Bircalin

The Party Elf passes by the paper on his stroll, nodding to himself before heading home and returning with a charcoal to respond with. "Mister Sturtart, still going strong on my mountain!"

Dark Elves are largely the 'fighter' sub-race of Elves, whereas the High Elves look to the academic aspects of living. Make of that what you will, and decide what would suit your character more! Wood Elves are fun too, remember.

Donned in his typically less than formal garb, Bircalin sits with his feet naked atop the railings of the Lumidrim's smithy, sitting upon a small stool generally used by the smith himself. Precariously, the stool teeters on its hind legs as he pushes to and fro from the railing, familiarising himself with the events mentioned. His absence at the day's earlier attack was one he wasn't quite willing to let go of just yet and with thoughts running amok in his conscience, mind was soon to come to matter. With a flourish, he slips his legs from the railing, planting his feet firmly on the soft varnished oak to rise as he folds the Flagship under his arm. Tomorrow was a new day, and there was most certainly more work to be done in the Lumidrim and the North alike.

I'm not one of those people to say "It's just a game guys jeez" because I understand that people work to make the game more enjoyable for others and it's something others have to take into consideration. But, likewise to yourself, Gaius, I've grown to understand that it's key to remember that there really -aren't- any true obligations to this server and its community. But it's the same consideration that you give to those that work hard for the server that you have to apply when you try and make us an 'ideal' community, if you will. We will never be perfect, and I'm sure you know that. But in these attempts to bring truth to light, you distance the community from the people that cater to it. Rhia is right in saying that you've directly harmed the server, and you have, little what it may mean. On a more dramatic note, as per this community's 'typical behaviour': Remember just how many people you lied to that stuck up for you. "We -know- it wasn't you, Gaius, don't worry." Bravo, bravo.

Bircalin, the Evarir of the Lumidrim, finds himself once more stood over the large symmetrical table of the Lumidrim war-room coated in a thick layer of stained documents ranging from scouting reports to full-scale maps of Anthos. His gloved palms press against the table's fray, his more exposed fingers finding themselves rolling along the table to the sound of light galloping. A stern brow sits upon his features, heading his motionless white eyes as they scan the scene before him. Though, this time, the answer is not one of strategy, but direction. "Where to go from here..." He mutters to himself idly, chewing the corner of his lip before lifting a hand to his beard, scraping down his face with his palm before returning it to the table, planting one finger firmly pointed onto no specific pile of papers. The finger rattles upon the table, half-heartedly tapping it a handful of times before his head bobs somewhat in unison. "Not yet..." The words rolling from his lips as a breezed whisper, scooping the documents into a less cumbersome pile against his chest and storing them, locked away within the Evarir's office. Fumbling about through more drawers, he procures a second sheet of blank canvas roughly half the size of the Anthos map. Laying it on the centre of the table, his hand sweeps across the sheet, clearing it of any gathered dust as he follows the movement with a withered exhale. "We're going to need a lot of furs." He says in affirmation to himself, pushing himself to a full stand from the table to eye it fully. With a great, broad grin approaching his lips helplessly, he clasps his hands together, massaging his palms as his gaze begins to wander, sub-consciously murmuring... "Back in business."

The harsh crashing of steel is heard deep within Leumaelin. Elven horns begin construction. ((Through all that has happened, I wouldn't allow myself to see the Rose leave without wishing you all farewell. Adios, bane of the Elves. In the end, you done a damn good job.))

The musky aroma of mountain herbs being burned to a crisp seeped through the elder wood walls around Bircalin, the Evarir of the Lumidrim. In his late, comfortable clothing exempt from the restrictions of his armour, he sat with pipe in-hand and his feet propped up against the rim of the table ahead of him, using the soles of his shoes to gently usher his chair back and forth. Small ringlets of wispy smoke trailed from between his lips as he rocked to and fro, the welcoming scent of pipeweed easing his conscience as the news had carried itself to him earlier. War maps littered the table before him, though his focus was upon the ceiling; watching as time trudged by at a sluggish pace. A light frown furrowed itself into Bircalin's brow as his mind was racked with the thought of what he deemed total cowardice by the people who deemed themselves 'sons of dragons.' It seem surreal, for them all to leave. However suspicion would only get him so far so late at night. For now, he must wait for the eye of the storm to pass.

