Randomly decided to check in after years and see talk of Doordie and Amel. Lots of fun memories! Arguably my first long time character, Narwyn, ended up closely aligned with Amel as his protege.
Doordie was one of the best RP's I ever played with. His stories, with his character Amel, were amazing. Rich, deep, complex. I hope Doordie is doing well! You have a really great Uncle!
It is said among elves that when Correllon Larethian made the world, he gave it light by kindling a golden flame in the sky. That flame became the sun. But Correllon's children could not behold the beauty of their world once the sun had set. So to remedy this, Correllon appointed his consort, Sehanine, to kindle another flame on the black canvas of night. This became the moon.
The children of Correllon always revered the sun and the moon as they were a sacred gift from the Seldarine. Though the celestial objects hold equal value to elves, some elves were drawn more to the sun and others to the moon. The sun elves, believing that Corellon Larethian had selected them to be the defenders of elven tradition and history, looked to the sun for inspiration. The moon elves, favoured by Sehanine, looked to the moon to interpret dreams and mysteries and to guide the elven people on their journey from life to the undying realm of Arvandor.
In City of Elisara, in the lands of Greenvale, the Sun and the Moon are personified by more than the elven deities, Correllon and Sehanine. In Greenvale, such titles are also carried by two mysterious individuals whom no one truly knows beyond what they are: a sun elf and a moon elf. They are both regal and beautiful, divinely resplendent and preternaturally graceful. Some say they are descendants of the First Elves - if not First Elves themselves - others that they sailed from the Mainland or even Arvandor to return the elven race to former splendour. But they are also dangerous. Both The Sun and The Moon are uncompromising purists, believing that for elves to ascend to the high culture and magic of old, Greenvale must rid itself of all non-elves. If rumours are to be trusted, The Sun and The Moon are fierce supporters of Prince Casimir; in fact, their goal is to aid Casimir in inheriting his aunt Yu'syu's throne that, at present, is meant for Yu'syu's trueborn son, a dragonkin.
Introducing Amron Pereldar
On the other side of the political fence is Amron Half-Elven, who has rallied non-human and even elven supporters of a tolerant and multicultural Greenvale. Amron was born to an elven mother and a human father, but their union was not without opposition. His mother, a Feywood elf, was all but shunned in her forest home, but in City of Elisara she and her son found comfort and acceptance. Amron would do anything to ensure that Greenvale retains its multicultural profile, for he knows that if people come together as one, no matter their race, they can achieve great things. Amron is weary of Prince Casimir and especially of The Sun and The Moon. He hopes that one day, Yu'syu's trueborn son will ascend the throne and, by virtue of his mixed blood, usher in a new era of freedom and tolerance.
[OOC: The Sun & The Moon will be a series of player-run events welcoming all players who take an interest in the political climate of Greenvale. The events will seldom involve PvP; instead, the focus will be on investigation and political manoeuvring. Players may support either faction or investigate as a neutral party. But beware! Nefarius elements seek involvement in the scheming, or perhaps they are already involved.]
Registered Member #24916
Joined: 2:58:00 pm GMT 01/23/19
Posts: 612
Elarion had met the Sun months ago, just before the outbreak of the rift. He had been a radiant man, who would capture the eyes of any onlooker. A radiant looking elf, who was certainly dressed the part. They had met on the street and spoken on the state of Greenvale, where Elarion had told him he desires a return to the glory days of the ancient Greenwood. The Sun took the conversation to a different route and brought up the idea of instead of clinging to the past, they could make something new. An entirely new era. The longer Elarion spent thinking on this for the months to come, he saw the elven lands as more and more broken. They would need fixing, but The Sun had made an excellent point by pointing out a risk he would not want. To pursue what was great in the past, one risk making the same mistakes, and fall, just like those who came before.
No. Perhaps it is time for a new age for the elves. To wipe the barely held together mess that they currently are, and bring forth a new era of glory.. But who would bring it? Elarion absolutely agreed with The Sun, in that elves should be more independent, and focus on their own before others, but he was still curious what the other party aiming for the throne would have to say.
