen dressed in apparel, dyed to mirror the warm shades of Autumn - red, gold, yellow, and orange in various hues. Said to acknowledge the natural cycle and symbolize the changing and colorful personalities of the Arvellon. ⤞Traditions⤝ Tradition in the Arvellon seed is developed over the course of time and experience, its members learning new ways to adapt to their environment and adding to their ways to fit. [Tattoos designed and drawn by the wonderful Numirya] ⤞ Ilmyumier is an important rite to becoming an Arvellon, the marking itself thought up and designed by Layla. The ilmyumier implements three of the most prevalent parts of the unique culture of the Arvellon, headed by that of a Wildcat and donning the wings and feathers of a Raven, and the colors and symbols of their beloved Autumnal season. Along with the primary ilmyumier that is found on the dominant arm, an Arvellon is known to wear a stripe of paint across their eyes to act as a sign of luck to attract good fortune for them and their kin, or during times of war and unrest in the world as a whole. ⤞ Miruel'ame, the Red Trees of the Arvellon forests that once served as the living, subtle guardians to their ancestral ame’lie known as the Harvest Wood. The cultivation of these trees, once a closely guarded secret held by the main bloodline of the Arvellon, has been passed down to the seed to reintroduce the tree into the world. The Miruel’ame releases an ever-present fog that surrounds its immediate vicinity and is considered to be the reason the Arvellon remained wrapped within a mystery in the early eras of the world. ⤞ Maya’meracahe was put in place in the ancient times of the Arvellon, when they lived in the depths of the Harvest Wood. Where their homes were safely hidden from the turmoil beyond. This ‘redeeming balance’ was put into motion by Carsul’il after a near disastrous confrontation within the seed between two brothers living in separate nations from one another. The Laughing Lynx decided that the Arvellon seed would not serve as a political entity among the rest of Elvenkind, though it would not limit its individual members from taking part in what nations they chose to reside in. “To be an Arvellon is to have only half a heart and soul. Their partner has the rest.” ⤞ Mallir'hiylun - Love is a sacred and precious thing to the Autumnal elves. An emotion and act held dearly since the days of Carsul’il and the Harvest Wood. Making such a declaration toward another elf is a grand and life changing event for the Arvellon. To them, there is only one such person to be found in their lives and it is an irreversible and unbreakable bond through both body, mind, and spirit. While not used until later in the seed’s existence, there is a binding ritual performed to cement this connection between two elves. Before an altar of Felixii and Kwakwani, the two would arrive during the height of a Harvest Moon in secret. Both would wield a ceremonial aurum blade to slice the other’s palms. After the blood flows from both hands on either lover, the bloodied blades are laid crossed upon the altar before the two clasped hands to mix the blood of their palms and in doing so, intertwining the essence of their bodies and spirit. Once the ritual is complete, it is said that the mates develop a true and absolute bond. While it is not known whether this is merely firm belief, or if something truly binds the souls of the lovers, it works. These Arvellon lovers remain together until death, and even then, it is said that their spirits pass on as one. ⤞ Birth has always been celebrated within the elven culture; a precious and sacred event for all of elven kind to be taken seriously. When a new child is born, or when one comes of age, a ritual is held in the child’s honor by the Chieftain. During the ritual the babe will be bathed in the waters surrounding the Father Tree, or in fresh springwater. The child’s forehead will then be painted with an eye to resemble the Wildcat, and outstretched wings on either side to represent the Raven. A prayer will then be recited to both patron Mani. Asking each of them to bless the new elf with an observant gaze and a sly nature - just as Felixii, and requesting for them to be granted the creativity and playfulness of the Trickster Raven - Kwakwani. ⤞ Death is not something that is normally celebrated, however the Arvellon honor death in a rather unique way. The corpse of their loved one is carried out to the Taliame’miruel Forest to be buried, where their souls are said to become the eternal watchers of Autumn. In spirit, just as they were in body. A prayer is then said while a stone is constructed atop the gravesite, acting as a headstone. This marker is referred to as Lareh’puerith, or Stone of Memories. Their loved ones will gather around the stone with buckets of paint and carving tools to create an exquisite and intricate mural telling of the Arvellon’s life. Flowers are then planted around the burial site, so that they may be fertilized and the Arvellon may live on through nature. ⤞Trials of Initiation⤝ ⤞ The Trial of Escapade: The prospective Arvellon is to show they are capable of joining the others in their Lust for Life. Their task during this trial is to conjure up a harmless trick on any one of their choosing, and to carry out the prank without getting caught. Additionally, they are to ask an Arvellon who has earned their markings to accompany them and to deem it worthy. ⤞ The Trial of the Artisan: The creativity of the prospective Arvellon will be challenged during The Artisan’s Trial, as they are tasked to create in the name of their patron Mani. They will be shown examples of crafts they could make, crafted by the current members of the seed, to aid them in brainstorming. Their task at hand is to create either one piece in honor of both the Wildcat and the Raven, or alternatively create something to solely honor Kwakwani, as the Raven is known to be the one of fine arts. The crafted piece will then be placed in the Arvellon hall to be displayed with the others. ⤞ The Trial of the Observer: The observant eye and mind of the prospective Arvellon will be challenged during this trial shaped around their patron Felixii. The Autumnal Watchers are known to be protectors of secrets, just as the Wildcat themself. They listen, and observe, and gather what secrets they can to be offered to Felixii for protection. There are many ways the prospect could go about completing this trial, which will be explained by the Chieftain. The intent is to gather at least three secrets from whoever they can and record them on a piece of parchment - without a name being etched with it to protect the secret teller. That piece of parchment will either be placed in the hidden library in the hall, dedicated to and blessed by the Observant Wildcat, where it will go unread and eternally protected. Alternatively, the piece of parchment will be offered to a shrine of Felixii and tossed into the flames, where it becomes nothing but a whisper in the wind guarded by the Wildcat. ⤞ The Harvest Moon Hunt is the final, unofficial trial for the budding Arvellon. Every year during the Harvest Moon, when the night is bathed strongly in amber hued light, the prospective member will be asked to dress in the colors of the Autumnal seed and tasked with leading the rest of their kin on a ceremonial hunt beneath the height of a harvest moon. Prior to the hunt, their face will be marked by the Chieftain to resemble the rest of their clan while treading through the realm to find their prey. [An adult, large sized karin drawn by Ben] ⤞ The Rite of the Karin is not recognized as a trial, but instead as a warm welcome into the clan. When an Arvellon comes of a certain age, or is adopted into the seed, they are allowed the gift of a feline companion. A twin-tailed, crystal antlered colorful Karin, that they will raise from a kitten to a full-grown adult. This companion will be their forever friend and will offer comfort and playfulness where they know it is needed. ─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─

>───⇌••⇋───< “Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day. “Come over the meadows with me and play! Put on your dresses of red and gold, for Summer is gone and the days grow cold. Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call, down they came fluttering, one and all; Over the brown fields they danced and flew, singing the sweet little songs they knew. -George Cooper ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ The warmth of the summer’s days soon came to an end and the seasons began to change. The Autumn sun spread a carpet of leaves, by hundreds, all dressed in colors of yellow and crimson as the village prepared for the harvest. The wilds, too, prepared themselves for the coming changes. Busying themselves with preparing a safe haven and foraging for food to store before Winter came. Changes were brought upon the realm after the ending of Ostara. The leaves transitioning from shades of green to vibrant colors or crimson and yellow as those of the fold prepare for the Rite of Mabon. [Art by Mathias Zamęcki] ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ • Offerings• Baskets full of herbs and fruits foraged from the first day of fall will be brought to the ritual grounds. Members of the fold will also bring stacks of wood and other materials foraged from abandoned structures to add to the stacked fire pit. An act of parting from the plethora of goods provided by past seasons. ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ • Ritual• On the first day of Autumn, members of the fold will gather to head out into the lands to forage wood and other materials from abandoned structures or fallen trees to bring back to the village. Members will gather beneath the glowing moon at dusk. At the start of the festival the Autumn Raithean will call upon members of the circle to stack their foraged goods into the pit where everyone will gather ‘round and chant to the Horned Father while the Autumn Raithean lights the pit ablaze. During the months of Autumn, Father Circle druii will feed the flames of Mabon to keep them lit throughout the changing season. ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ • Rite• At the end of the Autumnal months, members of the fold will gather around the fire once more. To mark the end of the Equinox, the Autumn Raithean will bring black water from the Father tree to douse the dancing flames. ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ Eretria Arvellon - Raithean of Autumn

