The Elder Eye

There is a reasoning behind a majority of this, however. 1.) Ghouls and Zombies are undead, and therefore are incapable of feeling anything, emotional and physical. (Remember, the Undead will never love you back.) 2.) Wraiths possess a heavy resistance to normal weaponry because they are semi-corporeal. It's the same logic as beating a beanbag with a wooden stick. It won't do much, but it will break eventually.

My character actually does have a golden weapon at his disposal, a xiphos. "The xiphos is a double-edged, one-handed Iron Age straight shortsword used by the ancient Greeks. It was a secondary battlefield weapon for the Greek armies after the dory or javelin. The classic blade was generally about 50–60 cm long, although the Spartans supposedly started to use blades as short as 30 cm around the era of the Greco-Persian Wars." This was solely for the purpose of protecting himself from unholy creatures, because for the last fourty in-character years, he has served the Adherency of Immortui, as well as some branchings off that formed after it's destruction. His reason is legitimate, and well, at the time he actually had a salary to invest in such decadent weaponry. To be honest, I just felt like I needed to explain my reasoning for possessing such a thing.

I usually do it at the kitchen table, while conversing with my necromantic compatriots about how horrid the living are, despite the circumstances of my own mortality.

For too long have antagonistic races and their ilk been abused by the inhabitants of this server. What is the point of making a character one may only in a non-casual or antagonistic fashion, if they are so easily downed by every person that they encounter? I believe that the roleplay and ranks one has to go through to earn such a titleship of Wraith or Lich, deserve proper power. They are warping the souls of their very characters to become dark beings used for the intention of bringing harm and destruction, so why is it that every two-bit barmaiden can easily batter them down? I believe it is unfair to those who have gained such character accomplishments, and that it is offensive that they would be willing to destroy their character's humanity and vanity, just to be spoiled like such! I give this post my support one-hundred percent!

HAELUN'OR CITIZENSHIP APPLICATION: Name: Valmuel Maelu'taeleh ((MCName)): Akiriza Origin: Born in the year 1313, in Aegis, I was primarily raised in my adolescent stage within the confines of Laurelin, the capital city of the Princedom of Malinor. It should also be implied that my parents, their parents, and the parents before them, were all pure-blooded Mali'aheral. Now, it was not until the age of thirty-six that the Descendants fled from Aegis to the Verge, and finally to Asulon. My families, primarily consisting of high-classed bigots, decided to admit themselves into the city of Haelun'or, when it was founded within Asulon. All was well for the longest of times within Asulon, until the catastrophic occurrences began within that realm. At the age of 110, I was forced to flee from my family, with exception of my twin sister Mirela, who would have been accompanying me for many, many more dire years to come... Upon reaching Anthos, I did not return to my kin, but instead stayed wandering with my sister, gaining an appreciation for nature. That is how it stayed for many years, until finally, we arrived in Athera... By that time, I was roughly the age of 156, but did not bother to admit myself as a citizen of Haelunor until the year of 1489, at age 176. Where my sister was admitted as well. Through the many wars that raged throughout Athera, I survived. And during the occupation of Annil'sul, when the Silver Enclave was forced to live in the cold north above Petrus, the capital of Oren at the time, I even ran for Elokarir'mali, a position I was regrettably denied due to my sister forcibly intoxicating me before sending me up onto the stage to present my speech, causing me to ramble on and on about cheese. At long last, when our home was returned to us, I returned to my home, living there for a few more years. However, there is a patch of time in which I do not recall, which is what I would assume would be the time period between Athera and Vailor. How can you declare that you are Mali'thill: To put it simply, I can not say. The question seems a bit vague to me, as it could either be asking whether I am pure of mind, or pure of blood. Certainly I believe in the Silver Law and it's series of bylaws, especially racial purity, which is something in which I support immensely. Other than this, my purity can be seen in the whiteness of my hair, the paleness of my skin and the violet hue of my eye color. What does maehr'sae hiylun'ehya mean to you: One may droll on hour upon hour about their beliefs over such a thing, however, to me, it is what it is. The progression of wealth, knowledge, and politics. It is a truly expansive statement, but when it all comes down to it, maehr'sae hiylun'ehya is simply the progression and expansion of the High Elven people of Haelun'or. How familiar are you with the Elven language?: I am not too good, or too bad. Stuck somewhere in the center of it all, to be honest. I have done little over the past few years to help educate myself on it, as I have been far too occupied with magical and scientific studies. What is the subject of the first book you will submit to the college?: I have submitted no books so far, though I may plan on releasing one of my pieces of written literature, from my studies. Are there any other details about yourself you wish to relay to the council: I believe I have nothing to tell that has not been stated previously.

