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Fantasy The Lost Child

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Lekiel

Two Thousand Club
Supporter
A High Fantasy RP of EPIC proportions ^3^. Elves, humans, forces of chaos, magic and awesome wars!!!
-not recommended for mobile viewing-


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Legends of Andarun
roleplay

by: Lekiel
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"The obvious strike, easily parried, hides the hidden blade."
-Tel`Quessir Proverb









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⊰~❇~⊱
Lye Seldarine cael-aman lle Haranrim,
Yassen beleg ranqui, yassen nomin oio palantir,
Lirill-seere sii’ Sildorin Velahr vardarim,
Lye ohta lle dagor ar’lakilea,
I’utune en coia lye on’vari,
Sildorin Velahr,
Lye essa n’quella.


Alye’ er’gwaith,
Er’vesta lye kam’uva sii’
Lye vakha en templa taure en ar’orod,
E’lle en llie
Mano agar tanya er’Anwa Haranrim,
Lle ra’rashwe,
Iluve wanwa’a en lle goth neva’a
Yel’e lye’au, hin Velahr,
Lle goth’a sintuva,
Ainast lye’tempa en kiriss pelekko,


Sina lye tanak’vesta,
Vesta tengw’agar!

~Tengwagar. Yen 1013, Randa Uruloki.



The Gods have indeed blessed thee O' Great King,
With a mighty arm, and wisdom ever farseeing,
Lie in peace now Sildorin Velahr great savior,
Our battle you've fought and won,
The price of life for which you willingly gave,
Sildorin Velahr,
May your name never fade.


United as one
An oath we now shall make,
As keepers of the Mystical Forests and Noble Mountains,
To you and yours
Whose blood is of the One True King,
If ever there is dire need,
When all seems lost and your enemies surround,
Call to us once again, o child of Velahr,
Your foes will know then,
The sting of magic and slash of axe,


Tis' our promise our oath,
Sworn in blood.

~The Bloodoath. Year 1013, Drakarian Age



⊰~❇~⊱​
Journal of Ameranth Faenalla "Silverhand", First Princess of An`Falithe
Year 913, The Age of ChaosYear 1, The Age of Hope.


The streets are resounding with singing and dancing. It has been going on for a whole week now, day and night, a tumultuous festival of celebration. I can barely sleep, but... it's not because of the noise. It's been ages since I've last smelled the sweet scents of the Moonglimmers of dearest An`Falithe. I know I should be happy, relieved. But I'm not. I feel this, dread... in my heart. I cannot explain it.

We have reclaimed beloved Tal`Velahr back from The Wretched, or at least, what was left of it. I... lost many many men that day. Kalindras... Mithrun... Oh Goddess... my heart still bleeds for them. I doubt their widows and children are singing in joy, I still rememb- *at this point, the writing abruptly stops halfway down the page. There are splotches of ink, but whatever had been written was not legible, smudged by drops of water now long dried, leaving behind crinkly parchment. The journal continues on the next page.*

News from the Northern front is heartening. We have liberated Cal`Ancalen from its five decade long siege, (I can't wait to see Israfael again! It's been too long!) their mages will definitely be a welcome presence back among the troops.

I cannot deny that these are sure causes for celebration. Father has even declared this year to be the start of a new 'Age'. The Age of Hope he calls it; no doubt, brother had something to do with this. Just the thought of it makes me sick! Sure we have reclaimed our lands, but did they forget the fact that we still have but a fraction of what we once had!?

Darkness still permeates from Blightreun. We are so far from it not even our swiftest scouts dare to try and glimpse the forsaken border. Have the people of An`Falithe forgotten that while they party merrily and throw rambunctious orgies of debauchery, that out there.... a child in Numenlad is cowering under a blanket, afraid that the walls of her house may not even stand the night!? That she may never see her parents again as the fires of Chaos pillage through her village!? Did they think that they have the luxury of drinking themselves into a stupor because their resplendent walls protect them from the reach of Chaos?! ... NO!

It's the blood of our people, their sweat and their tears! For every inch of ground that we gained, was bought with the blood of we the Tel`Quessir! Have they forgotten that despite our victories, no merchant caravan can travel safely between the outskirts of this city to neighboring Ilshari without the escort of a whole battalion of soldiers?

Oh Father.... what have you done to your people...?

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⊰~❇~⊱
A thousand years of blighted darkness, shrouded by a seething Chaos that could barely be contained. That was the world you grew up in. The only one you ever knew. Our people, the Tel`Quessir, as we called ourselves. An ancient race from ages past are now but a fragment of what they once were. And yet, we are all that stands between the ravaging forces of Chaos, and the utter destruction of the entirety of the World of Order. This is the land of Andarun. This is your home.[/COLOR}

It started more than an Age ago, thousands of years. Our people, elves as we were known in commons, were caught at our weakest when the forces of Chaos swept out of the desolate West. We were a divided Kingdom, having foolishly let our hubris blind us to the ancient evil that our people had once sworn to fight. Instead, we made each other the enemy, staining our blades with the blood of our kin. That we were still reeling from the great loss of the Wyrmwars was no excuse. It was supposed to be a time of rebuilding, of reclaiming. The Great King Sildorin Velahr, leader of us all, gave his life for us; a gift, that we squandered so readily. His six children, though their veins ran with blood of gold, had hearts of darkest black. Their petty squabbles and greed drew our people apart. To say it was their fault was to disregard the fact that we did nothing to stop them. And so civil war broke out. If the Great King were still alive, he'd have been sorely disappointed. By the end of it, two princes lay dead, and one princess. The oldest, Crown Prince Eldorin, looked at what they had done in shame took his men and left for the Northlands; to be never seen again. Thus the kingdom was sundered between the remaining two.

Prince Hiraeth took the throne of our greatest city, Tal`Velahr and became the new High King. His brother, Prince Ayred took the Southern Forests. King Hiraeth's reign was shortlived, for the Wretched had come. They poured out of the cursed halls of Dol`Amar and spread across the lands like blighted plague. The blood of our people ran like rivers through our once bustling streets. Our great shining capital Tal`Velahr, was laid to waste. It was said, Prince Hiraeth took his own life, throwing himself from atop the tallest spire. That would've been the end, except that our Lord, King Ayred, took up his father's sword and led his people into fearless battle once again. The tides of Wretched crashed against the Emerald Legion of the Tel`Quessir, and the emerald line prevailed. That was many generations ago my child.

Today marks the fiftieth anniversary of King Erlathan Velahr's death. The last of the line of the Great Sildorin Velahr. No heirs. Your father took the throne unwillingly, I hope you understand that Ameranth. He was Erlathan's most loyal adviser, they grew up together. Erlathan's death probably hit him the hardest, out of all of us.

I've told you many stories, that of the mystical Saelas who fought with King Sildorin during the Wyrmwars, but have not been seen again in over a thousand years. I've also told you of a time when the Dwarves of Dol`Nughdim fought alongside King Ayred, until their own king was betrayed by Ayred's son, surrounded and left to die on the battlefield. And no doubt, you've heard many stories of the Emerald Legion, legendary warriors who were once King Sildorin's mightiest Dragon Slayers. Many will say these are but stories Ameranth. I don't know whether you believe them, but when the time comes, and belief is all we have. I hope to the Goddess that you do.


, . ; ' ` ~ ✿ ~ ` ' ; . , . ; ' ` ~ ✿ ~ ` ' ; . , . ; ' ` ~ ✿ ~ ` ' ; . ,

Hi guys!!! I hope you've loved what I've written thus far. This RP is actually part of a larger High Fantasy world setting, called Andarun, that I have created (ask me for the link if you want to know more!). However, i will try to make this one as standalone as possible, so unless you're my co-GM, you won't have to read much from the original thread. It is also set in the 'past' of where most of my RPs in Andarun is done. As most of the story Arcs I've done in Andarun so far are more adventure not so much end-of-the-world esque, I thought starting one during one of the darker periods of Andarun would be a good idea. So yeah, spoilers alert, everything turns out fine. But its only fine, because of the actions of many different individuals. Names that will one day, become legends. This story is now yours, should you choose to be a part of it.

❈ - ❈ - ❈

So... now what? You might ask ^3^ Well... first off....

ALL RPN RULES APPLY! :o
I expect a stupendous amount of detail!!Or at least, I expect RPers to be able to write to that level That being said, I'm no ace writer myself, and neither do I expect a novel with every post. Sometimes people just want to talk about the weather without thinking about a traumatic past. P.s. If you get confused between you're and your, they're and their... I'm going to join one of your own RPs and burn your character's house down!!!
THERE WILL BE ROMANCE! 'cos I'm that kind of person... don't judge >.>
If this RP does in fact start, I'm not expecting a post everyday. Just once every five days will be great for me. There will be leeways of course, reallife does tend to suck alot, as long as you let me know I'm cool ^^
Which brings me to the next part. I'm looking for a co-GM!! Not just anyone, but someone I can click with, who can input ideas, who will not be afraid of the amount of lore Andarun already has, who can take whatever's written and flow with it and expand on it! I have a barebones idea of how the RP will play out, but I'm definitely going to need someone to drive it along with me, even when the going gets tough and the creative juices run dry :( Of course, I'd like to take a look at your RP hosting experience if you have one!
**As co-GM, you'll be playing a 'canon' character. You may have seen mention of a certain 'Israfael' in Princess Amaranth's journal. Well, the name's just a placeholder. He'll be an elf of a minor noble house who worked his way up the ranks to become one of the Elven army's generals. *note: he doesn't have to be a warrior. Could be a mage/ranger etc.* He'll also be Amaranth's childhood friendand love interest*cough*
I'm going to keep this to a small group (Max of 5). So applications will be considered on the basis of creativity and originality!

If you've found this whole idea intriguing thus far, I really really really thank you for your appreciation of my effort ^-^. However, I should say that it probably will not start until I have found a suitable GM as I don't think I have the time to fully commit to this alone; not yet at least!

We'll be playing heroes, elves and perhaps a human or two, during a dark period of our history where all many of beasts and creatures of Chaos (Orcs, Otherworlders, Horrors even Demons.) roam the lands outside of the city walls. Recent small victories have lulled the people into a meek sense of security, but darker things loom on the horizon, more of a surety than the next dawn. And all that is left to brave the coming onslaught, is an ancient pact made with long forgotten allies. There will be adventure, there will be war, there will be peaceful moments, love, friendship but all in its own time and space.
- ❈ -


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⊰~TABLE OF CONTENTS~⊱

⊰~1.RACES OF THE TEL`QUESSIR~⊱

[class=tabis] background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/fa/64/aefa6473c8a508402dd46e7387fc785e.jpg); border-radius: 5px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #774503; box-sizing: border-box; color: wheat; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1; margin: 20px auto; min-width: 350px; text-align: center; width: 50%; [/class] [class=tabi] box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; padding: 10px 0; width: 33%; [/class] [class name=tabi state=hover] background-color: #2b7abb; [/class] [script class=tabi on=click] hide tabsContent set currentTab (getText) if (eq ${currentTab} ANARHIN) (show tabsContentInformation) if (eq ${currentTab} ISILHIN) (show tabsContentRules) if (eq ${currentTab} EDAN) (show tabsContentCharacters) [/script] [div class=tabis][div class=tabi style="border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-left-radius: 5px;"]ANARHIN[/div][div class=tabi]ISILHIN[/div][div class=tabi style="border-top-right-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; width: 34%;"]EDAN[/div][/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentInformation"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundanar] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/anarhin.37057/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 44% 15%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxanar] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundanar state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxanar state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapperanar] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapperanar state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeaderanar] color: wheat; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyTextanar] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundanar][div class=stonelyBoxanar][div class=stonelyWrapperanar][div class=stonelyHeaderanar]Anarhin[/div][div class=stonelyTextanar] Children of the Goddess Anara, the Anarhin or Sun Elves form one of the two largest portions of the Tel'Quessir. Arguably the oldest running civilization in all of Andarun, the elves are a prideful race, and especially haughty towards humans and dwarves; though the latter has not been seen in a few hundred years. Rumoured to have once been near immortal, their lifespan is now around 500 years. They mature at the same rate as humans, though they are not considered a full fledged adult culturally until the age of 30. Maturation drastically slows at the age of 30 onwards, giving them an everlasting youthful look; until a rapid decline in the last several decades of their life. Similar in height to humans but of more slender built. Other distinguishing features of the Anarhin include: vibrantly coloured hair (e.g. brown, wheat blonde, red) and olive or tan skin. Anarhin dedicate themselves to Anara, Goddess of the Sun, and celebrate a large festival during the summer solstice. They have exceptional vision during the day though their eyesight is normal (relative to a human) during the night. Children of mixed elven parentage usually take after the same gender parent. Daughters will take after their mothers and sons their fathers (e.g. the son of an Anarhin mother and Isilhin Father will be born an Isilhin). There are no instances of a mixed elf, they're either one or the other. [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentRules" style="display: none;"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundisi] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/isilhin.37058/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 20% 50%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxisi] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundisi state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxisi state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeaderisi] color: silver; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyText] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; position: relative; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundisi][div class=stonelyBoxisi][div class=stonelyWrapper][div class=stonelyHeaderisi]Isilhin[/div][div class=stonelyText] Children of the Moon Goddess Eweca, the Isilhin or Moon Elves form one of the two largest portions of the Tel'Quessir. Arguably the oldest running civilization in all of Andarun, the elves are a prideful race, and especially haughty towards humans and dwarves; though the latter has not been seen in a few hundred years. Rumoured to have once been near immortal, their lifespan is now around 500 years. They mature at the same rate as humans, though they are not considered a full fledged adult culturally until the age of 30. Maturation drastically slows at the age of 30 onwards, giving them an everlasting youthful look; until a rapid decline in the last several decades of their life. Similar in height to humans but of more slender built. Other distinguishing features of the Isilhin include: fair or monochrome coloured hair (e.g. black, platinum blonde, silver) and pale almost translucent skin tone. Isilhin dedicate themselves to Eweca, and celebrate a large festival during the height of winter. They have exceptional vision in low light and a hint of ultravision (can see heat signatures) in darkness. However, glaring broad open daylight causes flares in their vision making their sight inferior to their olive skinned cousins. Children of mixed elven parentage usually take after the same gender parent. Daughters will take after their mothers and sons their fathers (e.g. the son of an Anarhin mother and Isilhin Father will be born an Isilhin). There are no instances of a mixed elf, they're either one or the other. [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentCharacters" style="display: none;"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundeda] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/edan.37059/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 30%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxeda] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundeda state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxeda state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeadereda] color: #630404; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyText] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; position: relative; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundeda][div class=stonelyBoxeda][div class=stonelyWrapper][div class=stonelyHeadereda]Edan[/div][div class=stonelyText] Often spoken of in a derragatory tone, Edan, are also known in commons as, Human. Descendants of a once powerful empire in the far east, the remnants of the human race live a life under the oppresive prejudice of the Tel`Quessir. Once mortal enemies of the elves, their former kingdom is now long burried under the sands of time. While they are allowed to roam freely, they are often treated with near subservient disregard by the Elves. Most humans are employed as servants and frontline soldiers or guardsmen. Additionally, they are not allowed to carry any form of weapon when not on duty. Despite their meager standing in elven society, certain quarters of elves have started sympathizing with the humans, especially in light of the Wretched threat. One such prominent individual is Arclord Kharis Ballen, Grandmagus of the Council of Storms and uncle of High King Alturas Faenalla. Arclord Ballen took a risk and defied the king and public opinion by gathering a group of magic attuned humans, training them in the ways of the Stormlord when Cal`Ancalen came under siege. His gamble paid off when those humans proved a valuable asset to the Tel`Quessir, helping to fend off the Wretched. Several elven generals followed Arclord Ballen's example, exalting outstanding humans within the army. When their numbers grew large enough, Arclord Ballen gathered these humans together and formed a separate organization under his direct command called the Bluecloaks, because of the sky-blue cloaks that they wore. The High King was not pleased, but tolerated them largely due to the influence of Arclord Ballen and the insistence of his daughter, Princess Amaranth. In recent times, elves have taken to calling edans who joined the ranks of the Bluecloaks, 'Valiants'. Although Valiants are treated with higher regard (than normal humans) by most elves, they are nevertheless still human and subject to the same racial undertones, though not as overtly as their less fortunate kin. [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div]