Unfortunately, he would not get much out of them, and attending what Elarion had thought would be a campaign event turned more into paranoia about the opposition. Instead of learning what they stood for, what Elarion learned was that this side's campaign was funded almost fully by a dwarf. A dwarf who is certain The Sun and The Moon are behind several murders in Greenvale. Elarion knew of one of these cases. He came across one when he first met Son'yss, but he kept quiet about this for now. He also brought up that they should not be too quick to accuse the opposition, for Elarion is certain there are still Ashwood agents in the city, and the killings may just as well have been done by them, in an attempt at putting the successors against each other. A very real possibility they can not forget.
Unfortunately for Elarion, their meeting ended up being more based around how himself and The White Rose could infiltrate The Sun and The Moon, a matter which Elarion did not really care for. He merely played along and let them plot all they wanted. Elarion had no real need for such. He had already been in touch with The Sun, but thanks to the Rift, he had not been able to attend the ball that he had even asked Nicolette for dance lessons for. Instead, he just gave short, simple answers and comments, not wanting to really get too heavily involved with any plots. When it was suspected The White Rose would be in danger in the Sun and Moon's presence, Elarion just told them they would be fine, for they know well of Elarion. Of course, Amron's companions thought this was a threat from Elarion to destroy another building, something he could very well do, but he was really just stating the fact that no one would be stupid enough to draw his flames. He was pretty much just chatting along anyway, for what Elarion truly wanted to do was to speak openly with The Sun. Perhaps over a glass of wine, which the Sun had suggested months ago.
For now, he let them scheme, and just went along with what they came up with. He had no intention of being their spy. He had come to learn what they stood for, and found only accusations and spy plots. It wasn't before himself and The White Rose had left the building, that Elarion made sure the door was closed behind them, that he spoke quietly to his friend, telling her to let The Sun know that Elarion Hanolen apologises for not attending his previous ball, and would like to, if the White Rose would be willing, to have this chance for another ball. The White Rose seemed surprised, but nodded and confirmed she will let him know, and the two went on their way.
The Sun looked through the windows in his garden. Below, the streets of the city were bathed in wreaths of dawning light. The sunkissed cobblestones gave the impression of a coppery sea, the reflected light diffused and hazy, reminding him of gentle waves. Mornings were The Sun's time of day when the heavenly body after which he was named awoke in the east, and the world awoke with it.
He nodded to the nearest manservant to dress him. He had to look especially radiant tonight, for come the twilight, The Sun and The Moon would host a ball for the ages. So he chose a luminous robe dyed in such golden hues that it might as well have been glowing. It flowed like water when he moved and would flow like water when he danced tonight. The ball was an event to show all of the city his grandeur; he would dazzle and captivate his guests, the perfect host for an event that had to be equally perfect. To that end, he had acquiesced to the White Rose's request to come to perform on the eve. She was human, a race he cared very little for, but she was also the bearer of Nimmeril's Light, a blessing that should have rightfully been passed down to an elf. Still, Nicolette Adair was widely praised as the best performer on the island, and The Sun was very curious to find out in person.
But there was an ulterior motive behind The Sun's decision to invite the White Rose. Of course, there was. He was playing a game of politics, and behind each decision was a web of intrigue and secrets. The Sun and The Moon were well aware that Nicolette and her companion for the ball, Elarion, had visited the office of the opposition. Amron the Half-Elf had already sunk his claws into the two, no doubt filling their heads with lies and embellished half-truths. The Sun would change their opinions. Only a single heir was worthy of Elisara's Throne, and it was not some bastard-blooded dragonkin. It was Prince Casimir.
The Sun wrote ...
Brother Hanolen,
It has been too long since last we spoke on the streets of our fair city. I rejoice at the prospect of seeing you again, for The Moon and I have much to talk to you about. We have received a letter from the White Rose that she wishes to perform at the ball tonight. You may relay to her that we shall be glad to host her.
Your friend, Anarcalin, The Sun
[OOC: Tonight, starting at 20.00 GMT+1, The Sun and The Moon will be hosting a ball in City of Elisara. Only elves are invited, so if you play one and would like to learn about The Sun and The Moon and their political agenda, the doors are open, so to speak. The event will take place in The Tower of The Sun and The Moon, which is located a stonethrow away from the marketplace.]
