The Emerald Grimoire: Dark Prelude

[ARNeil1832]

PM Before Posting!

It's legs were sickly thin and gleaming in the flickering light. Each needle point foot tapped in succession as it scuttled about. Long segmented body slithering across the floor. Azarel hated Centipedes. Hated them. And his masters knew it, and yet they forced him to clean out the of nest of the damned creatures that had cropped up in the basement. All he'd done was obliterate a few statues! Damned ugly things looked better as rubble anyway.

The apprentice mage was wary of getting any closer to the disgusting arthropod, it was of course affected by the schools latent magical energy, and consequently the size of a large house-cat. Whatever it was doing the creature was distracted for now, and paying him no mind as he perched on the basement stairs staring at it from relative safety. He couldn't do it. He'd rather take a public whipping! Gut wrenching anxiety twisted his stomach into knots as he watched the nasty bugger move about the dimly lit room, poking blindly through crates of books and outdated personnel files. The worst part was, he wasn't allowed to use magic.

Meaning he would have to get close to kill or capture the centipede and remove it. His teachers had suggested a broom, and so he had borrowed a sledge hammer from a local farm. Forget capturing the damn thing, he didn't even want to touch it.

Gripping the shaft of the hammer hard Azarel cursed his friends again. Who had thought of dueling in the hall of memories? The answer: him of course, was rather unsatisfactory and so he decided to blame someone else. Anyone else! Hefting the hammer in both hands he crept forward, his stomach trembled as the Centipede stopped, it's antenna twitching. Oh no. It saw him. Or smelled him. Or something but the damn thing knew he was there. Breathe, just breathe. In and- oh god it was coming toward him! Ew, ew, ew. The many legged creature started to rush, moving with the same steady rhythmic tapping. It's red and white body poised and alert. Ew, ew, ew, ew. Azarel was trembling visibly. The Centipede hissed. OH my god! Azarel panicked swinging the hammer with all his might and crushing the arthropod flat. The blow splattering white innards across the floor, soaking his shoes in the warm gunk and making an ungodly mess.

"AGH!" He howled toppling over backward and knocking into a stack of wooden trunks. "Oof!"

The heavy wooden boxes fell all around him, in a messy heap, one burst open spewing forth heavy black cloth, which landed directly in the centipede guts.

"Ah fuck!" Azarel hissed. Why the hell was he the one these things always happened too? And it looked like the innards were corrosive, as they started to eat their way through the cloth, burning large holes in it within moments of contact. "Why me?"

Scrambling around he pulled the cloth from the white mess. With a heavy thud a small book fell to the floor, and the cloth crumbled into dust. What the hell? In the flickering torchlight he snatched up the book and tucked it into his pocket, he'd have to show it to one of his masters once he got this mess cleaned up. A distant hiss reminded him of what he was doing. There were more of these damned things!

"Azarel!" a voice called down the stairs. "Azarel come to dinner, the centipedes can wait to meet you"

Relief flooded through him like a tidal wave. Thank the lords above. Dashing up the stairs gore splattered hammer in hand he decided the sight of his teacher, Master Hamlyn was a welcome sight. The man stood just inside the doorway of the basement holding a lantern that shone with bluish light.

"What're you doing down there boy! I thought you'd were taking a broom?"

"I didn't want to take any chances Master..." he muttered sheepishly, his cheeks tinging red.

"Well it looks as though you got a few then" Hamlyn laughed gesturing at the mess the kill had made of his robes and boots.

"Just the one actually"

"Well perhaps the hammer was overkill my young friend" the wise old master said smiling and placing an affectionate hand on his pupils shoulder as they headed toward dinner.

"Well maybe it did do the job though"

"Yes I can see that hence, overkill my boy"

"I guess" All thoughts of the book he'd found forgotten, Azarel followed his master out the heavy wooden door and into the school. The Spire of Imperial Thaumaturgy was the Dysporan Empires premiere school for young magi in training.

Situated on an isolated archipelago of tropical islands the location was ideal for the dangerous conjuring of fledgling magic users. It kept the rest of the world safe from their mistakes. The students dining room was tucked off to the side of the main hall were the real magi took their meals and entertained guests.

It was here that Azarel bid his master good bye and went to eat dinner surrounded by his friends. They teased him good naturedly about his punishment and the gory hammer, but by the time he was seated with a tray of food in front of him it had been mostly forgotten. However when he sat down he felt the forgotten book in his back pocket. Taking it out he looked it over.

