riorr

The mandate came with it's fair share of surprises for one veteran of Elsillumiran. “Mayan Avern as the new head clinician… a long time since I heard that name. Some good news to take from all this, I suppose… a stinking hunk of - whatever foul scrap Hael is stitched together from was never going to be a proper replacement for a Mali'thill.” His eyes practically popped out of his head as he read down the page. “Still a liberal,” he spat, the very word leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “Surely the Maheral cannot agree to this?” Suddenly a shocking, truly scandalous thought occurred to him. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps they are... involved?” A wayward Sullas scoffed, “Valindra! They must be desperate!” He exclaimed with a false smile, the kind that barely hid years of unresolved grudges. His company murmured reassurances, patting him on the back like one might soothe a particularly irritable cat. Still, it took several deep breaths and a hefty dose of blood pressure medication before he could even pretend to be civil. But like a cat, he was curious. How had things come to this?

An elf of a bygone era stands among the gathered at The Silver Citadel. As the candidates introduce themselves, his thoughts stir. Kaeronin? Once impures from Aegrothond - now turned to Larihei's path. A promising shift. She holds potential, but the misusage of Mali'san grates on the ears. She still has much to learn before she is fit for such a station. And Mah'nel, another family reclaimed by Larihei's light. Yet, of them all, he is the weakest by far. Now, only two remain. Both have demonstrated intellect and eloquence in abundance. His choice is sealed with three words spoken by Annyerir, "Dissent is good." Where he stood, otherwise rigid on the podium, his fists clenched at his sides. Those words, coupled with the unsettling gaze of the Ailer'thilln, leave him with only one option. Knowing what he knows of Valindra, the decision weighs on him - but still, he casts his vote. Oh, how he longs for the days of the Blessed Diarchy. Name: Maelius Faeliel [ 1 ] Valindra Nullivari-Liavyre [ ] Azra Kaeronin [ 2 ] Annyerir Ailer'thilln [ ] Jari'el Mah'nel

Name: Maelius Faeliel Race: Mali’thill Place of Residency/Whether you’re Seeking Residency: [insert totally real address] Applied Position: Clinician

Capt’n Took would really want the pumpkin if she knew it existed

“Cyris yeh realleh need ter lay off t’e booze,” says Sheriff Capt’n Took, barely containing her excitement at the thought of using her shiny new cannons, regardless of target.

Halfling warcriminal and Sheriff of Dúnwen Capt’n Took broods. “Man, oi wish oi could pull off a grift loike t’at … ter bad oi ‘ave an image ter up’old now.” She laments to her dear friend(s) Meadow (and Geoffrey). @nerdy

Far away from the drama in Dúnwen, Capt’n Took reasoned with her own ex-spouse, the guard shuul she had flirted with to obtain her freedom. “Oi know t’at we are young … ‘n oi know t’at you may love meh … bu’ oi just cannae be with yeh loike t’is anehmore, Alejandro.” Eyes filled with crocodile tears, she departed in pursuit of her true objective, recovering “her” missing ship.

A former leader of Eluhieran and issuer of the "TRIGGER WARNING: CHILDREN" sign cracks a smile upon seeing the message.

The Sheriff of Dúnwen, Capt'n Took, took mental note of the noble knight's name so she could treat him if they ever met.

[!] An unsigned letter arrives to the Petalspell Tailor. "Your clothes are the finest quality I've seen in my time travelling. Please make male elf robes, in any shade of blue. I like blue."

The newly appointed Sheriff of Dúnwen, Capt'n Took, was having an eventful first day on the job. First news arrived their neighbours were suffering a plague, now their village was threatened with war. She knew nothing of the reasons behind these crises but was just barely sharp enough to piece together the situation. The path forward was not her decision, regardless, she would defend her fellows with her life. Unlike most of the Shire-folk, who had never seen war beyond the constant fight against garden weeds, the pirate innocent sailor was well-acquainted with it's harsh realities. As she surveyed her trophy wall, adorned with the heads of direwolves, she mused that it might soon bear one of an orc.

Took gon' give it to ya (What?) No making ham sammiches on your own, Took gon' deliver to ya (Uh) Knock knock its Took hustling down this path With a non-stop bop-bop, run from her shovel's wrath Go ham, get cheesy with it (Ooh) Ham sammiches so good even if ya kid asks you ain't gon' split it (Yeah) No shocker, Took'll do it again (Yeah) Cause she's so proper that she's got to win (Uh, uh, uh) VOTE TOOK FOR SHERIFF 792 S.R.

"'ow sad, now sheh won't beh able ter seeh meh debate!" Lamented Capt'n Took before eating a s'more in Mother Alrisha's honour.

[!] Penned in Capt’n Took’s own handwriting is a letter sent directly to the Musin, Spuds. Spuds, I hereby invite ye to a debate so that the Shiredom of Dúnwen may meet, inquire and make properly informed decisions on their choice of candidate for Sheriff. Do you accept my offer? Check one box [Yes] [No] [OOC: Time TBD]