HobbitForHire

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Changed Status to Under Review

Malii'evarir casts an idle eye over the board in Celan'or as she passes through, noticing the bounty. She considers the description, and the metal arm she had stored away at her home. Considering the sentimental value of the arm, taken from a person she despised, and comparing it to the posted reward and what the additional reward might be, she decides to try and locate the person behind the bounty to discuss whether she had the correct arm or not.

HobbitForHire#6479 HobbitForHire Golden Sandstone - 125

HobbitForHire#6479 HobbitForHire Golden Sandstone - 110

Malii'evarir reads over the letter with a roll of her eyes. "What is it with the vallah I know and marrying mali? Ne pleasant for either side in the end" she sighs, feeding the note to the Mother Grove's resident turtle. "Suppose I'd best keep an eye out for her showing up. At least I'd get another arm out of it if she tried anything. Now what do you get a wild man and an 'ame for their wedding?" she ponders, looking to that same turtle for some inspiration. ________________________________________ Einar hears about the wedding when a friend delivers the note to the distillery while he was working. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he reads over it. "The hell is Roylan? Hope he likes gin at least" he comments as he returns to work, making a mental note to speak to Veronna about drinks at the event.

Malii'evarir reads through a copy of the document in her home, squinting at the words as she read. Squinting for several minutes she eventually just mutters "I have no idea what any of this means" as she folds the paper and places it on a shelf wondering if she could use her confusion to avoid tax for a while.

A wood elf would learn of this some time after it happened, talking to a friend of a friend who once knew a shady guy's friend. Not letting on how the news impacted her until she arrived home, she plonks on the floor and takes a few deep breaths. "By the aspects, of all the people I thought would be able to spit in the spider's eye I would have put every mina on you" she says to no one. Pricking her thumb, she draws a red line down both of her eyes and just sits alone for some time, remembering the prick that was once one of her closest friends.

Malii'evarir returned from a year in the forest to find a letter in her home, taken in by the person watching her animals. Reading it she grins and begins to look around for her dress. "About damn time" she comments to herself as she searches. "Though I need to find a plus one I guess. Can't go to Elysium without causing some problems"

Malii'evarir stops on her walk, pausing to read the notice. "Well" she hums to herself as she continues on her way, "Considering who Elysium's diplomat was, I can't say I'm suprised. Wonder if I could convince the uruks to really burn where that bakery used to be. Maybe save me a brick from the keep." She continues on her way with no plans of helping either side, but certainly planning to enjoy the show. Einar was out wandering berries when he saw the sign, scrawling the words on a page and running home to show his father after making sure the berries were secure in his satchel

Sitting around a campfire and telling some stories with her friends, laughing the night away after a few stressful days, Malii'evarir's sleeve is tugged. Looking down, she spots the figure of a small lad holding a few pieces of paper. "Ah, something interesting's happened?" she asks, taking the one offered to her. A crude and misspelled version of the missive rests in her hands as she reads through. After a few moments of reading, she scrunches her nose, passing the note to person sitting next to her and handing a few mina to the courier. "A shame about the name involved here. I think her words carry about as much weight as my own when it comes to critisizing that acursed city. She's right though. A De Astrea will not be made to pay for their own crimes and it'll not be spoken of again" she says to the man now reading the note as she cooks a new chunk of pork on the fire. "Ah well. Perhaps some day the De Astrea's will slip up and have a power trip targetting someone respected. Then we'll have an interesting day."

Feeling the call of nature weeping at the passing of another soul, Malii'evarir sigh and makes camp. Counting her friends and family that were alive and giving thanks to the aspects, she pulls a small bag out from her satchel. Planting a seed that falls from the bag into the ground and opening the flask from within the bag also, the Druid helps the flower root and grow into a strong and beutiful plant. She sits next to the flower, drinking and keeping it company until the following day breaks, where she sets back on her way.

"Ah finally" Malii'evarir says with a content sigh by the campfire, opening a drink to swig from as she reads a copy of the notice sent to her. "Finally we're dealing with the body of the hydra and not just the heads. A great battle is coming. I'll slay many a ferryman in the name of Andria."