✧◉❂◉✧ The pink haired elfess had long since been feeling as though her own form was as foreign as the changing seas, that her mind was as barren and turbulent as a storm’s waves, but it wasn’t until that small gathering had formed within Pinemaw with unknown entities bearing flaming weapons did she realize how empty she felt. There was no reaction to the possible threat, no care nor investment into defending her home and her neighbors. It was only then that she became aware as to how cold she felt living among strangers and reduced to the mind numbing theatrics of the canonists. Near instantly, she realized that change wouldn’t come to her. She would need to go to it. It wasn't easy. Rarely had anything in her life ever been. She’d been born Deaf in a hearing world. No one understood. it was almost as though she’d been set up for eternal loneliness. She told none that she was leaving for there were none that she needed to tell. The only two that may truly have missed her likely wouldn’t realize she’d left until the time would come for her to return. Still, she left a note for one and resigned to thinking up some grand apology for the other. The Artisan Emporium was swiftly shut down, the gates slammed closed and the forge left unlit, gathering dust until her probable return. The house was left under the care of her two living dolls, for she knew they would keep the place up and running just fine during her absence. Then, knowing hearth and home would be cared for, did she set out. Left behind was the human-like title of ‘Lady Axilya’, abandoned was the job upon the council. Shoulders set, she moved forth, without any supplies other than two days worth of rations and the simple clothes on her back. No tools, no weapons, no companions. The elfess truly made to start from the very beginning to rekindle that lost connection, however weak, that she’d once had with her own sense of self. ✧◉❂◉✧ The freckle faced elfess, unable to truly return to where she’d been formed as a person, settled down in the forests of Elvenesse. A single cavern within a small glade, bloodied and riddled with long forgotten bones, became her new home. Once, long ago, she had found a grizzly to have taken home here, but by now, their children’s children would have long since passed. None would come looking for her here, not even Bolomormaa’s kids. A flitted thought of 'fitting' crossed her mind. On the first day, a thunderstorm left her sitting within that stench-filled cave, the scent of iron revitalized by the wash of rain. She drank from her only flask, emptying it, before leaving it to hang outside to gather the sky’s tears. She nibbled lightly on the dried meat she’d brought with her, barely touching it and instead leaving the rest for emergencies. The rest of the day was spent cleansing the walls of stone, for as much as her strength shouldn’t be wasted on such a first task, leaving her surroundings tainted would only bring back memories unwanted. And then the dark came. She didn’t like the dark. On the second day, her stomach groaned and rumbled, heard only by the surrounding woodlands. An hour was spent making a rough and wooden spear, forged only by the sharpest rock she could find upon the ground, before she turned towards the West. Following only her vague memory of the area towards the edges of the forest she found where the sea met the sands. The crude spear gave her struggles, offset only by the skills gathered from every-day fishing, allowing her a night’s worth of food. She returned to her cave then, a white-meated fish in hand, and spent the rest of the evening gathering wood and kindling, for as much as she hated the fire that had once melted her sights from her, the complete blackness that followed was worse. Piled up at the back of the cave she stored it all, dipping into her stock only when the dark started to take over. With a flick of her fingers, a click sounding in the air, and a Cerulean hue misting across her palm, a flame started, catching upon the sticks and logs gathered. Cheater. But the magic was a part of her and she’d come out here in an attempt to find herself. A meal was cooked and eaten, the rest of the night spent in total silence, flames entertaining her by casting dancing shadows upon the walls. The dark was chased away. By the fourth day, she had crafted a few baskets born of stiff fiber and wood, shoddy in work but sturdy enough to be used. She stored some berries in one, alabaster leaf and serpent’s stalk in another, and some fish she’d dried out the day prior in the last. She spent the night with a full stomach, the water flask left untouched due to the ripeness of the small, juicy orbs. On the fifth day, the berries came back with a vengeance and she spent the day plagued by hallucinations worse than those normally given to her by the spirits. She wished she hadn’t left Pinemaw. On the seventh day, the hallucinations finally left, returning to the normal tidbits that floated in and out of her vision. She was used to those. She could ignore those. What she couldn’t ignore was the dizziness that came from dehydration. The flask was emptied, the berries thrown out. She spent the rest of the night whittling a stone knife, clam shaped, with the rock she’d used to make the spear. By the end of the eighth day, the elfess had carved out a bowl from wood, her hands blistered in areas they once wouldn’t have been. On the ninth day, dizzy once more from dehydration, she set out to find a stream of fresh water, bowl in hand. When she returned, successful and ready to boil the water, her untended baskets had been raided and destroyed, muddied paw prints decorating the cave she called hers. Despite growing hungry that night, and an incident involving heated, exploding rocks, she wished none for water, the leftover liquid filling up her flask. On the fourteenth day, her arsenal of tools had expanded from a single clam shaped knife and wooden spear to an archaic set of bows and arrows, another three baskets now hung from mid level branches at the edge of the glade, and a few further bowls filled with cleansed water. On the fifteenth day, she let her hands heal and her feet rest. On the seventeenth day, she came face to face with a child of Morea. They parted ways without incident. On the eighteenth day, she found a small doe, hind leg torn half off and shredded into strips, hiding within a bramble of bushes. Despite the way it panicked at the first sight of her, exhaustion overtook it and the elfess found little resistance in her attempt at assisting the beast. She carried the doe back towards her cave, setting it down near the dwindling fire to keep it warm, and attempted to nurse it with her own supply of water. The doe responded well enough for a time and didn’t put up much of a fuss when the descendant made to take a look at its wounds, laying still when the elfess cleansed them and wrapped them with strips of her own clothing. She named the doe Riddlewart. On the nineteenth day, she tried to find some food for Riddlewart, avoiding the prior berries like the plague. In the end, the elfess tried to simply feed the doe some grass and twigs and leaves. The animal seemed to like it well enough. She spent the rest of the time stoking the fire and telling tales to the creature, reminiscing on memories long passed and people long since disappeared. She told the other how she’d learnt the meaning of family from her Maln, how she’d learnt the meaning of love from her partner, how she’d experienced heartache and motherhood and how everyone she ever knew had left or would leave. She spoke of those times she’d been kidnapped, her fears born of the torture given both by strangers and people she’d once thought loved her. She spoke of the dark and of the light and asked questions that she herself answered when the doe remained silent. She felt at peace for the first time in a long time. On the twentieth day, the elfess coaxed Riddlewart out into the sunlight, and there the doe blinked up and towards the sky, alert and calm despite its wounds. She brought the beast down towards the waters, carrying it with gentle hands, and set it within the smoothest part of the river where they both submerged. Soothingly, the elfess assisted the doe with attempting to move the injured leg, slow and eased to simply keep the limb working. The Mali kept the creature afloat, setting its head on her shoulder for extra support, and there they stayed for the better part of the day, relaxing and allowing the water to ebb away aches and pains. When they returned to the cave that night, they had both been exhausted. The elfess fell asleep soon after drying the doe off and ensuring it had taken up residence in the comfiest part of the cavern. On the twenty-first morning, she awoke to find Riddlewart still and unresponsive. The elfess weeped. Hours later, when her tears had dried and the first of flies began to find the carcass, she brought the doe’s form into the forest and buried it beneath a large pine tree as if guided by Cerridwen’s hands herself, where its body would feed the dirt and the dirt would feed the grass and the grass would feed more deer and the deer would feed the wolves. This was what her Maln had tried to teach her of. This was what the balance brought. Life and death and more life. The elfess had been privy to the process and, despite her interference, it had gone on as it had meant to. The natural form of life. This was what was meant to be preserved and respected. On the forty-fifth day, the rains started to drain from the sky. . . ✧◉❂◉✧ It took three days for the rains to finally stop, and by then, her cave within the small glade was half drowned, flooded with ankle deep water. When she stepped outside, without the risk of being pelted by bullet-like drops, privy was she to the sight of her painstakingly weaved baskets shredded to bits, torn down from their heights upon the trees. It seemed animals weren’t her only concern within these woods. Sloshing back into her cave, the elfess retrieved what little had survived before setting out to start from near the beginning once more. Tucked within her half ruined belt sat her homemade knife and beside it her five arrows bearing stone heads. Strung over her shoulder rested her weak attempt at a bow and in her hands she carried that bowl for water. As she stepped outwards that cave, she gathered up the only pieces of smoked and soggied strips of fish meat she could find floating about the area. Set over a fire near a week ago, they’d last her in an emergency, though if all went to plan, she would be able to feed them to the soil or some small predator after finding a more suitable substance for sustenance. Onwards she went, searching firstly for the river she’d so often gathered from, and from there, the elfess would be able to follow the water upstream to higher ground and wait for the floods to subside. A far fetched idea, but she had no other plan. She needed new food and water, and she would not find that in her ruined cave. It didn’t take long before her feet were near black from muck, as if she’d been wearing ankle high socks, and the closer she trekked towards running water, the harder it got to walk. Against instinct and all better judgment, the elfess continued forth, struggling her way through