racingbrother

The hagged old man smacks his lips together, half reading the charter. He allows some saliva to dribble down his gullet and drip onto the charter "Oi, aye, Druid land. Wot a novel an' grand ol' idear." He jots his name down, "The Wiling Druid"

Dover takes the flier, smearing dirt across it, signifying his signature. "Aye yes, a fine signature this is. I am ever so pleased to be an official sheep shagger!" MC-Name: racingbrother RP-Name: Arum Druid Dover Skype: racingbrother Profession: Professional Sheep Shagger Have you teamspeak?: No Time-zone: PST Do you agree to our PK Agreement stated below?: Yes

Where's Dalek when you need him? I say we practice protest when applications are released; mass Cakeman application spree

This was helpful, I didn't read the lore

Hey guys, sorry about the late response , we've experienced a drought in RP in 3.75 due to OOC priorities lately. Come 4.0 and the starting up of the school year, expect things to get back onto a normal RP track. When you guys log on, feel free to add me, racingbrother, to your buddylist, and I'll be quick to give you guys an interview if you still have interest! Alternatively, you can also go ahead and add any of the arch druids, guide druids, and even hierophants if you need an interview/help! Thanks for your guys' patience, we hope to see you all soon!

A Call to Compromise While I was raised, a wise man once taught me a lesson that has guided me through many wearisome tragedies that have so misfortunately plagued the land of my peoples. The wise man told me, there are but two people who roam this land we call home; those who are ignorant, and those who are not. The distinction between these two people lies within how they solve their conflicts - with a blindly forlorn yes or no, or with the enlightened concept of a compromise. In recent years, the Mali, not of Mali'aheral bloodlines, have shown that they choose to be the man who is ignorant. They time and time again choose a wrought disunity over any chance of an Elven utopia where our people may once again flourish, and death shall escape us once more. Continually, a brash self identification and need for autonomy on the part of the escapists Elves, myself being included, have indicted a failure of integration into a greater Elven nation. I call to you, Council of the Splinter, Druids of the forest, and all misbegotten Elves who roam, to hide your self pride. To put away your need for an anatomical measuring contest between those of Haelun'or. You are at fault for our failures as a people. In recent years, the Mali, not escapist Mali blood, but of the Mali'aheral bloodlines, have shown that they choose to be the man who is ignorant. Time and time again, they have chosen the hand that carries the sword, rather than the hand that shakes. Too quickly is the judgement to attack those who do not see with you as so you'd wish. No offer of peace has been made as of the time being. Not one meeting has been pushed by your leaders who so longingly wish for the escapists to integrate into your society. Instead, you choose to label them as rebels and heretics who deserve nay shy but death. You are at fault for the failures of our peple Though our conflicts have been a long withstanding scar on the face of Elfkind, they have begun to culminate in the passed few days. Four innocent druid lie dead in the Grove of peace. A refuge to those who wish to lay down arms has been degraded to a slaughterhouse where innocent cattle become the subject of mortal indecency. This savage behavior is despicable and unacceptable, and if peoples continue to espouse their ideas as they do at the time being, more shall lay dead and this entire land will become a slaughterhouse. Brothers and sisters will lay dead beside one another over a conflict that could easily have been avoided. Brothers who wish to remain self autonomous, I speak to you knowing the struggle that lays before you now. It is a struggle that my people have dealt with since the times in Aegis. We have experienced it in Salvus, Normandor, Leumalin, and a many countless other times. Sorrowfully, each ends with a devastating destruction that leaves many dead from your societies, so many dead, that the opposing side has become victorious in their vicious acts against your peoples. Brothers who wish to integrate our free peoples, I speak to you knowing that even if a war is carried out against these brothers who live separate from you, they will never be thoroughly defeated. They will always linger, and they shall always be a thorn in your big toe. Preaching ideals against your society and gathering sympathy from nations who are infavorable to your peoples as it already stands. Look into the passed for such indication - the Mali'ker who suffered intolerable treatment from the White Rose never disappeared, the Druids who have escaped many lands have never disappeared, denounced families in Oren follow similar patterns, as do Clans within the mounts of the Urguan and the deserts of Krug. With a sword in hand, peace cannot be resolved. But through communication and compliance on both sides, perhaps peace can be found. It is obvious that the Mali'aheral wish for a united Elven populace and it is obvious that freelancing peoples simply cannot survive with the strong spine of Mali'aheral influence. If the escapist Elves would put down their egotistical selfish ways and the Mali'aheral would create terms and dissolve laws that make life so unappealing in their nation, then perhaps a novel concept, one that has been achieved not in the past can become a reality. Perhaps you can open the door leading to a peaceful revolution, not on the peoples of Haelun'or, but upon Elven history! I will you, my brothers and sisters, my peoples who seek after a glorious Elven society, stick your swords not in the hearts of your own kind, but within their sheathes! Use your tongue not to belittle your kin of blood, but to speak a bright future! Open your arms, open your minds, do not be ignorant! ~The Arum Druid (( IC'ly this would be a pamphlet circulating Elven land ))

The Grove of the Thales was bore nay more than a year looking to the past. It's trees' trunks yet but twigs that scavenge the sun's grace and the soil's succulence to achieve greatness, remarkability, and reverence. As their developing roots dig the ground beneath them, their searches are returned with the bitter taste of blood. "Four have fallen. Our peoples, our culture, our philosophy teaches nonviolence. Peacefulness is as deeply routed in our history as are the roots of our mother trees." The Arum Druid squats to the ground beneath him, clutches a handful of the Grove's soil, and spits into it. "Accursed is this damned land, riddled with the stink of bodies not yet cold, smelling with the same stench that can be tasted from a skunk's spray." He throws the soil against the Druidic notice board, the veins of his forehead protruding with utter rage. "The Aspects shall not tolerate this behavior. Justice must be founded for our four brothers and sisters who have been murdered in cold blood by rushing rage and ignorance."

A second note is pinned below the first... "As a dedicant of these times, I have quite a bit of knowledge upon the going-ons of the Elandriel - Menocress areas of the Emerald Peninsula. -The Wilting Druid"

Photos of Lenfarthing if you ever need them for anything! May you short folk be prosperous! http://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/89120-the-rolling-hills-of-lenfarthing/

(( ))

God Bless 'Murica2

The Arum Druid seats himself in his desk, sparking a match, then drawing it to the wick of a candle. He unfolds a parchment of paper he found floating about the streets of Kal'Akron. His eyes glaze over the paper, agreeing with every word that lies within the letter. He sits back in his chair, lazily sprawling his legs underneath the desk and pressing his back to the chair. He raises his fingertip to his lips and begins to mutter... "A single druid grows a tree on the outer bounds of the Elven city and before I know it, my ancient way of life and the whole Mali race erupts in chaos... what has my world come to?" He pinches out the tiny flame and his whole room grows dark and his whole room grows cold.