Seidrik_The_Gray
Seidrik The Gray
- Joined
- Jun 26, 2006
- Messages
- 1,160
Inside a house in Arete that Seidrik rented using Arkadian Populist Regime funds, Seidrik paces near an open window, allowing the sea breazes to calm his mind. Behind him, BCLG100, dutchfire, Joe Harker, fed1943, Clydus(Blastoidstalker), and Lord Civius were busy going over details of the platform that Seidrik had put together. The election was about unifying Aretania and about reinvigorating her people. It was also about change and bold plans for the future.
But right now, Seidrik wanted a break, a page to turn in this tale, perhaps just to get to the elections and have the people speak already. And then his mind clicked on an inspiration. It was something he loved doing more than politics, something he enjoyed seeing others do as well. It was a different sort of sport, but just as entertaining, Seidrik thought, as playing soccer had always been.
Turning to the rest of his faction, which continued to become more and more like a busy bee hive with suggestions streaming in from all over Aretania along with new recruits and pledges of support, Seidrik made a pronouncement to any who would listen. You all cary on here, i'm going to stretch my legs a bit and clear my head. I won't be long.
With that, Seidrik threw on his purple and ivory cloak that announced his faction, clasped the gold wolf head cloak pin, and walked to Poverty's Pub on a hill set a little ways from the beach. Many recognized him and approached with questions. Seidrik simply beconed them to join him at the pub, and told them politely that he was on a personal errand now, and not in a political mood. By the time, he got to the pub, there was a small crowd following him, and Poverty looked up from the bar, and smiled broadly at the prospect of the many future customers.
In a jovial spirit more like his old self, Seidrik lept onto a central table, and with a flourish of his cape and a bow toward Poverty and the crowd in the pub, Seidrik spoke out in a nearly theatrical voice.
"Let's take our minds off of politics for a moment shall we? As the founder of Voices of Aretania, a collection of some of the finest story tellers I know, I issue a contest! The winner of this contest will be sewn into the fabric of our history for millenia to come! Our people deserve a Saga! One befitting the many adventures, the folklore, the drama, and passion of Aretania, and the Triad rule and the path that brought us to where we are as a people today! Enjoy one of Poverty's fine ales, then cajole with your friends here about some tall tales that might encompass all that I have laid out for you. These stories may be as fanciful as you want them to be. The story that retains some honesty to the truth, and yet conveys the greatest sense of pride in Aretania will be the winner. Let's have some heros, let's have some stories that warm us all around the fire at night and stories that keep the enemies at bay. Let's have a Saga worthy of Aretania!
To deafening roars, Seidrik hops off the table and shouts "First round's on me!"
But right now, Seidrik wanted a break, a page to turn in this tale, perhaps just to get to the elections and have the people speak already. And then his mind clicked on an inspiration. It was something he loved doing more than politics, something he enjoyed seeing others do as well. It was a different sort of sport, but just as entertaining, Seidrik thought, as playing soccer had always been.
Turning to the rest of his faction, which continued to become more and more like a busy bee hive with suggestions streaming in from all over Aretania along with new recruits and pledges of support, Seidrik made a pronouncement to any who would listen. You all cary on here, i'm going to stretch my legs a bit and clear my head. I won't be long.
With that, Seidrik threw on his purple and ivory cloak that announced his faction, clasped the gold wolf head cloak pin, and walked to Poverty's Pub on a hill set a little ways from the beach. Many recognized him and approached with questions. Seidrik simply beconed them to join him at the pub, and told them politely that he was on a personal errand now, and not in a political mood. By the time, he got to the pub, there was a small crowd following him, and Poverty looked up from the bar, and smiled broadly at the prospect of the many future customers.
In a jovial spirit more like his old self, Seidrik lept onto a central table, and with a flourish of his cape and a bow toward Poverty and the crowd in the pub, Seidrik spoke out in a nearly theatrical voice.
"Let's take our minds off of politics for a moment shall we? As the founder of Voices of Aretania, a collection of some of the finest story tellers I know, I issue a contest! The winner of this contest will be sewn into the fabric of our history for millenia to come! Our people deserve a Saga! One befitting the many adventures, the folklore, the drama, and passion of Aretania, and the Triad rule and the path that brought us to where we are as a people today! Enjoy one of Poverty's fine ales, then cajole with your friends here about some tall tales that might encompass all that I have laid out for you. These stories may be as fanciful as you want them to be. The story that retains some honesty to the truth, and yet conveys the greatest sense of pride in Aretania will be the winner. Let's have some heros, let's have some stories that warm us all around the fire at night and stories that keep the enemies at bay. Let's have a Saga worthy of Aretania!
To deafening roars, Seidrik hops off the table and shouts "First round's on me!"