Regisfall

To all who dwell within the borders of Arandor, and to any who may seek entry from beyond: By direct order of Her Majesty, Queen Ninvere Lanreci, and with full authority granted to the Office of the Magistrate: Arandor has formally entered a period of mourning. We grieve the loss of one who stood as...

“You Are Being Corrected. Quietly.” By Elion Miradove, Poet-Sage of the Harmoniums Muse, Amateur Craftsman (Briefly), and Unofficial Huff Anthropologist Hill Elves do not raise their voices. They do not point, gesture wildly, or lecture at length. They simply exhale—and the world corrects itself. T...

A Guide to Pairing, Parents, and the Perils of Getting Along with Hill Elves by Elion Miradove, Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse Survivor of One Thistlebrook Courtship On the Nature of Pairing Elven pairing is rarely swift. It is the slow turn of a season, the patient growth of root and bloom, and ...

From the Field Guide to Things That Nearly Killed Me Let me begin by saying that Veldrin Naenala and I are the same height. Exactly. Down to the inch. Five-foot-three of unimpressed stares and withering silence. I want that known—because what follows may sound like the bitter rant of someone belitt...

Chapter I: Of Scales and Sanity – Entering Wyrmwood Wyrmwood is not so much a forest as it is an ancient argument between earth and fire, whispered through roots and echoed from the stone. Nestled in a hidden valley bordered by impassable peaks, this emerald labyrinth teems with creatures older tha...

or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept the Seventh Course By Elion Miradove Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse Master of the Polite Decline, Kept Chewing and lost consciousness, Once Felled by a Single Stew Pot There are many trials one must endure in this life. Love. War. Trying to explain to...

A deep investigation, conducted entirely from the comfort of dry socks By Elion Miradove Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse Unbidden Guest at Too Many Campfires Voice of Reasonable Nonsense Collector of Cautionary Tales, Third Edition Let us consider a mystery not of arcane origin, nor buried in some...

As penned while standing on a box, purely for effect. By Elion Miradove Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse Modestly Measured, Monumentally Memorable Let it be known: I am five feet and three inches tall. Yes. You may gasp dramatically. Among the Elves of Arandor—where the men loom like statues carved...

By Elion Miradove Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse Damp-Footed Visitor of Dockside Boroughs Unofficial Inspector of Questionable Fencing Ah, Tilverton. Where the buildings lean slightly—either from age, bad carpentry, or secrets—and the air smells faintly of brine, coin, and unresolved tension. This...

By Elion Miradove Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse Speaker of Silences That Should Not Be Broken Archival Guest of Every Library That Regrets It Ah yes, Igneos—the Firelord. The Calamity in Chains. The molten horror beneath the mountain the Elves wisely refer to as the Throne of Fire. Let us begin b...