⊰~2.CLASSES~⊱

[class=tabula] background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/fa/64/aefa6473c8a508402dd46e7387fc785e.jpg); border-radius: 5px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #774503; box-sizing: border-box; color: wheat; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1; margin: 20px auto; min-width: 350px; text-align: center; width: 65%; [/class] [class=tabu] box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; padding: 10px 0; width: 25%; [/class] [class name=tabu state=hover] background-color: #2b7abb; [/class] [script class=tabu on=click] hide tabsContent set currentTab (getText) if (eq ${currentTab} WARRIOR) (show tabsContentWarrior) if (eq ${currentTab} MAGUS) (show tabsContentMagus) if (eq ${currentTab} RANGER) (show tabsContentRanger) if (eq ${currentTab} ROGUE) (show tabsContentRogue) [/script] [div class=tabula][div class=tabu style="border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-left-radius: 5px;"]WARRIOR[/div][div class=tabu]MAGUS[/div][div class=tabu]RANGER[/div][div class=tabu style="border-top-right-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; width: 25%;"]ROGUE[/div][/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentWarrior"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundwar] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/warrior.37070/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 40% 5%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxwar] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundwar state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxwar state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeaderwar] color: silver; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyText] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; position: relative; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundwar][div class=stonelyBoxwar][div class=stonelyWrapper][div class=stonelyHeaderwar]Warrior[/div][div class=stonelyText] WARMASTER - The warrior caste of the Tel`Quessir are known for their tactical brilliance as well as boldness in battle. As the oldest surviving empire of the known mortal races, the elves have faced countless battles over the Ages, each fight adding to their already vast experience in warfare. Outfitted by Master Elven craftsmen, the warmaster often dons plate armor, wielding large weapons and adding extra protection with a shield on the offhand. Racial Restrictions - Isilhin, Anarhin, Human [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentMagus" style="display: none;"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundmag] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/magus.37072/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 60% 10%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxmag] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundmag state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxmag state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeadermag] color: #01013a; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyTextmag] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundmag][div class=stonelyBoxmag][div class=stonelyWrapper][div class=stonelyHeadermag]Magus[/div][div class=stonelyTextmag] STORMLORD - Powerful adepts of the latent energy harnessed from within the soul, the Stormlords are masters of elemental magic. Wielding devastating power, Stormlords can hurl bolts of ice, fire and electricity. They can also hasten the winds at the feet of allies to make them move quicker, or conjure gusts of wind to knock their enemies off balance. To be a Stormlord or any of the related classes, please peruse the 'Lore' section below and read the associated book on magic and Stormlords. Stormlords can choose to specialize into two other separate branches of magic: Planeswalker and Tempest. Racial Restriction - Anarhin, Isilhin, Human. TEMPEST - Elite members of the Council of Storms, a powerful sect of mages founded from the time of King Sildorin Velahr and now lead by the Arclord Kharis Bhallen. They make their home at the Grand Spire located in the center of Cal`Ancalen, the mage city of the Tel`Quessir. Up until the last year, the Tempests were imprisoned within their own city for over fifty years by the Nashazim, wicked and terrifyingly powerful magic users of the Wretched. Tempests are Storm Lords choosing to master a particular element. This comes at the cost of losing substantial ability to use others. They are usually distinguished by their robes and from the sheer elemental power that emanates from their eyes. Their control over their element is so powerful that they can call down flaming meteors from the sky or even freezing blizzards over an army; although it is no small feat and takes plenty of energy and concentration from the Tempest. Racial Restriction - Isilhin, Anarhin, Human (rare). PLANESWALKER - Planeswalkers are born, not made. Only a handful of elves receive this gift. Like Tempests, each Planeswalker is particularly adept at a certain element (but not as restricted to it as a Tempest). As their name suggests, a Planeswalker is able to tap into the elemental realm itself to call upon planar spirits. Forgoing the use of offensive spells, a Planeswalker can command the Planar Spirit to aid them in battle, with similar if not more devastating effects. Just like the Tempests, they were locked down in Cal`Ancalen up until the recent year. Racial Restriction - Anarhin, Isilhin. [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentRanger" style="display: none;"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundran] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/ranger.37069/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 30% 30%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxran] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundran state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxran state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeaderran] color: #013d04; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyText] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; position: relative; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundran][div class=stonelyBoxran][div class=stonelyWrapper][div class=stonelyHeaderran]Ranger[/div][div class=stonelyText] RANGER - If there is one thing the Tel`Quessir is best known for, it is their rangers. Specialists in all areas, they can fight in the melee through the elven art of bladedancing. At range, their skilled use of the elven longbow makes them all the more deadlier. They are accomplished scouts and trackers, able to traverse great distances undetected. Because of their close affinity to the land and its creatures, rangers also have a certain degree of knowledge when it comes to making healing poultices. Some rangers also dedicate themselves to one of the three Tel`Quessir Goddesses, becoming Warpriest(priestesses). Racial Restriction - Anarhin, Isilhin, Human. SUNGARDE - Warpriestesses of the Goddess Anara, Sungarde are rangers who wish to further hone their skills in archery and range attacks. On the battlefield, they sometimes ride the vicious Hippogriffs to rain death from above. Sungardes are best known for their ability to perform `Anara's Fury`. Through years of practice and by offering prayers to their Goddess, the Sungarde imbues a single arrow with such power that it can penetrate the toughest of defenses. Fired like a lance of pure sunlight, Anara's Fury has the potential to decimate a whole line of foes who were unfortunate enough to stand in its path. Racial Restriction - Anarhin. MOONGARDE - Devotees of the Goddess Eweca, the Moongarde is a ranger who wishes to concentrate more on the art of blade dancing and battleflow. Wearing medium to no armour and armed with long spear glaves or twin swords, the Moon Guard can cut through ranks of enemies so effortlessly that they make fighting almost too easy; as though they were simply floating and dancing around the battlefield. As they live and breathe for the bladedance, Moongardes have superior instincts such that they can fight even when nearly all their cognitive sense are suppressed. Although more than capable with a bow, most Moongarde have trained themselves to deal with ranged treats the same way they would in close combat; with the edge of their blade across the throat of their hapless foe. Racial Restriction - Isilhin. ENCHANTER - Nature is thy friend. A phrase so often coined by Felariel's priestesses to aspiring enchanters. The powers of an enchanter is in her ability to befriend and understand the language of the wilds. Their powers extend beyond the natural fauna (unnatural beings are unaffected; e.g. dire wolves). Whether it involves charming an enraged grizzly or scouting through the eyes of a hawk, the resourcefulness of an enchanter cannot be denied. Enchanters are also the only class of warpriests that can directly channel the divine powers of their Goddess to restore wounds, though the act is very exhausting. Often they would form a bond with a particular animal. Such a bond inseparable and carries on till death. When forced into a melee, enchanters are far from defenseless, having retained their training as a ranger. To be an Enchanter, please peruse the 'Lore' section and read the associated book on magic. Racial Restriction - Anarhin, Isilhin. [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentRogue" style="display: none;"] [class name=stonelyBackgroundrog] width: 200px; height: 300px; background-image: url(https://www.rpnation.com/media/rogue-2.37076/full); border: 5px solid black; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 25%; margin: auto; overflow: hidden; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class=stonelyBoxrog] width: 100%; height: 100%; margin: auto; transition: all 1s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBackgroundrog state=hover] width: 450px; overflow: auto; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyBoxrog state=hover] background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); transition: all 1s ease; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper] height: 300px; width: calc(100%; + 17px); opacity: 0; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyWrapper state=hover] opacity: 1; transition: all 0.5s ease; [/class] [class name=stonelyHeaderrog] color: #262626; text-align: center; font-size: 45px; justify-content: center; -webkit-text-stroke: 2px #d7e5f4; [/class] [class name=stonelyText] height: 223px; width: 465px; color: white; padding: 5px; position: relative; overflow-y: scroll; overflow-x: hidden; margin: auto; [/class] [class name=stoneCredit] font-size: 10px; color: rgba(114, 50, 130, 1); text-align: right; [/class] [div class=stonelyWrapper2][div class=stonelyBackgroundrog][div class=stonelyBoxrog][div class=stonelyWrapper][div class=stonelyHeaderrog]Rogue[/div][div class=stonelyText] INFILTRATOR - Known by many names, Court Assassins, Infiltrators, but perhaps most infamously, Royal Assassins. A popular tavern tale was that the first Court Assassins were enlisted during the 'Dispute of the Five Princes', the war between the five sons of King Sildorin Velahr that claimed many lives and splilt the Tel`Quessir kingdom in two. They appeared as a separate entity, calling themselves the Conclave of Shadows, and offered their services to the feuding princes in exchange for gold. Their existence within the Tel`Quessir is on very peculiar circumstances. Outwardly declared non-existent by the High King, nevertheless, the word among the noble houses was that his son, Crown Prince Luthien Faenalla is the Patron of the Conclave of Shadows. Whether fact or fiction, no one really knows, even the infiltrators themselves would admit they do not know who their true patron is. They simply carry out orders whenever they receive a 'Mark'; a shimmering midnight-blue feather so dark it could be mistaken for black, wrapped in a sealed letter. Not native to any creature known within the land, the feather will disintegrate into bone-white ash moments after it is uncovered by the infiltrator. Despite their nature, there have not been many 'unexplained deaths' over the years, no doubt the ever present threat of the Wretched leaving little room for infighting. Racial Restriction - Isilhin, Anarhin, Human. [/div][/div][/div][/div][/div] [/div]


⊰~3.MAJOR CITIES~⊱

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[class=tabuly] background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/fa/64/aefa6473c8a508402dd46e7387fc785e.jpg); border-radius: 5px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #774503; box-sizing: border-box; color: wheat; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1; margin: 20px auto; min-width: 350px; text-align: center; width: 75%; [/class] [class=taby] box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; padding: 10px 0; width: 25%; [/class] [class name=taby state=hover] background-color: #2b7abb; [/class] [script class=taby on=click] hide tabsContent set currentTab (getText) if (eq ${currentTab} AN`FALITHE) (show tabsContentanfalithe) if (eq ${currentTab} ILSHARI) (show tabsContentilshari) if (eq ${currentTab} NUMENLAD) (show tabsContentnumenlad) if (eq ${currentTab} CAL`ANCALEN) (show tabsContentcalancalen) [/script] [div class=tabuly][div class=taby style="border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-left-radius: 5px;"]AN`FALITHE[/div][div class=taby]ILSHARI[/div][div class=taby]NUMENLAD[/div][div class=taby style="border-top-right-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; width: 25%;"]CAL`ANCALEN[/div][/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentanfalithe"]
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An`Falithe. The oldest standing city of the Tel`Quessir and also the capital. An`Falithe sits on the shores of the Lake Elena (Sea of Stars in Elvish). She has had a long line of noble rulers, from the time of King Ayred. Though the Wretched scour the lands, An`Falithe has always stood strong, a bastion of hope for the forces of Order. Notable landmarks include the Palace, Temple of Felariel and Temple of Anara. Current ruler: High King Althuras Faenalla. [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentilshari" style="display: none;"]
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The forest Haven of Ilshari is home to the Temple of Eweca. The architecture of Ilshari mimics that of the ancient elves, with structures and homes formed by the careful cultivation of the great trees of the Eastern Forests. Bathed in silvery moonlight during the night, Ilshari guards the lands of the Tel`Quessir from the horrors of Mistwood and Fel`Nueleth. Current ruler: Lord Evindall Ellrohir. [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentnumenlad" style="display: none;"]
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Once a small quiet hamlet located by the River Nimras, Numenlad is now an embattled frontier. Acting as a forward base for the Tel`Quessir legions to press against the encroaching Wretched. The lines of battle have been drawn and redrawn around Numenlad for centuries; some say the reddish hue of its dirt roads is due to the spilled blood of the fallen. The forests around Numenlad should not be ventured to alone at any cost, not even in the day. Nevertheless, with the reclaiming of Tal`Velahr, the battlelines have shifted further out west. Being furthest from An`Falithe and also having a significant population of humans also means that all manner of shoddy activity and dealings take place within its narrow winding alleys. Current ruler: High General Haldumar Orcsbane. [/div] [div class="tabsContent tabsContentcalancalen" style="display: none;"]
c78faaf7d8eb310d4dc7b79f43c29292.jpg
The arcane city of Cal`Ancalen stands at the snowy foothills of the Sundered Highlands to the North. Its mountainous terrain and powerful mages have stood the test of the forces of Chaos for centuries, even when the Wretched pushed into the deep south, cutting the people of Cal`Ancalen off from the rest. The Grand Spire at its center is home to the Keepers of Lore and Council of Storms. The latter are elite and powerful stormlords of the Tel`Quessir, while the Keepers' charge, is the Great Library that was carved deep into the mountainside. Fifty years ago, the Nashazim (powerful chaos magic users of the Wretched) sought to breach the enchantments that surround Cal`Ancalen with powerful Chaos magic. But a desperate attack from the then, High King, Erlathan Velahr thwarted the attempt at the cost of his life. Though the spell was disrupted, and Cal`Ancalen's walls remained strong, the large number of Wretched surrounding its lands effectively kept the mages captive in their own city. Until a year ago, when forces from the south arrived to lift the siege, with the aid of the Bluecloak Valiants. Current ruler: Grandmagus Arclord Kharis Bhallen. [/div]

⊰~4.LOREBOOKS~⊱

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Just as there's a certain.. pattern or order to Chaos. So too does Order seek in its own way to fall into chaos. Both sides ever pushing and breaching the seams that bind them together. For though they oppose each other, neither can exist without the other.
Nefari the Arcane

The Unseen World

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1. Soulstream (Order)


2. Materia


3. Possibilities (mirror realm)


4. Dream (Emerald Realm)


5. Gaia


6. Argenon (13 Gates of Death)


7. Primal


8. Zephyr


9. Flow


10. Fury


11. Firmament


12. Chaosstream


. . . .

