WuHanXianShi14

((Gah! Change the font colour! It's impossible to see!))

Art walks up to the Balcony, black and blue from a day of practice. Truth is, he was mounds tougher on himself than he could ever be on his men. It was always about being the best, the one who /lives on/ after a fight. But there was one thing he would never be quite good at...

Art strides up the tower, rehearsing words in his mind, but instead simply steps next to Hera with as convincing a friendly grin as he could muster.

"Can I join you?

"Art Akkaris. High Mageshield."

Art circles around his men, and woman, as they stand in a lined formation. Giving each an inspective eye. The stance, the grip of ones sword.

He draws his own blade, the familiar weight of his cherised bow strapped to his back. He shuts his eyes, as well as the rest of the world, clearing his mind of plaguing thoughts as those under his command look expectantly. In time, he opens his eyes, and speaks.

"In war...In battle, what determines who lives, and who dies, is not who makes the fanciest, most skilled blows, pirouettes, parries..."

He pauses for effect.

"In war, one thing matters, FOCUS. Focus on your task, focus on your duty. Focus on the man in front of you, who will try to take off your head."

The young commander gestures to a long scar running over his forehead.

"In the heat of battle, what matters is not your home, your friends, your family, it is only the clashing of steel, yours, and your enemies. Remain focused, and you will live to see your homes again."

Art draws in a breath.

"That said, know that we DO fight for the lives and loved ones of many, even of those amongst you..."

Art considers saying more, but decides against it

"We march in a few elven days...get your rest, and continue your training. Disperse."

Art walks away as the mageshields break into their own seperate groups.

((On my phone, or id make this post look nicer.))

Art circles around his men, and woman, as they stand in a lined formation. Giving each an inspective eye. The stance, the grip of ones sword.

He draws his own blade, the familiar weight of his cherised bow strapped to his back. He shuts his eyes, as well as the rest of the world, clearing his mind of plaguing thoughts as those under his command look expectantly. In time, he opens his eyes, and speaks.

"In war...In battle, what determines who lives, and who dies, is not who makes the fanciest, most skilled blows, pirouettes, parries..."

He pauses for effect.

"In war, one thing matters, FOCUS. Focus on your task, focus on your duty. Focus on the man in front of you, who will try to take off your head."

The young commander gestures to a long scar running over his forehead.

"In the heat of battle, what matters is not your home, your friends, your family, it is only the clashing of steel, yours, and your enemies. Remain focused, and you will live to see your homes again."

Art draws in a breath.

"That said, know that we DO fight for the lives and loved ones of many, even of those amongst you..."

Art considers saying more, but decides against it

"We march in a few elven days...get your rest, and continue your training. Disperse."

Art walks away as the mageshields break into their own seperate groups.

((On my phone, or id make this post look nicer.))

Needs more redheads.

 

 

Really though, this is fantastic and fits wood elves perfectly. Elorna approves.

Next person who calls me a redhead gets flayed. ART HAS BROWN HAIR.

Anyways, this is quite nice, and fits my main character, who coincidentally is a wood elf, nicely. I hope to see more on this!

((I'm sure no one is trying to offend anyone, but for the sake of avoiding a fight with an FM maybe you should just change the name?))

Art laughs incredibly loudly, heard from many places, he manages to compose himself.

"Firstly. It easy to /draw/ a picture of a princess and claim she's been kidnapped and tortured, or even under your custody."

"Secondly, YOU CAN KEEP HER. Doubt many in Malinor wants the high council make in any case."

Art tries to hold in a chuckle as he strides back south.

What next, Mal-Qaeda? []

You sir, have obtained a gold star.

*Art lets out a slow breath, then writes a note, hanging it on the malinor notice board while wearing a hood.*

The only Mali I see in threat are those still loyal to Malinor. Of whom are in the Minority, compared to the Mali who have smartened up and left to regroup and retake what is rightfully theirs. Darkhaven remains, Haelun'or remains. The mali in other lands remain. Do not generalize Malinor to represent all of mali kind, for you don't anymore. Not until we can retake it from the people who corrupted it.

Consider this a warning from the Delvers. Turn yourselves over now and avoid bloodshed.

*The note is not signed.*

((OH CANADA.))((Post above me got delete rendering my misplaced patriotism irrelevant.))

*Art chuckles as he notices the sign.

"No so much attacks on Malinor as attacks BY Malinor."

*Artimec stands in the plaza with a hood over his head.

"No need. The time for arguments is over."

He strides back to Ac'talareh, hand gripped on his hilt the whole way.

Artimec stands out in the back courtyard of Ac'talareh, concentrating all his focus on the composition of a Pumpkin headed dummy...a dummy mounted with the helmet of a sentinel. His bow gripped tightly in his palm.

He gracefully slides out an arrow, fitting it unto the string. He pauses for a moment, savouring the moment before the shot. And the arrow flies.

Art grins as he watches his arrow sail into the dummy's chest, watching it sway back and forth with the force. Subconsciously drawing another arrow, he fires another shot at the dummy, this time an arrow piercing the pumpkin head, the plant splatters, seeds flying in every which way, the Helmet of the sentinel lying drooped over the remaining wooden portions of the dummy. 

Art slings his bow back over his back. He grins, and walks back into the fort.

Looks over the scroll and laughs

 

"Polgrath doesn't rule Darkhaven, Khel does. And should I see him in Darkhaven claiming as such ever again I swear it here and now; I will have his head."

