Convocation

[booette]

A pristine parchment, affixed with the following geometric design, had been attached to the Wraith's notice board.

Symposium.​

Long have I watched and waited. Kept my ear to the ground for accounts of the unnatural, of the magnificent feats performed by the few talented this city has to offer. In spite of all your talents and all your achievements, your potential is squandered and you are forced to languish in solitude. No longer.

I seek to gather those like me, like you, to coalesce and consolidate the power that lingers in the sewers and hides away its prowess in back alleys and in the safety of their homes. I seek a place of knowledge, of learning, of camaraderie over the arcane. A place for us who are tangled with the stars to convene and grow, to practice and thrive.

To this end, I will listen. For the whispers of those with magic beyond my wildest reckoning. In the interest of keeping our information safe, I will approach you first. If our interests align, wear an ivory ribbon, tie it around your right wrist. That's how I'll know to contact you.

The day comes soon.

-An Ally.​

 

[Lizmun]

The pristine note seemed to catch the eyes of a monster. Hunched over the parchment, a three-eyed merchant peered precariously, scanning quietly over the words. A low murmur came from behind a skullish mask, and there was an uneasy shifting under draping, monkish robes. The creature didn't linger, and wordlessly it lurched away and back into the deep tunnels to sell whatever horrors it happened to possess.

Later, it was seen donning an ivory ribbon.

 

[MippyMoo]

A young woman came across the sign and asked a passerby to read it for her, intrigued by the design above the words. After they left, she looked at the sign for a few moments, quiet. She was not sure if she should or could do this properly, but she nervously proceeded anyway.

A small, green-clad, stone-sung Cielothar wore an ivory ribbon, possibly mistaken.