Ahh, the unseen world... the very foundations on which the Calaseld drew the Overworlds upon. Now, it forms the basis for which the land you call Andarun stand. I have seen the entirety of it with my own eyes... it is.. astounding.. my words fail me. When Iolos created Order, his brother matched him with a similar realm of his own; Chaos. Try as I might, I cannot see much further beyond the firmament into Valos' realm... but what I do know, it is the source of Life from which the chaos creatures derive from, just as all beings of Order draw theirs from the Soulstream.


One might ask, with the firmament clearly defining the borders of Order and Chaos, why then do creatures of Chaos exist on Materia, the plane of existence, or as you mortals call it.. Andarun. Why do the orcs and goblins ravage your lands, the witches take your children? The answer is in the very nature of Chaos and Order itself.


Just as there's a certain.. pattern and order to Chaos. The very fact that Chaos has to be... Chaotic. So too does Order seek in its own way to fall into chaos. Both sides ever pushing and breaching the seams that bind them together. For though they oppose each other, neither can exist without the other.


When the Calaseld drew forth living creation, they placed them in the only plane that can give them form. Materia. Thus, Iolos began a circle of rebirth which Miseli adhered to. Taking a soul from the Soulstream, infusing it with the elements before passing it through the final plane of creation, Gaia. From there, a new being is born. More often than not, mortal beings are infused with more than one element. The elves - Primal, Zephyr, Flow, Fury, Gaia. Saelas - Primal, Zephyr, Flow, Fury, Dream and Gaia. And so forth.


This pattern must be followed, if one seeks to exist on the Materia plane (the only exceptions being the Otherworlders from Chaos, whom may pass through Rifts in the Firmament at will, by-passing the hallowed plane of Gaia altogether. This may be the reason why they often form misshapen creatures of darkness when appearing on Materia. As for the lesser Chaos (orcs and goblins), who inherently dwell on Materia, they go through the same pattern of creation; though their soul derives from the Chaosstream.

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Wielders of the four primary elements. To be able to cast a spell, the Stormlord has to tap into two inherent abilities. Planar Affinity and Manna.


Manna or soul strength, is the driving force through which the Stormlord brings his spells into existence from the other planes. Everytime the Stormlord casts a spell, he taps into the inherent energy of his soul and when it runs out, he will have to rest in order to quickly replenish it. Years or training and experience can expand the Stormlord's manapool, as in the case of Tempests. On top of an expanded Manna pool, Tempests also train themselves to use their Manna as an elemental conflux. A place where they store raw elemental energy or in a direct sense, using themselves as a vessel for elemental power. This short-cut, or brute forcing the elements, allows Tempests to shorten spellcasting time as well as have the energy to cast spells of greater magnitude and complexity. However, due to the very nature of each element, the Tempest can only perform conflux on one element for life; in extremely rare cases, two. If he attempts to store differing elements, there is a huge risk that the clash of energies might result in soulburn rendering him unable to cast any magic for life.


Planar Affinity, unlike Manna cannot be trained. Through studying the ways of a Stormlord, individuals may become more aware of their Planar Affinity and as such become more adept at shaping their spells. However, this threshold will usually be reached by the time the Stormlord graduates from the Academy. Planar Affinity is the Stormlord's soul's inherent understanding of the way the elements flow and exist on the Materia plane. A Stormlord who has fully understood his Planar Affinity is able to weave the spell threads into tidier and more graceful magic runes, allowing him the opportunity to do more complex and intricate spells. e.g. Instead of casting a single icebolt, greater understanding allows the Stormlord to get creative and maybe split the icebolt into a ring of shards at the appropriate time. Planeswalkers are individuals born with very high Planar Affinity thresholds. As they gain understanding of the way the elements flow, they will eventually be able to use this understanding to converse with elemental spirits to the point of being able to summon them into the Materia plane. However, they still require Mana to give the Elemental a form and to be able to bind that Elemental to the form. As such, the Planeswalker must be cautious lest he summon an Elemental too powerful for him to handle.


In essence, planar affinity outlines the shape and blueprint of the spell while Manna is the driving force to bring that spell into existence. When casting a spell, the Stormlord must first use his Planar Affinity to 'see' or 'feel' the veins of raw energy that binds the elemental planes to the plane of Materia. Most 'veins' are of a fixed pattern and perpetuate all of Andarun; these fixed veins forms the basis of all spells. Using manna, the stormlord can begin to 'draw' the vein patterns he needs to form whatever spell he wishes. 'Drawing' can be done literally, as in the case of rune etchings, with finger gestures and to a certain extend with sounds or words. The more vein patterns a stormlord can recognize and memorize, the more spells he can perform. To put things in perspective, a simple icebolt requires a combination of up to 12 vein patterns. In order to fling it at the enemy, an additional 5 vein patterns need to be drawn. Of course, with tireless practice and dedication, a stormlord can become so familiar with the vein patterns he can effectively cast the spell like it was second nature to him. Take for example yourself, here in the classroom now. If I were to tell you to go to the toilet right now, you can immediately imagine taking the necessary 'out the front door', 'two left turns' and 'the long halllway' that you will take to reach your destination; all these you probably imagined in less than a second. If I were to ask you to pack your bags, and return home to An`Falithe, you probably can imagine the journey but it'll take you sometime. Such is the case of casting a spell.


But to become a true master of the elements, it requires more than just memorizing. It requires understanding. If a stormlord knows the exact nature of a vein pattern, and understand how it gives form to a spell, he can use his flair and imagination to perform shortcuts, allowing him to cast spells faster and with less effort.


On staves and amulets - Unlike warriors, a stormlord does not require any physical weapon to fight. In fact, having significant amounts of metallic substances in close proximity to the magus disrupts their connection to the elemental planes and the effort required harness their manna, making it increasingly difficult to cast spells. Nevertheless, staves can be made with special elemental crystals to store raw elemental energy to be used at a later time. This allows the stormlord to cast all manner of spells using the element stored within the staff, without having to rely on his own innate manna reserves. However, the staff's power will eventually deplete and must be recharged using the stormlord's own manna. Amulets work in the same way, though they are more common with Planeswalkers. Many claim that drawing power from a crystal housed in an amulet fashioned with mythrill is easier, compared with an ironbark staff; when used to summon planar spirits.


If you have read this book on Stormlords, please add the word 'Nefari of Storms' to your character application

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  • It is recommended to read the Lorebook on Magic: The Unseen World, to make more sense of how the various creatures of Andarun are categorized.

    Chaos - Creatures whose souls originate from the Chaosstream.

    Order Neutral - Creatures whose souls originate from the Soulstream, and are inherent in Andarun. e.g. Grizzly Bear.

    Fel - Indicates corruption of chaos.

    Order Fel - Are creatures from order (whom entered the world as creatures of Order), whom have been irreversibly corrupted by Chaos. e.g. Were-people, dire wolves.

    Chaos/Fel - Chaos Fel creatures indicate that these creatures's souls originate from the Chaosstream, they are also inherently present and found in the world of Order in corrupted physical bodies. Majority of the commonly sighted chaos creatures are Chaos/Fel. Basically, born in Andarun. e.g. Orcs.

    Chaos/Horror - Chaos Horrors are the first category of 'True Chaos' creatures, deriving their souls from the Chaosstream. Their physical bodies are not 'born' in Materia like that of the Fel, but are the result of the spillover of their chaotic essence into the Materia plane.

    Chaos/Demon - Chaos Demons are the second category of True Chaos creatures. Unlike horrors, demons are mostly attributed to their greater sentience and magical capabilities, allowing them to often derive more clearly defined physical bodies. Demons are the most feared of all creatures of chaos, though the level of power and intelligence among their kin is still very wide, ranging from the elite beast up till the Chaos Princes.

    Wretched - While used by the mortal races to categorize all creatures of chaos, there are many chaos creatures who do not identify themselves strictly to the 'greater notion' of Chaos commonly associated by the term 'Wretched'. Witches for example, usually usually exist for their own selfish gains. On the other hand, some creatures are so irrevocably 'chaotic' they cannot be controlled or tamed by lesser chaos creatures. Non Wretched Chaos examples include: Were-people, Witches, Blood Maidens, Lich.

    Other - Creatures that do not reasonably fall within any of the other categories. e.g. Constructs, denizens or Argenon.

    Cognition - Is rated from a scale of 1 to 10. All races of High Order (humans, elves, dwarves etc.) have a cognitive ability of 9. Any creature that has a cognitive ability beyond that of the mortal races or cannot be reliably compared with have a score of 10.






⊰~5.INDEX~⊱

Goddess - May refer to any one of the three goddesses that the Tel`Quessir worship. Felariel, Anara or Eweca.

The Twins/Twins - When spoken with reverance or in exclamation, likely refers to the goddesses Eweca and Anara.

Felariel - One of the three goddesses that the elves worship. Known as the Lady of the Woods or Mistress of the Hunt. Associated with the cycle of life and the Albino Great Stag. Many rangers seek her blessing before a hunt or battle. Priesthood is comprised of both male and female as well as both Tel`Quessir subraces. There are numerous temples dedicated to Felariel all over Andarun, but the largest is located in An`Falithe.

Faradome - Time of the Hunt. A festival held in honor of Felariel that celebrates the coming of age for the Tel`Quessir, held on the first night of the first day of Spring. Elves who choose to become warriors and rangers head out for a night of orc (or other fel creature) hunting.

Anara - The Sun Goddess. Lady of Dawn. Anara is associated with victory, hope and progress. Sighting of the Golden Thunderbird is considered a good omen. Together with her twin sister Eweca, they govern the circle of days. Priesthood is comprised only of female Anarhin (does not include the Sungarde Warpriests). Nevertheless, Isilhin can still choose to revere the Sun Goddess. The Sun Temple is located in An`Falithe.

Ehtele`mele - A festival held in honor of Anara during the summer solstice. A week of romance and song, celebrating the joys and abundance of life. Is also one of only two periods during the year that the Moonglimmers around An`Falithe are in full bloom.

Eweca - Lady Silverlight. Moon Goddess. Eweca is associated with perseverance, wisdom and unbreakable spirit. The Great Silverwolves are said to be Eweca's messengers. Together with her twin sister Anara, they govern the circle of days. The Priesthood is comprised only of female Isilhin (does not include the Moongarde Warpriests). Nevertheless, Anarhin can still choose to revere the Sun Goddess. The Moon Temple is located in the city of Ilshari.

Yenearsira - A festival in honor of Eweca during the winter solstice. A time of remembrance for the dead and lost. It is a sombre festival but also brings the comfort of closure and acceptance. Also one of only two periods during the year that the Moonglimmers around An`Falithe are in full bloom.

Moonglimmer - Large oak-like trees that grow largely around the city of An`Falithe. Known for their breathtakingly beautiful dark purple Moonglimmer flowers that only bloom during the nights twice a year. On very rare instances, the Moonglimmer tree may produce a shimmering ephemeral white Moonglimmer flower. The white Moonglimmer is said to be a sign of undying love to those that chance upon it. However, a Moonglimmer tree will only bloom a single white moonglimmer (out of the thousands on its branches) for one night during each festival; even then, not every tree is guaranteed to produce them, or so they saying goes.

Grandmagus Archlord Kharis Bhallen - An aging albeit very powerful Fire Tempest, the Grand Magus is hailed as a hero by the Tel`Quessir for his many accomplishments throughout his long lifetime. As the oldest elf among the ruling families, his vast experience and council is often sought after by those who seek to rule with wisdom. He is also the uncle of the High King Alturas Faenalla.

High King Erlathan Velahr - The great grandson of King Ayred Velahr, fourth prince of Sildorin Velahr the Great. He is the last descendant of the line of Sildorin Velhar and had no wife nor children to succeed him. King Erlathan was slain about fifty years ago, attempting to defend Cal`Ancalen from the magical imprisonment of the Wretched's Nashazim.

High King Althuras Faenalla - Althuras was the childhood friend and closest advisor to Erlathan during his reign. Upon the King's death, the crown was passed on to him. Once a brave and brilliant general, Althuras is now a shadow of his former self. It was said that he blames himself for Erlathan's death and had never quite recovered from his grief.

Queen Elmyra Ellrohir - Wife of King Althuras. She passed away giving birth to their third child Nymeria Faenalla about twenty years ago. Her passing weighed heavily on Althuras, who was already burdened by Erlathan's death.

Crown Prince Luthien Faenalla - An ambitious opportunist, Luthien has managed to quickly garner the support of many of the ruling noble houses shortly after his father was crowned as High King and moreso after his mother's death. A charismatic figure, the oldest child of Althuras is often seen by his father's side advising him on almost all matters of governance; though some inwardly question if he really was merely advising or actually pulling puppet strings behind the backdrop.

Amaranth Silverhand, First Princess of An`Falithe - Well respected by the poorer folk and especially the people of Numenlad, she was a Priestess of Felariel during her younger years and very much involved in the hardships of the elves who were closer to the borders. Often seen among the soldiers near the frontlines tending to their wounds with her magic where she earned her title 'Silverhand'. She later joined the rangers and eventually became a Warpriestess, choosing to lead the Tel`Quessir on front in their struggle against the Wretched.

