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[!] A yellowed, once wettened and now dried note, flutters — hung up infront of The Night Owl Parlour by an elfess dressed in blue. The ink cursive writing is splodgy and rough in places. It's contents contain indications as to why.

 


 

 

It is so very cold, and so very dark, now that my oil lamp has burnt out. The dampness of this tomb I wait in worries me. I notice, in this space where I have lost one sense, that of sight; my other senses feel heightened. A pounding in my head, at times, seems all I can hear. Dreariness too overcomes me. No doubt both caused by my dismal conditions. I try to scheme a way out, but my mind is equally as empty as this cavern, now that no other descendants nor monsters roam it. A man who’s been here far longer, a skeleton pirate makes for OK company, though I long to be able to listen to his life tales. Please, rescue me, expeditiously.

 

Larihei kae annilereh.
ito kae Dio mya’leh.

 

 


 

 

2022-04-30_23.57.10.png

 

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[!] After spotting a small crab with a roll of parchment clamped in it's claw making it's way across the northeastern beaches of the island, an elfess dressed in blue would cautiously approach the crustacean, gently pinching the dampened note until the crab decided he could pass along his courier duties to the responsible elf. After scanning the page, she would rush over to The Night Owl Parlour, pinning the paper to the notice board for the people of Haelun'or to read... [!]

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