Registered Member #25343
Joined: 8:54:42 pm GMT 08/30/19
Posts: 125
Autumn intrigue
Removed from the affairs of man, elf and fey, the dreamful dryad rested beneath that mockery of Vongottstein that was its heir. Less than the original, distorted by warped memory and wishful nostalgia, less than even its distant shadow, it was a monument to colourless extremes. But she lacked the strength to return home. Soon, she thought. Soon, she said.
Soon, she hoped.
She had received aid from one like and unlike her, a dreamer she had keenly visited in days past. He had found her in her hour of need and brought her to a haven where ignorant eyes and minds would not, could not reach. There, another, perhaps unlikelier creature, had offered his presence to dull the weight of loneliness. He was all youth, a cursed thing. Eager to know and to suffer.
His heritage had aroused naught but wariness, at first, but the rest soon endeared him to her. Yet another that would know only tragedy.
But it had not been long till hers had found her, even in so secluded spot. Nagra’s little eyes and ears in the depths and forgotten corners of the world, her rodents, stumbled upon her as she dreamt away. And unto her they delivered good and ill tidings alike.
Tidings on the growth and threat of the northern sphere, the menace she had not only failed to prevent, but that, alongside others, she had inadvertently brought into the world, her involvement, thus far, oblivious to all.
Tidings on the hordes of living dead that marched east and south, perchance spurred by the void’s flood. Their desire, to plague all. Their true purpose, unknown.
And tidings from that fractured gem, that decadent port and waning light of the elves. Fair Elisara. Syfana and the rift had not been kind to it, as they had not been to her own home, but its ailments spanned beyond scars left behind by usurper and red death. Traitorous Yu’syu had never recovered from the curse of dark fey. From the Poisonwar. A crucial moment began to dawn on Greenvale. As her end neared, what would befall that tarnished jewel?
Would it forsake its future, as Feywood had? Would it endure? Would it, against all odds, prosper?
As the humble but dutiful informants realised their function, she twisted in troubled slumber. The courts awaited the advent of the fifth. What were mortal maladies in comparison, but pale distractions? She fooled herself into thinking that she only interfered when the palette at large was in dire peril. And though true, at times, she had overreached. The burns inflicted by the spirit had seeped deep. Nigh deeper than those of the Poisonwar. How long could she afford to meddle in mortal concerns?
Unbeknownst to the Arben Vezax, the fey had nudged her into events larger than herself, ensured that she would lend a hand, or a blade, in matters she could not dream to affect - but only by virtue of the pact that bound the two. Would it always have to be so? Through deception and manipulation? Would she become but another puppeteer, like her dear prince? Like other fey?
If only Oira-osta had not cleansed himself of the poison, he could leave Elisara’s future to him entirely, much as his deeds had cost her precious mana, with Syfana’s momentary defeat. She feared that he would need her, in days to come. And she him.
Furthermore, and most importantly, she could not abandon Sylvox. Not when he had asked of her to watch over their kin in Elisara. Appointed her to be their envoy. They could not choose for those that had decided to live beyond poisoned lands, force them to return to the Glorious Woods, where they would not suffer the air of outsiders. But they could care for them. Offer what aid they might need, in their futile struggle.
And so, which of the heirs would ingratiate themselves to her? She cared little for their politicking, even if she did favour elves, for all their flaws, over other, pettier mortals. All they had to do was ensure a future for those of hers that wished to reach for a world, for a life, they could never have. The one that provided it, by word and deed, would secure her favour.
For this, she would project what little strength she had. Send a figment, to observe. It would prolong her confinement, to fashion a proper image. And what might come from it, not even she could know.
! Registered Member #20
Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
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~Song performed by Nicolette Adair at the Sun and Moon ball~
The echoes of her performance in the tower had faded. The guests had dispersed and moved on. Nicolette had retired to the room the elves had chosen for her, within the tower of the Sun and Moon. There to remain for a few days, until the time came to sail back north.
It had been a good feeling to sing before a crowd. To see the emotion of her song reflected in the face of the elves. Her last performance had been before the riftwar, before her exile. She had almost forgotten what it was like, the energy of it. It brought the songstress back to a time when her life had felt so much simpler.
She ensured she was alone. She checked, and checked again, that the stone door was closed. And she took from her belongings a blank parchment. A parchment she had kept separate from the rest.
