A call to all Mages

[Morigung-oog 5697]

8 hours ago, Direswift said:

An open letter to all The Mages and voidal interested parties of Aevos

 

I have noticed a severe drop in practicians of the Void.

 

I want to call a meeting with all Arcanists across our land of Aevos to discuss the future and betterment of our ilk.

 

I fear with no unity among mages, trouble will be born and even more places will outlaw our field of study.

 

If you are like me and believe that voidal trade is a dying one, but refuse to bend the knee to idiocy, respond here with what time works best for you,

 

and what conversations you wish to have at this Meeting. The Meeting location will be chosen when the time is picked

 

 

~Midas Von Athri'onn Acal'Turrii.

 

 

Times

• Thursday 6 pm EST (2/27)
• Thursday 8 pm EST (2/27)
• Friday 6 pm EST (2/28)
• Friday 8 pm EST (2/28)
• Saturday 3 pm EST (3/1)
• Saturday 6 pm EST (3/1)
• Saturday 8 pm EST (3/1) 

 

OOC

This is my first forrum post in all 5 years on lotc, did I cook?

 

A notice was posted under many copies of this open letter.

 

Dear Midas,

 

No. Stop that. It's never going to work out. Shoo.

 

With Regards,

 

Valindra,

 

Okarir'tir of Haelun'or, The First Veilwatcher, Arcane Spellblade, Destroyer of Tears, Hunter of Horrors, Smiter of Stupidity, Best Friend of Avern'dionne Fi'talareh
 

PS: I'm sick of cleaning up your kinds' silly little mage tears. It got tiresome after the first attempt.

 

[Direswift 296]

Under many of valindra's notices was the drawing of a angry monkey with knives

[Laeonathan 5889]

Raziel Amethil merely pins a simple letter below Valindra's:

 

"Listen to her, she is right,

signed, Raziel."

[Frisket 4538]

“Should we go Mentor?”

 

Vivien asked Seth from her side of the tavern barn

 

@Samler

[The Black Lubba 563]

The ex-magi’s eyes perused the letter, ‘Father would be more interested in this than I.’  She thought, deciding to bring this to him later. She went back to perusing the market for ingredients to make bread with. 
 

@mika1278

[Hom 1987]

An elderly human wizard grimaces as he reads the letter from his mailbox- The mere words mage unity are enough to send a shiver down his spine. No, never again. He folds the note up again, planning to simply disregard it. But…

 

… But, if only like-minded individuals responded to the call, there would be no one to discourage something foolish being decided upon. Maybe, just maybe, a voice of reason could sway them on the right path. At the very least, he could try to encourage away from the wrong one.

 

Spoiler

I should be available any of those times!

 

[nepir 472]

*As the missive was handed to him, he read it carefully a tired sigh escaping him as he rubbed his tempels.* "Why not, worse case I have to advocate for sanity.... again."

 

 

 

• Spoiler

  • Friday 6 pm EST (2/28)
  • Friday 8 pm EST (2/28)
  • Saturday 3 pm EST (3/1)
  • Saturday 6 pm EST (3/1)
  • Saturday 8 pm EST (3/1) 

   

 

[Royal_sheep 141]

Anaire, having recieved the missive read for a few moments, finding the contents most curious.

Then, her attention faded and she discarded the piece, giving herself time to think about it.
 

[_AzureLexi 766]

A mute illusionist reads the missive. 'It's a coin flip if it's just the egomaniac types of mages, but I really should find magi contacts regardless,'' she thinks to herself. 'It couldn't hurt to see.'

 

Spoiler

I'm free any of these times!

 

[Karim 250]

Woeful was the hymn of the Nephilim as he sang unto the dead of their order, within halls of ash, within halls hallowed. The dirge came to a halt as parchment lay in his clawed hand, one bearing words of fire upon a tongue of ash. And so did the flames of the burial place wane, their dance slowing as he read. "A most interesting thing," he resounded then, to himself and the bygone that lay at his feet, before setting to pen the mage a message—bright words upon bright wings.