It was a dark green, bound in black leather, and on the cover in an outdated style composed of large golden letters it read: The Emerald Grimoire. Opening it to the first page he saw a name scrawled across the center of the paper. D.D. Valduz. The name sounded familiar, but flipping through to the next page Azarel realized it was written in a language he couldn't read and didn't at all recognize.

That was no matter of course, such tomes often were. Finishing his dinner, he bid his friends goodbye and ventured into the library, seeking texts with which he could translate the archaic language. It was here that he met her, his soon to be partner in uncovering the secrets of the Emerald Grimoire. A young woman who recognized the ancient symbols.
-------------------

This is a STORY DRIVEN RP about two young mages who discover a trove of ancient magical secrets and are slowly corrupted by their new found power. These discoveries are to be a gradual process driven by plot! Please PM if interested, I desire a competent patient partner with a good understanding of the English language and an interest in a plot.

 

[monique_minx]

She sat in a corner of the library, her brown hair sweeping the desk as she bent over her notes for the millionth time to correct herself. Her hazel eyes squinted at the page and she sighed, leaning back in the chair to rub them. It was getting late and this paper had already taken over dinner and recreational time, still she couldn’t get it right!

Desiree took her pen and scratched out four more lines, bent over and started to write them again while she grumbled to herself.

“It had to be a history of magic, couldn’t be something I wasn’t expected to be perfect at could it?! Gah!” She scratched out another mistake, “I’m never gonna get this right! I don’t know what Master Glomtrin was on about! Why would he say…best student…yeah right!”

The essay went for pages, she had been pouring over a massive amount of books for hours and they were scattered about the table; open at various passages. Each cross reference took far too long and she was losing her patience, this essay was due in the morning and she had completely forgotten about it until Master Glomtrin had reminded the class that afternoon. She had raced to the library as soon as her classes had ended and now after five hours she had yet to leave.

Desiree pushed her chair back and stood up from the table with a sigh; she stretched out her 5’6” frame and found pins and needles in her feet. Grumbling to herself, she stomped her feet to get rid of the strange feeling in them and looked around. The library was eerily quiet even for a library and there were hardly any other students about.

“Probably because they never forgot to do this stupid essay!” She growled to herself angrily.

Finally she stopped stomping and took a deep breath to calm herself as a boy entered the room, she pulled her robe down properly and dropped her eyes; hoping he had not heard her ramblings. She gathered her balled up bits of paper that were scattered over the desk and took them to the bin at last before returning to her seat in a huff.

“Don’t suppose you have Master Glomtrin do you?” She blushed red, the words escaped her before she had a chance to think and there was a tinge of frustration to them.

“No, sorry…you probably don’t…” She mumbled and stared down at the page filled with her pen scratches, it was a hopeless task indeed and while this might have been up to standard for another student; she was certain it was not her best work.

Desiree prided herself on her work and loved history of magic dearly however she had never thought of herself as best in class because although she knew the answers to most of the questions; she never had the courage to put her hand up and she supposed it was because she was so afraid of being wrong. She had very few friends, her parents were pressuring her fiercely about her grades and she wanted to excel as they had put so much into getting her into the school but she still felt as though she was a burnt out bulb. Her self esteem took great hits daily and for the most part - she was the only one hitting it!

Desiree never felt anything like her name and especially not while wearing the horrible school robes. She would often get teased by the boys for her name and each time she'd curse her parents and their folly for naming her so. She did have a few friends, she just ran out of time to spend with them and girls were total drama queens anyway! At least to Desiree, all they talked about was boys and which guy was dating who, who was he cheating on her with...it was endless and tiring so Dez just kept her nose out of it and in her books for the most part.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Melanthe

Four days earlier...

Her throne was an elaborate affair. Fashioned from the finest heartwood of jet-black ebony, its luster gave off an almost metallic appearance; and the ornate serpents which adorned its high back and arms were carved with such minute detail that they seemed to come alive in the dim torchlight of the room. Some might say it was the centerpiece of the room -- but only those few who had never been present when it was occupied by the Queen, as it was now.

Her raven hair shone like obsidian against her translucent ivory skin and her eyes... Her eyes were as dark as bottomless pools of black water, compelling one to drown in them as many had and many more would. Melanthe was tall and well-formed, her breasts large in proportion to the slimness of her body. When she stood; her gown, made of the finest sapphire blue silk, whispered as she walked, the scent of her exotic perfume wafting about the room.