The parchment was kept separate for good reason. It had a twin. Anything written on one piece would appear on the other. This parchment's twin was held by Amron Half-Elven, the Sun and Moon's political rival. What she wrote on her page would be visible on his.
She had promised him that if she discovered anything dangerous the Sun and Moon had done, or if she felt in personal danger, she would write to him.
She had met Amron during the few days she was in Greenvale. He and his allies had been investigating the murders of several non-elves in Greenvale, murders they suspected the Sun and Moon had some involvement in. It wasn't exactly what the White Rose had come to Greenvale to do. But the rising elven supremacy in Greenvale would not mean good things for a girl who carried magic the elves still claimed as their own. And helping the half-elf had seemed like the right thing to do...
Now, she was hesitating. One by one, she went over the memories of the ball in her mind. Her dance with the Sun, the things he had said. She tried to remember each word he'd spoken, tapping her quill on the blank page.
You don't actually know that the Sun and Moon have done anything wrong. Amron and his friends may be mistaken. The Sun and Moon were kind. They don't wish to live with humans, but there's no reason yet to think that they were behind anyone's murder.
She studied the parchment a moment more, and with careful hand, she wrote two words. She didn't wish to take up much space on the page, in case she had more need of it later.
Amron Half-Elven stood on the rooftop of Bahamut's Temple. The spires and towers of the city stood around him, level with the trees of Greenvale and Ashwood on either side to the east and the west. Rooks were cawing somewhere, and bells were ringing, and from the market square, the steady beating of hooves upon cobbles announced the arrival of carts and wagons. Above, the evening sky was awash with peach, apricot and amber: tender little gossamer clouds in a wide orange sky. Amron watched as one such cloud climbed away beyond the spire of Queen's Palace, as big at first as the tip of his little finger when he held it at arm's length and then steadily smaller until it was a dot in the pearly sky. He turned and looked down into the shadowed front of the temple, where pinprick figures were already beginning to drift in ones and twos into his improvised office.
As the sun climbed over the city's rooftops and alighted the streets below, he even saw that some of his political supporters carried signs and banners. "Leinas, Lincanta, Imbalad." Freedom, Diversity, Equality; a Greenvale daring to embrace all cultures and races, not to assimilate them into one, but to integrate them into a beautiful whole. Was it all a dream? As he looked towards the Tower of the Sun and The Moon, it certainly felt that way.
Something stirred inside Amron's bag, and he opened it to look inside. The rolled-up parchment Nicolette had given him was shaking as if an invisible hand was jiggling it. He unrolled it and, to his amazement, saw that a single line of text had appeared on the blank page:
Safely inside.
He exhaled with no small amount of relief. Ever since he had encouraged Nicolette and Elarion to investigate the tower, he could not shake the feeling that he had sent them into a lion's den. The Sun and The Moon liked to present themselves as upright and above reproach - ever the gracious hosts - but anyone who viewed themselves as the mortal progeny of the gods had to be deceitful. Dangerous, too. Still, Nicolette and Elarion were safe, and, for now, that was all that mattered.
The good news did not last long. As Amron made towards the stairs that led away from the roof, he nearly collided with Silelmera, an Estel Guard who had been appraising Amron of the murdered non-elves whose bodies had been turning up on the streets for the past three weeks. The moment he saw her expression, he knew the words she had come to speak.
"There has been another."
[OOC: Tuesday, October 25, at 9PM GMT+2, I will be hosting a small event where friends of Greenvale may come to help the authorities investigate a string of recent murders of non-eves. Put on your best detective hats and come play!]
Registered Member #24916
Joined: 2:58:00 pm GMT 01/23/19
Posts: 612
The tower of the Sun and Moon. It was an interesting place for sure, to see the grandeur of the ancient elven societies still survive to this day. It was like seeing a piece of the ancient Greenwood he thought lost to time. It was a look into his own heritage and rightful culture, a look into what was lost to ages.. and that was exactly the problem. It was lost to the ages. Some time after the separation of the elves, all of this had been lost in the forest, and the only thing Elarion really knew were gestures of respect, formerly how he would address the lady, then Queen. The other simplest gestures either confused him or made him uncomfortable. The other elves could see it too, how a welcoming gesture of affection made Elarion take up defensive stances, and being moments away from blasting them. He stuck out as a sore thumb among them.
