THE MISSIVE OF TYPHON FROM THE HAND OF LADY CORINE [An annual message shared among those of the Morancaire claim in the Northeast of the Mist Isles, eventually to be trickled down to wherever [Seafarers] and Mistans of related origin would hear their news of those back home.] I address you all through the voices of our couriers, speaking swiftly from wherever they stand, lifting this message to each and every one of you within the Morancaire claim. I pray that when you hear these words, you imagine them in not the voice of your Lady, but in the tone of your beloved sister, friend, or wife, extending her well-wishes to you as we now reside in the curl of Typhon’s wave, deep in Reflection. My husband, Lord Cinaed, has often utilized these missives as a way of taking inventory of the state of our House - from the bonds forged and strengthened among our fellow Houses under the steady hand of the Serene Monarch, to the security of our waters, past the Candles that mark our watery borders and the great depths beyond, revealed only to our brave fishers and traders by She Who Shrouds Us, our Siren Serene.  However, in noticing the shake of grief within his grip, struggling to script this annual message for you all, I elected to take the quill from his grasp, and to dip it in the ink of tragedy that has stained the story of each and every life in the Mist Isles this past year. The unrelenting, unforgiving Tideblight silenced numerous voices of our Siren’s choir, and forced an abnormal quietude over our cities and homes.  This earthly family - the humble fishmonger, the spirited bard, the harrowed caretaker - forced to isolate from one another, singing a fragmented song of desperate supplication to the Siren in place of the overly triumphant hymn of gratitude for the serenity she brings. The Morancaire Household was not exempt from this nauseating silence, an affront to the Siren’s serenity, having lost two of our own Singers of Mercy at the onset of the sickness. What sickened me was my daughter’s grief, unable to raise her voice and lips to the cold brow of the mother of her oldest confidant, forced to observe the Rites of Departure from an impersonal distance. When Queen Gwennora decreed the end of the isolation, raising her hand to conduct the tempo of normalcy, I had expected to feel relief wash over my form. But even in shaking hands with each of you, whether by meeting you by chance alongside our Harbourmaster at the Fangtip docks, or breaking bread with you at our Keep of the Divine Voice, that chill of isolation remained. Isolation, from those Mistan and Morancaire in both blood, diligence, and spirit. I think of our brothers and sisters in Caz-on-Bord, their sweat and spirits drained to fill the coffers of a Duke; I think of our Valkian cousins, many of which who spend months away from their loved ones to fulfill the never-ending exchange of friendship, wares, and wealth across the waters. And I dare think of our counterparts in the Southern Reach, our fishers and traders daring to go beyond the Siren’s ever-present gaze in hopes of discovering lies in this unknown world. If we are quieted by the loss of our loved ones from our immediate reach, then our family beyond the Isles must feel as if they have been made mute. In recognition of the pandemonium beyond the Isles, isolating the sailor and unsteady from the serenity of the Siren, Lord Cinead and I have sponsored a new shrine for her favor, nestled south of the Spire, the seat of the Seneschalty of the Southern Reach. In transforming a harrowing shipwreck into a refuge, we dare to take part in the Siren’s ever-changing nature to demonstrate that we too may turn catastrophe into respite. We remain grateful to our Ancaire counterpart in the region for setting the foundation of this new sanctuary on our behalf, and gladly name her as Shrinekeeper under the Morancaire name. We pray that the Siren accepts this offering as we recognize that her claim and blessing lies not just within our reach, but within the purview of those who dare to commit to the Mistan and Morancaire tradition in other lands and other waters. May the Siren carry these words of tidings across the winds and the waves to you and your loved ones. LADY CORINE OF SIRENSONG Spoiler tl;drNew Siren Serene shrine in progress south of the Spire - will post official Sanctuary details later on. :)

" I PRAY TO CATCH YOU WHISPERINGI PRAY YOU CATCH ME LISTENING. " The GUARDIAN appreciated the anonymity, the predictability of most days. Wake at dawn - or whenever the babe woke first; tend to the child, tend to the netting. Bind the child at one's breast or one's back, whichever ached less from the night's repose. Lace up the boots, sweep the floors from the granules of sand brought in from the night before. Though the shore out the window looked nothing like the glassy waves of Marionsport, they were steady. Consistent. Cyclical. Predictable.She grunted as her knees lowered onto the sand, one hand kept on the bundle against her chest - chest, this morning - as she lowered her head as much as she can towards the mouth of the tidal pool, the sacrilegious site where she had lost all her faith - in herself, in her Siren. Behind her, her footprints remained, slight indentations in the sand that were sure to be wiped away with the cool winds soon enough, time still in the clutches of Frostfall.  