glop, brambles, and felled branches, until motion came forth into her vision. With a heaving breath, swiping at her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, she paused, taking note of how high the river had risen. No more were the carved out edges of a well worn waterway. Instead, cascading through the woodlands, was a rush of browned liquid, carrying fallen trees and great amounts of debris as it surged past. The Mali’s ear flicked lightly, a habit she’d attained over the past decades, as she peered on with a pinched expression. Lips thinned, she pressed forth, turned upwards to continue her path across the woodlands. The smell of the ground beneath was activated with each ascended step, hiding the sharp rock and broken boughs that stabbed at the soles of her feet. She didn’t seem to care much, for if there was no blood, then there was no need to. Onwards she went, each footfall as laborious as the last, the sucking sound of entrapping mud glopping around the air left in the wake of every footprint canceled out by the rush of waters it emitted next to. Her gaze shifted up, just a brief moment of respite within that arduous climb to peer upon a much calmer scene. There above was the sight of cleared skies, so somberly missed the past handful of days, speckled with the strongest of greenery that hadn’t faltered during the raging storm. Down was cast arbitrary shadows of which the sunlight peeked through, the forest ground illuminated with- -laid upon the ground, hacking up that dirtied river water. With a wheezed gasp, the elfess remained flopped into the mud at the edge of the waterway, eyes unfocused and brow creased in confusion. A sharp sting drew her attention and her throbbing head lofted, as did her hand, to grasp at the side of her ribs before a sharp wince drew forth from her features. Seeping through the muck that now covered her entire figure was a rivlet of crimson, the rest feeling bruised and battered. Shit. She must have lost her footing and fallen in, or perhaps the ground had given out. The elfess squeezed her eyes shut and let out a hiss through her teeth before she shifted into a seated position, careful, slow, and cautious as the pain in her side increased. Her free hand lofted, making to cradle her brow as her vision swam, and when her eyes opened once more, the slightest of movement caught her attention. A flash of fur darted out of sight from across the river. A rabbit, perhaps, for it had certainly been small enough. But then it was gone, just as quick as it had arrived. Her sights drifted thereafter, the image produced slightly blurred, and took note of the unfamiliar territory and her current situation. Downstream. She was downstream, without her tools, and bore an undetermined severity of wounds. The elfess shifted to her feet and the movements forced her pained expression to crumple further upon her countenance. Heavily, she leant up against the nearest tree, the touch of it’s rough bark doing nothing to soothe her surface level aches. She bent over, seeking to catch her breath as she pressed her palm into her side, and it took her a long moment before her chest rose and fell with some sort of rhythm. She watched, dazed, as brown water fell from dulled strands of hair hung beside her face. Long since had the Alabaster and beetroot dye faded, leaving her natural gingered brown to break through. Idly, she noted that both a dye job and a haircut were long overdue. Her head lifted once more, though the weak gaze sharpened as her form froze, chest stilling with baited breath. There before her stood Morea’s child, stood the wolf that she had crossed paths with when she’d begun the whole experience. Her gaze met the creature’s own and piercing dark eyes seemed to shoot straight into her soul. Immediately, she casted her sights downwards, for she was in no shape to risk challenging the beast. The Mali knew, then, that she must have landed somewhere within its territory, and should it wish it, she would become its evening snack. Her head dipped, submissive, in an attempt to show it that she was no threat, and watched from the corners of her eyes as the wolf stepped closer, head poised high. Graceful and elegant was the canine, near feline-like with its steps and ashen form rippled with power. Confident if an animal ever was so, it stopped just before her, and for a brief moment, the elfess feared the wolf would go straight for her neck. Its gentle breathing brushed against her cheek, and holy shit, she forgot how large wolves were. That darkened snout dipped and paused at the scent beneath her hand, as if the waft of blood had called to it. After a moment of inspection, however, the beast turned and gently nipped at the cloth on her hip. The Mali casted her gaze downwards and when she saw what the beast was nudging at, a simple understanding crossed her features. Slowly, at the risk of her own hand, she slipped her fingers into the pocket that brushed against the canine’s nose and grappled out the smoked fish she’d absentmindedly grabbed back at the cave. The wolf stepped back as her hand had withdrawn, though its form was lined only with an expectancy as it watched her movements. Painfully, the elfess crouched down upon the mucked forest floor and set the meat before her, stilling thereafter once more. The large creature eyed the offering, though interested, returned to its spot nearest the elfess. Its snout lowered, brushing against the food on the ground, and its nose roamed the surface of the meat in exploration. Carefully, as if dealing with a pup, the wolf opened its maw and took the piece of meat into its mouth before it simply… turned and shifted to trot off, away from the river. It stopped then, meters away, before it swiveled back towards the elfess, staring her down. She briefly met its gaze once more, moss-colored orbs settling on amber, before it returned towards its path and disappeared into the woods. The elfess slumped once the canine was out of sight, a heavy breath escaping her form as a look of disbelief crossed her features. Her head thumped back against the tree she leaned against, eyes finally allowed to close for just the sparsest of moments as the encounter replayed in her head. She’d faced many a creature before, but never had she been without a way to defend herself against them, never had she been so… vulnerable to a child of the Mani. It was unsettling. And it was also thrilling. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the emotions raging through her, so instead, the elfess settled on the relief that cast itself upon her shoulders. Once more she straightened, and though the wound in her side pulled with a horrid throb, she seemed reinvigorated. One foot placed itself in front of the other and, with a new drive, the elfess set out to return to her task at hand, adding the need for medical supplies to the list of necessities. On the Forty-ninth day, the elfess reached the start of the river - a pond deep enough to submerge in - and settled down at the highest point nearest it, under the largest pine. ✧◉❂◉✧ On the fiftieth day, the elfess had started to renew her stock of clean water by placing heated rocks into the gathered rainwater that had sat in the hollow of a felled tree’s separated trunk. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. She tried to clean her wound first and drank second. That night, she came down with a fever. On the fifty-fifth morning, her fever broke and any infection that had set into her wound was staved off by her own immune system and habitual cleanings. She spent the day curled in on herself nonetheless, for her stomach had long since grown hungry. On the fifty-sixth day, her hallucinations born of eyes gifted by the spirits raged at her prone form. She found the strength to begin resource stocking due to the sheer need to distract herself from the ghosts of her past. It was slow going. On the seventy-third day, the elfess had finished crafting a proper shelter and her stock of supplies had grown immensely. On the eightieth day, during a hunt for small game, the elfess stumbled across a den. Out came Morea’s child and, with a respective distance, the Mali observed it. It didn’t attack her, so she assumed it didn’t mind. Throughout the little time she risked being there, three other pack members had shown and interacted with the beast. When the elfess felt close to overstaying her welcome, she left the game she’d collected for the pack to feast upon out of a sense of gratefulness. On the eighty-third night, she went for a midnight swim. Within that pond she floated upon her back and stared up at the stars above. The figure of some sort of raptor not yet nesting glided above, its moon-backed silhouette casting a shadow upon the forest below. The elfess cried beneath the darkened skies. On the ninetieth day, the elfess entertained herself by drawing upon stones with globs of mud from the banks of the pond. Figures danced over their surfaces, telling stories of her loved ones long since passed and those few that remained in the present. When she’d finished, she decided that she should make a career of finger-painting. On the one hundredth day, a butterfly landed on her nose. She went cross-eyed trying to watch it. They spent a half hour together and in that time, the Mali moved not a single muscle. She became the embodiment of a flower for the little insect’s calm rest. On the one hundred twelfth morning, the elfess deconstructed her shelter before making the trek back down towards her original cave. The move was long overdue. That night, she was unaware of the large elk that had walked past the cave’s entrance. She’d been sleeping. ✧◉❂◉✧ On the one hundred fifteenth morning, the elfess got up to stand at the cave’s entrance and breathed in the glade’s fresh air. There, she found herself to be at peace; not with her past, nor many aspects of her present, but with what she’d learned, lived, and accomplished out in the forests on her own. She had left to reignite that connection with the balance, and though she knew not if she had accomplished it, she felt comfortable enough to continue her pursuit of it. That day, for the first time in many years, her shoulders bore no tense lining to the way they held themselves, her back entertained no slouch, and her expression contained no subtle lines of stress or unease. Out she stepped into the early streams of light, basking in the way they warmed her countenance. Beneath her feet, settled between her toes, was the tickle of grass just kissed by morning dew. Scattered over the area was a flourish of flowers, a rainbow of color once taken by heavy rainfall now returned. Trailing at the edges of tree line grazed two brown rabbits and above them a red squirrel skittered. Her gaze turned upwards and she watched a sparrow glide carelessly through the air before disappearing into the foliage. Life was in abundance here, so chaotic and yet just as powerfully calm. The Mali moved forth, going about her morning routine of washing up, drinking, and eating. When she’d finished, she shifted to return the basket filled with the next few days’ worth of food to its place in the trees, though a mass out of the corner of her eye stopped her movements before she'd made it halfway to her destination. Slowly, she turned to peer over at whatever being had found itself at the edges of the glade before her ear flicked in clear surprise. Morea’s child stared her down, amber gaze flashing within the shadows cast by the bushels of leaves above, and the elfess, stood within the center of the sunlit clearing, stared back. After a moment, her head dipped lightly out of both respect and acknowledgment, and when she looked back up, the creature was gone. The elfess subtly smiled, the corners of her lips tugging upwards at the prompting of a gentle twitch. It was time to go home. ✧◉❂◉✧

