Eternity RPC Board
09-13-2016, 11:40 PM
"Waugh!" droned exhaust’s victory wail as Elke plunked herself down - an appropriately descriptive term for the gracelessness with which she had flopped down had not yet been coined – onto what appeared to have once been the cornerstone of a rather impressive structure no less than two stories, now in the form of two and a half derelict, semi-standing walls and a whole lot of rubble. The weedy yellow-green grasses that had soldiered their way up through the cracks in the stone monument to Man’s Futile Efforts tauntingly tickled the exposed skin of her thighs and elbows as she relieved herself of her heavy bags.
Despite first glances, the young mage was rather thrilled to finally have come across a pocket of civilization. She had been so enraptured by the change of scenery – foreign birdsong and rivers not polluted by human activity and thickets so dense the entire air around them seemed to be poured from molten emerald – that she had forgotten how much she valued life’s little pleasures. A bath would be nice.
A bath, well, and finally capturing her target.
With much less enthusiasm than she’d come initially prepared with, she drug her haversack closer to her, brushing the crumbling bits of mineral and lichen off its leather bottom, and pushed back the flap to browse its familiar contents. The one item she honed in on in particular, of course, was her journal. A gift from her mother and father for having been accepted into the university a few seasons back, nearly a fifth of its bountiful pages had been filled with the girl’s mad scrawlings, peripheral thoughts and formulas forged in a shorthand legible only to Elke. More recently, to the gifters’ mild disapprobation, the pages had taken the form of a travel log.
Several pages and some weeks prior to happening upon the tucked-away village, the mage-in-training, half bored with the usual tedium her Intermediate Magical Histories lectures seemed to produce on a constant basis, had felt the urge of adventure spark inside of her the very moment her professor had mentioned that Very Horrible Thing. Something So Terrible, it was, that the powers that be had given it its own name, a politer pronoun that had taken on an unspoken wickedness of its own. She’d first penned its sinful syllables into the margin of pages sixteen and seventeen, even underlining as if to burn it into her memory.
It was beguilement at first sight.
Over the days that followed, her interest in the usual curricula waning even more thoroughly, Elke had stolen away into the papery chasms of the university’s modest library, poring over every written letter of text she could get her hands on in order to learn more about what she was now convinced was Magic’s Best-Kept Secret. Though diligent in her studies, it availed her little. Ultimately, she had to admit, it was not surprising; this topic was taboo and the taboo would not be divulged without a fight. When she was able to make it to the dinner table, she turned the conversation to that topic often, attempting to pry bits and pieces of information from her mother and father between dispassionate bites of her meal. Again, not surprisingly, they remained unyielding stalwarts of silence and thwarted her attempts with long-suffering sighs and reminders to “eat your supper before it gets cold, Elke.” And as for the faculty, there was no point in trying. There was no hope that she would get any more from her professors than what she had already – a snarled lip when they said the word as if it left a foul taste on their tongue and a rushed transition into a new topic.
The compounding rejections, of course, did wonders at feeding her curiosity.
So, with no other clear options, Elke did what so often comes natural to young ladies, and even more so to scholars: her shoulders laden with what she hoped would be the right balance of academic tools and survival equipment, she’d practically charged into the forestlands in which her hours of research and long nights of divination had assured her she’d find her target. Her father, decidedly the worrywart of the family, barely had her attention long enough to assure that she’d packed the necessary charms she’d need before she was completely engulfed in the dense green beyond.
Though her journal had become her key tool during the trek, four or five pages in from the stiff back cover was tucked another vital apparatus: a map. The wear along the creases of its folds and the numerous rips at its edges spoke of its frequent use and perhaps a bit about her naïveté in thinking this would be a stroll in the park. Still, she had put it to good use, and now she was here.
Wherever here was.
“Okay,” she sighed to herself, running a finger along the winding snake of a trail she’d been inking out. She’d left off there yesterday, and over here was the brook – that must be the one she’d crossed as she was coming through the town’s gates (not that they could rightfully be considered that in their woeful state of repair), which would place her just here. Untangling the strands of hair from around her quill and reminding herself that tucked behind her ear was perhaps not the best method of transportation for an important instrument, she moistened the point between her lips and connected the abrupt end of her marked path to where her finger indicated she now sat.
“Myerleigh.” Elke hadn’t heard of the town before, but then again, she had never before been so far from home.
She swiveled her head, taking her surroundings. Perhaps the town’s inhabitants took to the forests for work – perhaps a village of lumberjacks? Maybe fur trappers? Or was this really all of them? Ah, but no matter, over there was an inn (at least the sign proclaimed it was an inn – it appeared to be someone’s home where a vacant room was being rented per diem), and by her standards, that was enough to consider this a thriving hub of civilization.