A small cry escaped from her form - though not of her own lips, interrupted in their utterance of the spoken hymn she had decided upon in their walk towards this contradictory site - one that contained the Siren's multitudes, yet left her empty at the remembrance of the Fey that tempted her. The wintry winds, she mused, were no suitable for a child - and if she were to admit it, those winds had a way of penetrating her armored skin.Glancing up at the sky, where the sun had only began to make its ascent past the clouds, the FISHERMAN ruled that there would still be some time before the first boats rolled out for the day's catch. With a hum, she made her way to stand, brushing off her form before they began their trek west of the Spire, up along the coast. She tried to ignore the slight heave within her breath as they made the walk along the shore and she recounted those warmer days, her wiry form warring against interlopers within the waters. Day's labor and bearing the babe outside of her body were all she could do these days to retain this form. One marred by affection, divinely etched - one that slept calmly and soundlessly, angst poured out from her cup and into the basin of the one from her dreams, returned in the form of a plain feather. A fishing spear overly sharpened for war and glory, dulled once more for the piercing of fish. And soon enough, the decaying proof of man's folly came into view - the shipwreck of the Alimony's Due. Her free hand flexed for want of the holy trident, now shoved away in the back of her closet of fishing paraphernalia, having rationalized that perhaps the Siren wished her to serve her in a way less volatile and to leave the shows of strength, the fits of passion, to her waves and her storms. A thought that embittered her, she quietly admitted, grateful that the life-blood, the water of her form, remained exactly that, within her veins, her mind - so that the Siren and no others would read her, see her as unhappy. Yet as the WORSHIPPER found herself sat within the shelter of the broken hull of that accursed vessel, she felt that futile tremble within her hands. A desire to serve. To break from this self-imposed container, from the monotony that she had grown to associate this faceless stability with. To spill out into the world, to reclaim it. Perhaps the Siren would finally see her here, asking for forgiveness and guidance among these mistakes of man, and call her once more. She leaned her head back against deteriorating wood, inhaling the cold, salt air, exhaling warm breath out. Her eyes shut in prayer once more, having forgotten all notions of daily catches and little hands grabbing at her fins, her collar. The waves lapped a bit closer to shore, and retreated back out.

Two crisp letters, born from the same curious idea, part ways.One goes Topsy-Turvy, gently placed yet jumbled in a messenger's parcel.The other will go from steward to Steward, handled with care. If intercepted, the writer seems to pay no mind, written with suchwinding prose! Tales of a sickness brewing within our shared roost inspire great sadness in me. But our brief plans made for those who wearily approach our shores remind me of our past with strange interlopers, and bring to mind a sickening rot that I fear have infected us too long - the one of inaction. I will be thoroughly disappointed in the lot of us if we allow it to fester and stain our coast once more. So perhaps I hope you will entertain the interests of a humble sailor, wishing to make good on your promises of company under the gaze of our beacon, guided through a fine Harrowing night. MAY SERENITY GUIDE, C. MORANCAIRE Spoiler @Nat_Night @Pyrias

DON'T I GET A DREAM FOR MYSELF?STARTING NOW, IT'S GOING TO BE MY TURN. PACT BROKEN WITH CIREN'NA MADE WITH THE DREAMING ONE.

HOUSE MORANCAIREALL FOR THE ABUNDANCE OF THE WAVES. SUMMARY House Morancaire is one of the noble houses under the Serene Monarchy, governing the northeast islands of the Mist Isles on behalf of ruling House Moran, seated on the jagged landmass known as the Serpent’s Fang. Their most notable claims are the small but cosmopolitan city of Fangtip and the Candles, the jagged rocks that lie at the northeast passage to the rest of the Mist Isles.  Established in the late 1480s, the House builds upon the legend of its founder, Cadfael Morancaire, by providing security throughout its watery claim, promoting fairness and abundance of opportunity, and above all, representing the might and generosity of the Siren Serene. ORIGIN The Tale of the Boy Morancaire The tapestry of House Morancaire is multifaceted, colored with the successes of great craftsmen, threaded with a spirit of hard work and shared prosperity. While its festivals and varied celebrations boast of great fortune, it is said that the House’s story begins with a forgotten scrap of fabric - a young heir, raising his voice, bolstered by the roar of the waves. Long ago, the Maestro under Lord Celyn I of House Moran, bore witness to a promising portent - many hands would raise the discolored banner of House Moran over an era of uninhibited prosperity and development, singing songs of praise to their Siren. Overjoyed, Lord Celyn christened his firstborn son with the same name, in hopes that at least his moniker would be able to bear witness to the abundance soon to come to his House. Years later, Celyn the II, lacked such discipline that his late father had instilled upon him, instead entertaining himself with the great spoils earned by his elder, who had been entrusted with maintaining the safety of fishers along the waters of their claim, and to ensure safe passage of ships through the Candles. Though he would maintain a dignified, even sharp presence in the Court of the Serene Monarch, that same attention to detail was not spared for his sailors and his fishers, who found themselves in constant conflict amongst themselves and foreign entities from the Northeast, attempting various occupations.  