Dear Delilah Dear Delilah, As I start this letter, I wonder if it would ever reach you. I remember when we first met with your curious and childish nature that had screamed to thyself as innocence; which had intrigued me deeply. You may beg to differ now that you have grown into a fine young girl. I cherished the moments we shared together -- watching beyond the gates of Elysium to making your gown for the Snowball -- and wish that later in the future that we could do more. However, it seems to not be very soon that those new memories would be created. To my beloved sister, I am off on a sojourn to search for something that could possibly help with my internal conflict. It may be days, weeks, or even months before I could come back as the head strong and worrisome older brother you know. And as I write this, I wonder if leaving you would truly be worth the pain and suffering I'll face on this journey. What would I gain as a lone wood elf with no seed, wandering around this earth like a lost lamb without it's herd? In the end, I've chosen the option to run. How our conscious makes us cowardly that thy chases the easy rout against problem. If I could, I would laugh along with you about my stupidity. With this letter, I lend you minas that would help you buy whatever you desire; be it a house will you? I have a feeling that staying all over the place will become a problem. Focus on your studies for now and enjoy your life unlike myself. I might as well make you a new gown while I'm out and about around the world. I bid thy farewell and good prayers. Your Brother, Amadis Faedi

“Go out into the forest with nothing more then the clothes on your back” The elfess thought this over in her head as she stepped into her home, carefully heading up to her room. She began removing the plate mail she often wore, letting out a sigh as the weight she had gotten so used to was removed, Nemea rolled her shoulders slightly as she put the blucky set away. Once the elfess was dressed in the proper attire, she picked up a paper and quill scribbling down a simple note which she put down on the table before heading out the door. so the trial begins She travelled the dirt trail as her home became further and further from view, eventually she stepped off the reliable path into the thick forest. As the time passed the elfess focused on the set thing, finding a place to set up, night came closer and closer which she knew would make it harder to navigate. Soon she heard the sound of moving water which meant one thing: a river. Nemea came up to the river and smiled slightly, her brown eyes looking about the greenery. “Seems I have found my spot” she affirmed to herself, she began collecting some dry twigs and branches, working it into a proper set up for a fire. Once the elfess was happy with her work, she grabbed some good rocks and kneeled in front of the set up of branches and twigs. THWACK The sound slightly echoed in the quiet forest continuing over and over till finally a spark formed, she then softly blew on the flame nurturing it to a nice crackling ember. Nemea moved to sit properly as she kept close to the heat “this should ne be too bad” she said to herself stretching slightly, after sometime she laid down letting her eyes fall shut. The next morning her eyes slowly opened smelling the smoke of the fire that had dwindled over the long night “well…” she said pausing to yawn “ne time to sit around got to get to work..” she got to her feet walking over to the river cupping her hands to catch some water sipping the kool clear liquid. She carefully moved over the river mindful of straying too far from her space she had made the night before. She eventually found a fallen over tree from what she could assume from a storm she could see moss growing along the decaying bark. She carefully began snapping strong pieces from the tree “can use this to make something to help catching food..” she stated to herself. She spent most of the day working on some tools using the wood which she whittled into sharp points and a lot more. As the days passed she spent a good amount of them collecting berries and other fruits though she spent some time lost while doing so, soon she decided she would hunt an animal, picking up a spear she had made she began looking for an animal. Nemea travelled looking for all the tell tale signs, eventually she noticed a clearing and standing there..was an elk. The elfess crouched down watching the elk graze about, she took some deep breaths before she took aim. The cry of the elk came as the spear hit it but..she had missed any vital point. “****” she muttered as the elk took off and she had to make chase after it until she finally caught it, and was able to kill the creature. She then pulled the spear out of it, muttering some apologies for having made the creature suffer, Nemea got back to her simple little spot, she laid the creature down and began working on putting the creature to use. That night she sat by the fire working on cooking the meat and preserving the rest, the pelt over her shoulder which she had turned into a cloak for extra warmth the bones and such making use for cutting things. She finished cooking her share for the night, grumbling as she had carelessly burnt it but she wasn’t going to let it go to waste eating it before taking her rest. She began getting a routine as the days went on, keeping a mental note of the days and they seemed to go by rather fast though it was rather peaceful with the gentle breezes. One day in particular brought attention as she noticed a change in the sky with darkening clouds and insects seeming to buzz more “mm..rain then” Nemea muttered to herself and..she was indeed right. Most of the afternoon and night of that day the rain came down hard , the elfess having to squint as she made a set up to safely put her supplies in a bag dangling from a branch which she had made with leather from her hunt. She walked around looking for shelter using the elk pelt to keep herself slightly protected from the rain. She came up to a cave stepping into it before she stopped hearing movement, Nemea squinted looking into the cave noticing animals that had taken shelter in there. She sighed softly knowing she would not want to disrupt the animals that already took shelter, she turned and headed out of the cave back into the rain. Though the night was rather cold and damp, she rested in a tree waiting out the storm, the next day least to say for the elfess was drying the pelt and herself. Luckily for her, she didn’t have too many issues past that, as the last day came to a closure she packed up her stuff and made her way back home. Nemea spent most of that night navigating the forest until she got back to the dirt path a month ago she had taken, the city came into view though it did feel rather...odd though her body was sore she had gotten used to the quiet and nothing but the sounds of nature. Once she got home she stepped inside putting away her makeshift weapons she would use later, she then went upstairs changing back into her armor and cleaned herself up. Rather then resting, she stepped outside once more whistling as a her horse came up to her, Nemea petted the horses face gently “karin’ayla llir..missed you” she then carefully hopped onto the horses back motioning the horse gently to begin galloping down the path. Her trial was over and it was time to see her teacher once more to talk about her experience

House Melphestaus Current Family Scion: Minuvas Melphestaus (roleplay group) “SERVUS SUMUS” ~ “I SHALL ALWAYS SERVE” "I AM A MELPHESTAUS. I WAS THERE AT THE COMING OF THE EXALTED GODFREY, AND I WELCOME THE AGE OF MEN. WHEN MY KIN BETRAYED THEIR OATH, I WAS THERE IN DEFENSE OF EMPEROR PHILIP AND JOHANNESBERG. I AM A MELPHESTAUS. I WAS THERE ON THE WALLS OF HELENA AGAINST IBLEESE. AND I AM HERE, TODAY. I AM A MELPHESTAUS. I HAVE SUFFERED; BUT I HAVE NEVER BETRAYED. MY LOYALTY IS TESTED, BUT NEVER BROKEN. I AM A MELPHESTAUS MY LOYALTY IS TO EMPEROR, TO EMPIRE, TO SCION GOD SAVE THE EMPEROR" --FAMILY OATH-- FAMILY SUMMARY The ancient family scion, Diamatus Melphestaus was a rarity amongst Elven kind. He had, having lived in an age where the sons of Malin had grown under the dominion of an emerging and growing age of man. "The age of man is upon us, as is the slow decline of the Mali. This does not usher an age of mourning, but an age of peace - to age gracefully in the centuries of human ascendancy and to make it one of triumph" - Diamatus to his Children. Diamatus was there to witness the coming of Exalted Godfrey, and be impressed by the span of this man's capabilities and reach. Diamatus took the an unusual practice as a High Elf, and welcomed other Mali who were not Thill into his blood line- establishing new blood lines, and in many ways making up for the lack of natural birth children. Thus his family was larger than most Elves, as it included numerous adopted children. He considered them all of 'his blood' , though notated some as 'De Melphestaus' to indicate they were not in the most literal sense procreated by him. He then developed a system of 'Scions' which would serve to lead each of the blood lines of the family, and give them independence to pursue their own passions. This was the start of an unusual relationship the family had with the Elven Princedoms through the ages. His child, Maelgar would further continue this tradition. In the time of the Dominion of Malin, the Melphestaus family served under the Princes of Malin as vassals to the Empire of Oren. The family scion, Maelgar Melphestaus and his wife Illana Melphestaus prided themselves on being able to intricately maintain their Elven culture yet immerse themselves with the Human Imperials of whom they were vassals. When oaths were sworn to the Empire of Oren, the Melphestaus family was there to kneel with their leadership and give fealty to Imperials. Although the Melphestaus were Elves by birth, they recognized the nativity of the