Nymeria Faenalla - The youngest daughter of Althuras and Elmyra. Still considered an adolescent by many and politically insignificant. Playable Character, firstname negotiable

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Lore
& CS Creation~

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left: calc( var(--cir-center-w) - ( 100% - var(--cir-center-w) ) * var(--cir-radius) / 100 - var(--cir-thickness) ); right: calc( 100% - ( var(--cir-center-w) + ( 100% - var(--cir-center-w) ) * var(--cir-radius) / 100 + var(--cir-thickness) ) ); position: absolute; cursor: pointer; border: 0px white solid; transition: border-width .5s ease-in-out 1s; [/class] [class=circleReveal] transition: border-width .5s ease-in-out; border-width: calc(var(--cir-thickness) + 2px); [/class] [class=circleClose] text-align: center; color: gray; top: 50%; left: 50%; font-size: calc( 1vw + 6px); transform: translateX(-50%) translateY(-50%); position: absolute; opacity: 0; transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out; [/class] [class=circleOpen] text-align: center; color: gray; top: 50%; left: 50%; font-size: calc( 1vw + 6px); transform: translateX(-50%) translateY(-50%); position: absolute; opacity: 0; transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out; [/class] [class=circleOpacity] opacity:1; [/class] [script=circle] set isOpen 1 addClass circleReveal circle addClass glazeOpen glaze [/script] [script class=circle on=mouseenter] if (eq ${isOpen} 1) (addClass circleOpacity circleClose) (addClass circleOpacity circleOpen) [/script] [script class=circle on=mouseleave] removeClass circleOpacity circleClose removeClass circleOpacity circleOpen [/script] [script class=circle on=click] removeClass circleOpacity circleClose removeClass circleOpacity circleOpen if (eq ${isOpen} 1) (removeClass glazeOpen glaze) if (eq ${isOpen} 1) (removeClass circleReveal circle) if (eq ${isOpen} 0) (addClass glazeOpen glaze) if (eq ${isOpen} 0) (addClass circleReveal circle) if (eq ${isOpen} 1) (set isOpen 0) (set isOpen 1) [/script] [script=tab] set TabSel 0 set TabHis 1 addClass ShowContent titleContent addClass ShowHeader titleHeader addClass SpokeReveal titleSpoke [/script] [script class=tab on=click] set TabSel (getText) if (eq ${TabSel} ${TabHis}) (stop) //if tab selected is current tab, stop. if (eq ${TabHis} 1) (removeClass ShowContent titleContent) if (eq ${TabHis} 1) (removeClass ShowHeader titleHeader) if (eq ${TabHis} 2) (removeClass ShowContent introContent) if (eq ${TabHis} 2) (removeClass ShowHeader introHeader) if (eq ${TabHis} 3) (removeClass ShowContent requestsContent) if (eq ${TabHis} 3) (removeClass ShowHeader requestsHeader) if (eq ${TabHis} 4) (removeClass ShowContent bbcodeContent) if (eq ${TabHis} 4) (removeClass ShowHeader bbcodeHeader) //hide the text and prepare for SPINNING if (eq ${TabHis} 1) (removeClass SpokeReveal titleSpoke) if (eq ${TabHis} 2) (removeClass SpokeReveal introSpoke) if (eq ${TabHis} 3) (removeClass SpokeReveal requestsSpoke) if (eq ${TabHis} 4) (removeClass SpokeReveal bbcodeSpoke) //spinning to hide spoke complete. Prepare to spin spoke into view if (eq ${TabSel} 1) (addClass SpokeReveal titleSpoke) if (eq ${TabSel} 2) (addClass SpokeReveal introSpoke) if (eq ${TabSel} 3) (addClass SpokeReveal requestsSpoke) if (eq ${TabSel} 4) (addClass SpokeReveal bbcodeSpoke) //spinning complete. Show the new stuff if (eq ${TabSel} 1) (addClass ShowContent titleContent) if (eq ${TabSel} 1) (addClass ShowHeader titleHeader) if (eq ${TabSel} 2) (addClass ShowContent introContent) if (eq ${TabSel} 2) (addClass ShowHeader introHeader) if (eq ${TabSel} 3) (addClass ShowContent requestsContent) if (eq ${TabSel} 3) (addClass ShowHeader requestsHeader) if (eq ${TabSel} 4) (addClass ShowContent bbcodeContent) if (eq ${TabSel} 4) (addClass ShowHeader bbcodeHeader) set TabHis ${TabSel} [/script]

HUGE HUGE PROPS to Alteras Alteras & StoneWolf18 StoneWolf18 for allowing me to make use of the coding!!! All credit goes to them for the beautiful work-of-art ^3^!
Elvish Language Resources: Ed'Lammen & Common Phrases Credits to Thranduil Graywolf of the Grey Company.
If you can't see the word docs, try downloading or opening in google doc's
 
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⊰~B L O O D S W O R N - The Lost Child~⊱
All elvish translations can be found at the bottom, unless intentionally vague​


2f5bf4cf021952985e41b14c27b947e6.jpg
The late morning sun filtered in through the decorated open walls of the Gilded Throneroom, bringing with it the silvery trickle of a brook and the faintest hint of a bustling city. Built into the side of a hill, the the source of the Tel`Quessir's might overlooked elegant terraces of tall pines and carved wood and polished marble structures. Though artificial in nature, the city blended seamlessly into the surrounding great trees, cascading down into a brilliant blue-green expanse of Lake Elena just like the rushing waterfall by its side. The Gilded Throneroom as it was called. Adorned with majestic wood carvings and coppery metalwork the throne room was draped in a contrast of colours, with the array of morning light glancing off its polished surfaces while the relative dark of its high ceiling cloaked it in shadow. The was a smattering of people in the far end, where the throne was situated. Servants and other official attendants flitted to and fro, ever present in case they were needed, but carefully inconspicuous so as not to let their presence intrude. The quiet of the morning was suddenly interrupted by a commotion. It seemed to originate from beyond the large ornate Ghaastwood doors, though the people within the gilded halls were as of yet unaware; the thick walls of the portal muffling nearly all sound.

"Paly'annon sina coiasira!" Her usually calm alto voice was now replaced by a rather terse accentuation, her exasperation evident in the stiffness of her back. With hair as red as maple leaves in fall, the figure dressed in the elegant stormy blue official gown could be described more as striking rather than beautiful. She jabbed her finger in the direction of the imposing doors that led into the throneroom. The Royal Guard in his olive green and silver livery, to his credit, stood his ground for a few moments longer than his predecessor, though his constantly shifting eyes betrayed his waning resolve. He looked to his comrades, eyes pleeding with them to back him up, but they deliberately kept their gaze away; as if they wanted no part in this.
"Paly'annon sina coiasira!" - Open the door right now!

"Tarien en'amin.. amin'cael naia, Aran il'ruukina..." The guard attempted to explain, though his volume very quickly diminished. Just like his manhood initial bravado. He cursed his foolishness. Darian had warned him about the Princess and her spat with the Crown Prince before he took up the post, right after his predecessor had resigned - with the excuse of wanting to find his soul again with the priesthood of Felariel. I mean, how bad could it be? He had resoned. Door guard? Well away from the fighting with a decent pay to boot?
"Tarien en'amin.. amin'cael naia, Aran il'ruukina..." - My Princess... I have orders, the King must not be disturbed.

"Mano naia?" She said, deadpan. Though he swore her words felt like the tip of a blade against his throat. There was something about the way she asked it, as if she knew the answer, but only wanted to hear it from his lips. He couldn't help but feel like a criminal being forced to sentence himself to the dungeons.
"Mano naia?" - Whose orders?

"T-Tel'Taren." Ten years on the chopping block... wait what? Inadvertently a tremor snuck its way in despite his best attempts to keep his voice steady.
"T-Tel'Taren." - The Prince.

"Tel`Taren?" The guard's almond shaped eyes bulged in their sockets as his blood froze in his veins. It was not a question. It was spoken like an insinuating remark with such spite the Princess put the best Frost Tempests' of Cal`Ancalen to shame. The other guard unwittingly rubbed his forearms as if the room temperature had dropped several degrees colder. Amaranth let out a sigh and turned to fix her full gaze on the poor guard, her amber eyes narrowed dangerously. She drew a breath.
"Tel`Taren?" - The Prince?

"Open it." Spoken in commons.

"Yal'ero! Yal'ero Tarien en'amin!" The guard snapped to attention. His fist banged against his armored chest so hard there was a dull echoing ring, but he did not so much as flinch at the pain. He bowed to the princess and turned to signal to unseen gatekeepers. There was a brief pause, then an sharp click followed by the low rumble of rotating gears as the great doors of the Gilded Throneroom opened. See? It's not that hard... Amaranth tilted her head in a courtesy gesture of thanks and stepped through the doorway with a swish of her dressrobes. Almost as soon as she was through, there was another audible click as the gears reversed and the doors swung shut.
"Yal'ero! Yal'ero Tarien en'amin!" - At once! At once m'Princess!

"Tarien en'amin." Two soft voices spoke in perfect unison. Amaranth nodded as two female attendants in matching white and silver trimmed garb appeared and curtseyed before her. Out of habit, she gestured for them to return to their posts despite knowing that was one order that they would never obey. She never quite understood that at first, until a chance occurrence made her realize that the Head Attendant had taken an oath to keep her safe. On the onset, it she felt a certain measure of incredulity; the palace should be the safest place for her to be. But as the years drew on, until that fated moment when she met Israfael again in the dark of the night... Slim fingers subconsciously clutched at her throat, from where he had placed the edge of his dagger. She knew then that there was nowhere safe. That it was now time to cast aside her naivety, that even her own people, would stoop so low.

She walked the length of the long hall, her even strides muffled by the lush vermilion carpet that let up to the throne. She kept her gaze furrowed, unwavering and focused into the center of the small gathering of lords and nobles. One by one they turned, sliding out of the way, dark looks and whispers trailing in her wake. She stopped several feet before the elaborate throne, adorned with marble and the vines of some ancient tree. Sat on it was a tall isilhin, with platinum hair of a luster of purest mythrill and deep set silver eyes that once sparkled with intelligence brighter than the finest diamonds. At one point in time, she had looked at his broad frame with reverence... awe.. and love. Now he was but a shell of the man he once was. The workmanship of the finest tailors in all of Andarun adorned his frame, but no clothing could hide the fact that he was wasting away before her eyes.

"Atar."
"Atar." - Father.

edbbf7e92fb2c007ff3f813182a1bd7a.jpg
Amaranth curtseyed before the High King of the Tel`Quessir, an open palm across her heart. But when she raised her eyes to meet his, she realized she might as well have been the carpet laid bare on the ground. His eyes stared into hers, but saw nothing. She almost could not bear it, the sight of him dipped her resolve for but a moment; but she held her chin proudly and smiled at him.

"My dear sister! Fancy seeing you here..." Oh here it comes.

"Brother." She replied curtly, barely sparing the silver haired isilhin who stood by her father's side a glance. Without looking at his face, she knew every plane of his finely chiseled features. The high cheekbones, slim pale pink lips that always seem to curl into a half smile and the grey eyes that never quite reflected the smile that so often brightened his face and fluttered the hearts of many maidens. The future of her people. Or so everyone believed. Amaranth took a step forward, trying to find some sort of light in her father's dead eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Luthien interrupted her again.

"Did you.. impose yourself on the poor gatekeeper again? You do know how hard it is to find reliable replacements y'know?"

"Maybe if you stopped giving them foolish orders, then maybe I won't have to brute my way in here just to speak to my own father." She nearly spat back her retort.

"Tsk tsk tsk tsk... this behaviour is highly unbecoming for a princess of the land. How will we ever find you-"

"AND DON'T YOU THINK SITTING HERE AND PLANNING YOUR NEXT ORGY WITH THESE -!!" Amaranth caught her insult before it left her lips, before continuing "These... people is RATHER UNBECOMING FOR A PRINCE OF THE LAND..!?" She whirled on him then, her voice rising in a crescendo as she jabbed an accusing finger at the shocked crowd of nobles and painted ladies. Their incessant whispers grew louder, and she thought she might scream at them to get out, but knew that would be going too far.

Luthien feigned a dramatic gasp. "My... my.... hush now, that's rather insensitive..." The prince sulked, genuinely sounding hurt on behalf of his guests. "Whatever gave you that thought dearest sister? We were just discussing important matters of state before you decided to barge your way in here-"

"Wethrinaer!" She heard several shocked gasps coming from the crowd, but to his credit, Luthien merely arched a carefully plucked eyebrow at her outburst.
"Wethrinaer!" - Bullshit/Liar. (insult)

"Important matters of state?!" Her cheeks were now flushed, she knew Luthien was merely playing her like a fiddle and somehow knew today would yet be another futile attempt at getting her father to react to something. To anything. She turned back to her father, trying to address him directly. "Father... why have you sanctioned the order for General Ethrimbor to return from Tal`Velahr? We have barely established our positions and our troops are spread thin!" She paused for a moment, hoping to see something in his greying eyes. Anything. "Do you understand what you have done... father... please..." It almost sounded like she was pleading. Amaranth took another step forwards until she was right up before the gilded throne. She knelt and clutched at his hands, surprised at how cold his skin was to the touch. King Althuras flinched and withdrew his hands into his lap, turning away as if to avoid his daughter gaze. Her heart nearly broke. Why are you doing this? To me... to your people....

"Now now... there's no need to distress father any more, dear sister." Luthien's voice had taken on a sharper edge, and despite her longing, Amaranth withdrew herself back from the throne. Though it was not her brother that she was concerned about, but the despair that darkened her heart at her father's dismissal. She dimly heard Luthien speaking again, and then the murmuring of an acquiescent crowd. But everything faded into a dull wall of muted grey.

⊰~❇~⊱​

The remainder of the meeting, her departure from the throne room. It all passed by in a blur. Amaranth soon found herself wandering the quiet halls of the palace aimlessly, mechanically acknowledging the occasional servant as they passed by. She did not know how long she had walked, or what time of day it was when she absentmindedly glanced out at the shrouded sky.

Amaranth... Amaranth... Amaranth...

What was that? Did someone call her? Was it her own voice-?

Amaranth...

There it was again! Someone had called her. Amaranth shook herself out of her brooding stupor, eyes wide as she scanned the long stone walkway she did not recall stepping into. She vaguely remembered this part of the palace, a sheltered path leading towards an old garden which was no longer in use. The stonework was older, with more vines creeping up the pillars on either sides of the walkway. A cloud was passing overhead, bringing with it the rustle of fallen leaves as a breeze billowed across the unkempt garden. She felt cold all of a sudden, a chill that crept up the spine of her back.

