Weaver

Of the Preachers of Death

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((Open to Alliance))

There was a poster hanging on the wall. It smelled of fresh ink and magic. The notice hadn't been there the day before. Erich Lohan was concerned, in his odd, nervous way. He went to get the nearest guard, pulling Officer Pomeroy over by his wrist. The Officer was more than fed up by the time they stopped outside the Blue Recluse tavern.

"What're you on about--oh."

"You see? Y'see?"

"Don't touch it, you hear me, boy?"

"Shouldn't we take it down?"

"Let SI:7 deal with it. And the Archmages will want a look too. Do NOT touch it."

"R-right."

It was for the best that they hadn't laid a hand on the poster.

It wouldn't have let them.

Mage_Threat.gif

Seek the Weaver should you wish to avoid or meet your fate. ((Send PM via the TNG))

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Jaedric briskly stepped outside, wind whipping through his hair as he turned to look at the poster. How had he not noticed it on his way in? The news that hunters of mages were about the city was the most surprising thing he had heard in months, and looking at the notice that proved it sent a variety of emotions through him.

Arcane magic is a disease...

He sighed quietly. If he was smart enough, crafty enough, he could use such a thing to his advantage. His time in Stormwind had taught him that one of the handiest things to have around was a scapegoat.

With a slow shake of his head, the young mage turned and headed toward the shop that had become his home. He glanced briefly up at the tower. The corner of his mouth twitched.

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Janaelle Angelline walked towards the entrance to the Recluse. She had spent the day walking around the city and now hoped to have a drink before she continued to look for her friend. A small parchment attached to the stone wall by an arcane circle caught her eye as she passed. Reading it, a frown creased her forehead and she reached forward, placing her fingers next to the seal at the bottom; her foster-sister, Evolyn, was a mage. Mages were respected in Stormwind, not hunted, still...

She removes her journal from her pack, quickly sketching the seal onto one of the pages before shutting the book. There was no sense in not taking this seriously. She would warn her foster-sister, or any other mages she knew. Some people could be intensely stupid, but they were usually dangerous in their stupidity.

Tucking the journal away, she walks to the bar and orders a drink before taking a seat at a nearby table.

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The little elf was never one to think the worse... not under normal circumstances, she harmed few, spent her day studying and moving between the royal library and the mages quarter. Who did she hurt? And yet a few weeks ago she could recall the pain, those gruesome hours she was poisoned, or something. And now this. Vidyeh's eyes were transfixed on the paper, tracing the letters in her mind, burning them to memory.

She swallowed and trembled, was this what the thing was about? She was warned.... because she was a mage. Recently she'd been thinking about heading home to Winterspring, and then this, this just make it seem like the icing on the cake. Almost out of fear she pushed her tome futher into her bag, a text on abjuration, she didn't want it to be seen.

Vidyeh Icemist was never known for her bravery.... perhaps that was why she kept back to her dorm in the mage tower, bunkering down there, at least until her paranoia would subside.

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He wandered out of the Mage Tower, the note pinned to the wall catching his eye. Upon reading it, a single phrase was uttered by him. "Wary be the man who messes with those he does not understand."

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Chancellor Meznier followed the mage at brisk pace toward the Inn. From what he'd heard Joachim had been quite distraught when he saw the message, no surprise of couarse, well over half the man's business catered to mages and there was no telling what this might do to his customers if the notice remained where it was. The mage who had informed him of the situation was gensturing impatiently toward the offending article, he needn't have bothered, Meznier would have likely noticed it anyway on the way to his evening meal.

At closer inspection the warning appeared to be enchanted using a technique that was surprisingly unfamilier to the Chancellor, he could only guess at it's intent but considering it's contents the inlaid spell was almost positively harmful. It was an unusual threat from Stormwind, a kingdom which only thirty years ago trained almost exclusevely conjurors and as a result still hosted a worrying number of warlocks within it's capitol.