Yet this is where he belonged. This was how the ancient House Hanolen would have lived. If there was any way he could learn of who and what they were, it would be there. Even if he found them superfluous and pretentious. So much of it was just unnecessary, and most of them looked like they wouldn't have survived the tower. Hells, he got the impression that if he had entered this tower during the war, The Sun was perhaps the only one who would survive. Then again, that would depend on when he attacked. And speaking of, there were more than a few times Elarion thought he would himself be. They were so overly friendly and welcoming despite knowing full well who he is. There was not even as much as a single frown in the tower. No words spoken behind his back. No glares. Only smiles, and shoulder touches.
Shoulder touches where Elarion was convinced their other hand was holding a dagger. After all, why wouldn't they be? He had likely burned someone they cared about. Hells, chances are he made someone originally from that tower into a walking container of explosives! They should be stabbing him, so why aren't they?! Each friendly gesture made him more and more sure that the elves were only putting on appearances, trying to make him lower his guard until he least expects it, then give him a painful death while he has his guard lowered, for surely, there was no way they really saw him as brother.
Either this, or they needed something from him. He was a controversial figure for sure, but what could it be? An example of fractioned elves? He was one for sure. He was raised as a weapon for his home, to be unleashed upon Elisara at the climax of the war. A prime image of what the eternal conflict had lead to... Or perhaps... That was just it? During a conversation with The Sun, the radiant elf had said "I look at Elarion and I weep. In lieu of an ascended brother, before me stands a wayward child. This must never happen again." It sounded so much like an insult, but Elarion knew he was right. It is why he could not be mad at The Sun for saying it. He was the golden example of what centuries of separation had lead to. What centuries of hatred and centuries of believing the other to be their enemy had spawned. A destroyer, no longer aware of the ancient traditions and customs.
But even so, there was hope for Elarion. He had always been of an analytical mind. He would observe of his kin's behaviour and speech, and learn from them, for that is what they are. His kin. One of the first observations he made was the skin color of the elves under The Moon. Grey and pale, just as himself. Just like the color he had retained, even after healing himself of the Poison. There likely had been some deviations, considering his pale blond hair and emerald green eyes, but he had no doubt his ancestors were moon elves. Knowing he was among kin gave him some hope he would finally find something regarding his own bloodline. Perhaps their hosts would even know something.
One day during his stay, while Nicolette was resting, Elarion had let her be, certain that no one in the tower would dare attack her and make everyone inside a suspect. Surely no one would be stupid enough to. He went to the tower's library, hoping he could scour it for old texts, both of the ancient Greenwood and with some hope, the ancient House Hanolen... if there even ever was such a thing. Up to this point, all he had to go with was the words of his own parents, with the house seeming to have either been removed from history, or simply didn't exist at all. It all became clear when he had met The Twilight in the library. When Elarion asked if he knew anything of House Hanolen, the elf had told him Hanolen is the bastardized, modern interpretation of an older word; "Hanorlle."
There really was no wonder he had never found anything.. He had been searching for the wrong name! The Twilight had been able to tell him the name translates to "The Voyaging kin," and was founded by Ilvasaar Hanorlle. The name meaning did sound strange, but when he was given the book, and he saw the sigil of his ancient house, he knew right away it was right. A Phoenix immolated by fire. So even if he did not care for the fineries of his kin, there no doubt among them. He agreed with their vision for the future, and he was finally able to learn of his rightful place.
Registered Member #24916
Joined: 2:58:00 pm GMT 01/23/19
Posts: 612
But then something happens.. It always does. This time, there was another murder just outside the tower. Elarion could hear The Twilight and Silelmera bickering the moment he sat foot outside the tower. He cared absolutely nothing for their feud when there was an elf of light green skin laying dead. Forest kin, no doubt.. Kin Elarion had failed enough as it was. Not again.
When they were later joined by Elvalith, and then Nicolette, they decided to take the body to the morgue. There, after much work, primarily to keep whatever magic that was making the body decompose as fast as it was at bay. The result was something Elarion didn't quite understand. The decomposing came from a foreign genetic material, that "changed" the host, making them decompose at a rapid rate. A frightening thing for sure, and definitely not something Elarion cared for. He had thought he had seen the end of decaying forest kin when he his home, so to have it happen here again made his heart sink.
