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TO THE LIGHTENERS OF AEVOS


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Chi Kagura Hope Strohiem literally was there when the mystery person wrote this missive. Pages of missives somehow came into her and her husband home. 
"YOU LITERALLY WROTE THE MISSIVE LAST NIGHT! HOW DID ALL OF THIS GET INTO MY HOME!"
The woman yelled as she sweeps the papers outside the door. Fighting the missives itself. Hopefully her husband can help clean this up with her.

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A herzlandi youth sat at a cozy desk chair, a candle light besides him as he read the missive. A tall old man stood behind him, reading over his shoulders. The youth smiled towards the bottom then spoke "They're right about at least one thing." Finally, the youth tossed the missive aside, focusing on an increasingly large list of names. The youth began to continue inscribing names unto it while the old man watched.

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An inferi gripped the paper in a clawed hand, the missive scrunching do to how tightly she held to it. Cackles rang out from her,
 

"Darkeners and lighteners? What silly little terms these mortals make."

Translucent flames appeared on the top of her head like a crown as she pointed a finger at the paper, shooting flames at it before tossing it to the ground, letting it turn to nothing more than ash.

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An elfess found her mailbox to be filled with missives and the cracks of her door seemed to have been stuck with the same paper. she took one to read and was able to realize who this was from. Luthien felt a sense of worry but thought that it was too late for regrets.

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Juniper, despite meditating in a cave somewhere, somehow also finds a copy of the missive. Truly, it is a phenomenon (and maybe a waste of paper to have printed so many.)

 

She groans after reading it over, burying her head in her hands for a few minutes as she contemplated, before taking a deep breath and resuming her focus. This was to be a problem for another day.

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"It is far too late." declared the foul undead sorcerer Az'rekash. "Legions of undeath will crawl through the gates of Oblivion, and Aevos will be lost."

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"Surely them being given the moniker The Scholar is a grand jest, given they were unable to read through the Celia'norian records and deduce that a 'Jylie' is not an official Representative of the Celia'nor Government." A Wanderer remarks  "More idiots blabbing on and complaining because they're incapable of any meaningful action, I hope they're swallowed by the Chaos that is unleashed upon the word." She then puts on some googles over her eyes, as she goes back to Alchemy in a private location

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1 hour ago, JudgedKitty said:

Chi Kagura Hope Strohiem literally was there when the mystery person wrote this missive. Pages of missives somehow came into her and her husband home. 
"YOU LITERALLY WROTE THE MISSIVE LAST NIGHT! HOW DID ALL OF THIS GET INTO MY HOME!"
The woman yelled as she sweeps the papers outside the door. Fighting the missives itself. Hopefully her husband can help clean this up with her.

Sir Stanton Stroheim would pick up any of the papers Chi had missed during her clean up, shoving a handful of them into the hearth-fire before turning to his wife "Don't just sweep zhem outside! Zhat's littering!" 

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Julian Bird-Watcher skims over the document. He gives a light shrug. Descendant's work didn't cease to surprise him but surely he wasn't moving out of Norland. 

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"What proof... does he bring?" Wondered a monk by the name of Vasyl. "Or is it just an attempt to increase ones own relevance...?"

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"EA KNEW IT! VE MONSTERS HUNTIN' MEA ARE VE WORK O'DARKENERS!" The Old Fisherman exclaimed from his hut - before turning putting on a heap of jewelry on his neck, rubbing garlic under his armpits and nods and kneels down to his little altar made for every single god and spirit in Aveos to pray that the water-creatures coming after him won't grow legs to walk.

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Yrmshik takes off his gauntlets only to find a copy inside “‘ow the feck-“

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"Praise PURITY. Praise HOLY FIRE. Everyone who dares spread it does the work of the betrayer. Know this and know this well. There are THREE WAYS to purge the impure.

 

Owyn's Mercy

The Banishment of the Curse of Iblees

The Pure Waters of the Sacred Pool...

 

Do NOT deny them. For all darkness will be cast away in a sword ablaze. That is the mercy of the OWYNSSIAH..."

 

The mechpriest adeptus, caught in some vortex prayed for a release to serve his parish well. They are lost without holy progress...

 

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