Overnight, a piece of paper, neatly typed, appears pinned to the Bulletin Board. You don't know who put it here, or how they got in, but the emblem in the left corner gets your attention.
That's the Blood Pact's insignia.
Dear Academy of Merlin,
We hope you weren't frightened by our little prank. That little roman candle was just our way of saying hello, a plea for your attention. Did it work? Perhaps this will.
We are stealing your magic.
The bomb that blew up the Oak was comprised of a few components: the amalgamation of dirty magical energy derived from dozens and dozens of artifacts (such as a hand of glory, a cursed necklace, a unicorn horn), a large amount of extremely pure Luna (provided lovingly by several gracious volunteers), and a small amount of highly-concentrated taint. All of this was packed into a small, brass oil lamp and sparked to life with a firestone. The result? A fine, fine mist that has spread quite far. Justus and part of Town Over is well within the blast radius. (And we, of course, are not.)
This mist will eat at your magic until there is nothing left. And then it will start on your life force. Oh, the process is slow, sure, but you have our word that none of you will live to see graduation if you are not administered an antidote. (And that is only the effect on the magicks.)
Naturally, we have such an antidote, and we are only too happy to share it with you! All you must do is have your CEE members approve a certain law that must have passed on to their desks by now. With the signatures of four prodigious Councilmen and women (well, three of them anyway), the law will almost certainly pass. Once we hear of proof, we will administer the antidote.
If we do not receive word from our contacts that the law has been signed within one month, then we may be inclined to come down and... see what we can do to speed things up.
Tick tock, tick tock. Make your decision before bodies start dropping.
-- Unit 53
That's the Blood Pact's insignia.
Dear Academy of Merlin,
We hope you weren't frightened by our little prank. That little roman candle was just our way of saying hello, a plea for your attention. Did it work? Perhaps this will.
We are stealing your magic.
The bomb that blew up the Oak was comprised of a few components: the amalgamation of dirty magical energy derived from dozens and dozens of artifacts (such as a hand of glory, a cursed necklace, a unicorn horn), a large amount of extremely pure Luna (provided lovingly by several gracious volunteers), and a small amount of highly-concentrated taint. All of this was packed into a small, brass oil lamp and sparked to life with a firestone. The result? A fine, fine mist that has spread quite far. Justus and part of Town Over is well within the blast radius. (And we, of course, are not.)
This mist will eat at your magic until there is nothing left. And then it will start on your life force. Oh, the process is slow, sure, but you have our word that none of you will live to see graduation if you are not administered an antidote. (And that is only the effect on the magicks.)
Naturally, we have such an antidote, and we are only too happy to share it with you! All you must do is have your CEE members approve a certain law that must have passed on to their desks by now. With the signatures of four prodigious Councilmen and women (well, three of them anyway), the law will almost certainly pass. Once we hear of proof, we will administer the antidote.
If we do not receive word from our contacts that the law has been signed within one month, then we may be inclined to come down and... see what we can do to speed things up.
Tick tock, tick tock. Make your decision before bodies start dropping.
-- Unit 53
