Rochirrum O Silithi' Waew

[Alagos Teasen'ddare]

Rochirrum O Silithi' Waew

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The Riders of the Silver Storm[/center][/font]

I Râd ui-renia lim a lim
dad od annon ial heriant.
Si palan-'wenniel nâ Râd,
a boe anim bo den padad,
aphadol den na-dail verai,
na-den ten ertha râd annaer
ias raith a lynd lim gevedir.
A na-man hi? Ú-bedithon.

Adel i vennas dartha aen
I ven eden, annon thurin;
Ar ae na-lim im bant nef hain,
I aur telitha na-vedui
Ir aphadathon i min haill
annûn od Ithil, rhûn 'd Anar.

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(Translation into Common below)

Man Rochirrum?

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(Who are the Riders?)

Long has it been since a light has shown in this darkness. Far too many a score of year has come and gone where good souls stood up as one, united to hold their ground against this torrent of evil. The lives of people, reading as if sad tomes, is often the story of cruelty and injustice and shortsightedness. There are monsters, there is evil, there is betrayal. They suffer the worst this life has to offer, from the height of greed to the depths of depravity. No longer can we stand silent, no more can we hold the tide that is our conscious. We know a thing must happen, when it is time for it to happen. Now is that time.

We are those souls brave enough to stand tall, to allow our enemies to see our faces, and to know our names. Old myths, old gods, old heroes have never died. We were only sleeping at the bottom of your mind, waiting for your call. We have heard the tolling of the bell, the cry of the raven, and the sound of horn on distant wind. The Riders are coming.

Lo, be our enemy. For we shall know no peace, no calm, no quiet, until the last of the blood has been washed from hair, mane, flesh and fur. We will ride until there be no need for blade or bow. When the smallest child in the most reclusive town can finally walk the streets unharmed, that shall be the day when your need of us has passed.

Until that time, the Riders roam this world, guided not by the brutal force of vulgar swordsmen, but the firm resolve of virtue and reason.



Gwadors & Gwathels[/font][/size]
(Sworn Brothers & Sworn Sisters)

Alagos Teasen'ddare, sylvan in blood, Ranger by calling, riding Amavin, a Silver Mearas mare.

Sabbathiel Skye, sylvan in blood, Druid by calling, riding Kashana. a Silver Mearas stallion.



C'a mellyn[/font][/size]
(You are with friends)

These are the those souls that are marked with a streak of benevolence and kindness. For them, the Riders will always come.

Emmarie Kathryn Galway, Commander of RaS adventuring company.



Avam nathlad 'werth min daur vîn[/font][/size]
(We do not welcome traitors into our forest)

There are those of you out there that find pleasure in the ruination of things around you. The slaughter of innocents, the destruction of the wilds, and the enslavement of her creatures. The only joy you can feel in this life is when you have those around you under the heel of your boot. We have seen your kind, and for your ability to breathe, we are ashamed. For those that have fled the light, hoping the darkness can hide your vile deeds, allow this to serve as your warning. We are coming. Our arrows swift and true, our blades keen and ready, the friends we ride into battle with the fastest and most sound of their kind. We will find you. We will bring you a measure of justice long past due. The Riders will fight, will bleed, will give their whole, until the last of you have been driven into the chaos you seek to unleash.






Translation of poem from Elven into Common Tongue

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the doors from which it began.
Now far have gone is the Road,
and it is necessary for me to walk,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it unites with a road greater
Where paths and tracks many shall meet.
And to what now? I will not say.

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.[/center]


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