raitheon
03-31-2013, 04:46 AM
"Could this be it?" the question lingers on your lips as you pull the rusty frail box from the hidden compartment behind a bookshelf in High Pass. The decrepit lock makes an audible snap under the leverage of your dagger. The cobwebs were doing a better job hold out intruders.
Within the box you locate another note. This one appears in better shape than the last. The seal still in tact so it leads you to believe you are the first to make it this far. You've completed all instruction thoroughly; always returning the notes to where you found them so that others may follow the trail.
"Who are they? Why go to such great lengths to hide themselves?" The questions echo within your mind like a Dwarven smithy's hammer against molten steel on a blistering-hot forge. Like the sword; the answers seem to be taking shape slowly with every found artifact.
It seems only weeks ago you found the tattered note which began this sojourn. You can't recall if it was torn from some long-dead mummy; pilfered from the hoard of some orc or happened upon within a bottle from the ocean. What you can remember is what this first letter held:
Turn Back Seeker
Danger Lies Ahead Of You
Pray, Read No Further
Secrets We Must Guard
Hidden From The Watchful Eyes
Barring Old From New
We wear our hoods low
to hide in the morning grey
and the cloak of night
The Greatest Prize Waits
Those Who Unravel This Yarn
Play Our Game, Find Us
The waxy seal on your new found parchment breaks with a satisfying crunch. The musty smell from the paper gives you an indication to how long this letter had rested inside the box.
The Words seem to shift before your eyes; after a moment a clear message is written:
Within the box you locate another note. This one appears in better shape than the last. The seal still in tact so it leads you to believe you are the first to make it this far. You've completed all instruction thoroughly; always returning the notes to where you found them so that others may follow the trail.
"Who are they? Why go to such great lengths to hide themselves?" The questions echo within your mind like a Dwarven smithy's hammer against molten steel on a blistering-hot forge. Like the sword; the answers seem to be taking shape slowly with every found artifact.
It seems only weeks ago you found the tattered note which began this sojourn. You can't recall if it was torn from some long-dead mummy; pilfered from the hoard of some orc or happened upon within a bottle from the ocean. What you can remember is what this first letter held:
Turn Back Seeker
Danger Lies Ahead Of You
Pray, Read No Further
Secrets We Must Guard
Hidden From The Watchful Eyes
Barring Old From New
We wear our hoods low
to hide in the morning grey
and the cloak of night
The Greatest Prize Waits
Those Who Unravel This Yarn
Play Our Game, Find Us
The waxy seal on your new found parchment breaks with a satisfying crunch. The musty smell from the paper gives you an indication to how long this letter had rested inside the box.
The Words seem to shift before your eyes; after a moment a clear message is written: