“Yes… Yes!... Rise! Rise!!”
The slowly decaying, brittle arm began to ascend. The corpses’ movements were stiff and unnatural; it appeared as if rigamortis had already kicked in, this one was not as fresh as some of the corpses Althalos Morbin usually attained.
The necromancer’s frenzied eyes watched on in elated, morbid pleasure as the cadaver, albeit rigidly, began to sit up on the table. Any warmth provided by the ring of candles which surrounded the repulsive scene had been snuffed out, like the flames, when the un-life returned to the animated body. Althalos let out a manic bout of laughter, his delight at the result was genuine.
The scene was something straight out of a nightmare, to which the dark, colourless room, but for its crimson soaked table, only served to enhance this feeling of anxiety to anyone of a regular disposition. The cellar had clearly not been maintained; the dust and cobwebs only complimented the sinister environment, and its occupier was a perfect tribute to the scene.
The orange light of the flames from the home-made furnace danced across Althalos’ bare, shiny forehead. The rest of his bony, gaunt, pale head was encompassed by a black hood, to which the rest of his body was enshrouded in a long black robe, giving him a skeletal appearance.
The animated corpse landed its feet upon the cold stony floor and began laboriously making its way across the room as Althalos commanded it.
“Closer, yes… walk towards me, good servant, yes.”
The corpses’ left ankle suddenly gave way, frail as it was, it crumbled under the weight of its own body. The cadaver collapsed to the ground, twisting its body as it fell lifeless once more.
“Get up!... Get up now! No… NO!!” Althalos began howling in rage as he stormed over to where his fallen experiment lay.
“I command you to move! Aaaaaaah!” In a sudden fury he reached for the corpse, dragging it by its motionless arms towards where the furnace blazed. With one final effort and cry of resentment, he lifted the body and threw it into the fire.
“Another one failed! Why? What else must I do?!” Althalos reeled on the side of the room which contained his collection of knowledge, his books. One by one he began tearing them down, throwing them across the room or into the furnace, all the while cursing aloud.
Althalos suddenly stopped as he came across one book entitled: ‘The Truth About Magic’; he ripped the government-approved book open and began tearing away at its pages.
“Lies… Lies! All of it lies!... Magic is not blasphemy, magic is the truth! The power!”
He ceased his inane babbling as he came across a single page. Before Althalos ripped the page away, his fanatical eyes fell upon one line: ‘… after the Changer’s War, and that is why these sacrilegious tomes were destroyed, before their falsehood could be spread any further.’
“This is it… this is where the truth can be found… there must still be some in existence.” Althalos’ ferocity died down and he began thinking rationally once more.
“The historian… yes… he must know something.” With that, Althalos left his cellar, remembering to cover the hatch over with the rug before he left through the entrance to the house. Fleeing his disheveled home, he mounted his black and white mare; Althalos rode for Owen’s shop, his drive now re-focused.
A Thirst For Knowledge
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Owen King was a man who appreciated a good peaceful afternoon.
And this one was shaping up to be marvellously peaceful. The charming young woman with the temper and the big knife had left after ranting for only an hour this time, as if finally getting the message that no amount of rage would turn her fake family jewels real, and Owen had since been left undisturbed to examine the tiny pearl pin that he was certain had belonged to Julienne of Keir a century prior and begin to fill yet another notebook with cramped lettering.
Owen's shop had no bell on the door to warn of visitors, but he became suddenly aware of somebody entering the main shop. With a small sigh, he resettled his glasses on his nose and pushed aside the four thick blankets that formed a door between his tiny back room and the main shop.
"Welcome," he said, eyes settling on the visitor, "to my little slice of history. How may I help you today?"
And this one was shaping up to be marvellously peaceful. The charming young woman with the temper and the big knife had left after ranting for only an hour this time, as if finally getting the message that no amount of rage would turn her fake family jewels real, and Owen had since been left undisturbed to examine the tiny pearl pin that he was certain had belonged to Julienne of Keir a century prior and begin to fill yet another notebook with cramped lettering.