In his time at court, he became entangled with the Dame Ancaire of the North, a former Mistan who immigrated to one of the many Northern Kingdoms and became one of the first foreignborn knights of her order. Having sired a son out of wedlock, he convinced her to abandon her post as representative of her kingdom, and to reside with him as his bride in the Mist Isles. Though he adored her and their child, the boy Cadfael, his Maestro insisted that such a dishonorable heir to the Moran name would surely change the fate promised to them by his father’s portent. In fear of losing his good fortune, Celyn heeded his Maestro’s words, marrying the advisor’s daughter and casting out the former Dame and their son to a life of obscurity. The Great Drain & The Boy’s Rebellion The young Cadfael grew to be a handsome, charming man, honed under the discipline of his mother and warmed by the presence of his fellow fishers, who raised him with great respect and wonder for the Siren Serene. He came of age during “The Great Drain,” where fishers began to find their once-laden nets empty, unable to meet the harsh quotas placed by the now aged and embittered Lord Celyn whose sights had now turned to expanding trade with the North in hopes of restoring favor with the Serene Monarch. Emboldened to improve conditions for his fellow man, Cadfael confronted his father for his unrealistic demands - Lord Celyn responded by sending his order of knights to threaten and coerce fishers to give up their meager shares of fish and earnings meant to support themselves and their families. Heartbroken that his actions brought further anguish, Cadfael began to challenge those knights who appeared in fishing villages for the demanded quotas, deft at defeating them thanks to his mother’s training. Songs of his bravery began to spread throughout the claim of House Moran, inspiring even the most inexperienced fisher to raise their harpoon to challenge the cruelty of Lord Celyn. This growing resentment turned into the Boy’s Rebellion, headed by Cadfael Moran and Dame Ancaire as his steadfast right hand.   The Festival of the Siren’s Mercy  The Rebellion came to a head on the Festival of the Siren’s Mercy, a holiday of supplication to the Siren Serene; fishers and sailors from all over the Moran claim gathered along the east side of the Serpent’s Fang, making a pilgrimage down to the lowest dock of the city now known as Fangtip. Their voices, meant to lift songs of great praise and hope for another year of peace among the waters, soon began to screech and wail, once again threatened by Lord Celyn’s knights. Cadfael, at the head of the pilgrimage, did his best to prevent fighting from escalating, but it was too late - the waters, meant to be pure and clear in the name of a serene year, were now bloodied. The survivors took the water, staining the Moran banners and lifting them high, bringing them to hang on the Moran Fortress. Fearful of completely losing his legitimacy in the eyes of the Serene Monarch, Lord Celyn quickly withdrew the presence of his violent knights. Knowing that he had lost the favor of the common people, he restored the Moran name to Cadfael and knighted him under that same, cruel order, hoping to placate him and his followers. Cadfael, wanting to separate himself from the violence of the Moran name, instead founded the House Morancaire and established a new order of knights, the Order of the Chorale, who now maintain dominion on behalf of House Moran, promoting abundance and safety for all among the waves. COURT PRESENCE House Morancaire is welcomed in the Court of the Serene Monarch, renowned for its contributions to expanding the disciplines of navigation and architecture throughout the North. Among other Noble Houses, they have been known to attempt to leverage this influence and its position controlling the northeastern passage to the rest of the world in hopes of turning Fangtip into a rivalrous port with Sirensong and Marionsport. However, in recent years, House Morancaire has become deferent to the guidance of ruling House Moran, following their blunders against House Aeronwy in Marionsport. MAIN MEMBERS OF THE HOUSEHOLD Lord Cináed of House Morancaire, the Current Head of the Household, the Weathered Lord Cináed is the stubborn and stalwart head of the Morancaire household; though he has not received any particular boon from the Siren, his steadfast nature and political prowess in advocating for his people have made his claim undeniable. Lady Corine of Sirensong, bestowed with the Honor of the Dame The daughter of a lowbrow merchant in Sirensong, Lady Corine is an unnatural beauty made known by her rarified, blessed voice. She is often present at court to represent House Morancaire’s interests, a balmier presence than her spirited husband. Lady Elide of House Morancaire, Heir to the Morancaire Name The only surviving child of Lord Cináed and Lady Corine. Heavily guarded, much mystique surrounds the young heir of House Morancaire and her potential in strengthening the position of the House in the Court of the Serene Monarch, where her mother is hopeful for her to begin serving as a lady-in-waiting - an education contrasting the more manual training each heir to the Morancaire name starts with during their youth. CULTURE | TRADITIONS The traditions of House Morancaire center around a deep respect for the everchanging nature of fortune, personal triumph over worldly tribulations, and communal celebration, regardless of rank or occupation.  