The following is placed upon the town bulletin board.
Dear Citizens of the Town of Jastery,
After returning from the Klasies of Upper Metsar and learning more about the elven and sylvan culture, I have discussed it with another fellow sylvan and we believe that the community could use an organization of our culture.
It is unconventional to keep this organization segregated to only elves, fauns and dryads because that would be unfair to other races that share the same views as us, such as the fairies, the ferals, ixifar and the sprites. I do believe that it is essential to start small though and then grow from there as we refine the tennets that we hold dear.
So far I have written points on the following tennets:
- Knowledge of the Arcane
- Nature and Spirituality
- The Art and Creativity
- Tactics within Combat
- The History of the Pantheon
These are not final, nor are they all. But I would like to hold a small summit the night of Second's Fifth of Gephirel, two weeks from now. Anyone with further questions may address Seren or I, Corellus.
We are of the people. We are Tel'Quessir.
It is signed in elvish script, then below it in common:
Corellus Willowreath
Dalagorn wearing a some freshly made hides with the leg of a baca in one hand with several large chunks missing out of it, walks up to the bulletin board notices the sign. he reaches out grabs it rips it from the wall wiping the blood from his lips with the note. He crumbles the note into a ball and thinking to himself "stupid people napkins don't go on walls" and tosses it aside. he then turns around picks up the ball of napkin and sticks the pin back into it and places it back on the wall in a wad of dripping sticky bloody mess. "I better return it tho" he thinks to himself as he walks away taking another large bite making his once clean face dirty once again
The next dark, the dark elf walks by the bulletin board and sees his invitation has been sundered, smeared and vandalized. He stares at it with a ferocious sneer as he inches closer, trying to calm himself down with each step. He snatches the foiled parchment off the wall and holds it close to his face to sniff it. [Track] Upon the first whiff, he smells blood of dead animal. With the second whiff, it's deduced down to bacca. He looks at it and and the board and sees that whoever the culprit was did not throw blood on it, but used it to wipe their mouth, the facial print is still on it, and several small brushlike marks near the bottom suggest that whoever it was had facial hair or fur, unless they decided to rub their hair with it which would be illogical.
Going through his list of suspects in his head as he paces around, he already knows it must be one of the angori or someone grown in their culture. A feral may consume uncooked flesh, but would not be used to bacca specifically, or go out of their way to find it. He stops pacing and stares a little bit more trying to figure out how else to narrow it down. Then he looks at the placement of his hand... and turns to the back of the parchment. The culprit would have left residue from their hand there, maybe. He sniffs it again. The hand was slightly calloused, suggesting that they wield a weapon, a hint of the smell suggests something made of metal that is heavy, as wood or bone would be hollow and not leave much callous, even though bone could leave a smell of iron as well.
Angori. Facial Hair. Wields metal weapon. The dark elf smirks, saying to himself "Aye, gotchu ya leetle ignoramus." Calmed now and resolute in his decision is, he takes the dirty parchment to dispose of, and pins up another copy identical to the last that he had on him just in case. He looks around to make sure he isn't drawing attention, and he quickly makes his way off to the Lucky Dice.
Blaise, wearing a heavy blacksmith apron and carrying a pale of iron scraps, walks a few steps past the bulletin board, stops short, and backs up a few steps. Quickly reading the notice, he mutters under his breath before walking away, "And bleeding good luck to Corellus. This town has about as much culture as a dead bacca."