Preferably would have it shaded smoothly, as I do not like gradient skins. Example below: (No sabre please.)

Application Name: Arahaeldor Saeledhel Reason for wanting to join: Expanse of my magical knowledge. And immortal life. “Does thou agree to serve the master? Yes. Does thou agree to honor thy brother, to uphold thou sister? Certainly.” OOC (optional) Minecraft name: Akiriza Skype: galacticpotatoking

-=(Election Ballot of Urguan)=- Place an X next to the candidate of your choice. Your Name ((RP and MC)): Akiriza - Ryall Irongut Race: Cave Dwarf Balek Irongut ((Hobolympic)): X Zahrer Irongrinder ((Josh3738)): Ognar Grandaxe ((Meanking)): Dizzy Irongrinder ((Dizzy771)):

Ryall looks around the room momentarily before frowning. "Ah was goin' tae volunteer mahself as tribute."

The Brazen Lord continues his search for the remaining Dread Knights.

"War brews..." The bronze armored figure sighs. "Constantly... On and off." He paces the bridge which overlooks the eastern sea. "These Descendants lack a sense of reason, it is a repeat of that day so many years ago.." He huffs out a thick blast of black smoke from his helmet, his red eyes fixated upon the horizon. "How much longer will it be before this world succumbs to complete annihilation as well?" Breathing shallowly, he turns and walks back to his home. "Their destruction will be of no business to me... Should they die, their accursed monks will bring them back from the cold grasp of death itself." He slams the steel and iron doors of his fortress, descending into the earth with a growl. "I would recommend they stay from my land."

Valmuel kindly nods to Andria, stepping up. "I have not prepared any form of speech, and nor do I believe I will achieve such a rank as this. Though it is my duty as a citizen of Haelun'or to strive to aid our kin, and that is exactly why I stand before you today." He pushes his long white hair behind his ears with an abrupt sigh. "I may or may not promise cheese." Val waves to the crowd, bowing, then turning to walk back into the darkness of who knows where. "Maehr'sae hiylun'ehya!"

Radac stands upon the Great Bridge of Amthuandz, staring off into the distance of the neighboring swamp. Watching the displays of dark magic propel themselves through the air, he pondered his next actions... "They should need no assistance from the Court..." He huffed out a clot of thick, black smoke from the vent of his brazen helmet. "Should they die, I will be glad to initiate them." He chuckled, releasing a quiet metallic sigh as his red eyes were overcome by flames. Radac turned back to the sacred stone towers of his home with a metallic moan, going home to feed his Skull-Hermit Spider, Ahrkanch.

"I never have been one for superstition..." Radac says, pulling out a quill and jar of ink. "But I suppose if this man states he can do these things, I believe I am not so very naughty." He dips the quill in the ink, placing it to the paper. Radac Kvazmund-Mezalf ((Akiriza)) I would like a private collection of books pertaining to magical, scientific, and philosophical study.

If one listened... In the far distance, you may hear the sound... Of Dwarves rejoicing.

Deep within the ruins of an ancient citadel named Amthuandz, few things are able to survive within. Not because of it's conditions, but it's inhabitants. Spirits from around the realm gather here to confer with one another, and dictate with their council to do what is the best in favor of those of spectrality. Living beings who enter this place without special invitation by the Engraved, or other higher members of the Court are attacked and usually killed upon sight. Radac sits at his workshop desk, drawing out complex arts, mostly involving technology, but today he went with a simpler task, attempting to find a mathematically constant surface... Should anybody care. He turned to the sound of the lift from the lower facility moan, slowly ascending up the metal-adorned shaft. But something struck him as odd. Before the lift finally reached the floor he was on, a skull skittered across the stone flooring, it's legs clacking against the bricks as it headed beneath his desk, after which he stood up. Radac peered under his desk as the lift finally reached the top floor, a relatively angry appearing spectre departing from it walking in the direction of Radac. "Radac, move aside, I am going to kill that thing!" The spectre said. "Celouc, correct your misnomer." The spectre flinched, hearing this, "My apologies, Lord." Radac nodded. "Now, what is the problem here?" "I finally managed to locate my skull, and here this spider is living inside of it!" He says, a great deal of acrimony heard in his tone. "I see no harm in this, you're dead, no longer have you dependencies on your bones or vital organs.." "But, Sir-" He attempts to say. "But nothing." He interjects. "Let the creature enjoy his new domicile." The spectre almost spoke against this, huffing. "Very well..." The spectre turns and leaves back down the lift, it's platform screeching as it descends back down into the earth. Radac knelt down, placing a hand on the skull and pulling it back out from under his desk, chuckling. "Well, little creature... To spare you from a messy dissection, I suppose I can employ you to handle any pests that claim this place as their home... First thing is first, time to send you in where they collect most." He said, grasping the brazen louvers of a vent tube, pulling them open and placing the skull-spider in. "One way in that vent, one way out... Come back once you've cleared out any rats that may be inside... Well you most likely can not understand me, but if you want out once more, you'll know where to go." He closed the vent opening, as the spider began skittering off into the metal piping. ((1 Large Spider, within an Elf skull.))

