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 Post subject: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Mon Jul 04, 2011 2:03 am 
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Location: Eagle Shire/King's Point
Fionnigan took the scrimshaw turtle from the black velvet bag, and held it in his hand palm up. He eyed the great wooden and copper doors of the tower of high sorcery's library, with it's many relief statues of some of the realms greatest casters. Of course there was the most prominent statue of Sir Gareth Blackhawk, possibly the greatest caster this realm has ever known, but as Fionnigan scanned the door he saw likenesses of Sir Laren, Sir Kenta, and the most recent addition Eniad Norreh. Fionnigan had to admire the craftsmanship of the statue of Eniad. It had captured the man perfectly even right down to his great beaming smile. Fionnigan was glad to see the statue finally done. Eniad had been the central figure responsible for the rebirth of the wizard's guild and the reestablishment of the high tower of sorcery. He deserved the honor.

“Nag em ot dlrow eth nepo.” Fionnigan muttered.

As Fionnigan finished the final syllable of the incantation, the eyes of the scrimshaw turtle opened revealing glowing blue orbs of light. The turtle moved its small perfectly carved body to the thumb side of Fionnigans palm, and without so much as a glance down jumped off to the ground below. The small whale bone turtle scurried across the great green marble floor of the tower and stopped at a spot directly in front of the the great doors' archway. After letting out a small screech the turtle lept up to a small opening in the stone of the archway as it's head and legs retreated into the shell, and sank itself into the stone. Fionnigan heard the familiar click of the locks within the door giving way, and the door cracked open with a creak that echoed throughout the circular hallway.

Fionnigan walked to the door stopping by the lock in the archway with his velvet bag open. The turtle popped out of the hole and fell back into the bag. He had originally learned the art of wards in his youth at the tower of high sorcery in his birth kingdom of the Golden Plains. He had been taught the art by Sir Bag' em. The keys were small statues into which you placed a magical ward which would correspond to another ward placed on the doorway or entrance you wanted to lock. The two wards would counterbalance each other and the lock would be opened. He had made many such keys for the tower, and each one had been representative of the fighting companies of the realm. There had been an onyx lion, a scrimshaw wolf, a ruby gryphon, and a small jade dragon that he hadn't seen in quite some time. The keys had been produced and then turned over to the wizards guild. The scrimshaw turtle was the only one Fionnigan kept for himself, and it acted as a kind of skeleton key for the entire tower.

Fionnigan pulled the great heavy wooden door open, and moved into the darkened entryway. The door closed behind him with a soft but solid thud. As he entered the other side of the archway two torches in braziers attached the stone lit with magical flame. Fionnigan pulled the torch out of the brazier to his right and began to move forward into the library. The light from the torch he carried glinted off of the brass golem resting in a chair near a desk in the middle of the main foyer of the library. The golem was brought in from the Celestial Kingdom and had worked in the grand library of Tori-Mar. It was purchased by Fionnigan and donated to the tower in order to oversee the tower's library. He had always liked golems and had found them to be most helpful assistants and attendants. He had one of his own at his country manor, and another at the small room he kept in the Emerald City. The spell of conjuration that breathed life into the golem of the towers library had been performed in such a way that the golem was only animated for so many hours in the day. So at this time of night it was about as helpful as the chair in which it rested.

_________________
"A mind needs books as a sword needs a wetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.”
Tyrion Lannister

I do not suffer fools gladly, and fools with white belts never.

Mortem proditoribus.


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 Post subject: Re: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Wed Jul 06, 2011 11:33 pm 
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Location: Eagle Shire/King's Point
He often found himself alone in the dark in the tower's halls at this time of night. Though recently the oppressive heat of the days made the occurrences more frequent. The summer season, or sol as some of the older folk called it, had been particularly bad this year. It was as though the newly crowned dragon were baking the very earth in her fire. As a result, Fionnigan would spend most of his days resting in the astral plane, and his nights were being spent here in the towers library. He was also consumed with fear and dread. It was as if whatever was behind the thresh hold of that cosmic rip were speaking to him. It was filling him with a general unease. Also whatever was waiting for the king and his armies on the other side was an adept of the mind, and it was giving Fionnigan horrific visions in his sleep. It was these nightmares which were fueling his late night research outings.