Imperials and the need for Mali wisdom to guide them. The Sons of Horen would inherit the world, Maelgar believed as his father did, and it was the duty of Mali kind to guide them, teach them, and help them usher in a new age. This idea that Elves were not, in fact, superior to Humans was perhaps the final nail, in addition to the conversion of Canonism, in their relationship to further Elven Princedoms. It was at this time that the Melphestaus line found itself no longer welcome amongst circles of Elven Purists. Detached from ideas of racial purity, and seeing in the humans a society of merit - the Melphestaus family grew fond of the humans they had lived with for many decades. So close was their loyalty to human society and their obligation of service, the family moved to Johannesburg in 1580, under the reign of Emperor Philip I and worked as academics and lawyers, offering guidance and wisdom when requested to those who wanted it. In the year 1593, the betrayal of Elven society against Oren as Courland began its invasion did not shake their loyalty. As Imperial loyalists, the Melphestaus family helped in some small part in developing the ‘thanium bomb’ on behalf of Emperor Philip I in the late 16th century. Fleeing the city, they would escape to continue living - never severing their loyalty to the inherited and acknowledged Emperor of the human realm. In times of racial hate against elves, the family Melphestaus served. The family has always distrusted Elven Princedoms for this reason, believing they will inevitably betray all political allegiances to humans - because of racial arrogance. Yet the Humans were not always kind to the Melphestaus family, despite their desire to serve. They took the hate, cut their ears to appear human, and served. Decried for faith, they adopted Canonism, and served. In times good and bad, they always served. After nearly two hundred years, Maelgar and Illana had their first child, Minuvas, in 1776 in Helena. They promised each other their children would learn languages, art, and culture - but they would never imply that he was Elven, only that he was an Imperial. Because the Elves were cursed with few children, adoption is a popular method for growing the family. They would never take their children to the Silver State, to be polluted by ideas of purity before their children could learn of their own free will. A mali child being born is a gift, but one that could be free from the prejudices inflicted on them would come to love their Empire even more. They took up human practices and commissioned for themselves a human house coat of arms, kept privately, to impart on their children. Family Scions & Paths Scions So that each member may be kept productive and best maximize their talents, it was Maelgar who introduced a system of Scions that was unique from Imperial household titles. Each branch would have its own Scion, determining how best pursue the talents of its immediate kin, expand the family, and make decisions within it's family tree without consulting the Family Scion. The Family Scion was head of family, who would now serve in a more advisory position to ensure that no branch was deviating too far from the family goals and to keep them focused on larger family ambitions. The Family Scion was not always choose from among the other Scions. Though every member technically has 1 vote, the weight of each vote was often measured by the merit of the individual voting. Paths. Paths are an assigned 'goal' from the Scions on how the Mali may best pursue their life interests. They are encouraged to be voluntary, so that they match the interests of the Mali. A family member is expected to have chosen a path by the age of 30 years old. Specific paths are encouraged, but not required, by bloodline. The paths are numerous, though they tend to fall into the following categories. Specific bloodlines are encouraged to follow certain paths, except wood elves who are encouraged to pursue many paths. Family members may also pursue multiple paths and this list is not exhaustive. **High Elf **Dark Elf **Half-Elf The Path of the Arcane: Study of magic in all its forms, this path is a life-long investment. The Path of Academia: Science, mathematics, scholarship in all its forms. Family members are encourage to write, read, and learn about the world around them. The Path of Politics: Government excellence, leadership and elections. The Path of the Blade: The crafting of weapons, and the use of weapons - whether that is the assassins knife, or the Soldiers sword. The Path of Business/Finance: The sale of goods, owning of business, running of franchises and handling of money. The Path of the Faith: All family members are encouraged to join the Church, if they devote themselves as Priests, knights, or nuns - it is a great honor for the family. The Path of Science and Technology: Half-Elves lack the full gifts of magic within the family, and often take up trades in technology and gadgetry. High Elf Bloodline "Melphestaus" Dark Elf Bloodline "Livarai De Melphestaus". Wood Elf Bloodline "Daemyar De Melphestaus". Half-Elf Bloodline "D'Argyll De Melphestaus" Overall Family Traits Common to all members The Melphestaus family has served the Empire for centuries, quiet, obedient, with their ambitions kept close to the family heart. They are Imperials first, but have embraced the gifts of their Elven heritage in pursuing the improvement of their family and Empire. They prefer to embrace human-like clothing, naming conventions, and stylization - though each family member falls on various ranges of this scale. With some fully embracing their Elven features, some shunning them completely, and others trying to balance the identities. Acceptable Races into the Family: All Mali (To include Dark, Snow, High and Wood Elves) Half-Elves (of any of the above) Family Values Loyalty The Melphestaus family has never broken its oath of fealty to the Empire since the time of the Dominion of Malin, and they shall quarrel amongst each other before they turn from the Empire. There is no greater achievement for a Melphestaus than to serve the Imperial Government. They judge other Elves harshly for betraying the Empire over 300 years ago, and look suspiciously at Mali'Thill of Haelun'Or. Merit The family follows the concept of merit in all things. The family scion is set first by human inheritance laws, but the family decides internally who among them is most deserving to lead them based on accomplishment. Thus the family ‘heir’ is voted upon by the living descendants of the current Family Scion. To Serve and Guide Serve and Mentor Humans. As Mali or those of Mali mixed blood, the Melphestaus family is likely to outlive its human counterparts and friends. It is therefore the Houses Duty to preserve, through academia and archiving, the history of humankind - and to advise its leaders in the coming age. They will take on a leadership role, if required, but they ultimately will return authority to the Humans when appropriate. A Melphestaus is most comfortable as an advisor to a powerful human family or individual. Humans can never be adopted into the family, as this decries this very value. However, they will employ human mercenaries, guards, or employees as a part of any estate and often welcome them into their inner circle of friendship. Faith The family is devout Canonists, taking to heart the teaching of the Holy Scrolls. As such they will not allow inter-marriage with humans into the family. They will, however, adopt Adunians and Half-Elves into the family as they believe they do not share in the sin of their parents. They will not allow their children adopted or natural to participate mix-race marriage in accordance with the teachings of the Church of Canon. Though mixing between Elves has no limitation. The family has adopted the studies of Blessed Pius of Sutica, the High Elven Canonist priest as fundamental to their understanding of Elves and Canonism. Mild-Mannered A Melphestaus rarely raises his voice in anger, and dresses appropriately for the occasion. Well made Elven robes or Imperial Attire is the preferred dress. They believe that one should never strike when in a position of weakness, and family members rarely choose to show their hand publicly about their true beliefs on any given topic unless they believe it will have influence. Family Strengths Educated Children of the Melphestaus family are offered a wonderful education by the family, and they take it upon themselves to ensure each of them is fluent in multiple human dialects and has a strong grasp of Imperial history, culture, peerages and Knighthoods. Magically Gifted The family pursues arcane studies, privately, and shares them with the family. It is only in extreme circumstances that a Melphestaus would display their magical ability to others, feeling it is the secret ‘line of defense’ they have against their enemies. Human Bonds The family is comfortable around humans, feeling relaxed when making friends and engaging in small conversation. They are unburdened by the Elven social constructs or judgments of humans. They do, however, look at humans as if they were a young hero of the story - naive, in need of guidance and training, but will one day rise to greatness. Family Weaknesses Distant The Melphestaus family can be judgmental, especially of its own family. Bonds of affection are built slowly and over decades. Impure Mali of the Melphestaus family are generally considered impure by the Elves of Haelun’Or. Other Elven pure communities are also highly judgmental of the family, decrying their existence as Imperials.Therefore, the family has strictly forbidden their family from returning to Haelun'Or lands for fear of death, execution, or other judgment by their kin. The adoption of Canonism is required and service to humans only further entrenches their distance from the Silver State. Faux Humans Although they are Elves and of Elven descent, they have a nagging desire to appear more human and Imperial. A Melphestaus will struggle their entire life about whether they should be trying to fit in with human society, adopting their clothing, dress, and language or whether they should fully embrace being a Mali. Temptations of Power The family desires recognition, and must resist the temptation to use their long life and gifted intelligence to place themselves above humans. They do not think it is wrong to be in charge, to be enobled, or to lead humans - but they must always be wary from subverting true authority from the sons of Horen. Family Events and Other Lore Posts: The Scepter of the Blessed Emperor, Fealty to Emperor Philip II The Ravenmour Estate Family Tree Language/Culture: The Family is an "Imperial Elf" type culture, with our language dialect found here. Family Discord: https://discord.gg/GxbPrrxkKN Please hop on in if you would like to join this roleplay group and create a lasting Imperial Elf RP group.