Radac looked to the man, listening to what he had said... Slowly, he approached him, his ethereal body streaking the air behind him as if painting the air itself... He looked upon him, straightening his glasses before resting his arms on his chest. "What do you speak of..?"

((The return of the Ents.))

Varyon secludes himself within his treehouse, crying, he thrusts himself into even more drunken grief. "H-he was too young!"

Valmuel lifts a bottle of wine in celebration, "Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya!" He offers a glass to those within the no longer needed Mali'aheral sanctuary. "We have our home once more!"

A crack of thunder echoes through the halls, marking the beginning of the Court... A dark mist floats into the room, carrying an ember-like quality before materializing, various ghosts and graven proceed as well, filling the room with their unearthly presence. The Engraved quietly walks in from the hall, being escorted by a variation of spectral guardians. He walks up the stairs in the back of the room, sitting in the stand. A green pirate accompanied by a group of other pirates walks into the room with a cup of gin in his hand, taking his seat. The Shadow smiles and nods to a few spirits dressed in similar formal wear as the shadow, all seeming to be united with how they held themselves, gentlemen of a unique quality. "This night has come upon us, holding many issues of which requires discussion. Clerics now hunt our kin, gold dust being distributed. The inevitable may come upon us, sending us to the banishing light. We must prevent their searches, and so it comes to the Court for ideas and speculations." The Shadow awaits the Court's response. Wilbury: "My only advice is to avoid the Clerics, which should be obvious." The Engraved's face is filled with an inconceivable rage. The Shadow nods, agreeing, "We have done the same for generations of spirits, but their search continues..." The Engraved: "These Mortals.... Their resistance to us is prolonging the fate they deserve! They claim us to be otherworldly beings, yet they are brought to life on a daily basis!" The Shadow: "They do deserve their fate, yes. But they pose a threat to our own. If we choose to act, it must be with caution. Gold can still harm us, Brother." Wilbury: "As much as Clerics interest me, they're an old problem. Can we divert our attention to the Cult of Acerbus?" The Engraved: "The Cult of Aerkiath... They use our kin as tools to their cause." The Shadow nods, "They are pests in the eyes of all, and must be dealt with." Wilbury: "Now how shall we deal with them? I say we launch attacks on their little prophets. We should use whatever we can to destroy them." The Shadow: "Aye, but we must be aware that they can harm our kin, as we can harm them." Wilbury: "It is a risk we must be willing to make, my friend. We can't cower by the fact that we can be affected. But I would actually like insight on how we'll face the cult." The Shadow: "There are a few ways in which we can approach this threat." Wilbury: "I'd like to hear them." The Shadow: "We can hunt them, kill each one off as long as it may take. Not a very quick outcome, but it can work." Wilbury: "What are the other options?" The Shadow: "We can seek out a mortal, capable of killing these prophets much more effectively than ourselves, a mage perhaps. But this may be unfavorable due to our past experiences with mortals." He thinks of the idiot king, Aleksandr Carrion. A few Graven chuckle, obviously aware of the king and his actions. Wilbury: "I say we kill them ourselves, one by one. They normally only travel in groups of one, anyway." The Shadow: "If this is to work, then traps must be set. No amount of illusions can scare these mortals. They must be crushed, stabbed, or destroyed." The Engraved: "I have tried all of the above." The Shadow: "Have any proven to be effective?" Wilbury: "You have tried nothing, Engraved. I've done all the work. You're scared of them." The Shadow raises a hand to silence the Captain, "We should not make accusations, we all have done what we can. We need as many possibilities and strategies as possible if they are to be eliminated." The Engraved: "We still spoke of the Acerbus? I had thought you spoke of the actual mortals." Wilbury: "What can you do to eliminate them, Shadow?" The Shadow: "I can collapse a building upon them, crush their bodies and bones. I can send their own men against them, trick their eyes into seeing the enemy in their allies." Wilbury: "Then let's do that. If you can truly do all of that, all we need now is a few traps and a plan to carry this out." The Shadow: "We must work together, for a single ghost cannot kill this prophet alone. The energy required is great, and united, they will not stand a chance." The Engraved: "United or not, it is a foolish endeavor." "And so the coward speaks." Wilbury mocks, sipping down his cup of gin. His spectral crew erupts in laughter. "He's brave