Owen's shop had no bell on the door to warn of visitors, but he became suddenly aware of somebody entering the main shop. With a small sigh, he resettled his glasses on his nose and pushed aside the four thick blankets that formed a door between his tiny back room and the main shop.
"Welcome," he said, eyes settling on the visitor, "to my little slice of history. How may I help you today?"
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Barnaby was never one to take risks. Even as a child he had always been cautious. So when Barnaby set down the path from Shim back to Marn he had tried to convince himself he was just out for a stroll. When he passed through Vidara Woods, he said it was to admire the greenery. When he set foot once again onto the city streets, he couldn't really come up with an excuse. In truth, the scholar was terrible at the hard work of the farmers in Shim. None of them could be bothered with a scrawny upstart like him. He had found a few jobs here and there, copying family records and the like, but it wasn't enough to live on. After sleeping in whatever warm place he could find for the past week, be it a bed or a stolen corner of a horse stall, Barnaby's pride was shot. He realized it was time for him to go back to Marn and find himself a real job. After all, it'd been a month. If the guard were going to do anything they would have done it or so he hoped.
The man had no real goal in mind. He simply walked to and fro. Every time he heard a heavy tread of boots behind him he was sure it was the guard.The first couple of times he had spun around quickly only to startle a man or women simply going about their day and he soon relaxed. No guards were looking for him. If anything they'd searched for maybe a day after he disappeared and called it a day. The thought finally calmed down his jangling nerves. Barnaby had no real idea how a person went about finding a job normally. Seeing as his only 'job' as it were had been more like slavery. So he wandered aimlessly for an hour or so until a strange little shop caught his eye. Barnaby stepped inside and was instantly taken with one of the many antiques. He picked it up and turned it over, eyes gleaming with the fury of academia.
The man had no real goal in mind. He simply walked to and fro. Every time he heard a heavy tread of boots behind him he was sure it was the guard.The first couple of times he had spun around quickly only to startle a man or women simply going about their day and he soon relaxed. No guards were looking for him. If anything they'd searched for maybe a day after he disappeared and called it a day. The thought finally calmed down his jangling nerves. Barnaby had no real idea how a person went about finding a job normally. Seeing as his only 'job' as it were had been more like slavery. So he wandered aimlessly for an hour or so until a strange little shop caught his eye. Barnaby stepped inside and was instantly taken with one of the many antiques. He picked it up and turned it over, eyes gleaming with the fury of academia.
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Althalos reined in his horse as he made his way onto the street which he believed Owen’s shop to reside on. He scanned the row of buildings lining the road, stopping as his gaze fell upon the shop he believed it to be. Althalos dismounted the mare, guiding it towards a post near the building; he began to tie it up securely. He looked back at the shop, letting his un-dilated pupils bore into the entrance door for a moment before stepping inside.
Althalos took a moment to scan the surroundings of the shop, the antiques and objects of time did not seem to register his attention. When the shop keeper emerged from behind the blanketed door, Althalos’ interest was immediately drawn to him, his eyes locked onto the man, his pin-pointed pupils bearing into him. Althalos was still wearing his long black robe, the hood to which still covered his pale, emaciated head; only his thin, shrunken face was visible now. Once Owen had posed his greeting and offered his customary assistance, Althalos answered in turn.
“You… you are the historian, yes?” Althalos spoke abrasively and without compassion. He had never actually met Owen before, only heard mention of his work.
“You are the one who studies lost artefacts yes? I am in the right place am I not?” Althalos’ voice was cold; he continued to stare at the man, not breaking his concentration for a second.
Althalos did not seem to notice as another customer entered the shop, he continued to stare with frenzied eyes at Owen from where he stood.
Althalos took a moment to scan the surroundings of the shop, the antiques and objects of time did not seem to register his attention. When the shop keeper emerged from behind the blanketed door, Althalos’ interest was immediately drawn to him, his eyes locked onto the man, his pin-pointed pupils bearing into him. Althalos was still wearing his long black robe, the hood to which still covered his pale, emaciated head; only his thin, shrunken face was visible now. Once Owen had posed his greeting and offered his customary assistance, Althalos answered in turn.
