Parchment Affixed to walls in the Darker Corners of the City
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_Anathema to the People.
Reaver. Void he craves.
Inciting Destruction.
Each of us seen as slaves.
No place for Construction.Love holds no Place.
Amongst his Devoted.
Scourge of all Beauty.
Hands in Blood Coated,
Acclaimed as His Duty.Locked in His Gauntlet
Devoured by Hate,
Believing in Power.
Aware of His Loathing,
No doubt, watch them Cower.In Darkness they Plot.
To Rule is His Aim.
Eternal Servitude.Must I mention His Name?_
The Shadow Poet
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_Into the shadows,
A creature did sneak,
Always obeying his orders,
No back talk she'd speak.With parchments being shredded,
And various leathers burned,
A poem is erased,
Save the memory that learned.One of the parchments,
Packed neatly away,
Into her pack,
The poem did stay.Speaking of truths,
As the light came to shine,
To her brethren she did preach,
About the end of their time._
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Evendur takes a minor interest in the poem (although not, of course, having found an original copy – the darker corners of the city are not his usual stomping grounds) and reviews the parchment posted by the theater. He mutters to himself:
"Hrm. A standard acrostic, not uncommon in the more eccentric works of arcana, and exceedingly common in poetry, by my understanding."
He wanders off, apparently unconcerned with whatever message the poem is trying to communicate.
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The poem is placed on the colloms out front of the bardic college and just outside its doors. As in every poetic writting and singing class today they are diagnosing and examining the poem, talking of its strengths and weaknesses and other bardic things, and then after the classes the bards head out to the commons and mermaid, asking people if they've seen the parchments and if not repeating it for them to hear the art.
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A hooded man in the docks regards the poster with a hint of amusement, then he pulls it down, rolls it up with care and places it inside a scrollcase.
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A cloaked figure silently reads the postings. His eyes swiftly scanning the cuplets. Merely shaking his head, he adjusts the hood of his cloak and walks off. The quiet tapping can be heard as he walks…
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@f6da5e6c9b=Katebush:
///OOC Nice try, but even Zanetar can't be everywhere in the city at once
OOC/off///(( You're right, he can't be, but he can send people to do his bidding for him, and he can certainly be some places. Not only that, but I never said they were all instantaneously down. I said they were torn down; I never gave a degree of how many or a time frame. ))
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_Oreth takes morbid amusement in rescribing them and putting them back up, as necessary. Loathe to waste paper, he takes to using his failed tanning experiments as writing material, essentially tacking half-tanned, botched badger hides, or fragments of deer-hide, with poems written on them, to the wall.
Incidentally, the smell of tanning salts and oils draws even more attention to the makeshift posters_
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Ocean raises an eyebrow at one in the Docks district and pockets it herself.
/edit: Misread Zanetar's post as implying he got them all before anyone else saw them
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The parchments are swiftly torn down while no one is looking…
