Drazker

Provide the actual 64x32 minecraft skin picture, please. That's what I meant, sorry.

Please provide a reference picture of your current skin so I can see the pattern of the hair in relation to the skin and build the dress around her face.

Name: Volé Lyu'medin. ((MC Name)): Drazker. Age: Eighty-five. Chapter: The Mournful. How do you lay claim to the fact you are pure mali'aheral? The Sohaer has observed and confirmed my exhibition of mental purity. My physical purity is a sight for all to see. The house of Lyu'medin, of which I belong to, is one of mali'thill that have preserved the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya for three-hundred years, now. How long has one resided in Haelun’or? I have been a citizen of Haelun'or since Anthos, having dwelled shortly in the tomb before arriving in the Fringe. Will you place the wellbeing of Haelun'or and the maehr'sae hiylun'ehya before any individual desires of your own? I will.

Vectis applauds, his headache already setting in from the bachelor party.

Vectis claps.

Ser Vectis, reigning Champion of the Joust in Oren, perks up at the chance to defend his title. "-... it will be child's play."

Volé steps up to whatever podium Iatrilemar had been standing on. As the high elf looks around at his fellows, his facial features tensed up in concentration on what he was about to say. After taking a deep breath, however, he relaxes and a moment of clarity overcomes him. "Venerated mali'aheral, I address you today as your Tilruir'sil. I have served in my position some time now. During my experience, I have observed you; I have learned your ways, and I have adapted. I would like to proclaim my intent for the candidacy of the high office of Medi'ir. "In this service, I will introduce a new level of communication between government and citizenry. It is imperative that the citizens who elect me know how I am fulfilling my duty as Medi'ir and can replace me swiftly and with ease should I slack in this responsibility. My attitude towards this position is straightforward: I regard all government positions as offices in which to serve the citizens, not as a title or honor, nor a way to propagate some individual agenda. I will involve citizens in the processes of government by holding regular open forums in which we can discuss these matters as a community. "Speak the will of the mali'aheral." Volé executes a respectful nod to any bystanders, reciting in a fashion similar to Iatrilemar, "maehr'sae hiylun'ehya."

"Yes."

In the comfort of his home, Ser Vectis receives the missive, it having found it's way to him. As his eyes find the seal, his heart quickens and his memories take him back to the Oren of Anthos, where mighty armies were host to a singular prince and order reigned. Wrinkling his nose, he breaks the seal and begins to read the letter, remaining silent all the while. By the time he was finished, his wife Penelope came to his side, looking to him concernedly. "What is it, Vectis?" she asked. Her gaze was met with the sunken eyes of an old Orener; a knight, a Duke, and a patriot. Chaos had torn apart his home and he had been restless hence. In the darkness, however, now Vectis had found light. A smile curled across his lips. "It's a second chance. I must get my banner and ride out immediately, my love." Vectis rose, catching the attention of his twin children. He looked over the family he'd raised. Perhaps they might have the chance to live once again in a reunited and strong Oren. Kissing his wife passionately and hugging his children preceded his donning of armor and the taking up of his standard. Marching out of his house to the accompanying stables, he found Thunder, his destrier. On sight of it's master, the beast whinnied with excitement. "Yes, my old friend. We ride once more."

Volé curls his fingers, gauntleted in sorrow steel, about the hilt of Lentirokar before crying out, "iyathae ito Haelun'or!"

Vectis was sacrificing goats and his enemies to Mars before anybody else.

Ser Vectis nods, still technically a Decterum Vindicator.