Sigil by Twilight “The ink upon my skin, the fire within my spirit, the deeds of my faith, these are which bind me to my ancestors.” Caerme’onn is one of the oldest known seeds of the mali’ame, dating back to the early days of the Princedom of Laureh’lin and is built upon the beliefs and qualities of hunters, protectors, and leaders. Caerme’onn is devoted to defend and uphold the mali’ame culture. Compared to any other seed, the Caerme’onn are vastly skilled and knowledgeable people of the forest with strong connections to nature. Many of the members of Caerme’onn have taken up roles of leadership and/or have been notable within the mali’ame culture weather that be under the titles of Archdruii, Princes, Chieftains or community role models. Throughout the years, the Caerme’onns have developed advanced techniques of tracking and hunting, making them excel both at hunting large game, or tracking smaller game. Along with these advancements they have also been known to hone their survival skills, as it may be required to spend days in the wild while upon a hunt. The seed originated in the ancient era of the nomadic seeds, out of a marriage between a seed whose name is lost to time, and a clan of elves from far away. In their union, they took the name “Caerme’onn”, meaning ‘born of destiny’. The Caerme’onn were one of many seeds who fought alongside the Green Dragon Taynei in her war against Garthon, the draoii usurper. Unfortunately, the name faded into obscurity as with many others following that ancient war and the death of traditional mali’ame culture that followed. But, come the 16th century of the Common Era, one Artimec “Camoryn'' traced his lineage back to his ancient tribal roots, and brought his tribe and its customs into the modern era, paving the way for a pan-wood elven cultural revival, with clan Caerme’onn being at the forefront of this. Loyalty Piety Dauntless Strength Determination Ambition Leadership Along with the path of becoming an Aspectist, a Caerme’onn delves into the teachings of the wild animal spirits, the Mani. Of the many worshipped and prayed to, the two established Mani of worship in the seed are the Patron Amaethon and Matron Bolomormaa. Amaethon, The Stag Prince and Sovereign of all Cervidae, is the God of Regality. In times of leading, we pray to Amaethon, the ruler of the herd, who displays dignity and Leadership qualities. The Stag is full of benevolence when bearing protection over his herd and aiding in survival. Additionally, Amaethon resembles that of justice and fatherhood, those who do wrong must meet their punishment and his young follow his lead so that they too can lead their own herds one day. We follow Amaethon for not only his guidance in leadership but also compassion. As a family, we must chief our young to follow our beliefs and values, so that one day they too can lead our kin. Bolomormaa, The Wild Princess of Bears and Bear Mother, is the Goddess of Protection and Guardianship. She does not seek out conflict and she is not aggressive, rather, Bolomormaa is sincere and gentle. If one is to threaten her kin, however, the bear will fight with ferocity. Bolomormaa plays an important role in motherhood, where we may pray to her for her strength and vigour. With leadership comes the duty to protect and guard -- a symbiotic blend between the two Mani. As a seed, we follow Bolomormaa for her guidance in protecting our kin and fellow mali’ame. It is expected of the Caerme’onn people that we are pragmatic, and have a sense of composure when leading our lives. Art by Jaromir Hrivnac The initiate is rigorously taught of the Aspects, what they stand for, and the various ways to worship them. This is done through the various members of the seed, it being encouraged to expand out and learn such from different clans and people collectively. Once the initiate has learned of the Aspects and what they represent, they must give an item of significant value as an offering, while swearing an oath to never hold any deities or powers above them. The initiate is to be instructed and shown the various things that Mali’ame have been raised from, and around. The trial is up to the subject’s interpretation, having to make something that represents an aspect of the culture. Many examples of this would be befriending an animal companion, making a shelter, carving an object from wood, or even making a weapon. This will then be presented to a Chieftain to see if it is worthy. The initiate is to seek out another member of the community and take them on as an apprentice. One key aspect in leading is to have patience. The trial does not have to be explicitly stated as to what the initiate is expected to teach. The Chieftess will deem the trial completed with observations of the relationship between initiate and apprentice, as well as sufficient evidence provided that the individual taken on has successfully learned a lesson. The initiate is to go out on their own, or preferably with fellow Caerme’onn on a hunt for an animal. This is to show capability on how to hunt, track, and most importantly survive by one’s self. The trial will be completed once they have successfully slain an animal, and have utilized the entire body, ensuring nothing goes to waste. The initiate is to show a sign of leadership in their person through a variety of ways. This can be shown by something small, such as leading a small hunt or foraging expedition, or something large, such as a battle against a threat to the Mali’ame. To ensure completion, either a Chieftain or someone chosen by them will accompany the initiate on their hunt to observe their prowess. The initiate is to defeat another member of Caerme’onn, preferably an Elder or Chieftain in one on one combat as their final trial. The requirements for the fight to be fair is that the two must be unarmed to ensure neither have specific advantages. The way that the initiate will pass is by either proving their expertise in battle by knocking their opponent to the ground for an extended period of time, or showing that they are a competent enough fighter to hold their own in a fight. ** All trials are subjective and may change throughout the role-play depending on the initiate. These changes may only be dealt by the Chieftan or Chieftess. Art of Kaelwyn, Miven, Awaiti, Taeral, Lavinia, & Elle'nora by Nikkadonna After one has gone through their trials to join the Caerme’onn, the first rite that one will most likely take part in is the crafting of their personal weapon. This weapon of their choice will solely be theirs, not to be wielded by another. Suggestions can be made as to what they should make, but it is ultimately up to the user as to what they wish to be created, it being required that their weapon be made from Ironwood, decorated at their will. The user will carve their weapon, and then assist in tempering it alongside a member who knows how to do such without fail. Once forged, the Chieftess of the seed will bless the weapon in the blood of a fresh kill. It is highly encouraged that they take this into any fights or hunts they take part in, if not, it being deemed meaningless by the rest of the family. Once every four years a feast will be lead by the Chieftains and members of the Caerme’onn. The day prior to the feast, a large expedition will be held in which the members of the Clan head out to gather food; be it foraging, or by hunting and sacrificing an animal. Such will be brought back to the manor, where as a family they will prepare the food and arrange decor for the following day. The purpose of the feast is to connect with members of the seed, and tell the story of Faeinn. As one successfully completes all six of the initiation trials, they are to be blessed with the rite of marking. The individual decides where they wish to wear their seed tattoos, be it under their eyes, on the chest or along their arms. The member is inked with sanguine dyes before the entire seed. This process is what welcomes them to the seed, and an official means of taking on the name Caerme’onn. Art of Abelas Caerme’onn (Lockages) by DreeaDraws Art of Artanis Caerme'onn (Taufirewarrior) by Val Art of Miven by Nikkadonna Current standing Chieftess: Miven Caerme’onn ( @WestCarolina ) Returning Chieftan: Abelas Caerme’onn ( @Lockages ) [[Any interested in the seed or wishing to join, feel free to interact IRP or PM me on discord! Carol#7747]] Special thanks to @Lockagesfor all the help!

THE LEGION OF PURITY Issued from The Publications of The Legion of Purity 10th of The Grand Harvest, Year 13 of The Second Age Long since have We pure bloods been tainted by the perversions and lustful nature of the people of Elvenesse. Time and time again, Mali’thill who travel to the tainted lands of the Tree Demons fall under the despicable spell which tarnishes the purity of their very blood. The cause? The Mali’ame of Elvenesse, as well as the Druids and the faux ‘pure’ elven race who reign over the common folk there. Perversions of the idea and fact of Purity. Lustful demonic spells that corrupt the minds of even Our own blessed and untainted blood. And thus, a new generation of Mali’thill are born to defend and protect our principals. A new age for Haelun’or and a new initiative. The revolution has begun to reclaim what was lost, to prevent future damage and tarnish. We are the Legion of Purity, those who fight for the cause Larihei left behind, those who wish to see a world where Mali’thill appreciate purity more than lust and worldly desire. This is the Legion, and long may We live. This is the revolution, this is the time to make a difference in our state and abroad. So hear Us, you have a place in this Legion. In this mission, and in this concept. No longer will We stand to watch our Mal’onn and Lari’onn’s goodwill and faith be destroyed by those who are below them. Those who live in dirt holes and share wives. It is time for Us Mali’thill to stand up, grab our pens or swords, and make a difference. So We the Legion declare all Mali’thill capable of joining our cause. And thus, rewards will be granted for those who work the most, for those whose passion to destroy that which makes us bleed. Our mission is to confront Elvenesse, to confront Mali’thill… to bring us back to the old ways and to give everyone a position worthy of their name and their ability. You may work as a writer, you may join as a blade, you may sell items to fund the cause. Whatever you can think of you can do in this Legion, so long as it helps the influence of Our name around the world. So hear Us, and be Us. CHAIN OF COMMAND Chairman - Silvyr Uradir Deputy Chairman - Kiljarys an Iarwain General Secretary - Kolvar Uradir Party Executive - Maeve Elibar’acal Publications - Illyara Valarieth Publications - Lleinde Tillun’sae Publications - Amberleigh Uradir JOBS: WRITER- For publications ARTIST- For publications TRADER- Funds the cause COLLECTION EXPERT- Collects on our enemies MEDIC- Heals the wounded TAILOR - Makes red articles of clothing DISTINCTION: A member of the Legion of Purity always wears some article of red clothing to show their solidarity with Our movement. It can be a scarf, robes, capes, or full outfits. OUR PURPOSE: The establishment of the Grand Constitution provided us the foundation upon which to raise the mali’thill to new heights of greatness. In order to properly utilise our blessed new system of governance we require a unified vision and a shared unbreakable will to bring forth our goals to their fullest potential. This is why the Legion of Purity was formed: to raise a unifying banner under which the pure Mali'thill - those dedicated to combating both Mali'ata and the degeneracy that threatens our lliran and pure oem'iian - may rally. To be a member is to declare yourself as ideologically committed to the cause of defending the Motherland whatever the cost, to believe in the strength of a vigilant society,to not cower from conflict and to both denounce and actively work to oppose the Mali’ata which plague our realm. Larihei beckons you, lliran - join the Legion of Purity today! LONG LIVE THE LEGION! On behalf of the Legion of Purity Command, Medi'ir and Chairman Silvyr Uradir

~ Loasx Sarfina ~ Played By: ZylerDread Basics Name (& pronunciation): Loasx Sarfina (Low-ah-six Sar-fin-ah) Age: 145 Place of Birth: Secluded Mill Near Linandria (Spelling? - Wood Elven City) Gender: Male Species/Racial Origin: Wood Elf Social Class/Community Status: Unknown Language: Elvish and English/Normal Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: No Family, Steffen/Samuel (High Elf) is his boyfriend, No Pets. Physical Description Height:5’11” Weight: 135 Hair: Dirty/Dark Blonde Eyes: Emerald Green Limb Dexterity: Agile Typical Clothing/Equipment: Shirt and Pants made of furs, Boots of Leather Personality/Attributes Personality/Attitude: Friendly, Flirty, Helpful Skills/Talents: N/A Favourites/Likes: Flirting, Nature, Most Hated/Dislikes: Orcs, Dark Beings Goals/Ambitions: A nice life with a good guy, Learn Druidic Magic. Strengths: Flirty Weaknesses: Flirty Fears: Darkness Hobbies/Interests: He often wanders around forests. Attitude Toward Death: Scared of Dying Religion/Beliefs: Aspects of Wood Elven culture. Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: Fetishes are only known by his lover. No Strange Behaviors. Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience: He was used as a “toy” by two boys when he was younger, around teen years. Sexual Preference: Males/Homosexual Education/Special Training: N/A Place/Type of Residence: Linandria Occupation: None as of yet. Place of Work: None as of yet. Work-related Skills: None as of yet. Past Occupations: Miller Memberships: None as of yet.