So now there was a portal to the void open in his home, and he had let it remain open. The fact that he was following the orders of the king did little to quell his regret. He could have easily been there as one of the five spell-casters needed to complete the ritual, and just cast the spell needed to close the gateway. Yet he had turned his back on the whole incident, and so now here he was looking for a way to undo what he had let happen.

He walked as he always did to the thirteenth row of books and pulled down the copy of Tobin's Spirit Codex he knew would be there. Tobin's was one of the magical worlds more well know and referenced books on necromancy and the spirit world. He had spent most his time recently trying to put together a finalized list of tomes on the subject of the void and it's dark inhabitants. Most writing on the subjects had been the works of either lone mad sorcerers hungry for power or dark cults bent on destruction. As a result Fionnigan had discovered through his research that collected tomes and books were few. Most lone necromancers, sorcerors, and demonologists were hunted down and killed, and their works destroyed. On the other hand, sometimes kingdoms had foresight enough to hold on to those possessions, totems, and writings of these enemies of mankind, and as such there were plenty of half collected writings and lone scrolls or papers and a smattering across the whole of Amtgardia of ancient collected tomes of despair.

He already had a goodly amount of knowledge on the subject. He had spent a fair amount of years after he left the tower of high sorcery in search of the workings of life and death. He had been exposed in that time to some very dark writings indeed. Of course the writings of Amir Al Din had been one of the first collections of dark knowledge he had been exposed to, but there had been others as well. He had seen The Gospel of Chthon, The Codex of Darkness and Shadow, the Scrolls of Shuma Gorath, and many writings of unknown origin. It was somewhere in these dark writings he was going to find the answers he needed.

_________________
"A mind needs books as a sword needs a wetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.”
Tyrion Lannister

I do not suffer fools gladly, and fools with white belts never.

Mortem proditoribus.


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 Post subject: Re: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Sat Jul 09, 2011 9:37 am 
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Location: Eagle Shire/King's Point
Fionnigan re-read the text to make sure he had seen what he thought he saw.

“When the piper of the last gate plays his tune oh great Sirithimara shall rise from the sands of the first kingdom, and reign forever from his throne in the dead city of Nochra.”

Fionnigan stared at the words with astonishment, and then shifted his gaze to his notes. He now had something to go on. A pattern was developing. One which, though he couldn’t discern why, had eluded him in his previous research endeavors. He had heard of this piper of the last gate in his travels and this now made the second time he had seen a reference in writing, the first being in the Scrolls of Shuma Gorath. However he had only read of this Sirithimara once before, and this was the first time he had seen the two referenced together. Yet here in the Tome of the Mad Arab was a passage that held both names and also spoke of a dead city of Nochra which, according to the Tome, was the seat of the entity’s power.

Fionnigan picked up Al Din’s apocryphal manuscript and set it to the side. He pushed away a pile of papers from the copy of Tobin’s laying open on the desk, and began to furiously flip through the pages. Fionnigan flipped to a page with the heading, Of Sirithimara and The Piper of the Last Gate.

“Sirithimara is an entity worshiped by a hidden but widespread cult which has a presence in the first three kingdoms, and is becoming more wide-spread in the rest of the continent. Sirithimara, as the entities followers attest, is one of a group of related entities known as The Great Ancients. They are said to have been in Amtgardia long before the first men came. They predate the first kingdom, and are possibly older than even Amtgardia itself. Legend has it that on the first day of the age of man the first men joined with the armies of dwarves, and elves, and drove the Ancient ones from the realm locking them away in the void forever. Sirithimara, The Piper of the Last Gate, Htedm, Solig Nwadoom, Omi Naush, Dnusma, and Eenwat are all said to be part of this larger group of ancient powerful entities. Some have managed to find followers and have been able to breach the barrier between this world and the void.

