Shadeleaf

Shaela, in place of Kehl quickly scribbles down a letter and sends it off, the hand writing seemingly flawless and the ink... quite possibly too good looking to be real: "Greetings Sir Hightower and Baron Cavan. My name is Shaela Z'ress, one of the family that the one you hold captive belongs to. For all intensive purposes, I send you this to avoid further, and unavoidable conflict if the child is held any longer. I will meet you at any specified place with the total of 2000 minas to pay for her freedom, let us hope conflict is avoidable. Sincerely Shaela~"

This is almost as good an idea as the club penguin fiasco.

I agree with this logic +3

A small dark elf female, draped in an over long cloak moves over besides the arch Mage and rockets a finger up to him before announcing in a firm and clear voice, "I 'll match what ever he can do and then some!" The female states before dropping its arm. ((From phone~ ))

Banned for signature gif

As quickly as the note appeared it seems to flutter off in the wind, another piece of chilled parchment deposited by what seems to be a black cloud reading: "3250..." and no more.

Arzota walks back, scoffing at the new post and quickly scribbling up a response: "The price is 3100, I shall not be contested, let this move quicker than it does now." Shaking his head he would walk off once more, barely noticing the previous notes.

A seemingly frozen piece of paper is pinned up beneath, frozen purple ink as the medium: "3000." the note states simply, a cloaked figure striding away with a wave of cold about it

"Miiiiiine~" Arzota claims as he sees the picture, striding up and tacking up a note "1500 minas for the salve"

Not even Setherien's finest could resist the majesty and perhaps loss of this moment, a wave sent across His almighty web of power as Gronkk was ripped from the mortal realm, causing the Dark LIeutenants as it were, to momentarily feel something they haven't felt in a long time... a very, very long time...

Arzota stares for a moment, muttering to himself and contemplating life, removing a piece of charcoal from his robes and scribbling down upon a leaflet of paper. -A note is pinned up beneath- ~~~ "Seeker, First I speak to your want for magic, a noble cause indeed, yet this occasion is a very rare one as the note above is not charred into bits. Moving on, my name is Arzota Kameki, a practitioner of the art of fire, and while I may not be able to aid you in your quest for 'air magic', I can guide you through the steps of connecting to the void and perhaps helping you search for a teacher after the fact. Send me a bird [forum pm] if you wish to contact me further, ~Yours apprehensively, Arzota Kameki" ~~~ Arzota looks to what hes doing for a while after the fact, dropping the charcoal and briskly striding off, robes following in the wind and reassuring words upon his lips, hoping to all Nether he made the right choice... for once.

Within the frozen north, ice spikes jutting from every entrance of every cave, awaits in a great fortress several figures each clad in an icy blue armor, heads bowed as very energy seems to pulse from one to another in a form of inaudible discourse. As seemingly a decision is reached, every helm cracks up towards the center of the room. "Gather the minions... this shalt require more ore than presently available..." one voice speaks, the others seeming to fade into black mist and whisk away on the wind, the next project would be bigger than any attempted in the past, and certainly more destructive... (This has been your random update from the Black Scourge)

Shae'Tan simply sits within its cave in the north, dark helm angled towards a wall of maps with it's black iron staff across its lap, the pointed cyan blade resting in its right gauntlet. 'They thought they had won... oh my how wrong are they' it thinks, allowing the staff to gracefully swing up towards the cave wall holding the maps. 'If their w.hore princess wishes to deny our offerings of peace... then let them bend to the Master's will, may their grounds lay fallow, and tents empty...' it continues, black smog swirling about the point of its staff with a dark blue glow, forming into the iconic black and blue fire ball. "'"We begin tomorrow."'" it seemingly speaks aloud, the black flame surging forwards and rotting away the corner of the map that was Malinor; Turning about in its seat it addresses a small gathering of followers, illuminated red under the over-lights.

Shae'Tan floats away from Salamandra's house, full of now corrupted cookies "'"That went well"'" is all it thinks as it returns to the north.