Note: This thread is the original accepted lore from a good two or three years ago. Any additions that lore or magic teams need me to make I will do so quickly, just let me know! A Dryad is a female Wood Elf who has developed a physical and mental bond with a tree by undergoing a process known as "The Blossoming". All female Wood Elves feel the call of Dryad-ism sometime in their life. It may be early on, before puberty, or it may be very late in their lives. They can choose to accept this call or ignore it till the urge fades away. After their transfiguration, the now-Dryad is still a lot like their former Wood Elf self, at least mentally. They retain their former personality but now they feel much more relaxed. Time loses its relevance. Seasons come and go, kingdoms rise and fall all around them. Nothing truly matters except that they are in the presence of the tree and they are in the midst of nature. Dryads also undergo a physical change. Their skin color could lighten or darken. Their hair color is also subject to change, as well as their eyes. Normally, this all depends on which type of tree they end up bonding to. Drayds of the same tree type will look similar but not the same. A Wood Elf's personality determines which type of tree they end up feeling a bond towards. The origin of Dryads is a mystery. Some argue that Dryads have always existed, that their population rises and falls in rhythm with some unknown schedule. Others argue that Drayds only came about since our stay in the lands of Asulon. Both are true, in a sense. Dryads have always existed, even since Malin's time. It is also true that their population booms every now-and-again. For hundreds of years they might only be one Dryad alone in an entire forest, singing away in the boughs of her tree. A year later, there might be a hundred more spread throughout the lands. Regardless of that odd cycle, all female Wood Elves will hear the call and feel the urge during her lifetime. It is a natural part of growing up and life. When a Wood Elf feels the urge or call of Dryad-ism, she feels the need to abandon her current life and just leave. To leave the bustling mortal world. To leave behind the wars and politics. To be free of all worries. Some choose to ignore this. After a time, the urge begins to fade away and will disappear. But be warned, any Elf that ignores this call will forever pass up her chance to become a Dryad. If they listen to the call, if they fan that burning flame of adventure, their search begins. Generally, the Elf will know in what direction they are searching in. It might be in the direction the sun sets, or where the birds fly when the cold weather sets in. The budding Dryad instincts guide her to her tree. The journey might be long, it might take weeks, months, years. Or, it might be as simple as the forest outside her city. Once the Dryad has found her tree, and she will know when that happens, something magical happens. It is akin the what some would call 'love at first sight'. The Elf will stare at her tree for a time, totally transfixed. She may talk to it, hug it, set up a camp near it and sleep by it. It takes two full months of time before the Elf's Blossoming is complete. During that time, she might feel overly ecstatic. Or possibly overly aggressive and protective of her tree, picking a fight with any who draw near. Possibly even at total peace for once in her life. These feelings will last the entire duration of her Blossoming and even into her time as a Dryad. During the second month, the Elf will change physically. Her hair might grow longer or change colors. Her skin might lighten or darken and her eyes may change to a completely different shade. Generally the change will be based on what type of tree she has bonded to. If the Dryad leaves her tree at any time during the Blossoming, the overload of emotions will cease and will be replaced by that of intense nausea. If she persists through the side effect of nausea and ignores the budding bond, she will remain a Wood Elf and will pass up her chance of becoming a Dryad. Some say that the tree chooses the Elf. Others, that the tree and elf were born for each other; that since the elf was a toddler and the tree a sapling, they have been waiting for each other, to finally meet and become one. The bond between a Dryad and her tree runs deep. They become entwined, almost one entity. The tree becomes her closest friend. The Dryad might feel the roots within the dirt beneath her feet. She might feel the air passing through the branches above her, rustling the leaves. She would also feel the chop of an axe in her tree's trunk or feel the burning sensation of flames washing over the tree. This bond persists till the Elf dies, and sometimes, the tree. If the Elf dies, the tree will soon follow. If the tree dies, the Elf will not die but will suffer deeply. She will be stricken with grief, or her mind might break in a way that she truly never recovers. She might suffer a deep depression till the end of her days or she might take her own life. Their exists a way to save the tree in most circumstances though, and that is through something known as the "Amber Seed". [Read below.] The Elf feels naturally at home when she is near her tree. She may choose to sleep in its boughs or maybe in a hole close to the roots. The Elf must sleep near her tree at least once every three days. If she does not, she will die. An Elf can travel as far as she wants from her tree, though the farther away she is, the sadder and more melancholy she will feel. She can also rest away from her tree, but the sleep will be fitful and she will not recover any energy. A Dryad feels no yearning for a mortal relationship. They do not wish to reproduce or to wed; All that matters is that they are with their tree. When a tree that is bonded to a Dryad dies, it leave behind something known as an Amber Seed. It is roughly the size of a fist and weighs roughly that of a fist-sized stone. This seed is the very essence of the tree and, being such, the Dryad feels her bond connected to it. She must still sleep within a close distance of the seed or she will feel exhausted and eventually die. This seed, once planted, will sprout a sapling that grows at a magical rate. What once took a hundred years to grow will take only a few months. This tree will be an exact replica from before and the bond will persist through the tree's "death". The seed must be planted within a year of the tree's death. If it is not, it will harden into a grey-black object then break and blow away as dust in the wind. A tree can only go through this process of death-and-rebirth once. A tree can only re-grow in a fitting biome. (To prevent... say a Palm tree in a chain of freezing mountains.) During her time as a Dryad, some circumstances might make the Dryad consider returning back to an ordinary Wood Elf. It might be that the tree has become sick and it would kill them both should she not cut the bond. Or possibly it is that her Wood Elf family misses her dearly and visits every day, begging her to return home. There is no process. The Elf must simply cut the bond though It is extremely painful, both mentally and physically. It will take at least a month of time before the bond is fully cut, all the while the Elf suffers, though she can stop at any moment. Once the bond has been cut, the tree will die and produce an Amber Seed. The bond will be cut so the Elf does not need to carry the seed around with her, but if she plants it, the tree will grow and the bond will resume. After a year's time, the seed will turn to ash and blow away in the wind. The Elf will feel a faint ache of sadness or a feeling of melancholy for the rest of her life, assuming she did not replant the seed and resume her bond. Dryadic Instincts: Upon completing her blossoming, a Dryad will instinctively know and understand most things relating to her and her tree's survival. A Dryad will always be able to find her way back to her tree, regardless of where she is. A Dryad knows that she can only rest in the presence of her tree and that three days of being apart will result in death. A Dryad will be able to tell whether someone is a Dryad or not just by looking at them. A Dryad will also be able to tell whether or not a tree is bonded to another Dryad. A Dryad will know how to cut the bond between her and her tree, and she will also understand what the amber seed is and how to use it. Dryadic Quirks: Upon completing her blossoming, a Dryad will have a few new habits. A Dryad will generally address a fellow Dryad as 'sister'. A Dryad will continue eating whatever they ate as a Wood Elf. They won't feel an urge to change their diet. A Dryad will not go out of her way to maintain or develop friendships. If Dryads live rather close to each other, they might become friends. Same goes if someone visits a Dryad daily, a friendship MIGHT develop. A Dryad will still retain all magic prowess they had as a Wood Elf, though they probably won't feel the urge or need to use it often (or ever). A Dryad will also retain all combat prowess they had as a Wood Elf, though they probably won't feel the urge or need to use it often (or ever). A Dryad can wear whatever she pleases. Generally, they will feel inclined to wear leaves from their tree. They might also sew a dress or outfit that mirrors the colors of their tree.

