Voting booths and polls are up and scattered all throughout town!
Vote today!

The polls will remain open until March 1.

A little note was posted on the voting booths. "Mr. Brian Ravenlock has asked to be removed from all polls. Any votes for him can be recast! Thanks!~"

((Due to exploitations of the poll system, we will be doing a re-vote. However this time, there will be no poll. To vote, simply post who your character is voting for (As this is an IC event) or if you are uncomfortable with that, PM your vote to either myself, or Lydia Loran.

We apologize for the inconvenience))

Who is Mr Rydin?

Alain D'Mourir

Rictor Mortis

Grem McTirin

Alex Ravenlock

Panther

James Black

Corlanthis

Riley had noticed something about a contest on posters, but hadn't stopped to look until she was on her way to work after school. She paused finally to read it, and found a place to vote, a giggle escaping her now and then. She'd finally met Alain, and she definitely thought he would be a good Mr Rhydin! So it was that she cast her vote for him, giggling some more as she hurried so as not to be late to work.

Amthy's Revote: Brian Ravenlock

Erin's revote: Alain D'Mourir

Hey, Panthers the one that supplies the lovely amount of ale in this inn...He has my vote if he was on every ballot.

Panther

I, Everett Ogden, cast my vote for Grem McTirin

Grem McTirin

Panther

Cassie's revote: Alain

~ The drow, dressed in a shadowsilk long coat that flutters with the breeze, slips quietly through the shadows of Rhy'Din town centre. He pauses occasionally to read various notices. After reading this one he turns to walk away but pauses, a mischievous smile playing over his black lips. He reaches out and takes one of the faded and weatherworn slips of paper with one hand and slides his other hand into one of the hidden folds of his long coat to produce a pen. He writes "ASK ME AGAIN IN A HUNDRED YEARS" on the slip of paper and drops it into the ballot box even though he knows the ballot is well out of date. He figures someone will take the box down someday, perhaps decades from now, read the slip of paper and perhaps find amusement if those who were once considered so handsome have grown old and ugly. The long lived drow then slides the pen back into its hidden fold and drifts away, vanishing into the shadows once more ~