Sithimara seems to be the center entity and is worshipped by many including the Mad Arab sorcerer Amir Al Adin. Sithimara is said to still be in Amtgardia, but it is said to be locked under the desert of the first kingdom in the lost city of Pompeii. The city has also been known as Nochra, particularly in the passages of the writings of Al Adin and the much older Nechrocodex.”

Fionnigan sat back in the high back chair, pushed his gnome work glasses off his nose, and rubbed his eyes. He had read quite a bit of the Tome of the Mad Arab, but had never focused on the more sacerdotal passages. Partially because he had no real use for them, he was more concerned with actual rites and mechanics of dark magic, and not as much on the mythos on which it was based. Yet he also felt real dread at what mad ideas of the spirit that would be contained in such passages.

_________________
"A mind needs books as a sword needs a wetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.”
Tyrion Lannister

I do not suffer fools gladly, and fools with white belts never.

Mortem proditoribus.


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 Post subject: Re: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Tue Jul 12, 2011 11:37 am 
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The reports were grim. The powers beyond the portal were far greater that expected. The demon that had come through at the last battle was but a pawn to the forces that still dwelt within the void itself. Forest knew that if the Hills were to destroy this threat, they MUST be prepared.

Finn had been a valuable asset. His studies into the magic arts and uncovering of the tomes provided great insight to the void. But there was more. Tales and myths were not the most reliable sources, but there were almost always based on something true. Something long forgotten. Now those rumors may be the only key to victory.

Somewhere, as the legends had it, was the Tome of Nullification. Its powers were so devestating, that the only time they had been used, all the mages in the region had been stripped of their powers forever. If one was to believe the legends that is. But beyond the portal, this same power might be harnessed to temporarily mute the powers of what lay beyond. If it were true, then for a brief time, the forces of the Hills may be able to vanquish the evil that lay on the other side.

Could the Tome be found? Was it real? The chance had to be taken. Forest summoned his advisory council and told them of the Tome. He told them it may be the key to the future of the Hills. He told them that they were sworn to secrecy and not to mention the Tome, or even the secret meeting to anyone. It was the only way he could be sure that the word would get out quickly and be believed.

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Forest Evergreen

Puppet Master of the EH

"Of course you are Forest. You're like the Mr. Burns of EH." - Finn

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 Post subject: Re: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Tue Jul 26, 2011 7:57 am 
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Posts: 1928
So far, efforts to learn more about The Tome of Nullification had produced nothing but more rumors and legends. Meanwhile, more attacks had happened across the Kingdom and now there appeared to be fighting between parks. The chaos would be their undoing if they couldn't find the tome.

Forest knew that leaving meant he would be unable to assist those in need, but it also may provide answers. He had been summoned ot the Gathering of the Clans. Not only was it a celebration of peace between the realms, but it was where the Circle of Monarchs would meet to agree on the laws that bound them. Perhaps that was also the path to salvation.

Many in attendance were knowledgeable in the magic arts. Perhaps somone would have knowledge of the tome. He would find out waht he could, and he would return better prepared to deal with the Void that lay beyond the portal.

_________________
Forest Evergreen

Puppet Master of the EH

"Of course you are Forest. You're like the Mr. Burns of EH." - Finn

(insert titles and awards here)


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 Post subject: Re: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Wed Jul 27, 2011 8:04 pm 
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Location: Eagle Shire/King's Point
“They're not supposed to kill me.” said the dark knight, and then broke into that menacing deep laugh that always reminded Fionnigan of grinding bones.

Then the dark knight was off into the darkness of the road that led from the king's road to Fionnigan's home. Fionnigan almost didn't see Sir Delphos leave, but he happened to turn in his pacing just in time to make out the corner of the dark knight's cloak as it fluttered out the door. Fionnigan stopped pacing and rushed past his desk to the door. He opened the door to an empty step, and nothing in sight all the way to the king's road. Perhaps he had misjudged some of the talk he had heard about Sir Delphos.