The mage accompanying him hovered over him worridly, anxiously waiting for a response. "We must have it removed at once Chancellor, it can't be said a mage will take these kinds of threats!"

Meznier smiled pleasently, removing his attention from the notice and turning toward the young man who was most likely forty years his junior. "We will always take these kinds of threats young man the issue I believe is we will not be cowed by them. There are measures that must be taken to remove this demand, please send Mr. Brenlow my regrets but this will need to remain as evidence until we can summon some investigators from Dalaran. I can only assume the local law enforcement will not mind if we take full control of this matter?"

He didn't wait until the other mage responded, continuing off in another direction as he prepared a teleportation spell. "I'm certain this matter will be resolved shortly."

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A new symbol appears on the wall near the poster, bringing the total to three. A tally, perhaps? And for those who saw the mangled body in the Mage Quarter, it looks oddly familiar. It should nag at the back of the mind...

Seen it before. You've seen it before.

The Weaver is pleased. The wrongs are being set right.

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Marianela Firestar, slowly made her way up the stone path that into the Blue Recluse. Her aburn hair framing her complexion, paired with her light azure colored eyes, and her fair complexion, made her blend in and look just like a normal human being. Despite the fact that she rarely wandered outside her quarters, she had caught news of the grizzly murder. When she had first heard of the murder and in what state the body had been discovered in, she had scowled at the very thought of anyone taking another one's life, in that fashion, to say the least. She scowled slightly as she reached into her bag to pull out her journal and a stick of charcoal which she used for her drawings. After a few minutes of rummaging through her bag, she finally withdrew her journal and the stick of charcoal, before settling herself down at a nearby table and looking to a nearby tree, where a bird perched high up in it's boughs. A soft smile slowly took hold of her face, as she began to sketch the bird, her hand movements fluid yet swift. As she finished sketching the bird, she put away her journal and stick of charcoal, and slowly rose to her feet. As she spun on her right heel to turn around and leave the district, her eyes caught sight of the poster, and a shiver ran down her spine. Despite the fact that she didn't the recognize the symbol, it still sent shivers down her spine. With an worn sigh, she eyed the poster warily, before hurrying out of the district and back into the main part of the city.

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Rennesta Lightseer is not in a good mood. From the murder of the Chancellor, to being nearly assassinated by a couple of dimwits, Rennesta realizes she cannot get any peace.t

It has to begin. A deep, hollow voice whispers in her head. She grumbles, and ignore it for now. Just a simple walk in Dalaran... No need to overcomplicate things...

That is when she sees the poster. Mages of Stormwind... Rennesta observes the poster, and suddenly notices the symbol on the poster... Just like the wrist.

Is it a... tally? Perhaps. Rennesta memorizes any details that may be of any importance later, and then turns to go to the portal to Stormwind.

Ranavos... you may be off the hook this time.

***

Zayter had been afraid of only a few things. The other Highborne, demons, and mage-hunters. She didn't even know they existed until one nearly killed her when she was travelling around a few years ago.

The thing is, she hadn't been using magic for ages. Yes, a spell or two here or there wasn't that harmful, but... still. Perhaps magic is more marking than she thought.

Zayter sighs as she examines the poster about the mages of Stormwind, not even bothering to get some more tobacco for her pipe that is still hanging from her mouth. She really doesn't look like a mage... does she?

Well then, she thinks. Perhaps I should not put off that training that I wanted to do... I need to protect myself again, and I won't recall spells just by sitting around... even if I shall be hunted for it. With that thought, Zayter starts to head towards the portal of Stormwind, determined to continue her 'training'.

((Sorries eef I had ta ask permissions to post!! Imma kinda confused by whut yas mean by 'contacting the Weaver' -either, we contact yas to post heres, or to turn in mages? Renny dunno, and yas can tell her which is true, 'cause mah mind can be slow sumetimes.))

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The spinning wheel turns again, a new thread is poised to be cut. For those who have been watching the poster something new appears. A fourth symbol now holds testament on the wall. But where is the victim?

Somewhere, the Weaver smiles.

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