He wasn’t here for them. Never would war see him as a good little soldier. He was here for her.

Wind filtered through those gold tipped wings as the sun set the dazzling cloak on his back a blaze with golden fire. At last below several figures, to fit OPHELIA’s description appear. He descends, landing and cantering down in a show of kingly grace before the towering warlord ARCHIBALD. Wicked grin was the only outlet he allowed for the tension building up in nerves. Of course he did not dare even steal a glance to her. Instead the falsified king dips and in a tone betraying the stealth speaks. “A gift from the north.”

So it had been, and yet even now as they marched, beside the towering giant and on the other side of him, her, he still dared not look. Chaos was never more clearly defined than the inward workings of that golden son. Body and mind were readying for war. Heart began to pound heavier, hooves to dance slightly, and feathers, never entirely in his control, shake. With stealth came that tell-tale wicked grin. Mind rolled through tactics, deceptions, manipulations, and machinations. For long now he had been reforging its craft in the fires of Helovia’s battlefield, and now it prepared to rain them down upon his enemies and smite them on the hillside.

And yet, like a drop of oil in water, a whole other world nestled in this. She was here. Were she not the golden would be found anywhere else but here. It was possible such a tide was turned because of some small part of that wicked soul still had the capacity to care, if not love. No warrior could have been more watchful over the damsel even without looking upon her fair features.

Stepping out of the shadows of the trees they at last arrive to the edge of the Falls. He knew it well from the guise of ROHAN. Painted coat was smooth and head carried with a swinging ease, but high like a king. Lack of MIDAS’s collar was hidden by his golden cloak, feathers were smooth by his side, and a small smile plays out his gentle grace. Only at the butch ragged speech of ARCHIBALD’s did the false king twitch. Idiot warlord. That was no way to greet friends. “Hail brothers and sisters, our kin bear ye gifts.” The tongue was ever so foreign, but well studied. “AFRICA….” A lover’s voice calls, but it dies in the sunset.

The sound of the cart arms dropping sounded the gong of war. ARCHIBALD leaned back, and the gold knew the time had come. Against all his own wishes he looks to her. The world stills, and muffles. She’s there, with watered eyes, and shaking body. Like a child in armor she betrays herself. But she wears the wolf skin. Breath escapes him, as he watches her face the doom, never looking to him. Her terror cuts deeper than any wound. The back of the giant moves forward, and the spinning mind calls the hidden gold forward to battle. Even now a gold hoof lifts to leave this frozen moment, and like a tossed cloud from the sun he tears away.


He did not get far. An echo of shaking earth breaks his gait as ARCHIBALD’s stomp rattles out the very earth before. “FUCK” Well, if the charge didn’t break the illusion of friendship that would do it. When did MIDAS ever say fuck?! So it was followed, as the painted bird recovered his balance, by a “Shit,” and sharp exhale slips out, “Anduil.” It happened all at once, like a mist the image of MIDAS fell away to reveal the golden, but only for a moment, before a metal armor wrapped over that golden body, settling heavily on his back. Charging through the ranks, but delayed by the shaking earth he follows ARCHIBALD, with sweat already wetting is neck.


There the gold betrayed his true purpose. Switching leads the silent charger rolls behind the dark creature to KAHLUA’s flank, and in her slow steps, passes her. Horns blazing, hidden spikes in his collar ready to spark out, and all daring anyone to step before the damsel. Her dragon made not a difference, even if he was to feel the creature’s icy fires. This was war, and none of his mind was left to guard his heart against judgement. Later would time to curse it for such folly, and rejection of all he felt, but now it was too late. Eyes set on LAEDERE, and shoulders angle to drive his armor and spring his spikes into her right shoulder. The well-worn smirk of devilry lights the blazing gold glory. Now was time for wrath, now for ruin. Now to war.

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-WC:: 799 of 800 [per Microsoft Word]
-Bears his circlet ARMOR with a SPARK amulet inside, and over it his SATCHEL, within he carries his KNIFE and POLEARM, and over that is his GOLDEN CLOAK.

:: [Magic: Dark |Can mimic another character’s appearance and voice exactly]
:: [Restrictions | Can only remember three identities at a time, and must be within 5m of intended target to 'take' their identity. Using an identity removes it from his 'inventory'. Lasts two posts in battle.]
Appeared as MIDAS.
Remaining Identities:: Ampere, Cashmere

::Throughout, HER=KAHLUA

::THRANDUIL walks beside ARCHIBALD disguised as MIDAS.
::THRANDUIL (as MIDAS) charges after ARCHIBALD but is distracted by KAHLUA, then stumbles due to ARCHIBALD'S WAR STOMP
::THRANDUIL recovers, then moves behind ARCHIBALD to KAHLUA'S side, and then move in FRONT of KAHLUA as she hesitates.
::THRANDUIL spies and targets LAEDERE on her RIGHT shoulder. Hoping to strike her, and drive in his armor's hidden spikes.


"Speech"