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A Call To The Learned


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[!] Couriers are scattered through the lands, bearing the word of a young Savoyard oracle in search of Alchemists and Tinkerers.


To the practiced, material-minded scholars of the land,

Fate calls to thee, natural philosophers of Almaris. I have seen your triumphs in waking dreams, and I have read your potential in the stars. The destiny of your crafts aligns with my own; your visions have been stifled and neglected, your potential squandered by the small minded.

 

No more.

 

The Archangel calls me to the desert. A land of fear, where life is unwelcome and the needs of Man are scarcely met.

In turn I call across the dunes for you. Ye artisans with the courage to overcome these challenges. I have dreamt of your great machinations: steel muscles that will sap water from the earth, alchemic soils that will nurse crops against the worst of heat, fine crafts that will shield the faithful from the tyranny of unchecked dust and sunlight.

 

Outcasts in your disparate communities, mistaken for cablese and witchdoctors: I offer you the resources of the great aurum sea, the freedom of the wilds, the wisdom of your peers and the sanctuary of a home. Gifts that itself shall pale against the rewards we shall all reap before our divine quest's end. 
 

Seek me in the sands of Savoy; a new country dubbed Niseep.

With Faith,
Lucien Robert Ferdinand Remus Guy
of House Ashford de Bar,

The Count of Niseep


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-=[!]=-

Kharajyr tinkerer sets out to find 'Niseep' and the creator of this strange notice.

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Ukita traversed the dunes adorned in sanguine garments.  Such a feat he had seen through time and time again in a land where East Meets West.  His pale gaze kept to the sands beneath his sandals.  Each print left by every step washing away with the breeze that accompanied.  What he said was incomprehensible, but if one were to listen close they might here chimes of song.  It was in this land where Man was not meant to tread that he would find those he would suffer with.  

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