The Queen was growing impatient. Solvitur had not yet returned from tidying up a few loose ends in regard to Aziz who had been unceremoniously discharged from his post as Court Astrologer this very evening. He hadn't missed the "sign" -- only a blind man would have disregarded the missing star. Oh, no. What he hadn't done was furnish the scroll which held the key.

Melanthe had it now, however, though it had cost her precious time. As for Aziz... well, he would not have a second chance at being remiss in his duties to the Queen of Taliss. She chuckled as she ran her fingers over the symbols.

The scroll radiated a certain warmth that would have made a lesser woman shudder; Melanthe merely smiled. It was made of human skin -- the skin of an infant -- and the markings were fading. Legend had it that they were the rantings of a madman (though some called him mystic). Legend also had it that they had been written in his own blood. But she cared not for legends -- only results.

 

[ARNeil1832]

The library was a special place. A vast room filled with all of the Spire's accumulated knowledge, packed from wall to wall, and floor to ceiling it contained nearly every book ever written in the Empire. Silent, imposing, and ultimately very peaceful it was also the one place Azarel was unwilling to cause any trouble. This place had been his sanctuary in the early days of his education, when the rolling green hills and hardworking people of his homeland seemed distant and lost to him.

“Don’t suppose you have Master Glomtrin do you?"

Azarel had wandered into this great hall of learning, and immersed in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed the young woman sitting at the desk until she spoke. Startled from his distracted state of mind he blinked before answering. Glomtrin? The batty old history teacher was Azarel's loyal opposition, in many a political debate, both friendly and heated. Though he studied Imperial Politics and Court Etiquette under the senior master rather than history. The Empress desired that her mages know how to act civilized no matter their background.

"Yes in fact I do, but..." Azarel looked over at her work, it was an essay on some ancient event, long before the Empire's thousand year history it seemed. "ahh, I never took Pre: Imperial History Guardians don't need it..."

The Spire trained Mages for a limited number of careers in the service of the Empress. And while generally a mage ended up placed in a position their talents reflected, it was ultimately a choice. Any man or woman with magical talent could choose to serve: as a Battlemage fighting on the front lines against the Empires foes. As a Scholar of Thaumaturgy developing new ways of using magic, and enchanting items. Or finally as a Guardian, healing grievous wounds and defending the common folk of the land.

"I suppose your studying to be a scholar?" Azarel asked turning away his interest fast fading as he flicked open the little green tome. The strange symbols inside were puzzling, as he started down a nearby aisle he tried to match the figures. No luck, it certainly wasn't a modern language, but as to how old it was he had no idea. Unbeknown to Azzie, it was a old dialect of the Kingdom of Rahma, a culture that predated the Disporan Empire by nearly eight hundred years, and it's use was restricted to their noble families.

 

[monique_minx]

"I suppose your studying to be a scholar?"

Desiree nodded, “Although that’s my parents wish, personally I think there’s far too much bookwork involved!” She giggled nervously at herself.

She looked at the book in his hand and gestured to the table she was sitting at, pulling some books out of the way for him.

“Here, sorry there’s such a mess, I have no idea what I’m doing to be honest! Homework?” She shrugged at the book he was holding.

Desiree leaned over and noticed yet another mistake in her work; she frowned and scratched it out angrily before correcting it. Finally she threw the pen down, pushed her chair back and stood up; completely sick of staring at the essay, she slammed her work book shut and gave her fellow student an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I’m Desiree by the way…” She almost gave her hand out for him to shake but saw the ink stains and thought better of it, choosing to wipe her hand on her robes instead.

“I guess I should take more breaks and stop getting so frustrated…” She sighed and realized she had gone on a bit too much, he was just there and she was just aggravated.

She combed her fingers through her coffee coloured tresses and pushed it back from her face, her hazel eyes glinting beautifully in the darkened library’s light as her mane swung and fell well past her shoulders and finished at her lower back. Were it not for the ugly robes, one might have found Desiree quite striking in appearance but the ceremonial garb of the school made sure that her body had no shape whatsoever.

Her cheeks were flushed, partially from her embarrassment over her rambling and to some extent due to her hurried effort to complete her dissertation. Dez picked up a book and went to put it back on the shelf but frowned and paused, taking a moment to glance back at the book he was still holding before she shook her head and put her own book back on the shelf, sliding it home neatly. She turned back to the table and grimaced at the disarray of books scattered across it; it would take a while to put them back. Instead she chose to just sit and calm herself before tackling the pile; she was getting far too flustered!