Fionnigan turned and headed back into his country manor. He closed and barred the front door, and walked back into his study. Fionnigan crossed the length of the room to the middle of the northern wall. He pushed on one side of the bookcase and it gave way. Behind the bookcase was a set of stairs that led down to a door behind which sat a small room. This was the place where Fionnigan kept certain things he had come into possession of throughout the years. Talismans, tomes, scrolls and many other items of magical nature were contained in this room. Most were dark and profane items, and some were just too powerful to be let out of sight. One was the wizard's glass. The wizard's glass was a scrying sphere, but of such power it could show the viewer things from any time and place in Amtgardia. Fionnigan had never considered using anything in this room, and now here he was looking for the black sphere. Times had surely become desperate.

Fionnigan walked over to a set of shelves on the wall directly in front of the entrance to the room. On the third shelf up from the bottom sat a polished wooden box. Fionnigan picked the box up, and he would swear from that night till his dying day that he could hear the damned thing inside humming. Fionnigan walked out of the room, replacing the bookcase to it's proper place, and walked over to his desk.

Fionnigan sat the box down on the desk, and opened the top. Sitting within the box was a black sphere made of what appeared to be glass. As soon as the top of the box was completely removed the sphere spun within the confines of the box, and then stopped. A sickly red light within the black orb began to pulsate and grow in strength.

“Well let's hope this isn't a huge mistake.” thought Fionnigan as he picked the reddish black glowing orb out of the box.

_________________
"A mind needs books as a sword needs a wetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.”
Tyrion Lannister

I do not suffer fools gladly, and fools with white belts never.

Mortem proditoribus.


Last edited by TheOneTrueFinn on Sat Dec 05, 2015 9:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: Tomes of Despair
 Post Posted: Tue Sep 06, 2011 12:09 pm 
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With a deep breath, Fionnigan swirled his hand over the crystalline sphere, murmuring the long forgotten words of power. The sphere responded in kind, basking him in a pustular red glow.

"Il jula kali od qortu xebKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK"

A thunderous furor came calling outside of Fionnigan's door.

The glow of the forgotten black sphere faded with Fionnigan's concentration at the invasive nuisance. With a sigh, he returned his treasure back into its resting place to attend to the infernal distraction to his study.

The knocking continued throughout the entirety of Fionnigan's journey to his front door. It must have been one of the town peasantry; a noble host would have known to mind their manners with introductory etiquette. However, as soon as Fionnigan approached the door to peer through its window, the sound of bone on wood finally ceased. Looking out the window, Fionnigan viewed the face of one of the new apprentices from the Tower of High Sorcery. The ragged wizard displayed a complete inability to stand in one spot. Whatever this was, it had better be important.

Opening the door, Fionnigan could see the academy jester that stood before him in greater(?) light. The young wizard was much shorter than Fionnigan, and quite round. He wore no hat- his hair was a long and twisted pile of knots. His robe, which barely draped past his knees, was crudely hand-sewn, a twisted mockery of the noble tradition of the Academy of High Sorcery. Beneath the robe, dirty, hole-ridden commoner clothing was clearly visible. Were it not for the wand he carried in his sash, and the case of scrolls slung over his shoulder, it would stand without question that this person was an unmentionable of the lower class. This charlatan of wizardry was noticeably shaking, however. Holding out an unfurled scroll before Fionnigan, eyes forced shut with fear, he stammered:

"M-M-M-Mas-Master Bennigan! Fionnigan!"

It took all of Fionnigan's effort not to roll his eyes at this botherment.
The commoner took a deep breath, and his convulsions died down. He muttered something under his breath along the lines of "...done it again"

Drooping dejectedly, the apprentice handed the scroll to Fionnigan. He spoke again, with a much more somber tone of voice.

"Message for you. Found this out. Academy wants credit. Could be a big problem."

Silence. The apprentice's eyebrows shifted, suggesting frustration.

"I know you don't want to talk to me. Nobody does. But by order of the Academy, I must inform you that you have been requested to research the rites of Sithimara."

Silence.

"The Djinn has returned."


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