* = Tevi = * The chaotic Mali’ame, with an equally chaotic ginger hair. 2nd character, Wood Elf, Female, Midget. HEAVY WIP Page 1 [<Appearance: Updated on the 20/12/2015 >] Only things apparent and seen are written on here Physical Appearance: A Mali’ame standing at the height of 5’1 with her dark caramel skin and light amber eyes - though her wild, untamed red hair makes her look a few inches taller. She shaved the left side of her hair off, the faint traces of tattoos can be seen on the skin; however it is most likely that her loose strands of hair would hide most of it. [ Current Age: 52] She’s quite pretty (In a wild, and messy way), though her features are more rounded and childish than anything. Clothes that she chooses to wear can be seen as odd. She will often have one sleeve off, displaying a faint gold tattoo of what seems to be a spear. She will most likely wear a light green-blue wool shawl around her neck, whilst a yellow one dangles off her shoulders. She wears no shoes, instead having a simple anklet twisted from branches and leaves - similarly, on her sleeved arm would be a daffodil bracelet to symbolize her Aspirant status. She wears a gold coloured belt on her hip, and from it hangs a small pouch and her sheathed Rondel. Tevi chooses to decorate her hair in an elaborate design of flowers, yet the braid itself is messy and loose. On the skin of the shaved part of her hair is the faint markings of another tattoo, yet she prefers to keep her hair covering it from view. Additional decorations: A thick, blue-green shawl wrapped around her neck, covering little of her face + Another long scarf, but it has not been wrapped around her neck; instead, the yellow fabric is left to danggle from her shoulders. Occasionally, one may spot her yellow scarf off her shoulders, [and wrapped around something] Page 2 [< Behavior: Updated on the 20/12/2015 >] Only things apparent and seen are written on here What is known: Despising little in life, Tevi is a rather cheerful ‘ame. It’s only on rare occasions that you would see her frown or scowl in distaste - even going to the trouble of offering hesitant and pained smile rather than giving another a scowl. Yet when placed in a foul mood, she stays so for a long while - rather pissy and rude. Despises being treated as a child. Nonetheless, she often takes things too lightly - having trouble expressing seriousness. Her ‘fervent belief’ that everything should be treated with respect and equality may cause her some problems - as well as the fact that she would refuse to judge another without actual interactions with them; however having a long lasting opinion when she judges another. Nonetheless, she views the aspects and her belief in high regard - and would regretfully place them in front of most of her other needs. Quite a traditionalist Mali with little known in her past - and little revealed by herself - she can seem quite open, yet never say a thing about her family, friends or any other things that include her past. She is rather clumsy with her movements, seeming to be rather hasty and unrefined. Her round cheeks are often puffed in frustration - and she has the habit of blowing her hair off her face. She has a strangely innocent and naive behavior - often acting quite forgetful. Page 3 [<Quirks & Companions: Updated on the 22/12/2015 >] Only things apparent and seen are written on here Puffing Her cheeks in irritation or annoyance is a common quirk that Tevi would do, her ears would most likely droop with it. Smiling unnecessarily when the situation does not bring any excuse for a smile. She has the visage of a young girl, and her smiles are often genuine and rather innocent. Fidgeting around on the spot - whether it’s with her fingers, or rocking back and forth on her feet ; Tevi seems to have trouble staying still. Biting her Thumb When nervous, or anxious. [Companions: Two Rabbits: One is missing a leg, one being blind. (Eth & Tael) Gerbil: A wandering Gerbil that occasionally stays with her. (Lareh) A Parrot: Her bird-bird. (Tevi number 2) A Mouse: A new ‘friend’ she gained recently, comes and goes. ( ‘That mouse’ ) Page 4 [<Inventory: Updated on the 22/12/2015 >] Do not Metagame, only a few have seen these. Inside and Hidden within a pouch, wrapped around a scarf. The pouch hangs on her belt. Four-edged Rondel dagger sheathed, hanging on her belt. Tbc. [[[ Here, have this sketch of lil’ Tevi I made late at night.]]] “ An old parchment is found curled inside her worn-leather pouch, the edges lightly burnt and the paper splattered with ink. Yet in the middle is a sketch made - faded, but evidently the sketch of a young girl; similar to the one standing before you.”

Ierven Camoryn Nicknames: "Ierv", Granpa, Grandfather Age: 800's Gender: Male Race: Wood Elf Status: Alive Description: Height: 5'10 Weight: Average Body Type: Eyes: Dark Green Hair: Reddish grey Skin: Tanned Markings/Tattoos: None Health: Good Personality: Generally in a happy mood, unless around those who crossed him. Inventory: Elven Longsword, Elven longbow, quiver of arrows Further Details: None Life Style Alignment*: Neutral Good Deity*: The Aspects Religion: The Aspects Alliance/Nation/Home: Laureh'lin/Cerulin Job/Class: Guard in the Ivory Order Title(s): Haler'tir Profession(s): Farming, Woodworking Special Skill(s): None Flaw(s): Brash, often times holding himself back from doing something stupid Magic Current Status: None Arch-type: None Sub-Type: None Rank: None Weakness(es): None Strength(s): None Current Spell(s): None Weaponry Fighting Style: Offensive Trained Weapon[s]: Longsword, Longbow Favored Weapon: Longsword Archery: Adept Biography Parents: Eyerwin and Echel Siblings: None Children: Ierschen and Auberon Extended Family: Camoryn line Pet(s): None History Born in Aegis, he left with his mother, Echel, to Asulon. Echel eventually died of plague, leaving Ierven the family farm outside Ager. He lived peacefully and happily there, tending the crops. He one day met Veolyn, whom he married and had two children with, Ierschen and Auberon. Now he resides with Laureh'lin, happy to see his family once again, though sad to see only so many still around. -WIP- Artwork None as of yet.

[size=5]Character Name[/size] Nicknames:N/A Age: 63 Gender: Male Race: Wood Elf Status: Single [size=3]Description[/size] Height:6'3 Weight: 195 Body Type: Thin Eyes: Blue Hair: Red Skin: Tan-ish Markings/Tattoos: Scratched out eye Health: Missing an eye Personality: He is very sociable generally and has a happy air around him, but is easily angered Inventory: An old bow, gotten from his teacher Further Details: N/A [size=3]Life Style[/size] Alignment*: Good Deity*: N/A Religion: N/A Alliance/Nation/Home: Leyulin Job/Class: Hunter Title(s): N/A Profession(s): Woodwork, Fishing, Breeding Special Skill(s): N/A Flaw(s): He cant do anything but previously listed well [size=3]Magic*[/size] Current Status: N/A Arch-type: N/A Sub-Type: N/A Rank: N/A Weakness(es): N/A Strength(s): N/A Current Spell(s): N/A [size=3]Weaponry[/size] Fighting Style: Run and if you can shoot Trained Weapon[s]: Bow Favored Weapon: Bow Archery: Near perfect aim. [size=3]Biography[/size] Parents: [not on server] Siblings: N/A Children: N/A Extended Family: [not on server] Pet(s): N/A [size=3]History[/size] Meleranion, as a young child, always had a fascination with bows. He always was asking his father to teach him how to shoot bows in their house in Annil'sul, but was always much too busy maintaining the household and working as his family was middle class. One day his father got his friend, who was a wall guard on the walls of Annil'sul and was the best shot on that particular wall, to teach Meleraninon. Meleranion was determined to get it perfect and eventually became better than his teacher. He was gifted a bow made out of the best wood and engraved with a signature of his teacher. He then became a wall guard in Annil'sul, shooting down the occasional lost orc band and such. One day his lust for adventure beyond the forest overcame him, but he was still young. He went out into the forest and got attacked by a pack of wolves, who scratched his right eye out. He then returned home ashamed. He hunted down that same pack of wolves and skinned them, hoping to make a water skin or something. He figured himself ready for adventure and left the town, hoping to become a great treasure hunter. He also was on a quest for inner peace, as he had many seemingly negative traits. He was always quick to temper, which was a virtue not wanted by Malin, who he believed was a great elven ancestor, and his virtues should be followed. He had consulted many druids who said "You need to become one with nature and the Aspects will lift your curse of the mind." but he much preferred to just respect druids an nature, not become one with it. All the druids told him the same and he eventually gave up. He made his place of residence Leyulin after he became old enough to leave his family and has been there ever since, still hoping to find treasure. [size=3]Artwork[/size] Unable to use imgur so heres link http://imgur.com/Cz5Mm4S [spoiler][img]http://