To make matters worse, it seemed Elvalith had known of cases like this before, where a drow had been responsible. A troubling thought, to have one of them involved. He knows from the little time he spent in Mora'chel, that they are schemers with efficiency at the level of the former Night Sisters. To have one involved is bad. Even worse if they are the third party they had been certain of. He had suspected Syfana's agents.. They had motive.. Something to gain.. What interest could possibly a drow have in Elisara?
It just doesn't sit right with Elarion.. Perhaps a testing ground? A place to experiment with powers he thought only Kallista would hold? Did she pass them on? If that is the case, to who? She just didn't seem the type for this, so how could possibly another one hold her magic..? As he walked the streets thinking about this, he heard commotion. Something had happened at the morgue?
He made his way over in a hurry, and walked right in before waiting for the guard. What greeted him inside was heat like he thought only himself could produce, so he was quick to ward himself. He walked past strange magics that reminded him of the carnage Kallista had left on Feywood, back when he had snuck up there to check on things. To have this happen in Greenvale.. He moved in, sparing the corpses only glances, as it was pretty clear it was too late for them. He made his way straight for the rooms he had visited just earlier, as they would definitely be the targets.
Sure enough, they were burned down, as if he had gone in there himself to erase evidence. Frustrating, but it really shouldn't be a surprise that someone causing all of this would try to erase their trail. He gave a quick glance to the doctor's office, and sure enough, that was on fire too. Everything was probably too destroyed to be of any use anymore, and he couldn't find anything important enough to use as a clue. He then remembered they had left Silelmera with a witness, in the high priestess' office, so he turned and went straight there. Her door had been warded, but when Elarion found it was only so against the elements, he tried to open the door.
A thud. He peeked inside, and saw her body on the floor. She was likely leaning against the door in a desperate attempt to keep it closed, but perished doing so. He pushed her a little, so he could slip inside, thankful for his smallish frame. At moments like this, it sure was convenient.. And as he looked at her, he found her body seemed to be in decent enough shape. She was badly burned, but no visible mortal wounds.. Perhaps she had fallen victim to... Wait, movement? Is she breathing?
Elarion pulled her further into the room and started undoing her armor, so he could get to work, for once actually working his medical skills on a living being. He got her down to showing her burns, but left her decent. It seemed most of her armor had taken the hits, but the woman had her head and neck showing. There was more than enough that needed tending, so Elarion laid out the resources he had on him. Sage level medical kits he had gotten during his missions, healing potions he always keeps on his person, and some herbs he often uses for his own wounds. He ripped the herbs to pieces, and sprinkled them into his potion vials. He gave them a good shake before pouring them over his bandages, soaking them up in the concoction. As the mixture was seeping in, he used the first one to clean her skin, giving it gentle wipes before he would lay them gently over her, and went on to bandage the burned areas.
Knowing she is at least stable, and her wounds should at least not be getting any worse, he remained with her until someone would come for them.
Doctor Kristoff Siegmund Assenberg-Baumgarten was at work in his office in the Greenvale Morgue, but he might as well have been in another universe. The furniture, books and tools in his office had been pushed out of his mind and replaced by equations, formulae and mental notes. The body that Elarion, Nicolette and Elvalith had brought him was unlike anything he had ever seen - imagined, even. Its genetic makeup had been manipulated, completely altered. That, in itself, was not so shocking. Powerful transmuters knew spells that could polymorph a creature into virtually anything, but such curses could be lifted by magic. The genetic material of the body in front of Doctor Assenberg-Baumgarten had been so fundamentally altered that no known spell or prayer could reverse the changes. It was absolutely extraordinary! The annual meeting of the Kreisian Scientific Society was due next moon, and Doctor Assebberg-Baumgarten would steal the show.
Somebody knocked on the door of his office. They had to knock twice, three times, four times for Doctor Assenberg-Baumgarten to hear.
"Yes yes, come in! Ah, it's you. I have heard about you. What can I do for you? I am a little preoccupied at the moment, though.
"No worries, doctor. This will only take a short while."
[ The Island of Thain ]
The Sun & The Moon