Amaranth.... quenathra... Her steps faltered. The voice... it sounded like it was inside her head. Her heart begun to thump in her chest, nearly drowning out all other sound. Something was coming.... she could feel it... taste it in the air... Another rush of wind buffeted the stark trees that stood like silent guardians around the garden. Leaves spun and roiled, they gathered, spinning around in a vortex as they flitted across the long grass...
full
Then she saw it... no... her... She stood a score yards off to the side, out at the farthest edge of the garden. Partially concealed by a pine tree. She wasn't very tall, a small petite green figure, dressed in a garment of woven leaves, and with even more leaves seemingly braided no... growing out of her hair. And crowning her head, what at first seemed like antlers, looked more like branches the longer the princess stared at the enigmatic figure. And despite the overcast weather, the anarhin could almost clearly make out her features. She appeared childlike, with a small nose and rounded features... but the most striking thing, was her eyes. They gleamed with a yellowish green glow, they held Amaranth there transfixed.

W-What... Who... are you? Amaranth thought she spoke the question, but realized she said it in her head. She was about to repeat the question out loud when the girl spoke again. Only this time, she was sure she heard it in her mind as she 'heard' her voice but the Woodchild's lips remained tightly sealed.

Suledin n'hin... sint'dirthavaren... ro'quenathra wanwa melana... She did not understand a single word, though something told her she knew exactly what it meant. The Woodchild's words struck a chord within her, as if a doorway to the deepest reaches of her soul had been opened, but she had never known was there.

Wait... Amaranth reached out a hand towards the child, but she gasped as a thousand visions suddenly flashed across her mind's eye. Voices in an unknown tongue spoke in a cacophony of unintelligible noise and though she could not understand anything, she could feel the emotions of a thousand lives running through her frame. There was terror, then euphoria, brief happiness, utter horror, and finally, a great sadness. It rended her heart in two, and her eyes watered with the tears for an inexplicable tragedy that Amaranth did not know but knew. Then as soon as it came, the feeling passed. Amaranth blinked her eyes, the child was gone...



⊰~Translation~⊱

"Paly'annon sina coiasira!" - Open the door right now!

"Tarien en'amin.. amin'cael naia, Aran il'ruukina..." - My Princess... I have orders, the King must not be disturbed.

"Mano naia?" - Whose orders?

"T-Tel'Taren." - The Prince.

"Tel`Taren?" - The Prince?

"Yal'ero! Yal'ero Tarien en'amin!" - At once! At once m'Princess!

"Atar." - Father.

"Wethrinaer!" - Bullshit/Liar. (insult)

Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater Raziel Raziel Lefic Lefic
 
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The owl ruffled his feathers and turned his back.
Apparently plain bird seed was not a suitable offering to win his affections.
His classic owl-shape is utterly lost in that exaggerated ruffling of snowy feathers, beady onyx eyes flickering towards the Isilhin in distaste.

A frown ticked at the corner of his mouth, cerulean eyes narrowing back at the owl. "If you don't like it then don't eat."
The bird tilted it's head from side to side in sharp movements bringing it's attention back to the seed nestled in the palm of the shadowed figure. He swore for a second that the owl huffed before spreading those impressive ivory wings and taking off. "So you won't eat that either..." He muttered, watching as the bird seed fell out of his palm and onto the ground.

Israfael quietly look out a note pad and crossed off a word that had been messily scribbled on. Above that were others of the same nature, messy slanted words all crossed off with a single dark line through the middle. He paused for a moment before writing just under it Meat?

Salazzar was by far the pickiest bird he had ever met.

Putting the small ink pen and the paper back in the pocket of his coat, Israfael stood from his squatting position. The stone path that he stood on was punctuated with weeds and was cracked beyond repair. The dishevelled, un-manicured lawn was more moss than grass and was over shadowed by a huge pine that rained dark needles upon the dank and squishy ground. Clusters of defiant daffodils reared their golden heads amidst the gloom and there were scatters of fuchsia along side the scarlet and saffron hued primroses. The garden had once been beautiful, but Israfael had suspected that no one had come to take care of it in centuries. He, however, found sanctuary among the twisted and gnarled landscape. It was usually quiet here and the shadows were the thickest in this part of the palace.

His hands skimmed across the leather of his pants, brushing off some stray needles. Israfael had planned to head towards the more populated area of the castle, perhaps sneak into the throne room in order to keep tabs on recent events. But the sound of a strangled noise reached his ears before he even took another step. Glancing around the giant mass of a pine tree, he noticed a figure with its back turned to him. The figure looked vaguely familiar and the longer he stared at the more he realized why. The stranger wore a blue dress and was obviously feminine, but it was the hair that had him jump to the conclusion of whom the entity was.

Israfael made his way around the pine tree slowly, being sure to hug it's shadow as not to startle her with his appearance. He couldn't see her face, but he was sure that she had been lost in thought considering that she hadn't seemed to move from the spot she was in. He leaned close enough to her so that his breath tickled the shell of her ear, "What are you doing here, ai'mithe?"

The question was innocent, but the candor to his tone held a more mischievous, if not amused, meaning. Israfael studied her from under his hood, taking in the slight paleness to her otherwise more bronzed complexion. His brows furrowed and even though his expression didn't outwardly change there was a shift in his gaze. He stood up a bit straighter and cast his gaze around the disheveled garden. His guard was always up, but seeing her shaken somehow provoked his paranoia more than usual. Confirming that there was no one in their immediate vicinity, the ex-assassin turned his attention back to the woman beside him. "Did something happen?" He questioned, curious if not a bit concerned.

There had been no shortage of violence here in the palace. It was one of the only things that remained constant among the slivering nobles. Despite the war that raged beyond these walls, the nobility always sought the employment of people like Israfael, trading lives for societal powers. It was disgusting in his opinion, but their lusts for power meant that his purses were always full. Or at least it did until he stopped being their murderous errand boy. In an odd twist of fate he now found himself killing only to protect the same mark that he himself was unable to kill. He also gathered information for her on the side, putting his training to use for other things than killing was a bit jarring at first. But after the first couple 'lectures' from Amaranth he had at least learned to show some restraint....or just clean house whenever she wasn't looking. He wasn't even sure she knew how many attempts on her life were made in a single week and as long as he did his job she would never need to know.


⊰~Translation~⊱
ai'mithe- A nickname Israfael has always used for Amaranth, means 'little rat'​
 
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The light spilling outside of the open doors of the tavern was warm and inviting, cast out by the fire that was flickering in its hearth. A moose’s head, mounted above the fireplace, seemed to keep vigilance, its unblinking glass eyes perpetually fixed upon the door. To the right of the room, a counter was manned by a burly Edan with long chestnut hair and a plaited beard. To the side of the counter was a rickety staircase, leading up to the rentable rooms above the main tavern. Girls in attractively-tailored rags were floating from table to table, from Edans to the occasional Elf, taking orders and serving food and drink. Ale-fuelled, raucous laughter rang out and echoed off of the battered walls, joined by the peals of tankards clinking together and the din of slurred, chattering voices. From the ambience filling the room of The Roasting Pig, it looked as though the residents of Numenlad had forgotten about the danger of their city, with the Wretched right on their doorstep.

In the very corner of the room where the fire’s light did not reach, a young woman, bathed in shadow, sat alone, eyeballing the dozens of tavern-goers before her. She sized them all up, her brain almost effortlessly formulating plans to make money from each person.

Recently, the amount of Marks that Sanine had been receiving from the Conclave of Shadows had been running dry. In other words, not having worked an honest job in her entire life, she was skint.

Her eyes were still flitting from person to person, evaluating their wealth and how easy they would be to steal from when, suddenly, a commotion in the middle of the room had caused her to perk up. A rowdy Edan, thick with muscle, was rounding people up. The amount of gold he slapped down on a nearby table made Sanine gasp.

“Come on! Anyone of you weaklings up for a little fight?” he roared arrogantly, his booming voice like a crash of lightning. He grinned cockily at the throng of people that had formed around him.

Elven soldiers, out looking for fun, were already placing bets on the brutish Edan, who was now thumping his chest insufferably. Sanine whipped her head over to glance at the tavern-owner. He was leaned over the counter, chin in hand, with an amused expression on his face.

“Just no furniture!” called out the owner, giving his blessing for the brawl. Sanine chuckled to herself, recalling how she had splintered a chair over her opponent’s head in her last brawl. That had led to a full-tavern fight, with everyone throwing whatever they could get their hands on, tables, chairs, tankards, plates, their unfinished meals, and trying to wrestle the first person they saw.

Licking her lips hungrily, Sanine stood up from her chair and called out, “I’ll take you on!” Her tone had a cold, mock-friendliness to it, with a hint of amusement ringing in her rough voice. The whole tavern craned their necks around to stare at her as she emerged from her shadowy corner, some snickering as they bet even more money on the brawny man. The young assassin raked her fingers through her hair as she stalked up to him, slipping past the ring of people that had formed around him. They all stepped back, giving the two brawlers a wider berth.

There was a period of silence during which the two of them stood completely still, staring at each other, sizing the other up. No one dared utter a word.

Goddesses, he was even more massive up close. The threads of his tunic were pulled taut by his bulging muscles, barely able to contain his body. He was bald, with two thick, bushy eyebrows above brown, deep-set eyes and a blunt chin. His nose was crooked in several places, most probably the souvenirs from countless fights, and Sanine had no doubt in her mind that his thick skull could have easily doubled as a helmet. She made a mental note to avoid any headbutts from him.

He was the first to break the silence. “Don’t think that just because you’re a lady that I’ll go easy on you, wench,” he sneered, trying to elicit anger out of Sanine.

She merely grinned. Kicking his face in would be fun.

The female let her body fall into a fighting stance, indicating to her opponent that she was ready to fight. She danced around him, waiting for him to strike first. After observing her in interest for a few seconds, the man’s lips slackened, dropping its usual cocky grin and his eyes went dead with concentration. His fist slammed downwards, yet, instead of connecting with anything solid, it flew through air to rest at his side. A snarl pricked at the corner of his lips. He whipped his head around to see Sanine bouncing around in a completely different location than before, her hair swishing behind her. She could almost hear the tightening of his muscles as he curled his fingers into a fist. Quicker than a flash, he drove his fist forward where her chest should have been, pushing a gust of air forwards, but the girl had already dropped to the floor, delivering a sharp kick to his shins before she shot up again on the other side of him. After this same sort of exchange continued for a while, the man’s barrel-shaped chest was visibly heaving.

“Stop your prancing and fight me!” he roared as she ducked under another one of his swings.

Now is the time, she thought. And as he was propelled forward by another one of his missed punches, Sanine concentrated all of the muscles in her arm into delivering a lightning-fast jab to his solar plexus. He doubled over, wheezing for air. She arced her leg around her enemy, stretching it upwards as high as she could before cracking it down like a whip into the back of his skull, driving his head into the floor with a clunk. Unconscious.

Kicking the loser’s head away from beneath her boot, Sanine sashayed over towards the pile of gold on the nearby table. “I believe this belongs to me,” she purred as she swiped her winnings into her purse.

The tavern was still silent when she walked away, out into the streets of Numendal.
 
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"Lad...ladie...Ladies!" Eleveil managed to extricate himself from the limbs of the two women on the bed. It hadn't helped that they'd been holding onto him, refusing to let him leave their side. As flattered as he was, it wasn't like his prowess as a lover was what kept him in the bed. The air was chilly and his warmth was offsetting it. It was very regretful that he had to leave, honestly, but he had things to do and princesses to meet. Getting dressed was a simple affair, another reason he was thankful that he wore light armor instead of something heavier. Seeing the men who had to wear full plate just gave him an uncomfortable feeling.

Looking over to the corner of the room where Zephyr was resting, he grinned and walked over, picking up the glaive and gave it a simple spin. Despite that he didn't enjoy killing, he did love this weapon, he never really felt complete without it. With ease, he strapped it to his back and headed out the door and down the stairs. He actually would rather not be here. An`Falithe just stank of politics, but he was a man of his word and had to be here.

Even worse, he'd been ordered by General Ethrimborto be here so he couldn't go back on his word. If he remembered correctly, the man said something like "You can't refuse the Princess when she is determined" and had honestly looked like he'd preferred to stay out and fight the Wretched. Whether that was due to the princess herself or just the politics of An`Falithe. Eleveil wished to be back in Ilshari, there was something special about spending time with a woman under the silvery moonlight..

He shook his head as he reached the ground floor. As opposed to other inns and taverns, this one was quiet for the morning, the revelers from the previous night having filtered out long ago. He could imagine that the soldiers back in Numenlad were having a grand old time, getting into fights and losing their money. They always got cocky about their larger stature and it was always fun to teach them a lesson, a captain had to punish their subordinates for insubordination. If it hadn't been for his commitments he would have been there too, but no. Being one of the fastest combatants allowed him to freely move across the land, getting to An`Falithe much earlier than the rest of the army.

Sitting down at the bar, he ordered something to eat, lots of meat preferred. He had to get his energy back for the day as he was sure it was going to be busy. While he waited for his meal to come to him, he pulled out some papers from his bag. He couldn't actually remember exactly where he was supposed to be meeting the Princess. He just hoped it wasn't somewhere stuffy.
 
Collaborative post with Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater

There weren't many who could sneak up on her in all the realm. A princess she may be, Amaranth was very an accomplished ranger enchantress of her own; plus living half your life double checking the shadows to make sure there was no hidden blade made you subconsciously more aware of your environment.

But the man whose voice euphoniously titillated her ears was the Prince of Shadow himself. And he had caught her in a moment of vulnerability, blankly staring out at the garden wondering if she was day dreaming and had in fact, seen a vision from the Goddess herself. She should've been startled, but instead slowly turned to regard the isilhin with wide staring eyes. She reached out a hand to gently touch the side of his face, as if she thought him an ephemeral spirit. His skin felt warm to the touch.

"Israfael..?" She spoke, her voice sounded faraway. "Mankoi lle sinome?"
"Mankoi lle sinome?" - Why are you here?

Her skin brushed against his and the contact caused him to flinch away momentarily. A single dark brow arched in mute question. She seemed distracted or at least very distant and a piece of him wondered what had happened to cause her such distress.

"That is a question I should be asking you, ai'mithe." The snark to his response did not hold its usual bite and the wry smile that flickered upon his lips offset the remark. It took his brain only a handful of seconds to digest the language switch, but even so he stood there quietly for a few moments. Watching her. Concern glittered in the depths of forest green irises, raising his own hand slowly to press against the back of hers. She had never touched him so openly before.

"I was with Salazzar...." His voice trailed off as he slow removed her hand from the side of his face, "Lle tyava quel?"
There was another hint of guttural concern in his voice as his azure orbs narrowed in on her face. This was not like her to be so aloof. In the many years they had known one another as children, she had never struck him as spacey. The way she was acting set him on edge and a bit of forboding clenched at his gut. He was beginning to wonder if she had been poisoned while he was out messing with an unruly bird. She did not display any signs of fever, however, and she wasn't convulsing or foaming at the mouth.
"Lle tyava quel? -Do you feel well?

