[ thranduil sends his message later in the afternoon, his polite, deep voice precise and careful as he first greets, then settles down to the mear of the matter: ]

Good afternoon. I am Thranduil, a rifter, arrived last month. [ he pauses, to catch the attention of whomever might have their crystal nearby. ] I seek to return the hospitality shown to my son and I. I propose an archery contest, open to all residents of Skyhold. For the winner, fifty crowns. The next-best, twenty, and the third- ten.

[ where did he get the money? who knows shh. ]

Those interested should come to treeline in the valley on the eighth of Bloomingtide at noon.

[ he stops, as if he might be finished, but then: ]

And further, if anyone finds themselves able to beat my son, Legolas, I will offer them their choice of ring from my fingers. [ he sounds, already, terribly amused. ]



((ooc: SO this is mostly for thranduil and legolas to court allies. people are free to challenge him in an attempt to win a ring! but it is legolas shooting so. the money prizes will be rng'd.))

Good morning. [ It's not morning. ] I'm trying to settle a bet. [ That part might be true. ] I need everyone to rate mages on a scale of one to ten.

[ Do you want to know why? Do you want to know what exactly they're being rated on—intelligence, utility, attractiveness? Do you want to know whether one is good and ten is bad or one is bad and ten is good? Do you want to know who he is or who allowed him to have a sending crystal?

Too bad. ]

And don't come in here telling me about how they're individuals and some are good and some are bad and some are whatever and you can't possibly give one number to all of them. That's not the bet. One to ten.

[ A pause. ]

And then do dwarves.