Mithradites

Name: Lucion Sullas ((MC Name)): Mithradites Age: Older than Mr Uradir. I shall not answer this question again. Magic Forms Known: One is a master of electrical evocation. One is also a dabbler in alteration, but by no means an expert on the subject. How do you lay claim to the fact you are pure mali'aheral? I doubt one needs to answer this question, Uradir. Otherwise, how would one have become the Sohaer? How long has one resided within the Lin'evaral? From its beginning. Is one associated with any other guilds? Only that of the Mage's Guild. However, my loyalties lie primarily in the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya. Will you follow the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya to the letter in the pursuit of arcane knowledge? No, Uradir. I planned to stop following it, for the first time in more than a century, simply out of spite for this question. What magical knowledge do you wish to acquire, if any? One mostly wishes to learn more of alteration. However, one is open to other magical forms, should they be offered.

Staring at both the notices upon the wall, Lucion shakes his head slowly and taps his iron staff upon the stone with small scowl. "Threats of torture and death, next, leadership overhauls. Inconsistent, this one." He marches quickly into the college, and makes his way towards his "office." "I must secure the rest of my research..."

Malin has very little to do with the high-elven perception of "purity." ;) I won't go into this, due to being about wood elves and such. Awesome lore, dude. This looks like a real wood-elfy culture, right here. +1

Stone after stone was placed upon the virgin soil of the newly named city of Lin'avarel--a new "sanctuary" indeed. The city slowly began to take form, and growing smiles of pride beamed across the citizens faces--the likeness of the ehaelun'or bringing comfort during the growing troubles. Books began to flock into the library, and the labyrinth slowly began to grow larger--more room being required to hold tomes. Buzzings of fear, worry, and intrigue leapt from high-elf to high-elf as talk of the civil strife in the Mali'nor reached a crescendo. Debate and arguments flared within the city, as the mali'aheral desperately tried to reach consensus upon what role the mali'aheral would play. Many considered a lack of clashes with the Valah organisations would allow them to remain ignored within their city, while others believed the humans came to conquer, burn, and pillage all. Many were frightened, and too few had experience in combat. What struck them most of all, was whether to join in the defence of the Mali'nor, or remain aloof of the conflict as they had always done historically. Many mali'aheral cited past wrongs committed by the people of the Mali'nor, and the subsequent effects it had on Kalos, Elysium, and Anthos politics. Some blamed the mali'ker, some the council, but consensus could not be reached. And thus the panic began...

Best way to get hit by an arrow-- -Person shoots an arrow at you. -You get hit by the arrow. Just get hit by the arrow, guys.

Standing around the newly-created plaza were numerous builders, artists, and architects. The creation of the new structure--the first of many, was a gorgeous inn. The distinctive blue tiles had been placed carefully upon the rocky foundations, and the mortar was still fresh upon the stone. A short, polite applause was performed by the reasonably pleased citizenry. That said, there was still much to do, and the mali’aheral were not about to stop so soon after beginning. After this success, the artisans began to design a whole slew of structures--mostly based on the blessed styles of the ancestors, but allowing for new, slender designs by the meticulous and obsessively creative stonemasons. With the diligent efforts of many citizens (some with great complaints towards the state of their robes after working) many new towers and halls were erected with a speed unseen in the days of the ehaelun’or. Remaining stern in their successes, and still very wary of failure, they continued their building with close precision. Standing upon the hills above the city, citizens reported strange shapes on the horizon on clear days, and (their natural curiosity taking effect) made overtures to explore the strange sights. An expedition was about to be formed...

Mali’aheral of all kinds stood around the small pond, and wiped their brows of sweat. For hours they had toiled upon the plateau of the “new place,” and now the freshly tilled soil spread like a blackened sheet around the little pool. The industrius mali’aheral, with chitters of pride and weariness, lay down seeds within the nutrient-rich soil, and waited for the new crop to spring up. Some mali’aheral--artists who preferred to design rather than dig at the dirt, explored the countryside with paper and pencils. They scribbled furiously as their hands flew across the parchment. Their minds-eye already mapping out what would one day adorn the hillsides. They knew of their first constructive effort already--as was before, would they have again.

Tradition and Silver The Continuing Story of Reclamation Within the grand library of the high elves, you find an old, dusty tome. The pages are crusted with dry, fading ink, and the pages are crumbling for the age of which it was written. As you flick through the pages out of your latent curiosity, you see that the images and inscriptions become distinctly more fresh the further you read--almost as if the books stories were written slowly over time. You open to the first page, and begin to read. From the landings of the elven ships went forth multitudes of elves towards the green haven of the newly reformed Malinor. Their many feet patted away at the fresh pavement of the Anthos highway and their eyes sparkled with innocent wonder at the pure, untarnished land ready for their habitation. Some elves, however, had a more melancholy look about them. As the mali’aheral stoically marched down the road with the other elves--their minds fluttered between their new horizons, and the losses of the past. They slowly found one-another in the crowds of strangers--being drawn to their compatriots with what seemed to be a weary magnetism. As they spoke, reminisced, and debated, their conversations slowly turned to “home.” Where was this new place that was promised to them so short a time ago? In groups, and alone, the mali’aheral struck out on their own, searching deep within the dense Malinorian forests. Pushing through trees, and rivers, they eventually happened upon a long, open sea of beautiful, untarnished flowers. The brilliant ocean of colour was almost a pathway towards their desired destination--some calling the picturesque sights “mandatory.” Arriving at the location, the mali’aheral were met with a sweeping view of great mountains, waterfalls, and small ponds. Nothing but meagre, rude tents were already present, and scattered around the grassy fields. The lack of resources did not put the settlers off, however, and they quickly began to scrounge seeds from the ground, and hunt the forests for game. They cut wood for fire, and spent their first evening huddled together against the cold. They asked for no aid from Malinor or its princes--perhaps out of desire to remain self-sufficient, or perhaps out of sheer, immovable pride they had in themselves. In the depths of the night, they spoke in whispers beneath their ragged blankets about past glories, the future, and independence...

As a self-professed "mad" scientist, I would like the occupation of "mad" scientist added to this list. Or just scientists in general! Or scholars who actually write stuff!