"Salazzar.." She whispered after him, her eyes searching in the space around them as if she expected to see the snowy white avian staring at them with its beady eyes.

"Amin..." Her voice trailed off, then sudden clarity returned to her amber eyes and she whirled back to the rogue.
"Amin..." - I...

"Rafe! Did you see her?!" She clutched at his cloak with sudden urgency.

He blinked down at her, his expression impassive as always even as her fingers curled around the fabric of his cloak. His brows rose, looking from the way her fingers encircled the pitch fabric of his cloak to her face. Israfael was more than a tad concerned at this point, she had never acted in this way before and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He stood there silent for a moment, so still that she could have been clutching at a statue.

"Did I see....who?"

He question came out slowly as if he were talking to a child. The corners of his mouth slanted into a slight frown. His gaze drifted away from her face and back to the gardens around them, as if double checking what he had already known; they were alone here and that was a fact he was more than certain of.

"A little girl!" She frowned at him, she could sense that he didn't quite believe her. Exasperated, Amaranth pointed to where she had seen the woodchild. "Right by that pine... she was unlike any I've seen. Greenish skin, but not like that of a goblin, more plantlike, like a flower stem... She had antlers... or branches growing out of her head... with leaves..." She trailed off, her brow furrowed as she tried to recall what she had witnessed.

"Didn't you at least... hear us talking..?"

His gaze followed her gesture, staring at the empty space by the pine. Israfael stayed quiet, mentally computing the information that she had given him. He wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but he did know that she had never been one to fabricate stories. If she said that she saw this...flower child then perhaps there was some truth to it. Or she could have huffed too much moon sugar. Did Amaranth even indulge in illicit substances?

His gaze swung back to her, discreetly looking over her to make sure that she didn't have an injury he had somehow missed before. There was no dent in her head, no blood to be found, and her balance seemed to be eerily perfect. The only exception, the only ailment he could pinpoint, was the slightly pale tint to her bronzed skin.

"No." He drawled the word out just slightly, bringing his hands up to her shoulders in an attempt to gently pry her from gripping at his cloak. Perhaps she was just under a lot of stress? His mind whirled, logically trying to explain what she was describing to him without labeling her as insane.

"No..?" She reiterated.

"No." He said again.

There was a moment of silence that hung heavy between them, before a sigh slipped past his lips. His gaze swung up toward the sky, a muttered curse rolling just under his exhale of breath. Rafe looked back down at her face, crossing his arms over his chest, "Fine. What...did she tell you?"

"She..."

Was he really entertaining this? Maybe Amaranth had lost it when he wasn't looking. This could have all been some elaborate joke on her part, she knew that he didn't always understand pranks....yet the way she was acting seemed to be a little too serious to just be a joke. And if it had really happened? Then what? He didn't know how to fight these fanciful visions, he didn't know how to help her with this plant child. And he really didn't like how useless to her he felt in that second.

Amaranth squinted her eyes shut, trying to piece together the memory of her encounter. It had only just happened but the details of what transpired seemed to be fast fading into a jumbled mess of fragmented thoughts. There were so many voices... in a language she did not understand... how could she remember what the girl had said?

"S-Suledin n'hin, sint'dirthavaren... ro'quenathra wanwa melana..." It came out as barely a whisper. Her hand flew to cover her lips, as if she had lost control of her voice and had unwittingly said something she shouldn't have.

He felt himself still. Every muscle in his body tense. It was as if she had struck him with that phrase, the air leaving his lungs as he took half a step back. Amaranth, for as long as he had known her, never spoke the language of the ancients. In fact, most nobles neglected to teach their children anything of the dying dialect.
But Israfael knew.
His mother, his real mother, had spoken it to him as a small child. One of his earliest memories was of her speaking to him in the language of old, and her jovial expression.

"What did you just say?" It wasn't really a question. More like a shocked retort to words that he had not heard in nine decades. To say he believed her now was a bit of an understatement, she had undoubtedly convinced him that this conversation with...whatever it was had truly happened. Israfael stepped away from her slightly, dragging his fingers through his silver hair. "Are you sure that's what she said?" When she didn't respond immediately he turned his body towards her and frowned, his eyes narrowing. He caught her nod and his frown only seemed to grow, "Say it again. Slower this time."

She looked a little uncertain, but repeated the phrase without missing a beat. His gaze moved to the ground, glaring at the misshapen stones under his feet.

"Find a girl....a bloodoath? And something about no time....before it comes?" He shook his head, features twisting into a scowl. It didn't make any sense. What girl? A bloodoath? What was coming? He pressed a finger to his temple, struggling to fill in the blanks. But there were words he didn't recognize and the passage of time had damaged his fluency. "I haven't heard the old language in so long....but it is a warning of some kind." He breathed a short sigh, nose scrunching as he turned back to look at her with an added seriousness to his gaze. "The Grandmagus would know more. He is most likely far more fluent than I."

"I spoke..- that was... in Old Tongue..." The revelation that she had just spoken in a language she knew almost nothing about shocked her more than anything. But as the implications of what Israfael had translated settled on her thoughts, she could not help but feel a certain sense of foreboding.

"Bloodoath? Could it be a reference to the Tengwagar*?" What was happening to her? She was by no means a Seer, she never had visions before. If that was a warning from the Goddess, wouldn't it have come from the High Priestess? Who was that child? A dozen questions clouded her mind all at once, coupled with the strange encounter and the upsetting events with her father, Amaranth felt like the stability and control she had worked so hard to achieve was rapidly fleeting from her grasp.
*"...Tengwagar" - See "Forgotten Promises" section of main thread.

His shoulders lifted into a half shrug, "Your guess is as good as mine, ai'mithe."

Rafe was right, they had to find the Grandmagus. If ever there was anyone who would know about the ancients, it would be Kharis Bhalen. She looked into the eyes of her closest friend, thankful as always that she had someone with whom she could trust even in her most vulnerable moments. It was ironic, given that he was an assassin. She drew a quick steadying breath and offered him a smile.

"Elder Kharis is still at his Tower last I heard. Best we get to him now."

He nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way, "After you, Princess."


⊰~ * ~⊱

The cold damp air wrapped around him like a heavy coat of chain mail as he ascended the tight spiral staircase to the Grandmagus' chambers. Israfael sulked behind, subconsciously keeping towards the more darker parts of the stairs. His gaze was constantly moving as if paranoid that some sort of threat would leap out of the shadows to face him. When the duo reached the large wooden doors at the top of the stairs, he pushed them open before allowing her to move into the room ahead of him. The circular chambers had a particularly nasty stench, like a dirty old rag left in the sun for far too long. There were spilled puddles of steaming potions across the stone floors, the shelves that lined the walls were crammed with glass jars of repulsive ingredients like sheep intestines, pickled lizard brains, rabbit eye balls, snakes tongue and rat's ears. Israfael's nose crinkled in an expression of disgust. How did the Grandmagus work in these conditions? He stepped carefully into the room, grimacing at the tacky feeling of his boots against the stone floor.

"Da'lin, forgive me I did not hear you come in." There was a rustling in the back of the room and a period of silence before the face of a wizened old man peeked around a large stack of books.
"Da'lin" -Old Elvish for child

"Yaaraer." Amaranth smiled brightly as she curtseyed to the wizened old elf. The smell of old parchment, rustic spellbooks and bubbling potions filled her with a serene sense of nostalgia. This was the place she grew up in, where she spent countless hours listening to epic tales of heroes from legends of old, where she ran to when she was upset about injustices she had no power to change. That was what stories gave her, belief and hope. That was what the old man, had given her.
"Yaaraer." - Ancient/old one (affectionate respect)

She offered a wry smile to Rafe again, quite aware that he was a little uncomfortable in the old mage's quarters, but knew he appreciated the wizened elf as much as she did, in his own way. If he noticed the expression she gave him, he didn't offer any in return. His focus almost completely on the jars of various questionable substances.

"Yaaraer... I... so much has happened since you were gone..." Amaranth began haltingly.

The old elf hummed, giving Amaranth a partly toothless smile. His once bright green eyes were glazed with a cloudy look that probably hindered his eyesight more and more with the passing of time. There were moments where the Grandmagus' eyes seemed to stray a bit off from them and it led Israfael to the conclusion that he was either completely blind or just about. Not that the impairment seemed to handicap him at all given the way he still was able to work around this mess. "Explain what you can, child."

Israfael put his back against the far wall, crossing his arms and mutely watching the exchange between the two. There was a beat of silence before the Grandmagus seemed to look up and over in his direction, "Be careful where you slouch, boy, I have many rare ingredients on those shelves."

Rafe leaned away from the wall, arching a brow at the slight scolding he had just received. Mentally, he took back all of his previous assumptions about the old mage.

She spent a good amount of time explaining to the old mage what had transpired. It took longer than usual as Amaranth took the opportunity to keep Grandmagus Bhalen abreast of all the events, especially of the High King's growing obsession in recalling their troops from the front. It was a lot to take in, in one go. Amaranth was aware that Kharis had his own issues to deal with back home in Cal`Ancalen, but if anyone had the capacity and insight to sort it all out, it was him.

"She had skin as vibrant green as that of a plant... a-and..." Amaranth was in the midst of finishing up her story of the Woodchild.
"Don't forget about the antlers, that part's the best---"
"She said these... these.. words. I-I don't know how I remember them... Rafe says its in Old Tongue..."

The Grandmagus' head whipped in the direction of where the assassin shuffled against the wall, those cardiac coated eyes staring at him for longer than what was comfortable. "And what do you know of the Old Tongue, boy?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but the way it was phrased was almost accusatory. "I only know what I remember learning as a child, Grandmagus." His answer was steady, calm, and the cadence to his voice was void of any obvious emotion. For a moment the chambers filled with a heavy silence before Kharis turned back to Amaranth with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

"If what you say is true, then I am afraid I cannot be of much assistance. However, the Woodchild as you described reminds me of something....a book I believe that I have read somewhere..." He trailed off, blindly turning towards his stack of books and grasping for a piece of parchment and an ink quill. "Unfortunately my memory becomes a bit more muddled everyday, the price of being old they say." He chuckled a bit at his own words, scribbling something down on the paper before holding it out in the general direction of Amaranth. "There is a...well...I guess you kids would call her a Librarian, in Cal`Ancalen. I would travel with you, but I have business to attend to here." There was a hint of regret in the old man's voice as he placed a hand on the side of Amaranth's shoulder.

"Dear girl I would advise caution, the roads are much less safe than what some would make it out to be... and its not the Wretched I'm worried about." Kharis hesitated for a moment, before he drew a long breath and continued in a grave tone, "Heed my advice and gather those you trust. I know not what the Librarian will ask of you, but I do know that it will not be without it's trials."

"I... will. Thank you, Yaaraer."
She offered the aging mage a smile, it felt bittersweet. She saw the weariness in his eyes, but there was also a spark in it. A fire that would not be put out. It comforted her, to know someone who saw the world for what it is. To stare deep into the depths of the Darkness that had permeated the land for over an Age; and still believe that there is hope.

"Thank you, old father..."
Amaranth whispered again, embracing the mage. Her hazel eyes met Israfael's as a silent word was passed between them. There was much to be done.



⊰~ * ~⊱


If there was one thing - alright, there were many things - Amaranth hated ever since she became a princess of the land, it was that she could barely have any time alone without someone throwing a fit about how the princess had gone missing. Even her brief excursion into the old gardens just over a week ago had the Royal Guard Captain coming up to her and whining about how she had to have at least one of the guards along with her at all times. She was beginning to suspect Lucien had instructed Silvyr to constantly keep tabs on her. So it was, that she had to convince one of her maidens to impersonate her and remain within her chambers on the pretense that the Princess was not feeling well. The red headed maiden even did a very good impression of the princess' voice, something which Amaranth had discovered by chance. Suffice to say that instead of punishing the girl for her teasing, Amaranth had taken advantage of their similarities on more than one occasion to get out on her own. Of course, she was never gone for more than a few days. There was no doubt Lucien will eventually find out where she went, she just hoped that by that time, they will have enough of a headstart.

Amaranth let out a sigh as she turned to gaze up at Eweca's pale face as she hung high in the heavens. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the surrounding trees and the air was filled with the buzz of insects and sounds of other nocturnal animals. Shrouded in a cloak of deep green, the princess stood in the midst of a ruined tavern on the outskirts of An`Falithe. The Drunken Nymph had been abandoned due to a fire more than a decade ago, and after trying to rekindle the business, it was once again destroyed in a surprise attack by remnants of a Wretched group that had slipped past the Tel`Quessir watchers. The orcs were quickly dispatched by rangers, the only casualty being the owner of the tavern. Said to be a cursed piece of land, no one else had tried to take over the plot and so the tavern had been quickly reclaimed by the forests.

Perfect for our little meeting...


⊰~Translation~⊱

"Mankoi lle sinome?" - Why are you here?
Lle tyava quel? -Do you feel well?
"Amin..." - I...
*"...Tengwagar" - See "Forgotten Promises" section of main thread.
"Da'lin" -Old Elvish for child
"Yaaraer." - Ancient/old one (affectionate respect)
 
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The barracks that Leoroc's battalion had been assigned to was a part of the existing garrison in An'Falithe. His men took little time to settle themselves within their quarters, as the captain had did all he could to hasten their journey from the front lines at Tal'Velahr. The King had made a poor decision, the General had made it clear to his commanders and captains of his disdain for being pulled from the front in these dark times. They had only just established their foothold in Tal'Velahr, and surely within days of their retreat, the Wretched would assume their recently lost ground - meaning elvish blood was spilled for seemingly no reason but to delay the inevitable conflict. When his commander gave Leoroc the word to march ahead of the army, he did so without hesitation, comforted by the letter he kept folded in the breast of his tunic.

Once his quarters were in his desired order, Leoroc had fashioned himself in his more presentable uniform, fine leather graced with a silken cloak. He kept his dagger with him at all times, though he left his larger weapons in their sheaths in the garrison. To meet the princess, there would be no need for his arsenal. There should be no need - hence his insistence upon himself to bring his dagger at the very least. His sliver-blue cloak possessed a hood that Leoroc wore to shadow his face as he made his way through the various streets and crowds that populated An'Falithe. Upon reaching the northern gates of the city, Leoroc began his scan of the guards that stood watch. He had no description of the edan of which he sought, so his best bet was to ask another guardsman... discreetly.