The Festival of the Siren’s Mercy A tradition first created by House Moran, the Festival of the Siren’s Mercy is a reverent celebration practiced across fishing villages throughout the claim of House Morancaire. At sunset, fishers and their families host a great feast, celebrating their success throughout the past year. Following the evening meal, the entire community processes from the highest point in their community, singing through every street bearing incense and candles before making it to the lowest point of the village, closest to the water. At the end of the procession, villagers return quietly to their homes, buoyed by the hope the Siren has heard their songs. In the city of Fangtip, the tradition holds particular prominence in remembrance of the Boy’s Rebellion against Lord Celyn the II. The city’s residents make their way through the city bearing banners of House Morancaire alongside the usual incense and lights, ending at the Siren’s Diadem for a vigil in respect to the fishers harmed in the conflict. Candle-Lighting Halfway through each year, all young sailors who reach adolescence are called to Ffynhonnell, where they will be designated crews and make the journey around the Serpent’s Fang and the Pebble before making their way through the treacherous Candles, capable of wrecking ships under the direction of inexperienced hands - if successful, they return to the lighthouse town to celebrate their triumph through the Siren’s endless fog. Cadfael’s Tourney Cadfael’s Tourney recalls the efforts of the house founder, Cadfael Moran-Ancaire, who traveled the length of his father’s claim and defended the rights of his fellow fishermen against that cruel order. The citizens of the Morancaire claim submit their fellow man for the tourney, in which different competitors are paired off to duel in different settlements, culminating in a final battle at the city of Fangtip. Various members of House Morancaire travel to watch the progress of the Tourney in hopes of fostering a connection with their subjects, and to encourage further integration among the different settlements and cities.  HOUSE MORAN & AFFILIATES House Moran is one of the oldest ruling houses in the Mist Isles, believing themselves to be the stewards of the tangible, chaotic domain and intangible, spiritual will of the Siren Serene. Mirroring aspects of the court of the Serene Monarch, House Moran maintains its own order of advisors to discern the wishes of the Siren Serene to guide their decisions, all led by the Maestro, the chief advisor to the head of House Moran. These advisors are meant to balance out the influence of the Maestro; they are determined not by rank or bloodline, but their prowess in their respective fields and  their relation to the Siren Serene. The current Lady Moran is Caitrìona Moran, a formidable sailor and naval strategist, the second daughter of the Lord Emeritus.  Following the disgraceful period of violence under Lord Celyn the II, the following Lords of House Moran established traditions valuing discipline and self-refinement, where one must replicate the constant smoothing of the shore by the waves in their own lives. The individual should be constant in their pursuit of trials, in hopes of clarifying themself in tribute to the Siren Serene. ⚬──────────✧──────────⚬   THE ANCAIRE COMPANY OF MARIONSPORT In 1600, Lord Alasdair Morancaire, frustrated that his prized city of Fangtip was unable to compete with the ports of Marionsport and Sirensong, sent his younger son, Alasdair the II, to lead the Ancaire Company, a small group of traders, fishers, and navigators meant to establish the presence of House Morancaire in the land claim between House Moran and House Aeronwy to the east and the west, respectively. Alasdair the II, though well-meaning, lacked the same political prowess his father had, eventually dying without making the Company relevant within the city.  Though the Company is helmed by full-blooded descendants of House Morancaire seated in the Manor of Marionsport, the current household considers them fringe members of the family who were foolish to attempt to branch out within the claim of House Aeronwy. They fear the day that the Siren calls them to bring their brethren back into the fold. NOTABLE FOLKS Arran Ancaire: First Son of Alasdair the II, felt that the worldly responsibility of managing the company was better suited to his sharp-tongued brother. Surrendered his role as the Hand of the Ancaire Company, instead serving as the family shrinekeeper in Marionsport until his peaceful passing at sea. Sired the Siren’s Blessed, Callan Morancaire, with his estranged partner, Ho-Sook of Great Clan Moon. Irvine Ancaire: Second Son of Alasdair the II, believed that he could capture the attention of House Morancaire and establish relevancy in Marionsport by manufacturing a myth that could win the hearts of the common sailor as Cadfael did. Served as the Hand of the Ancaire Company until his passing, naming his niece, Callan Ancaire, his successor. Moira Ancaire: Daughter of Irvine; practical and uninterested in the Siren Serene, she has since abandoned her father’s strategy, and now works to keep the Company from going into bankruptcy, despite her unofficial status as the Hand of the Ancaire Company. Callan Morancaire: Daughter of Arran; mentored in performance and political dealings by her uncle and guided in spiritual matters by her father, she reluctantly sailed for the Spire under the conditions of a dubious will left behind to make her heir to the Ancaire Company. The first to claim the Morancaire name since her grandfather’s arrival in Marionsport years before.