“You… you are the historian, yes?” Althalos spoke abrasively and without compassion. He had never actually met Owen before, only heard mention of his work.
“You are the one who studies lost artefacts yes? I am in the right place am I not?” Althalos’ voice was cold; he continued to stare at the man, not breaking his concentration for a second.
Althalos did not seem to notice as another customer entered the shop, he continued to stare with frenzied eyes at Owen from where he stood.
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Owen's eyes flickered between the two men as if he wasn't sure how to handle them. It had been a while since he'd had two customers in his shop at once who weren't together.
In the end, he gave a polite nod to the browser, resisting the urge to go over and explain the history of the trinket that he was inspecting in detail, and spoke to the man that had addressed him. "Owen King is my name, and yes, I do know a thing or two about historical artefacts. Would you like to read one of my works? They explain the basics of the field, along with some of the more interesting pieces I've worked with in detail."
In the end, he gave a polite nod to the browser, resisting the urge to go over and explain the history of the trinket that he was inspecting in detail, and spoke to the man that had addressed him. "Owen King is my name, and yes, I do know a thing or two about historical artefacts. Would you like to read one of my works? They explain the basics of the field, along with some of the more interesting pieces I've worked with in detail."
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Althalos appeared to glaze over Owen’s questions as he addressed the necromancer; his unwavering stare showed no signs of ending as he continued to gaze at Owen and he showed no recognition for the historian’s work as he spoke.
“What do you know about the magic tomes which were destroyed after the establishment of the Judges’ rise to power?” Althalos apparently showed no hesitation in his forthright, taboo question. The robed man extracted a torn page of a book, presenting it towards Owen and pointing at the line to which he was referring to.
“These… these books of knowledge, what has happened to them? What do you know historian?”
Althalos’ voice came across more frantic as he spoke, his un-dilated pupils presenting him with a more frenzied look than was normal.
“I need answers!”
“What do you know about the magic tomes which were destroyed after the establishment of the Judges’ rise to power?” Althalos apparently showed no hesitation in his forthright, taboo question. The robed man extracted a torn page of a book, presenting it towards Owen and pointing at the line to which he was referring to.
“These… these books of knowledge, what has happened to them? What do you know historian?”
Althalos’ voice came across more frantic as he spoke, his un-dilated pupils presenting him with a more frenzied look than was normal.
“I need answers!”
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Owen frowned at the silly rude man who had burst into his shop and took the paper. "Hmm. Very little, I'm afraid. I could track the information down for you, I suppose. I do, of course, expect compensation."
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
“He’s lieing, he’s lieing!” Came the inane mutterings of the madman under his breathe. Althalos apparently showed no recognition for Owen’s audible range capabilities either; his paranoid mutterings were not particularly subtle. His face twisted in a rage as the shop keeper presented a condition to his request, as if he expected Owen to simply bend to his will.
Within a matter of seconds, Althalos’ face began to relax. The frenzied expression which was so prominent only moments ago was quickly replaced by some apparent renewal of understanding. His tone – though still eerie – softened noticeably.
“Compensation? Yes… of course.” Althalos apparently felt this was a sufficient response. “Where will you begin your research? I insist on accompany you on the journey. I have a… vested interest in history.”
Within a matter of seconds, Althalos’ face began to relax. The frenzied expression which was so prominent only moments ago was quickly replaced by some apparent renewal of understanding. His tone – though still eerie – softened noticeably.
“Compensation? Yes… of course.” Althalos apparently felt this was a sufficient response. “Where will you begin your research? I insist on accompany you on the journey. I have a… vested interest in history.”
Re: A Thirst For Knowledge
Owen frowned. "You speak madness, sir. I could not abandon my shop for any length of time, nor do I have any interest in travelling anywhere with you." Dismissing the man with a simple turn of his body, he focused on the other customer. "And how may I help you, sir? If you're looking for anything specific I might have it stored away out back."