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The Eventide Reclamation


Abroxan
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The Eventide Reclamation

 

[!] A note is found nailed to the various signboards around Arcas, the striking quality catching your eye. The letter is printed on regal parchment with a darkened black and silver border, with a simple seal that seems to be representing a hourglass adorning the bottom.

 

To those seeking camaraderie, stability, and prosperity:

 

This notice is to inform of the immediate reconstruction and reclamation of the Eventide Dominion of old, an ancient order that stood stalwart in its mission, only to be cast out by snakes from within the Kingdoms of Men.

 

What is the Eventide? We are defenders of truth in a world of liars, the seekers of justice in a land plagued by corruption, the dedicated surrounded by a sea of the inept. The Eventide fights while others cower.

 

With this project of grand reclamation, we approach those seeking new beginnings. Your race, creed, and prior obligations are of no matter – if you seek refuge from chaos, you are welcome within our halls. Much will be gained by those who take the first step. Those inquiring need but two traits about them: You must be ready to serve, and you must be willing to do what needs to be done.

 

Surely the reader has many questions. Our ways are unconventional; our motives kept close to our chests lest vermin attempt to quash our sacrosanct mission once again. If you have interest in pursuing ordination within the cause, leave a way to contact you and a representative will arrange a meeting. Stay safe during these days of uncertainty, and hold fast knowing that the Eventide awaits.

 

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[[Please leave information that will allow your character to be contacted in-game. You will also receive a forum message with further information if you show interest.]]

 

 

 

Edited by Abroxan
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[!] Amidst a notice-board adorned a weathered parchment, the flayed edges scraping amidst the wooden surface of the signboard. Herein, did lay a bloodied cloth amidst the note – the fabric cradled with a foul and distinct odor, painting the paper with the pigment of muddled crimson. The note seemed to be written in haste, the ink of blunt charcoal ridden betwixt the letter.

 

“Grant the call, I’ll heed it true. The rag bears my scent, should you beckon to me by birds then it’ll be enough to find me. If not, I reside within Aegrothond. Villa One. I am Diomedes Terin, awaiting for your word.”

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An ancient Elf reads the missive in careful contemplation, a thoughtful expression growing over his withered and eldritch countenance. Arming himself with quill and ink, he would pen a response in a meticulous hand – knowing exactly where to leave it;

 

“You have my support, old friend. Whatever it is you need, know I will always accompany those that shoulder the burden of man. In the name of prosperity,”

 

- The shriveled parchment would be signed in three flowing letters, “T.W.R”

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Across the isles, and past winding trees- that missive laid about, nailed to its wood and stricken alone as the occasional passerby ignored it.
However, with time, things break true; the missive was caught loose from its bindings of metal, the flimsy parchment ripping from its nail and flying off with the wind- it making its way over mountains and cities in its trip- before finally, it had graced itself over the walls of a certain Estate. The low shadow of a man stepped forth, hovering over such a parchment before picking it up with ease- reading upon its contents for a moment as he took a sip of his rum. 

”Well, well. Is this a stroke of luck, or a meeting of fate? Surely this is just a prank.. but if it is not-“
The ginger man stepped forward, looking past his walls as the missive remained in his hand.

“You may contact the Lord of the Gehenna Estate, Dael’debol.” 

And as the man looked onward, a few white birds had begun to soon swoop overhead, carrying the missives of notice. 
“Hopefully you’ll interest me with what you shall propose.”

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“The dark mages finally made their move.”

 

An aged dark elf woman comments upon reviewing the message, making sure to write down the names of those foolish enough to openly respond to the letters.

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An old snow elf would find this notice stamped onto a board in town. intrigue invades her mind as she looks at a familiar hourglass-like symbol on the parchment. 

 

”How curious...” she would mutter to herself quietly as she inspects the notice.

 

She would reach into her cloak, pulling out a small pen and begin writing on the paper. She would write her name, “Everl’n”, as well as a message indicating that she may be found near Sutica. As she finishes writing, she would return her pen to her cloak and go off, unsure of what may happen.

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The Swampgoth would scowl at the familiar hourglass symbol as he read the parchment, running his free hand across the scar a bolt of lightning left on his muscled frame. ”Zo.....organizin....are wi.....Mi will be peepin klozli. Mi remembuhz...mi alwaiz remembuhz.”

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Orion would cough gently, tugging at his hand-wrappings. His voice echoing faintly from his metal mask as he contemplated aloud the strange poster.

“They intend to fight, whilst the world deliberates? It is well enough that there are still those who wish to protect the free peoples. I should search further, if only to know the truth.”

He would leave his own marking, a crude reconstruction of his face-wear, and a location, “Near the Firelands.”

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Mollie would look at the note in curiosity, she’d read over it a couple times before taking out a piece of paper and a pencil. She’d write a small note and pin it next to the flyer.

 

[!] The note would read in slightly sloppy hand writing:

Mollie Hosseini, Haense. Queen’s Corner, 2.

 

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