Finding one of the edan guards, Leoroc made his approach "Pardon my intrusion, guardsman, but I'm in search of one of yours by the name of Hemlen. And I would prefer if this was kept quiet?" Leoroc kept his voice low, but refrained from whispering to avoid arousing suspicion.
 
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*Quel're Eleveil of the Red Mist,

I hope this letter finds you well. No doubt you are by now, already on the way back from Tal`Velahr as ordered by General Ethrimbor. You might be wondering why the High King has ordered the General to retreat when we had barely established our positions... truth is, I do not know myself. I have tried my best, but... it wasn't nearly enough. I apologize.

That aside, there is a matter of great import of which I will require your assistance. Remember that one time I pulled nearly half a dozen arrows out from your sorry behind and you gave your word that if ever I have need, your blade is mine to call upon? Well I am going to need it now... I cannot explain further why now. All will be revealed in due time. Return to An`Falithe as fast as you can, I have informed General Ethrimbor to let you move on ahead of the rest. Head to the northern gates, and ask for one of the guards, an edan by the name of Hemlen. Identify yourself to him and he will provide you the details of the meeting place and time. Do not inform anyone else that I have called upon you.

*Tenna’ ento lye omenta,
Princess Amaranth Faenalla



*Quel're - Good Day
*Tenna’ ento lye omenta - Until next we meet

Eleveil had received this roll of parchment one evening as a Silver Kestrel carried it to him. He'd been resting in his camp when the creature had found him. How it had known who he was, he had no idea, but the letter had been clear, if not a bit brusque, but then again, he never trusted anyone who used formal speech to request something. He gave a snort now as he reread it "Half a dozen arrows, exaggerating pr-" he paused, keeping his tongue from actually saying her title. There wasn't anyone else around, but it was best not to speak openly.

In truth, it'd been more than half a dozen, but he'd pulled out most of them before meeting her. He also didn't see any mention of the number of arrows he stopped from ending her life.."Wasn't even this type of blade I was offering" he sighed as he rolled up the letter and finally burned it with a candle nearby.

After eating, he headed out. He always carried Zephyr with him, no matter what. He'd been attacked by cutthroats quite a few times in the past when he thought he was safe.

"Hemlen.."

He cocked his head to the side at hearing the name the of the edan he was supposed to be meeting. He saw a tall Isilhin speaking to a guard. With quick movements and quiet steps, he appeared next to the man and draped an arm across his shoulder "Did I hear you mention Hemlen? Owes me a bit of coin that one" he grinned "Bet me I couldn't get three tavern girls in the same bed and boy was that a foolish bet" he laughed softly as he looked at the guard "I could have easily gotten a forth but that would have lost me the bet you see, and I won't lose my coin on something I can easily do"
 
"M'Lord..-" The human guard saluted the tall isilhin with a closed fist across his chest. His eyes surreptitiously traced over the tattoos that marked his face, recognizing him as one of the Tel`Quessir's formidable warmasters. He was about to speak when another silver haired elf appeared by his side. The guard saluted him in turn. He cleared his throat.

"Who shall I tell Hemlen that has come to collect his due payment?" The guard replied steadily, his face impassive. Although the question was in reply to the second elf, he pointedly turned to look at the first as well.

When they'd identified themselves, the guard added in turn. "Ah... he did say you two might turn up... His shift ends at midnight tonight, he'll be sure to meet you both at the inner-city square-" As he said this, the guard held out his palm. On it, was the name of the ruined tavern. Without breaking his rhythm, he continued on. "As uh, this matter is somewhat embarrassing, he'd rather not anyone know he made a bet. It's not very legal as you know... of course, he assured me he was off duty at that time!"

Before the guard took his leave, he called out to the two elves again, though he spoke directly to Leoroc. "You might want to head there fully prepared... We guards do our best, but its never really safe especially so late at night!" He bowed.
 
Leoroc, upon feeling the arm around him, instinctively snapped his gaze to the new elf that was speaking to the guard with him. Upon hearing the hearty tone of the elf, Leoroc relaxed his posture, but kept his hand firmly upon the handle of his dagger. The new isilhin would have a question or two to answer when he was done with the guard. As the guard began to speak, Leoroc bit his tongue to keep his attention on the guard and not on the arm that was around his shoulder. Taking the parchment with the name of what Leoroc knew to the ruined tavern in the inner square, Leoroc nodded slightly to himself. The square at midnight... Leoroc thought it to be a strange place to meet. Surely at that time of night, even the most public places were not the safest. Though Leoroc was more than comfortable under the moonlight, he knew that was when others would try to take advantage of the stray. He'd bring his blade to be certain. Regardless, he took the parchment with the name of what Leoroc knew to the ruined tavern in the inner square, nodding slightly to himself.

Once the guard addressed the debt to the other elf, he grabbed the isilhin's wrist and and whirled out from beneath his arm, lingering to hear if the guard had any more to add to his statement. "You might want to head there fully prepared... we guards do our best, but its never really safe especially so late at night!" As the guard bowed, Leoroc's suspicions were confirmed. An'Falithe might have been well defended, but that didn't mean enemies were not hiding in the shadows.

Dusk was quick to begin consuming the sky above them, though Leoroc would welcome the moon and stars warmly. At least this meeting would commence soon enough to allow him time to better equip himself. Still, he thought it would be best to question the intent of the isilhin that stood beside him.

As the guard took his leave, Leoroc turned to the other Isilhin that had embraced him earlier. With narrowed eyes, Leoroc spoke while trying to keep himself from using his commanding tone. "You are bold to embrace a stranger in such a fashion. Does this edan we both seek truly owe you a debt? What is your true reason for seeking him out?" Leoroc made certain that the blade of his dagger was loose in the sheath to make it easier to draw upon it should he need it.

_________________________

Seraph Darkfire Seraph Darkfire
 
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"I've done more than simply embrace a stranger before" Eleveil said grinning as he stepped back from the other elf to give him his space "The edan might owe me a debt, but I don't remember all that I've won and lost bets with" he chuckled as he examined Leoroc. Lithe and well built, a warrior. A good fight certainly but not really the time, he supposed.

He shrugged before turning "I seek him, most likely for the same reason you do, to please a beautiful woman" he laughed softly "Eweca will be watching us tonight and when a woman is watching, it is best to put on a good show" he didn't like killing and hopefully it wouldn't come to that. He was happy to meet anyone in a fight though, if the guard was correct, they'd most likely run into trouble. It was a little sad, to have to fight his fellow kind when there was a greater threat just waiting to pounce. Still, he'd bash a few heads together if they got in his way.

"To be fair, I hadn't expected to meet the Bladesinger here, seems we have similar friends" he'd never met the Isilhin before, but he'd heard of him during the fighting, the tattoos were a good way to recognize him. Anyone who'd made a name for themselves had heard of those who'd done the same. Comparisons were always being made among the soldiers. Who could beat who in a fight, who'd killed more enemies, and so on.

Lekiel Lekiel Raziel Raziel
 
Just as Eleveil examined him, Leoroc made sure to examine Eleveil. He had the physique of a potential soldier, but not the discipline it would seem. The isilhin's weapon of choice seemed reminiscent of a ranger's weapon, maybe, but Leoroc wasn't sure. He had met a few rangers in his day, but only one of those few wielded a spear as their melee of choice.

The tattoos that decorated the isilhin, from what Leoroc could see, would appear to have been covering scars. No soldier that Leoroc had heard the name of wore tattoos in such a fashion. Then again, he hadn't kept up with the murmurs of idle guards over the last year. To hear his name come from the tongue of another was always satisfying, and the captain stood straight with a more relaxed posture. "Aye, so it might seem." After Leoroc's acting career, he knew quite a few of those. He could imagine who the young elf was referring to, but the soldier opted to refrain from prying.

Leoroc examined the sky as the sun's last rays were in the jaws of twilight. "I should return to my quarters and more appropriately equip myself. Under Eweca's light, I will put on nothing but a good show." Leoroc let himself smirk. "You know how to wield that glaive of yours?" he asked, gesturing towards Eleveil.

______________________________________________________

Seraph Darkfire Seraph Darkfire
 
thump

The haft of a spear goes into the forehead of the guard, knocking him down. "Dead. Again." She said, beckoning him up to go again. This was not the first time the other guard had fallen, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The spearwoman rolled her shoulders back and got back into her low stance before a voice broke her concentration.

"Miss Irian!" A servant called, causing her to relax and turn to her, much to the other guards sore relief.

"Yes? What is it?"

"By order of the Prince you are to go back to the Princess' side."

Silvyr paused, sheathing her spear across her back. "On my training day?" The servant nodded. "Have you talked to her?"

"I have, and I suggest you go, not only by order, but it appears the Princess is sick."

This caught her attention, raising a brow under her mask. "Ok... Yeah I'll go check in." She said, nodding slowly and heading inside. The young princess really needed a new excuse. A few minutes of walking she would arrive at the chamber door, knocking lightly.

"Amaranth, you ok in there?" She would ask, to the answer of what most would think was Amaranth.

"Just a bit sick, Miss. I'm ok." The voice replied.

"Where is Amaranth?" Silvyr asked with a sigh. She had her suspicions, but now they were confirmed. She was never called miss when addressed, so it obviously wasn't her.

"Right here."

The doorknob jiggles, it was locked.

"Seriously, where is she?" Silvyr persisted, and the servant resigned.

"Said she was going out to the woods, some old building I think." The servant replied.

"You need an excuse besides sick, Princess Amaranth. You can't keep me out here forever. But I appreciate the concern for my health." She said, covering up if anyone were to hear her.

Silvyr nodded, sighing as she left the door. When would she learn? Either to come up with a better excuse or to actually let her come with her. Now she had an obligation to follow her and that would only make her mad most likely. She left the castle walls and headed out to the delapidated tavern she guessed she would most likely be at. It wasn't even a definite that she would be there, but she sure hoped she did. If she were to get hurt out there, it's her on the chopping block, not the Princess. Besides, it isn't like she disagreed with the excursions, she disagreed with her going alone, capable as she was.
 
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She heard a noise causing her heart to start for a moment. Not that she was startled, but rather the relative quietness of the night had heightened her senses to a degree. It had been a long time since she had felt so... alive. And she'd only been in that abandoned tavern on the fringes of the forest for just over an hour. Not that the palace had been stifling; contrary to that, the Tel`Quessir were proud of how harmoniously they assimilated their buildings into nature. But she rather suspected that she was getting claustrophobic of the endless political nuances that seemed to grow thicker as they days went by.

The soft thuds of the footsteps on dirt and grass grew closer, it wasn't obscenely loud, but whoever it was didn't seem to be making an effort to be stealthy. Amaranth pondered about calling out, but thought the better of it. Instead, she pulled on her hood and edged out of the moonlight deeper into the shadows and waited.

LoneSniper87 LoneSniper87
 
It had taken her roughly half an hour to get there, keeping a steady pace as she searched for the Princess. The Honor Guard looked about, spotting the tavern in the dimming moonlight, but not Amaranth. "Damnit, Amaranth, you can't be doing this..." She said aloud as she stepped forward, looking at the building. "You have to at the very least tell me you're doing these things... When will she learn?" The warrior sighed and leaned against one of the remaining parts of the wall, hoping that the Princess was indeed here.

She assumed she was nearby, if she had so long of a headstart, and was able to be here already, and that perhaps she was just hiding amongst the shadows, but she'd rather let her come out rather than search every dark corner. She tapped the haft of her spear on the ground while she waited, occasionally breaking the rhythm by tapping her haft against her foot before resuming it's assault on the dirt.

Lekiel Lekiel
 
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"It is a bit rude to ask if a man can handle his tool" he said grinning as he tapped the glaive with the back of his hand "Rest assured, nothing will be the same once I use Zephyr" he looked at the sky "You go and get equipped, though in my opinion a man should always have everything he needs with him at all times" he started walking "I'll see you at our location" at his casual speed, he should arrive at the tavern right on time. Of course, that was without any detours that he was liable to take, but given the urgency of his current mission, he was less likely to take random paths for his own amusement.

As he got closer to the tavern, his steps became quieter and quieter until they vanished completely. It was more prudent to be entirely silent, as much as he would have liked to go flying into the area with a smile on his face...maybe next time. He stayed within shadows as he got closer. If he was going the stealthy route, he was going to do his best.

Raziel Raziel Lekiel Lekiel
 
Sanine grinned as she sauntered down the street, slapping her embroidered purse, bloated with coins, to hear the merry jingling of its golden contents. “Ah, nothing lifts the spirits like a good tavern brawl—and a pricey one, at that,” she mused. She was much more relaxed now, having enough gold to rent out a room and to bribe a guard if needed. She was merely meandering through the streets, drunk on her riches, when a disturbance in her surroundings snapped her out of her reverie. The young assassin froze. Her senses were sharper than the dagger at her side and the slight rush of air above her had not gone unnoticed. Her green eyes flicked up to the sky in time to see a blur of silver and white feathers swoop towards her. In the moment, she could have sworn that Eweca was falling out of the sky, but no, it was just a bird. And not just any bird—Salazzar! A rare smile spread onto the Edan’s face as the familiar owl circled her. She stretched out her arm to create a perch for the avian, only wincing slightly when its talons dug into her.

The owl and the human stared at each other for a while, emerald eyes locked with onyx. You’re here, you ungovernable git, but where’s Israfael? As if to answer her question, Salazzar pecked at its ankle, drawing Sanine’s attention to the roll of parchment bound to its leg. Extricating the message, Sanine waited for her mentor’s pet to depart, even shaking her arm a bit to urge it off, but its talons only tightened their grip on her arm and she could’ve sworn that he nodded impatiently at her, exhorting her to read the letter. Sighing, she unravelled the letter and read:


Sanine,

It has been a while since you have received my last letter, but there have been matters here that have taken up most of my attentions. That being said, I will be blunt.

Return to An`Falithe, it is time to continue your training. There are also some....recent developments that you need to know. I will meet you in the old Drunken Nymph Tavern at dawn. Do not inform anyone else that I have sent for you.


Israfael


She didn't even have to read the name attached to at once recognise whose messy hand the letter was written in. A while it had been, indeed. Sanine hadn’t seen her mentor since he had last gotten a Mark. She had gotten this skilled under his training; the idea of improving further sent a thrill through her. She would not be missing this opportunity to meet with him again. Though, she wondered what these ‘recent developments’ entailed.

Stealing through the shadows, her almost noiseless footfalls masked by the hubbub of Numenlad, Sanine mounted the first horse she saw, skillfully freeing it from its post, and rode towards An’Falithe.