 

Spoiler

Saturday, please! :3

 

[estrella 52]

A raven-haired sorceress came upon the missive, her gaze trailing over it momentarily. Though her expression remained impassive, she raised her hand to tug the parchment from its place upon the wall. "Interesting.." is all she would muse. She would make note to herself to be available for such an affair. If for nothing else, a room full of magical egos would certainly be just that.. Interesting.

 

Spoiler

• Friday 6 pm EST (2/28)
• Friday 8 pm EST (2/28)
• Saturday 3 pm EST (3/1)
• Saturday 6 pm EST (3/1)
• Saturday 8 pm EST (3/1) 

 

[Pearlescent 585]

Blue firey eyes set upon the missive, a sleepy elfess thinking she had nothing better to do, decided she'd show up

[Samler 1564]

14 hours ago, Frisket said:

Spoiler

“Should we go Mentor?”

 

Vivien asked Seth from her side of the tavern barn

 

@Samler

 

The elderly elf idly petting his panther remained silent for a moment before noting back. "I am cautious of that elf, likewise I do believe his meeting will bring no good. But if they start speaking of tears we will be at an advantage should we be in the room where it's uttered. I will see if I can make time."

[Hook 79]

Ripplewick was sipping a thick and mucky home-brewed ruby ale in his cramped study - or rather, the small loft filled with furniture composed almost entirely of stacked books in the vague impressions of a stool and a desk - watching the sun go down through a crack in his planked wall, the only sort of view that his measly space offered. He'd long since mastered the angle that let him slouch back on his seat and stare right through that crooked aperture at the slither of sunset. He'd lost track of how many days in a row he'd done this very thing, and how many Minas a month he offered up for it. The self-pity and guilt set in, and as one does upon remembering one's own idleness, the beggar's excuse for a mage decided it was high time to be productive, and get to work deciphering the valuable artefact he'd procured on his latest adventure*.

 

*His latest adventure had of course only been a short trip to the town shoppe and back, and the artefact was no more than a discarded notice he'd found, wretched and scrumpled in a gutter some fourty feet from his front door, addressed to a wizard far better known than himself. Ripplewick's only real claim to fame was for authoring a book on eighty ways to cook a potato, some years ago.

 

Ripplewick straightened his posture, and with a wave of his hand set a brass dustpan and brush about their business, becoming animate and lively with a deep emerald aura enveloping their shape,  momentarily uncertain in their motions after such long dormancy - if they were sentient, you'd suppose they were considering how a dustpan and brush can dust themselves - before abandoning any such notions and skittering around, cleaning the old loft right up. He reached into his robe pocket, and then down through the gaping hole at the pocket's bottom, down into the depths between the inner and outer lining of his robe, fishing out the artefact - a still-soggy ball of paper, dragging up strange tendrils of lint and matter with it. Using his bare hands, he ironed it out with great decorum on his desk, reading the contents. 

 

'A call to all mages!'

 

The wizard read it and pondered.  Ripplewick had spent years, years and more years in the hopes of finding a suitable teacher for Arcanism to no avail, often finding himself the butt of jokes he couldn't understand. He wondered if he'd actually be welcome to such a meeting, in spite of the apparent desperation for magic users.  After all, the letter wasn't addressed to him, and why would it've been? He'd scarcely found kinship in a fellow magi, despite being quite the dab hand in the use of fire evocation and housemagery. Still, worth keeping, he supposed- something for the to-do list. Back into his pocket it went. The dustpan and brush halted in mid-air and clattered to the ground noisily, that emerald aura diminishing, diminishing until only the tarnish offered such verdant tones.

 

A tenant in the room below thumped angrily on their ceiling.

[Turbo_Dog 3567]

Penned with haste was a letter stained with sugar water spilt on the edges and a stale Cookie slipped inside which weighed on the envelope. It was directed to the summoner of mages. It read as follows.

 

“Hey I can’t show up. Not a mage. If there are snacks though can I come to get some? Thanks guy im somehow related to. P.S. have you done something new to your purple flesh? It looks violet as of late.”

 

-Spuds. W