Art laughs heartily.

"OH? You will? Well, good luck my friend, he has a habit of putting his assailants in a state of permanent insanity. And I believe I showed you the wrong parchment. Here, you may find this mighty convincing."

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/84610-azels-goodbye/

The High mageshield chuckles, and kneels down the the girl's eye level.

"Now, don't you worry. The blue men would never hurt citizens of malinor, I make sure of that, ok?"

Marek jumps out from behind goroth, preparing to set things right.

 

"Nay, Knox is a model citizen! He is also a far better choice then this "Polgrath.", who we know nothing about. Is it not funny Azel dies the same time this Polgrath shows himself as a leader for malinor? He cannot be trusted, At least with Knox we don't need to be worried about this mage's lies and tricks."

Art smiles a seemingly friendly smile at Marek.

"Here, little one, would you like to see something?"

He pulls out his scroll yet again, complete in full intricacy.

((link removed by request))

"Now, I highly recommend against using implied lies and blind insults to get your way. Polgrath is plenty known, and acting like a child is a sure way to lose sympathy to his opposition, namely: you."

Marek stands back, hearing some people showing anger of the addition of Knox being voted. He sighs and walks over to them to speak.

 

"Perhaps they vote for Knox not because they want him to lead, but they would take him over the shifty character that Polgrath is. He claims that Azel has appointed him incharge of the reformation movement, but what proof does he have? And if he has any, can we really trust a Master of illusion's proof? Who is to say it is just a illusion, not real proof?"

Art chuckles.

"Because if he had resulted in using his crafts to win this election, you would be down on your knees begging to fulfill his every request, or you would be seeing boulders flying upwards and hearing trees speak. On another note, I carry the official document Azel signed giving proof of Polgrath's succession."

Art pulls out a lengthy scroll, promptly unfurling it in front of Marek.

"Now, if you'll continue to slander, please do so in a logical and fact-based manner."

*An armored man approaches Polgrath trying to get his attention*

"I can't believe me eyes...I can't believe you a reformist of all people."

*He removes his helmet revealing a familiar human face, Tyras*

"You were a friend to me, and Malinor. But please tell you don't spread these false facts and poisoned lies..."

Art laughs loudly, but harshly.

"Oh, blind accusations! I love blind accusations! I'm sorry to inform you that no reformer, especially the mindlord would result to false facts and poisoned lies, examples of which you have failed to specify, to secure the change Malinor needs. Now I suggest you change your tone."

Khel stares at the two names, one  name sticks out to him

 

"Knox"

 

Khel lets out a sigh while looking down to the ground

 

"Has malinor really gone this low? They desire to elect an insane pumpkin man who has been terrorizing malinor for decades"

 

Khel counts three fingers on his hand, the number of times he killed the insane pumpkin man as a Sentinel in Normandor.

 

"This must be some damned joke"

 

Khel makes a mark next to Polograth, even though he believes it means nothing

((i'm sorry for this waste of time and unnessecary ooc, but lol...Polograph.))

Art scowls as he sees he has apparently been nominated. He quickly scrawls under his name:

"Whoever wrote this, don't waste your vote on me, support the mindlord, and through him you'll be doing right by many people, including myself."

Artimec nods approvingly.

"I consider the plan set, now the order of business is to remove the current council, preferably peacefully, and choose our new high---leader. A process I believe you have set into motion Mr. Elindor? And on a related note, are we really considering putting pumpkin head on the throne?"

((Ive been arrrsted multiple times, and for laws that don't exist.))

Art chuckles as the crowd forms.

"Join the club, miss."

With Azel gone, our options are limited. I support the mindlord, Polgrath. Azel's appointed sucsessor.

"An elf who believes such hostile action will win the hearts of our enemies. This is yet another man who seeks personal glory in the blood bath of others; Child, You know not of the value of life." Meta's voice begins harshly as he prowls the spot he is on and stands firmly with his eyes on the speaker. The cold glare similar to an ocean depth deep within his eyes; "You call yourself for the elves, yet you share not the cherish of life and all of it's virtues. Have the council men and woman who have spent countless days and nights being attacked by others. Do we attack our family for their misdeeds or instead work together to find guidance and prosperity. You wish to insight violence among our own kind when our enemies wish to do it so well!"

At this Meta glares over at the man as he reaches for his mythril blade; withdrawing it for symbolism as he holds it in an non-offensive matter, the blade shining in the skylights from above as he points it towards the trees. "Your actions dishonor our home; dishonor our forefathers. But most importantly you showcase to the nations of the world how far we have fallen as a people! We were known as the people of ideals; the creators of knowledge and peace. Yet you choose to expose the potential of chaos in all of this. You will fail; as many others will fail when those who follow them find out there is no plan. You speak of this and that; of ideals but you have no plans beyond them. You are a child; a child with a blade and a voice that stenches with death."

Art snaps his head over to Meta with a glint of patronism in his eyes.

"Our /plan/, behind the ideals, is a hope that the council is willing to step down to avoid watching their people descend into open war, but since they do not seem to care, we'll need to remove them the hard way. Disaprove, go back to Vaerhaven. No one is asking you to dive into the fire."

Art frowns.

"Arrows are some of the most deadly weapons around mate, you under estimate their force...take that literally or not."