 

[ARNeil1832]

She was an odd girl, all nervous and giggly. He didn't usually have this effect on woman. Perhaps she was simply overworked. The Master Scholars were notorious slave drivers, and loathed by many.

"Homework?" She asked after a few rambling sentences. Goodness did was she really still talking to him?

"No, it's from my uncle..." he murmured thoughtlessly, not giving any consideration to the lie now that it was established. His eyes wandered down the shelves as he hunted. Where in gods name was it? He was sure there had to be a reference for these symbols. The library had everything!

"Sorry, I'm Desiree by the way" She said still going on about homework. How dull! That was why he could never be a scholar! At least as a guardian he'd be able to do something useful, and not spend all his time stressing over the details of arcane rituals and instruction manuals. BOring.

"And I am Azarel" he replied resigned to the fact she didn't seem to be going anywhere. Oh well, with any luck a bookworm like her would recognize something from the book.

"Maybe you saw my handywork in the hall of Memories" he said, referring to the smoldering hunks of marble that had been the founders statue.

 

[monique_minx]

"Maybe you saw my handiwork in the hall of Memories?"

Desiree stopped everything and laughed at his words, wiping her eyes a little, “That was you? You must be slightly crazy Azarel! What did you get for that one?”

She started to put the books away, prepared to accept the fact that her essay wouldn’t look better than it did already though she stared at the book in his hands with interest. She had seen markings like that before, it was very old and she got the feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest with her about it but shrugged it off. His secrets were his own as were his reasons behind them!

“You need help with that?” She gestured to the book in his hands and pulled a massive book from the table, dusting off its cover.

“This could be of some help” She dropped it on the table with a bang, it was rather heavy.

The cover read ‘Rahma, a History’ and she pulled it open, flicking through pages until it came to translations, she turned the book to face him.

“I don’t mean to pry but you seem a little lost, this could help you if that language is what I think it is.” She shrugged with a smile, trying to show she was only attempting to assist him.

She continued to put the books away, deciding to give him some privacy but threw a look over her shoulder now and then at him before finally she said with a smile “If you need help, just ask.”

 

[ARNeil1832]

"Well, you know I really think they overreacted, it wasn't that bad was it? I mean if the statues were that important why weren't they enchanted to prevent their destruction?" Azarel shook his head, "But I guess I got off 'lightly' all I have to do is clear the basement of an infestation of centipedes"

He shivered a little at the thought. "Do you need help with that?"

Something rose in the back of Azarel's head, a small tingling suspicion. Why did she want to help? But his mind countered with a logical imposing: why did it matter? He didn't even know what the book was let alone why he should be secretive.

"Sure" Azarel opened the book to the first few pages as Desiree brought the heavy history text. "Rahma? Really? I wouldn't have thought it was that old..."

The binding seemed to be in good shape, even if the cover was worn and the pages were tattered. But sure enough the markings were similar, and the history text had a few brief sections on translations.

"Well ahhh... hmmm history has never been my strong point, and I'm terrible with languages care to help me out here?"

 

[monique_minx]

"Well ahhh... hmmm history has never been my strong point, and I'm terrible with languages care to help me out here?"

Desiree turned as she was about to put a book away and he spoke; she slid the book home and returned to Azarel’s side. She brushed his sleeve and gave an uncomfortable, apologetic smile and looked over the text. The translations were easy for her but she had spent years studying them and nodded, realizing he would have more difficulty.

Her finger ran over the page, she scanned it briefly and tried to get her muddled mind into the right set for this kind of deciphering. She cleared her throat and gently took the green book from his hands, setting it down on the table and flicking it open quickly as though she feared it would bite her. It opened to the first page – D.D Valduz. Dez scratched her head; why did that sound so familiar?

She shrugged and flicked to the next page, knowing the name would come to her in time. The second page held much more text, all of it in symbols and she flinched at the handwritten work; there was so much of it! She might be familiar with this language but it was hardly her forte, she slid into the seat next to Azarel and smiled at him.

“This is going to take some time I’d think!” She looked over the mass of scrawl covering the page and her finger moved to the first word.

Desiree looked from the large translations book to the little green one and back again, she flicked the pages of the larger book and her finger slid down until she stopped on the word.

“Word number one is…’I’…hmmm…” She giggled, a bit silly but it just seemed appropriate in her tired state, she shook her head, “Sorry Azarel…like I said, this will take some time. While I’m familiar with Rahma, I wouldn’t call myself an expert by any stretch of the imagination!”