Illarion.org

In a forgotten realm beneath the world’s surface, where light dared not tread, the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient secrets. It was a domain untouched by time, steeped in shadows and echoing whispers of those who once wandered its darkened corridors. Here, in a long-forgotten ...

A shroud of darkness and mist lay over Runewick and its surroundings, the twin moons' dim light struggling to pierce the clouds' canopy. Mas, the Month of Blood, had come. Bestial roars, deep and terrifying, echoed from the woods around Yewdale, from which a group of three orcs emerged, armed and ar...

If one of keen eyesight were to walk past the professors' offices, they might spot light glinting off of something on the ground, right next to one of the doors. Closer examination reveals the object to be thin and metallic, and some would know right away that it is a lockpick, which is used to open...

Whispers. Visions. Whispers mocking the complacency abound, demanding action. Visions of decay, of the rotting features of many a face that had come into focus across time. Their skin and their arms stretching, dragging along the ground, and their tools, weapons and shields crumbling onto barren ear...

((Feel free to post your character reactions/actions when they find out the answer but please don't mention the answer itself, try to be ambiguous. It's OK to talk about the answer IG though.))

Some may notice that even more text has been added to the parchment.

Everyone knows that once it's noon, the sun will be at the top of everything else.
Everyone knows that once it's noon, the sun will start going down and sideways... but never up.

Some may notice that more text has been added to the parchment.

If you can read these words, you can find the answer without moving a muscle.

A parchment colored with ash, its writing done in white chalk, has been pinned in plain sight on the outer wall of the Hemp Necktie Inn. None of the inn's patrons seem to know how it got there. Perhaps they were bribed… or perhaps it is the doing of a ghost.

Someone waits to meet a young mage lass, at the place where they last met...

Shadows stir and plants shift. An unsettling aura exudes from around Illarion as the servants and allies of Lord Gray heed his call.

Somewhere a dark, deeply broken mind sings to itself:

Lord is here, and so is Master. Not only them but the rest of us too.

We are many.

Hidden away from sight, a lone mage uses a ritual to musters the magic needed to achieve telepathic connection, or at the very least, to send a message. Whispers fill the room.

They are trapped. Let their numbers flourish. Bring madness.

A figure stands staring at the words on the paper, the hazy eyes of a non-distinct face rapidly re-reads the two lines. An aura of dread manifests around the figure, amplified by innate magic. For a moment, Hemp Necktie seems just a bit more dull, quiet, dark... and lifeless. The figure quickly sli...

In the dead of night... It's windy and dark. In fact it is so windy and dark that one might stop to wonder, is it natural? The wind picks up sand and twirls it in the air, annoying the gate guard of Cadomyr with the lashings of a thousand tiny particles on his bald head. The guard looks to a figure...