*A long piece of parchment has been pinned to the tree(leyline) in Ceyrens Mill*
WANTED
- 600 Brave souls to populate Ceyrens Mill.
- A people willing to fend for themselves in preference over the charity of others.
- A folk who appreciate and value the labors of their neighbor.
- Spirits who are finally shamed into action.

If this strikes near to your heart then I have found my mark.

What you stand to gain;

- Self respect
- The right to fight and if need be..die for your own land.
- The ability to make your own decisions and most important..live with the consequence.
- Your own chapter in the proud history of the mill and not wallowing in its footnotes.

To the nine hells with waiting for this or that brave heroes deliverence.
Use the hands your parents gave you to weild weapons instead of being clenched in fear praying for some Gods tender divine mercy.

How long will the mill remain silent?
How long will you cower behind walls slaves to your own apathy?
How long?

(Immediate plots are available-just open your eyes)

_________________
I keels u with my axe!

"Do ye know where the Holy-Flamin' Frost-brand Gronk-slayin' Vorpal Hammer o' woundin' an' returnin' an' Shootin'-Lightnin'-out-yer-bum is?"

*Aylomen views the posted notice, quirking a brow. For a long moment, he stands there before it, thinking on what to sign, or if to sign at all. He taps his forefinger against his lips, then holds a scroll up to the board, scribbling a neat message*

Dear Poster,

While I value both your creative thinking and your desire to see the situation take a turn for the better, I have taken to wondering of your involvement with the defenders and the actual residents of the currently uninhabitable Mill.

Perhaps with a little friendly direction and cooperation, we might see this passion put to a more constructive use?

Come find me, if you wish to take your ideas to a reality.

*Signed neatly*

~Dawnmaster Aylomen~

*a certain wild-elf reads this and just shakes her head and smirks and leaves a message*

You are being far to optimistic... if by some miracle the defenders of the mill can actually get their act together... stop bickering amongst themselves and actually defeat the cultists they will have a very short lived victory as I do not see the Malarites who now currently aid the mill will be happy to see a civilization spring up on what they now consider their land... from one war to another... and it wont be the foolish adventures who allowed the Malarites to take root that will suffer the most... it will be the common people.

Thysaeryl
Councilor of Winya-Ravana

_________________


"It is by the holy beans of Java that thoughts acquire speed, the hands acquire shakes, the shakes become a warning, it is by Java alone that I set my mind in motion."

I will answer the call to aid!! I do not fear and quake in my boots as these others do. Bring your souls to the mill, we will fight and call it ours!

L. V. Marfedelom

_________________
Yes, it is a tattoo...Did it hurt? Nah, felt like chicken.

*Anica arrives at the mill in evening time to check on the notices. She summons a soft glow to read by centered on her fingertips. She appears delighted at the responses and removes the notice carrying it with her to the waters edge. There she removes her boots, lies back on the sandy bank and reads. She nods taking the feedback in and ponders the lines that require introspection. The mists common to the Mill swirl about and caress her body. Suddenly she laughs aloud till tears come to her eyes. If Someone were to see her at the moment it would appear that truly "her head was in the clouds". The humor of the moment was not lost on her and her laughter marked its passing*

*A note is left attached*
Is the parchment missin' that specifies how much coin we'll get for this suicide mission?

_________________
Little Libba
Roruk Steelshadow
Morten Morrowcroft