Surely, surely her prey would have stopped here for the night, too, to restock on supplies and to take advantage of a proper mattress.
Hoisting her things onto her back and strutting confidently towards the inn, she decided that it would be as good a place as any to begin inquiring about the appearance of another mage in these parts.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Despite first glances, the young mage was rather thrilled to finally have come across a pocket of civilization. She had been so enraptured by the change of scenery – foreign birdsong and rivers not polluted by human activity and thickets so dense the entire air around them seemed to be poured from molten emerald – that she had forgotten how much she valued life’s little pleasures. A bath would be nice.
A bath, well, and finally capturing her target.
With much less enthusiasm than she’d come initially prepared with, she drug her haversack closer to her, brushing the crumbling bits of mineral and lichen off its leather bottom, and pushed back the flap to browse its familiar contents. The one item she honed in on in particular, of course, was her journal. A gift from her mother and father for having been accepted into the university a few seasons back, nearly a fifth of its bountiful pages had been filled with the girl’s mad scrawlings, peripheral thoughts and formulas forged in a shorthand legible only to Elke. More recently, to the gifters’ mild disapprobation, the pages had taken the form of a travel log.
Several pages and some weeks prior to happening upon the tucked-away village, the mage-in-training, half bored with the usual tedium her Intermediate Magical Histories lectures seemed to produce on a constant basis, had felt the urge of adventure spark inside of her the very moment her professor had mentioned that Very Horrible Thing. Something So Terrible, it was, that the powers that be had given it its own name, a politer pronoun that had taken on an unspoken wickedness of its own. She’d first penned its sinful syllables into the margin of pages sixteen and seventeen, even underlining as if to burn it into her memory.
It was beguilement at first sight.
Over the days that followed, her interest in the usual curricula waning even more thoroughly, Elke had stolen away into the papery chasms of the university’s modest library, poring over every written letter of text she could get her hands on in order to learn more about what she was now convinced was Magic’s Best-Kept Secret. Though diligent in her studies, it availed her little. Ultimately, she had to admit, it was not surprising; this topic was taboo and the taboo would not be divulged without a fight. When she was able to make it to the dinner table, she turned the conversation to that topic often, attempting to pry bits and pieces of information from her mother and father between dispassionate bites of her meal. Again, not surprisingly, they remained unyielding stalwarts of silence and thwarted her attempts with long-suffering sighs and reminders to “eat your supper before it gets cold, Elke.” And as for the faculty, there was no point in trying. There was no hope that she would get any more from her professors than what she had already – a snarled lip when they said the word as if it left a foul taste on their tongue and a rushed transition into a new topic.
The compounding rejections, of course, did wonders at feeding her curiosity.
So, with no other clear options, Elke did what so often comes natural to young ladies, and even more so to scholars: her shoulders laden with what she hoped would be the right balance of academic tools and survival equipment, she’d practically charged into the forestlands in which her hours of research and long nights of divination had assured her she’d find her target. Her father, decidedly the worrywart of the family, barely had her attention long enough to assure that she’d packed the necessary charms she’d need before she was completely engulfed in the dense green beyond.
Though her journal had become her key tool during the trek, four or five pages in from the stiff back cover was tucked another vital apparatus: a map. The wear along the creases of its folds and the numerous rips at its edges spoke of its frequent use and perhaps a bit about her naïveté in thinking this would be a stroll in the park. Still, she had put it to good use, and now she was here.
Wherever here was.
“Okay,” she sighed to herself, running a finger along the winding snake of a trail she’d been inking out. She’d left off there yesterday, and over here was the brook – that must be the one she’d crossed as she was coming through the town’s gates (not that they could rightfully be considered that in their woeful state of repair), which would place her just here. Untangling the strands of hair from around her quill and reminding herself that tucked behind her ear was perhaps not the best method of transportation for an important instrument, she moistened the point between her lips and connected the abrupt end of her marked path to where her finger indicated she now sat.
“Myerleigh.” Elke hadn’t heard of the town before, but then again, she had never before been so far from home.
She swiveled her head, taking her surroundings. Perhaps the town’s inhabitants took to the forests for work – perhaps a village of lumberjacks? Maybe fur trappers? Or was this really all of them? Ah, but no matter, over there was an inn (at least the sign proclaimed it was an inn – it appeared to be someone’s home where a vacant room was being rented per diem), and by her standards, that was enough to consider this a thriving hub of civilization.
Surely, surely her prey would have stopped here for the night, too, to restock on supplies and to take advantage of a proper mattress.
Hoisting her things onto her back and strutting confidently towards the inn, she decided that it would be as good a place as any to begin inquiring about the appearance of another mage in these parts.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”