On her way there, Sanine had questioned a local, on their way out of An’Falithe for a visit, about the whereabouts of The Drunken Nymph. They had scrunched their face up, unknowing of what she was talking about until a thought had suddenly struck them and their expression grew unsettled. They hurriedly explained that the tavern was cursed and that no one was to venture there but after a withering look from Sanine, quickly surrendered and pointed out the rough direction of where the tavern used to be. Hardly ever having left Numenlad except for when she was hunting down Marks, Sanine was grateful for the information. That didn’t stop her from thwacking the old Anarhin around the head with the broad end of her axe as soon as he turned around, though. He’d wake up eventually, perhaps ache for a day or two, without the memory of what he’d been doing before he blacked out, not that it mattered to the Edan—she didn’t need anybody knowing who she was or where she was going. Flicking her hood back on to cover her face, she had ridden on.

After pushing her way through dense forests, Sanine had finally arrived at what she thought was her destination. Kicking her leg over her horse, she slid down its side and stood for a moment, bewildered. Some tavern this is. It can hardly keep itself up! Sanine wandered towards it, trusting her mentor not to lead her into an ambush. Her steps were always silent out of habit, for when was the thief not sneaking around?

Sanine tugged her hood off her head, revealing her face. “I’m here!” she called out confidently. She was a bit early, but if her teacher were here, he’d know her voice.
 
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He had perched himself on a tower of rubble shaded by an ever larger tree. His glacier orbs were focused intently on Amaranth and her Guardswoman across the way. He had never been much of a fan of Silvyr, but he respected the woman's dedication to the Princess's well being. Israfael pressed his lips into a thin line, one side of his mouth slightly higher than the other as he watched Amaranth try to blend into the shadows. She wasn't nearly as good at that as she could be, but given his own occupation it was hard not to scrutinize such attempts at stealth.

The sound of horse hooves carried his attention over to another area of the forest, one that was much closer to him yet close enough for the other two to hear. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing out slowly through his mouth. Israfael had a feeling that he knew exactly who was coming. In all honesty he should have picked another place for them to meet, but...he glanced towards Amaranth- it was in their best interest to gather who they needed in a single location. It cut down on the time it would take for everyone to become updated on recent events.

Climbing down from his perch, he slipped into the shadows moving and bending as he had been conditioned to do. When he reached Amaranth, the hooves had ceased and the rider had dismounted either unaware of the impertinent guard searching for her mistress, or not caring about being seen by her in the least. Rafe leaned against the wall beside the Princess, watching her out of the corner of his eye for a moment. He didn't say anything, content to keep the silence. That is until Sanine's voice echoed out across the ruin.

No matter how much he taught that girl, the lesson of approaching a situation with more caution didn't seem to stick. Peeling himself away from the shadows, he kept his cowl on as the first rays of light touched him.

"I'm surprised you aren't dead already with as much noise as you make, dulin'elle." He chastised, purposefully ignoring the guard who stood thumping her staff against the ground in an off beat rhythm. He tilted his head to the side for a moment, half turning back towards the shadows that he had walked out from.

"There is no reason to hide anymore, ai'mithe."

⊰~Translation~⊱
dulin'elle - A pet name he gave Sanine; means tiny bird
ai'mithe - little rat; a pet name for Amaranth


Lefic Lefic Lekiel Lekiel LoneSniper87 LoneSniper87
 
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Silvyr stood there still, waiting for anything to happen. It felt like she was being watched, but who wouldn't get the feeling being 'alone' at night. Maybe Amaranth wasn't here at all. Maybe she fell I the same trap that brought Amaranth here. Nothing bad happened yet, and so she waited for something to happen.

The guard hadn't been kept waiting long, as horse hooves made themselves known. She stopped tapping, tensing as she waited to see who would appear. She shifted her grip on her spear to be ready to strike at any time, and soon, the horse stopped. There was no sound afterward, but a slight rustling suggested they got off their steed. No other sign of movement save for a dark silhouette was made known to her until a female voice announced itself. She instantly brought her shield and spear up, ready to counter an attack. A moment later, a male makes himself known, she looks up to what she presumed to be another assassain type, due to their unnatural silence. She looked between the two, prepared to fight unless what exactly was happening was explained.

"Friends of Amaranth? Obviously not the right type, I told her to not leave alone. Anyway." She turns to the male, not getting into an attacking stance, but definitely guarded. "What did you do to her? Tell me what is going on before this gets messy. I rather hate unnecessary bloodshed." She said, not removing her eyes from him once, and if he were to look back he would see mild confusion worry, she didn't bother trying to hide it.

Lefic Lefic Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater Lekiel Lekiel
 
"Was it that obvious?" Amaranth hissed a whisper at the assassin when he almost nonchalantly glanced directly at where she had attempted to blend into the darkness. She saw Israfael head outside. She herself took a moment to follow, still somewhat upset her attempt at going all 'smoke and mirrors' had failed tragically. The ranger stepped out into the moonlight to see who had arrived, wondering if they had all heeded her call.

"Silvyr!" Her rich alto voice cut through the night louder than what Amaranth had intended. She couldn't help it though. The last person she had expected to see was right now, standing before her in her usual overly cautious mode. "By Anara! What are you doing here!?" Amaranth quickly lowered her voice, though there was a hint of annoyance and panic in her tone. The fact that her own personal guard captain was here likely meant that Adolay's ruse had been found out. Amaranth quickly scanned their immediately vicinity, expecting half a dozen royal guards to surround them, but there was none. Silvyr had come alone. There were two others, but none were soldiers. Amaranth allowed herself to relax a little. She did see Sanine, which she paused a moment to offer a warm smile to the edan girl she had wished were her daughter if she had one. It took a moment to pinpoint the other, and when she found him, she nodded an acknowledgement to who she thought might be Eleveil. From the way he kept himself out of the light, it was hard to tell. Amaranth turned back to regard the guardswoman a frown marring her smooth forehead.

"Did you tell anyone before you left?" Amaranth's tone was cautious, there weren't many she could trust. And while she knew the guard captain had her best interests in mind, the princess did not know if Silvyr was aware of the way things were going in the palace courts. A simple report to the High King might've been harmless, but it could well destroy all that she had planned.
 
Upon getting chastised by her mentor, Sanine chuckled at herself in cold amusement. She hadn’t been reprimanded by him in quite some time. She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes derisively, her lips quirking into a smirk. “My apologies, teacher. I’m slightly out of practice; my Marks have been running dry and my methods of money-making have switched to… the blatantly violent, let's say.” She brandished her fists knowingly to indicate that she’d been tavern-brawling again. Then, in a more respectful tone, she added, “Though, I understand. I shall work on my entrances.”

Sanine gazed around her, scoffing as she detected the presence of everybody else present. What is this? A party? she thought, furrowing her brow in distaste. She preferred to keep her friends to a minimum and the thought of possibly getting entangled with multiple people irritated her, causing her to clench her jaw in vexation. Does everybody else here know Israfael?

But her train of thought was cut off as soon as Amaranth came into view. Sanine's eyebrows hitched involuntarily and her jaw slackened to the point of almost hanging open. She knew that somebody had been hiding in the shadows but she hadn't expected them to be, of all people, the Princess—her saviour. At the princess's smile, a tender feeling of happiness spread through the orphan's body. It took a while for her to even realise what she was feeling; all she had known since the day that everything had been stripped from her had been anger, apathy, greed, gluttony, fear, regret, revelry and, most of all, loneliness—an intense, drowning loneliness that clawed away at her from within. The smile she returned was rueful. This was the person she had wanted—still wanted, deep down—to be her mother; as a child, Sanine had dreamed about Amaranth adopting her, she had dreamed at perhaps regaining some of what she had lost in that horrendous fire all those years ago, she had dreamed of perhaps being able to live a normal life, a happy life—not like the childhood she had had, sleeping on filthy streets, scraping the mould off of measly scraps of bread in order to finally eat something, stealing even though her conscience screamed no, having to endure beatings every time she messed up. But for Sanine, life was unfair, and wishes never came true. And as she let her gaze wander once more towards the face of the princess, she loosed a harsh, guttural laugh at herself. How could I have been so stupid? My mother? She barely looks older than me. Sorrow pierced through her as she thought, I'll be dead before she even gets so much as her first wrinkle.

Like a hatch closing, a look of indifference fell upon the Edan's face. "So, why are we here?" she questioned in a dead intonation that would have suggested otherwise.
 
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Silvyr saw Amaranth and visibly relaxed, sighing as she went into an at ease stance. "No, miss. I didn't tell a soul. The only person who knows is your voice double." She tells her, looking at the group. "And while I may not... Feel comfortable... With this company, I agree. Why are they here, Amaranth? Damn thieves..." She muttered the last bit under her breath, still looking relaxed, but visibly tense. She breathed in and gave another hefty sigh, dropping her guard entirely. "You must trust them, I see no reason to worry... I guess..." She conceded, leaning back against the wall.

She was not a fan of this at all. Herself, the one she needs to protect, and two assassains. She wouldn't win against both of them. Not at this much of a disadvantage. So for now she let things play out, see what happened.

Lekiel Lekiel Lefic Lefic Hell0NHighWater Hell0NHighWater
 
"You don't have to worry about them Silvyr... I trust them with my life." Amaranth indicated the rogues with a nod of her head. "Ironic isn't it? That the people I can trust the most are those that deal in shadow." She could barely keep the spite out of her voice as she said those words. "I do not know what has become of our people... father is a fool and Lucien will sacrifice everything for his selfish gain!" She spoke vehemently, not caring that the guard captain was hearing all these now. But letting herself blurt such arguably treasonous statements was a ploy in it of itself. She wanted to see how the Captain would react. As it was, what she saw satisfied her just for the moment. Her features softened, when she heard Sanine sound her question, but as she turned to regard the human girl, she was a little taken aback at the lack of emotion colouring her usually lively features. She pondered the young rogue's shift in attitude, but let the though settle at the back of her mind for the time being. It was a good question, regardless. One which Amaranth realized she hadn't fully thought through. Rafe had believed her vision easily enough, as did old Kharis Bhalen; but they knew her heart. She wasn't too sure about the rest. She didn't want to sound like a fanciful maiden running away from home just because of a daydream.

"I... I have asked you all to gather here, as you among all that I know, I would trust with my life. A matter of grave importance, one that potentially concerns the lives of all our people, has been brought to my attention. The prince would have you believe that the Wretched are all but beaten into submission and the Tel`Quessir are in a new era of peace. But he cannot be further from the truth. Centuries of blood spilled on the battlefield to rid our lands of Chaos should have taught us something... The Wretched do not simply grow weak and retreat from battle for no reason! They are gathering... gathering for something.... and if we do not prepare ourselves... I fear all life will be doomed..." The anarhin cast her eyes upon each of them gathered before her, holding their gaze in turn with her amber orbs.

"But... there is hope... call it an ancient promise if you will. The Grandmagus has implied that much... but... we need to find out more. This promise it is very very old.... and it was not made to any one of us. I've been told that the Librarian at Cal`Ancalen can help us.... But I cannot go there on my own, nor can I trust such a burden to Prince Lucien or even my father; I do not know what they will do, or not do for that matter. A rueful smile played at the edges of her lips, as she looked at her trusted companions. "All the soldiers and resources of the Kingdom at my beck and call... but none which I can rely on, enga melloneamin."

"I am in need of your help my friends, and dear ones..." Her eyes flitted briefly over Sanine, before coming to a rest on her mentor. "Will you aid me on this quest and see it to its end? I cannot make you, for your life is your own to give or keep..."

⊰~Translation~⊱

enga melloneamin - except you my friends (endearing)​
 







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"At the end of the day, if I can say I had fun, it was a good day."
Location: The Drunken Nymph
Mood: Serious, Flirty, and Teasing. Very amused.
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"Sounds like fun" Eleveil said from the treeline where he'd been resting and listening to Amaranth. Despite being hidden, he was quite sure that at least the stealthy ones had noticed him. After all, he wasn't a master of stealth, just speed. He tapped Zephyr against the tree before stepping forward, vanishing and reappearing in front of the princess, taking a knee before her "As I said once, and as I say now. If you have need of it, my blade is yours to use. It is just unfortunate that I can't offer you my life as that belongs to another" he chuckled as he stood up and looked into the night sky, the pale face of Eweca before looking back to Amaranth "Just as well that I help you, the Wretched are not much for partying. If everyone dies, I'll have no one to play with"

He turned to look at Silvyr and Sanine
"I must say though, I had no idea you had such a beautiful guard by your side, if I had, I probably would have visited the castle more often...or ever" he laughed "and an Edan" his grin deepened "Nice eyes" he then looked at Israfael. Out of everyone here, this was the one person he was most familiar with. After all, the other Isilhin and he had trained together among the Moongarde. His grin changed from flirting to teasing as he looked at him "Korne, it has been a while since I last saw you, who would have imagined you'd be on the side of the Princess"

\Translation/

Korne - Loaf


((I do apologize if I've done this wrong. Thought I'd try using the language. Eleveil is teasing Israfael about how he did the bare minimum while with the Moongarde.))

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Sanine's eyes rolled to the side to regard the princess's guard out of the corner of her eye—'Silvyr' was her name, apparently. So this is who the princess has decided to keep by her side, she thought, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through her. The young assassin picked up on the guard's mistrust like a predator to fear. She was accustomed to this sort of wary reception yet did nothing to improve the way she came across to others. Sanine turned to face the guardswoman, moving slowly and deliberately to appear intimidating. She noticed the tattoed Anarhin's lips move to mutter something but couldn't pick up on what it was. Probably an insult, Sanine guessed. Zeroing in on the woman, Sanine cocked her head to the side insufferably—a gesture she'd picked up from Salazzar. "Oh, 'this company' won't do anything as long as Amaranth's here, don't you worry your pretty little head." Though the woman looked like she could easily take Sanine out—if she were fast enough—the Edan recklessly continued. "Don't worry, I don't bite," she taunted, flashing her teeth in a 'smile'. "Do loosen up, dear. One would think you had a stick up your arse," the thief drawled, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

Sanine watched the princess with calm eyes, listening carefully to everything she said. She needn't have said her whole speech; Sanine was on her side as soon as she laid eyes on her again. Even if Amaranth hadn't been the one who had saved her, the Edan's fiery hatred against the Wretched was too strong to not take any possible chance of revenge. She bowed her head in reverence, lowering her viridescent eyes. "I owe you my life, Amaranth. I see it is now time for me to repay my debt."

Then Sanine's attention was drawn to the Isilhin warrior approaching her and the guardswoman. She thought nothing of him. That was, until he opened his mouth. "Ah, a useless flirt," she opined flatly, completely ignoring the compliment.
 
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