- Joined
- Jun 21, 2019
- Messages
- 169
- Reaction score
- 745
- Points
- 258
The Nomëssa's seal can found on copies of this notice.
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FIGHT, OH FIGHT, FOR LOVE!
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FIGHT, OH FIGHT, FOR LOVE!
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I find myself compelled to address a matter of grave concern. My patience, a virtue I once prided myself upon, has been stretched beyond its limits again. I have, in the past, chosen to overlook certain associations.
Let us not mince words. I closed both eyes, in the hope that reason and restraint would prevail, and did not choose to address your ties with Sylas Sylphaalor that go beyond friendship. The Sylphaalors, whose lineage are steeped in the dark practices of demon-summoning and, furthermore, forever stained by the shadow of Catlanor that scarred the Regalian countryside.
I have already witnessed the fallibility of your judgment, the ease with which you translate perceived slights into the shedding of blood, as you yourself have admitted. It is a mistake that led to violence, and a mistake that you now seem poised to repeat.
I have shown you a forbearance that few would extend. I have held back the hand that, by all rights, should have struck long ago. I have offered you leniency, I have offered you my forgiveness, and I have offered you 'peace', for I did not intend to do much more until your involvement once again.
I have, and will again, turn a blind eye to your personal affections. Keep your dalliances within the confines of your shared walls with the Sylphaalor. I cannot care for the matters of the heart. You (and the other one I shall not name here) have turned the concept of love to ash in my mouth, one I had been nascently considering in recent times, and most bitterly, where my daughter is involved, with your trysts. You have struck down my nephew in your sordid concept of justice, Gods forbid you evoked Artarel's name in doing so.
I will not, I cannot, stand idly by while you endanger those under my protection. Strike first again, and I will promise you the mortal edge of my steel enjoining you to embark upon your next cycle to Mother Avinla's shrine. I pray I do not find you prowling the district again, seeking another opportunity for bloodshed. I pray we remain friends, but my trust in you is waning.
Do not mistake my restraint for weakness. Do not force my hand, Aakhya.
Let us not mince words. I closed both eyes, in the hope that reason and restraint would prevail, and did not choose to address your ties with Sylas Sylphaalor that go beyond friendship. The Sylphaalors, whose lineage are steeped in the dark practices of demon-summoning and, furthermore, forever stained by the shadow of Catlanor that scarred the Regalian countryside.
I have already witnessed the fallibility of your judgment, the ease with which you translate perceived slights into the shedding of blood, as you yourself have admitted. It is a mistake that led to violence, and a mistake that you now seem poised to repeat.
I have shown you a forbearance that few would extend. I have held back the hand that, by all rights, should have struck long ago. I have offered you leniency, I have offered you my forgiveness, and I have offered you 'peace', for I did not intend to do much more until your involvement once again.
I have, and will again, turn a blind eye to your personal affections. Keep your dalliances within the confines of your shared walls with the Sylphaalor. I cannot care for the matters of the heart. You (and the other one I shall not name here) have turned the concept of love to ash in my mouth, one I had been nascently considering in recent times, and most bitterly, where my daughter is involved, with your trysts. You have struck down my nephew in your sordid concept of justice, Gods forbid you evoked Artarel's name in doing so.
I will not, I cannot, stand idly by while you endanger those under my protection. Strike first again, and I will promise you the mortal edge of my steel enjoining you to embark upon your next cycle to Mother Avinla's shrine. I pray I do not find you prowling the district again, seeking another opportunity for bloodshed. I pray we remain friends, but my trust in you is waning.
Do not mistake my restraint for weakness. Do not force my hand, Aakhya.
Elamöna Nomëssa
12,401st of the Inulvaan
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