Malii'evarir takes deep excited breaths seeing squashka on the menu

A bored ame looks over the leaflet with an intrigued smile. "Well, it's been a while since I've seen one of these" she would hum to herself, pulling out a notebook and jotting the numbers. Taking herself back home, she sits and plays with the numbers as her own form of meditation. As she works, she casts her mind back to her old friends that might have enjoyed the puzzle back in the day and considers seeking them out again to reminice.

Oh god there's two of them

*A letter would be sent to fenn, elvenesse, lubba keep, and the vale of nevhealen to be pinned up* Greetings friends of Fenn and Nor'asath, I would like to formally invite each and every one of you to attend a masquerade in the Fenn Throne Room. The theme of the night is a celebration to those often underappreciated. The smiths and farmers. The tailors and bakers. Those who make our lives worth living without the glory of battle, be it on the battlefield or court. The masks are a symbol to hide the sides of ourselves that often lead to such a divide, and talk of politics or war is strongly discouraged while we drink and dance in celebration of our friends. Alongside refreshments, there's also a raffle on offer for Two Mina per entry (max 2 entries) with prizes from various crafts with donations to such being welcome. If you've a toolset you've smithed up, or know how to make a loaf that all love, we'd like to extend an invitation to donate to the raffle. All mina raised will be used as a prize of it's own. A special invitation goes to: The blacksmiths of Fenn and Elvenesse The barkeeps in the Vale and Lubba Keep The tailors of Lubba Keep The bakers of Elvenesse That one sweet stall in the entrance to Elvenesse The farmers of all the friendly natures that make our living possible -Virion R'Ikarth

I like the idea, my main concern reading through was with clothing obscuring the source of the magic, but that seems to have been addressed. I do agree with MayRndz with regard to tracking the tattoos though. It seems a pretty powerful tool to have if just anyone that's T3 in transfig can immediatly open a tattoo parlour for all your Voidal needs. I'm not familiar enough with voidal magic to comment fully on how strong this is though, so it might be an ignorance thing. If people more familiar with that side think it's balanced, I won't argue. In terms of it being a cool idea, I'm on board.

Virion R'Ikarth, upon hearing of the library opening, decides immediatly to see how many books he could copy but change the names in. He considers this while reading a pook of poetry, re-learning how to read after his time away from civilisation.

Malii'evarir reads the post while passing through Haense. "Perhaps I should tell Nyx, at least this poster didn't seem hung up by the mal themselves"

"De Astrea heir... De Astrea heir..." mal hums to herself. "Agh, I never could wrap my head around the aca'talonnii's many members" she shrugs, leaving the notice where it was. "If I smell something foul, I'll take a look, good chance it'll be them" she adds to her personal conversation.

Malii'evarir would return home after some time and a long journey. Taking a cursory glance at the notice board, this one would catch her eye. "Oh dear, what despterate soul is looki- NYX'II" she'd end with a yell. Not finding her adopted daughter at home, she was very prepared to have words when they next met.

Malii'evarir reads the note and let's a wry grin slide onto her face. "Oh, so now we're acting the same as the vallah? Perhaps the mali'thill are ahead of the times after all" she says, tossing the letter she'd snatched off a noticeboard into the fire. "Let's just get some diety or another to rid us all, a lack of any problems then" she'd sigh, tossing her sword, bow, and staff off to the side as she prepared to sleep.

Aoife reads the missive with a heavy sigh. "I left Urguan to come home and get away from war. It just never ends" she says to nobody in particular. Knowing she had a long few days of smithing ahead of her, she heads to the keep to get some rest. Malii'evarir reads the missive more passively. Not really one for politics, she checks that her chests contain the weapons and armour she brought with her and prepares to be called into battle.

Aoife would hear the news of her kin's passing quickly. After some time crying over the loss, she'd head to the forge to take her mind off things. Everything she smithed that day came out warped or cracked, as useless as she felt in those moments. She'd not move from her place at the forge until she was numb, even then only sleeping in the side building to the forge. Malii'evarir hears the news through friends. While not as close to Daibh as some had been, she still felt a pit of sadness in her stomach. "Life's so short for the vallah" she'd hum, considering the mortality of some of her closest friends. She'd then pull out a sketchbook that was familiar to some, and begin designing a fitting tribute to a great man.