What was the reasoning for Elves having Emeralds?

Strewn generously throughout both Leumaelin and Darkhaven, fliers and posters are found pinned to boards, posts and all the local hot-spots. One statement headers each piece, beckoning your eyes' attention as you pass. Be the change. Mali, kin alike. I hear your cries for reform. Your pleas for a better Malinor, and I listen carefully. Let it be known that I cannot carry you to our ideal world; we can only walk together, hand-in-hand. Prosperity is achieved through unity and cooperation, without such, we will remain stranded, divided and torn. Some of the foulest creatures Malinor has ever witnessed beat down on our homes! They have taken our families, our friends, all those dear to us. Will you let this happen? Or will you act? Will you do what is necessary to protect us, your brothers and sisters? Will you rise from your coves, your hidden abodes and rise to unite against the torture that awaits? Those who stand idle do so alone. We are Mali; when we are provoked, we are fearsome and relentless until what was lost is restored once more. Now is the time to rise. Now is the time to stand fast. Now is the time to fight. At the foot of each and every notice, the Lumidrim banner is attached, fluttering with the cool Malinor breeze.

(( Thanks for the help and praise, Gavin. ^^ I'll have Khel do so when he returns!))

((Perhaps some people can be named, that know?)) Bircalin peers at the decadent, tattered notice with disinterest, far too old to mean anything now.

Having such unpredictable events sounds exciting enough to me! Not to mention the roleplay behind inhabitants gathering to reconstruct what was lost. You have my bow.

Posters are seen spread throughout Malinor, bearing a gold-colored insignia and an adeptly painted picture. ((http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/90690-the-lumidrim/)) ((Kudos to Ptah for the image-work.))

(( The Highguard were recently disbanded and entirely replaced by the Lumidrim. They are no longer an official fighting force and all previous members were removed of any rank and authority. For more information on what has occurred to the Elven military, seek out the Lumidrim IG and/or refer to the following topic: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/90690-the-lumidrim/ ))

The Evarir of the Lumidrim sits in solitude at the centre of the Leumalin barracks, a wide-stretched map of Anthos before him with a homely bowl of soup steaming beside it. Recent events had shaken the procedure at which the Lumidrim were set to be established, what with what was being dubbed the mightiest war for decades echoing just beyond Malinor's borders. Beyond his tidy beard hid bitten lips, gnawing at themselves in consideration of what the next move was. The Uzg had remained awfully quiet as of late, and with the recent goings-on at Leumalin's plaza, a chill seeped into Bircalin's spine. But paranoia and suspicion wasn't on the bearded Elf's mind, merely the anticipation of what might lie around the corner. For now, he could only lie in wait, hoping for his soup to cool soon.

Sets of fliers are pinned around the main plaza of Leumalin surrounding the central well. A rustic oil painting of an Elven soldier hangs high on each one, titled... The Lumidrim To all Mali and denizens of Malinor alike; this notice bears with it information regarding the official disbanding and thusly reformation of the current Elven force, the Highguard. In place of the Highguard, once led by the now-discharged High Commander Serva Rose, stands the Lumidrim, led by the newly-instated Grand Highborn Evarir, Bircalin Sturtart. Under a new regime, there will be a noticeable change of conduct expected and drilled-into the Lumidrim recruited. At this point in time, the current instruction for being recruited into the Lumidrim would be finding Highborn Khel Oussana in Darkhaven. Should you fail that, it should be known that the remaining two Highborns, Aer'mai Aldrasil and Galdor Elensar can be found around Leumalin to aid those in search of recruitment. However, only Highborn Khel handles recruitment entirely, meaning that only so much help can be offered by Aer'mai and Galdor. In conclusion, it is imperative that all current and past Highguard, regardless of rank, are to re-enlist as any other civilian would. Many changes are going to be made. It is not expected for many to like them. However, the changes are going to be made to benefit Malinor and bring an end to the era of constant disappointment our kin has faced. The change begins with this new face. As Grand Highborn Evarir of the Lumidrim and thusly commander of the Elven forces, I will not tolerate further disappointment towards my kin, that is my promise. Good hunting, Mali, Brothers and Sisters. ~Bircalin Sturtart~ Below the writing, a thin, narrow flag rests pinned onto the notice. ((Aer'mai - Liltim3000, Khel - Baconthief, Galdor - Crippledpope))