March 28, 2008 at 7:01 am #32871
- Markshire PCs:
***Nearby an insignificant-seeming door, on the side of a large house that is drawn separate by a cobbled pier from the typical crowds which flood the city streets on a daily basis, there hangs a small note. The parchment, frilled on one side with the tell-tale mark of being ripped free of a tome, is folded in three as to prevent the passing eye from peering fourth at the writing contained within. The note itself is fixed to an exposed wooden plank of the building by a raven-fletched arrow. Once opened, the message contains the following text within.***
Dear Miss Salil Vensessen,
As an appetizer to the meal that will become this brief, but desperately earnest note, I must express a great deal of dismay in reaction to being unable to find you present within your residence. It is then truly a shame now that I must digress into the more serious issue at hand, as the conversations we have shared are a certain kind of pleasure that I rarely encounter. Summarily, I must apologize for the inconvenience of dispelling the illusion you had placed on the entryway to your sanctum. In any case, I simply wished to proffer fourth a gentle reminder that if you would find it to your liking to make contact with me, a meager note (much like the one I have left here for you) would suffice, detailing the scene in which you would most appreciate for the encounter to take place. There is simply no prerequisite of subterfuge that you must meet in order to draw fourth my attention. Although I must certainly applaud you for the concept of using a spell-anchor in conjunction with the gift you have offered us, I find that it is simply not a necessity that you would need put aside more pressing matters for. Merely leave the message by the door of room three in the Red Dragon Inn of Foothold (though take heed to mind the wards) and concern yourself with less trifling affairs. I will surely be waiting.
Thank you for your time,
***Behind the door of room number three within the Red Dragon, a pallid-skinned mage sits hunched over a small, oval mirror. His eyes peer into the reflective surface, but instead of focusing on it, they seem to pierce the layer where only his face gazes back upon him and dwell upon some scene beyond. A few footfalls are heard out in the hall, casting pillars of shadow within the slim crack of oily light that pours in beneath the door. The wizardâ€™s gaze shoots up to follow the sound, but settles back down on its former quarry once it is clear that the trespass simply belonged to another customer of the inn.***
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