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PrinceAlexusEveryone, Two Weeks Ago
Whether through smartphones or ordinary letters, the members of the group would recieve Gavin's message, a message telling them that:
If you have had visions of winged beings, telling you that the world is about to be worse, and that you can stop it; if you've manifested powers that cannot be normally explained, find a way to come to me, to Brightwell Illinois, where answers await. My name is Gavin Prince, and I am gathering those who have seen what I've seen, people who have power and might need help and support in wielding that power. A pause, or rather, a space.
But be warned, people are already after you, with motives both good and ill. It is time for us, who have been given the powers of Magic, to stand in solidarity with one another, so that we would not become pawns in the great struggles that the return of this power would engulf the world in. So, come to Brightwell two weeks from now, using whatever means you have that won't be too obvious - and be careful.
Brightwell, Illinois, Feduary 2020
Gavin's stay in Brightwell had been uneventful, except for a trip or two to the old Native American Burial Grounds to see if there were any more secrets he can find out. No such luck; the local Indian Tribes had existed long after Magic had faded away into myth - 5000 BC/BCE, was it? Nevertheless, today, he was at the motel room's lobby, waiting for his 'invitees' to arrive.
He wasn't blind, of course. The real reason he chose Brightwell, Illinois, was because Sparrow Freemark, the motel owner, was a Mage as well, one whose spells were all Mind, even, filling a niche that was needed. This gave him a way to keep people out of his business for a while.
Nevertheless, as the people he had signaled began to arrive in the small town, they would feel a subtle signal, a 'twitch' in their brains that would direct them towards the Garfield Motel, where Gavin had spent a lot of money - the price of one ceremonial sword - reserving all the rooms for his 'meeting'. The Garfield Motel was a small, rectangular establishment whose architectural style dated from the 50s, able to fit at least a dozen people. Gavin expected half of that.
Things are going well...too well, the eighteen-year-old boy thought. He suspected that things were going to go wrong, given time. But he refused to think that whatever was coming would be too much for the group he was mustering.
The doors to the motel opened; were the first Mages he had called coming soon? Well, best to greet them, then.
Getting up, the young adult would say:
"Hello there, my name is Gavin Prince. You've received my message, I take it?"
He scanned the group; it seemed that they were all strong and already somewhat experienced with their powers...
@Haydrian Cindel@Guardsman@Gentlemanvaultboy@duskshine749@Bazmund@Dark Light@silvermist1116@Stitches
Whether through smartphones or ordinary letters, the members of the group would recieve Gavin's message, a message telling them that:
If you have had visions of winged beings, telling you that the world is about to be worse, and that you can stop it; if you've manifested powers that cannot be normally explained, find a way to come to me, to Brightwell Illinois, where answers await. My name is Gavin Prince, and I am gathering those who have seen what I've seen, people who have power and might need help and support in wielding that power. A pause, or rather, a space.
But be warned, people are already after you, with motives both good and ill. It is time for us, who have been given the powers of Magic, to stand in solidarity with one another, so that we would not become pawns in the great struggles that the return of this power would engulf the world in. So, come to Brightwell two weeks from now, using whatever means you have that won't be too obvious - and be careful.
Brightwell, Illinois, Feduary 2020
Gavin's stay in Brightwell had been uneventful, except for a trip or two to the old Native American Burial Grounds to see if there were any more secrets he can find out. No such luck; the local Indian Tribes had existed long after Magic had faded away into myth - 5000 BC/BCE, was it? Nevertheless, today, he was at the motel room's lobby, waiting for his 'invitees' to arrive.
He wasn't blind, of course. The real reason he chose Brightwell, Illinois, was because Sparrow Freemark, the motel owner, was a Mage as well, one whose spells were all Mind, even, filling a niche that was needed. This gave him a way to keep people out of his business for a while.
Nevertheless, as the people he had signaled began to arrive in the small town, they would feel a subtle signal, a 'twitch' in their brains that would direct them towards the Garfield Motel, where Gavin had spent a lot of money - the price of one ceremonial sword - reserving all the rooms for his 'meeting'. The Garfield Motel was a small, rectangular establishment whose architectural style dated from the 50s, able to fit at least a dozen people. Gavin expected half of that.
Things are going well...too well, the eighteen-year-old boy thought. He suspected that things were going to go wrong, given time. But he refused to think that whatever was coming would be too much for the group he was mustering.
The doors to the motel opened; were the first Mages he had called coming soon? Well, best to greet them, then.
Getting up, the young adult would say:
"Hello there, my name is Gavin Prince. You've received my message, I take it?"
He scanned the group; it seemed that they were all strong and already somewhat experienced with their powers...
@Haydrian Cindel@Guardsman@Gentlemanvaultboy@duskshine749@Bazmund@Dark Light@silvermist1116@Stitches