enough to kill innocent people, but when it comes to those who threaten him he backs down." The Shadow: "Whatever we may choose to do shall be foolish, risky, and dangerous, but if done right, it will work." Wilbury: "The Shadow is correct." The Engraved: "He is not. These people have the ability to see us whether in stealth or not. They will have no opposition to reaping our souls for their god." The Shadow turns to the Engraved, "Then speak. Tell us of what we may be able to do. This is a discussion, and we value different perspectives. What then would you suggest we do?" The Engraved: "Us spectral beings have no power against them. The Acerbus are coated in some sort of ethereal shield, that prevents physical damage. We must employ mortals... As much as I doubt saying so." Wilbury: "This is a disgrace." The Shadow: "If we cannot kill, or damage these beings, then how shall mortals do the same?" Wilbury: "Exactly! Combined we can take down an entire kingdom. These cultists are nothing." The Engraved: "Only the living can channel the magic to defeat these beings. I am unsure to what it would be, but most likely holy." The Shadow: "If what you say is true, then we may have to seek out those who hunt us, the Clerics whom use holy magic." The Engraved: "I have an idea to do such." Wilbury: "I was almost killed by a Cleric this past day. They will not be negotiating with us, trust me." The Shadow: "Let's not be so hasty to make conclusions, Captain." The Engraved: "No, it does not require negotiation, but persuasion, or even trickery." Wilbury: "Alright, you both can go on and attempt to negotiate with the Clerics who have a memo out to hunt our kind. I'll be sitting in my tavern drinking some Gin." The Shadow glares slightly at Wilbury, "We must choose as a court. If you object to the Engraved out of personal issues, then do so on your own time. We must choose as a court, instead of being so rash." The Engraved: "We find followers, those who live. Easily disposed of later, but they can be used to spread our word of 'good will'." The Shadow nods, "Our own 'Prophets' if I am understanding this clearly." Wilbury: "That is a much easier option than going to people who want to kill us and saying, hey, help us please?" The Shadow: "Then it is to be decided to go about this plan, and seek out mortals to spread our intentions to the clerics? To seek out the help of mortals?" Wilbury: "No. That's an even stupider idea. But if the court is so insistant on working with people who would rather see us dead, I'll vote in the affirmative." The Shadow looks to Wilbury, "We have few options in this matter. Anything we choose to do has risks. Yes, they hunt our kin. But I shall make sure that it ends before we agree to their help." Wilbury: "Walk into the death trap if you wish, Shadow. I am in support of whatever you two support." The Engraved: "I have nothing more to say about this matter, shall we move on?" The Shadow nods, "Aye, we shall." Wilbury: "Yes. We shall. Rivel, any progress?" The Engraved looks to the Shadow. The Shadow: "Yes, I believe there is progress." Wilbury: "Well spill it, I don't have all day." The Shadow: "The coming of the founders, and new spirits aid our strength against Rivel." The Shadow nods to the spirits lining the room, all defiant, all proud. Wilbury: "When do we launch our assault on Rivel?" The Shadow: "Once proper precautions have been made, our assault shall then be soon." Wilbury: "Anything else?" The Shadow shakes his head, "No, that is all." Wilbury: "May I make my exit, then?" The Shadow nods, slightly annoyed, "The Court then, has concluded. Let those whom we seek find their fate and our intentions be fulfilled." A large crack of thunder echoes, marking the end of the meeting. OOC: Metagaming will not be tolerated. If you wish to join, apply here.

((You're a good roleplayer, Lima.))

"A despicable sight indeed... How many times shall these fools split their nation before they are happy? Once, twice, thrice? Sometimes I regret having previously referred to as 'living'." Rzahnch turns to the Shadow with a half-smile. "These Elves are causing more war than is truly necessary, though I never expected anything more from such Elven savagery."

A dark night... Voices of various Graven and mortal followers echo throughout the cities... "Those who have tasted death and been brought back from it by the Monks, speak no word against the spirits! Your place in this realm has passed just as ours have... Clerics, if you seek to hunt the unliving, the lost souls, hunt your fellow men, for they have no more right to be in this world than us!" Their voices echo, before they fade into the darkness of night, leaving a strange feeling behind themselves...

I know little of Boknice's roleplay other than his role as Wilbury (The Spectre). He provides good roleplay for the Court whether it be arguing with my suggestions or being pushy with the Shadow. For this, I give him a +1 for this, best of luck.