September 1st, 1821 Entry 1221
Time's up. I am leaving from whence I came thought the Aetherstep back unto reality. My time on the Aethasian Forums is complete.
There hast been reports in reality-allegory of a great many fiends needing to be vanquished before the winter storms. A rodent race (and the dire need of a fiddlist to upset the system); a horrific giant named Stresse (who loves to prey on strong, yet armorless warriors); and a hazardous mountian of "impossiblility" to overcome. Someone must take them down...might as well be me.
Sets down feathered pen and analyzes the script under lantern light. Upon reaching desired satisfaction; closes notebook, stands, and places in leather side satchel. Moves to a tree at the edge of the small clearing and grabs a hanging mask and cloak from branch. Takes a moment and slips the vizard o'er face. Precedes to drape sapphire cloak across shoulders to hide the moonlight's glent off the armor beneath the fabric's folds. Solemnly treads back to the lantern, picks it up, and casts one last, far-away glance off the cliffside to No Man's. Turns from the vision of the sleeping town, and silently recedes into the dark forest. After an unknown time of search and walk, finds and disappears through a hidden Aetherstep.
There are five easy, hidden messages to decode...
( ) "
.. / ... .- .-.. .... .-.. / .-. ..- .-. . -. -
(1.2.) "5-14-7-9-14-5-5-18-7-14-7 One-hundred and one" (2nd-3rd. 16-1-18)