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 Post subject: The Library of the Hills
 Post Posted: Wed Jan 05, 2011 11:49 pm 
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Fionnigan Hellblazer walked along the green cobblestone streets of the Emerald City. It had been a couple of days since the Wizard’s Guild had formed, and he was investigating a lead he had heard in regards to a possibly large collection of arcane books and scrolls. He had heard rumors for years about what was hidden beneath the cobblestone streets, emerald forums, and jade statues of the Emerald City and so many in fact he had grown a habit of dismissing them within two words. Yet this one stayed with him. It gnawed at him in the nights when he managed to find sleep. It laughed at him every time he scrawled his magical essence into his spell book. It whispered sweet nothings to him after too many pints and swigs of whiskey.

The Library of the Hills, as it was called by those who dared speak of it, was allegedly the entire breadth and depth of arcane and magical knowledge in the kingdom in scroll and book form. There were even tales of The Book of Emerald which was said to be the continuing story of every magical user within the Emerald City and an encyclopedic listing of their power and magical abilities. It was said that an ancient wizard started the tome in the very beginnings of the Emerald City, and he fused it with his spirit. The book is said to be fueled by the man’s magical essence. Fionnigan would hear these stories, which he would normally dismiss as children’s tales, and would stare fascinated at the possibilities. He would than become his usual skeptical self, and would dismiss them. Yet here he was looking for something he was sure was nothing more than wild tales told by wizards who’ve eaten too much devil’s grass.

It was the Council. He came to Eniad’s meeting expecting to hear some nice rhetoric, but nothing truly worth his time. However he had been surprised by the response of the magical community in the realm. They chose the right path, and he had given his word to defend their pact. Yet he wasn’t just going to defend it, but help it grow, which is why he was out walking the streets of the city in the middle of the night. If this great library was real, and he found it, it would be a great asset to the council. So he was going to search for it, and when he found it he was going to bring it to the library of the high tower. This would be the arcane foundation on which the council was built.

_________________
"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 Posted: Mon Jan 10, 2011 7:41 pm 
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“How many scrolls?” asked Fionnigan

“Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Four master Hellblazer.” replied the golem.

“And how many books?” asked Fionnigan

“Exactly nineteen hundred and eighty eight.” replied the Golem.

“And the Book of Emerald?”

“It’s safely kept hidden in a secret vault, the location of which is known only to yourself, and the crown.” replied the Golem.

“Good. Now we have the knowledge base we need to start this guild. We must begin to catalogue the library, Tor.” stated Fionnigan.

“As you wish, sir, I will create and maintain an expandable catalogue within my binary abacus. Should I inform the elders of this discovery?” asked Tor.

“No. We need not inform the elders of this. They will be aware of it soon enough. Besides in these times of turmoil, and upheaval one cannot be sure of who can be trusted with such information.” replied Fionnigan.

“As you wish master.” replied Tor as he left the room.

Fionnigan turned to the window of his study, and looked out over the snow covered roofs and courtyards of the Emerald City. As he looked out over the fresh blanket of snow that covered his beloved city, he thought of what his mother would say of post Yule snow fall. She said that these snowfalls were the most miraculous. For, though these snowfalls were the hardest they would be the storms that would bring spring’s blessed return. He also thought of the state of the kingdom, and the fact that within recent years there had been a fair amount of turmoil within the kingdom. He wondered if this turmoil wasn’t just the post Yule storms that the kingdom must go through. If so what new life would be breathed into this struggling empire?

_________________
"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 Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2011 4:39 am 
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Fionnigan sinched the strap of the saddle tight, and than gave the gryphon’s neck a gentle pat.

“Are you ready to fly, Felarof old friend?” asked Fionnigan of the gryphon.

“I am always ready to fly my friend.” replied Felarof.

Fionnigan mounted the gryphon, and pulled on the reigns as Felarof began his ascent. The hallowed fields of Eagleshire awaited his return. Fields he was all too familiar with. The events of the past fortnight had required Fionnigan to spend more time in the Emerald City. He was glad to be getting to the relative calm that Eagleshire provided. He also had received a correspondence from the Shire’s Prime Minister Famous requesting his presence. Fionnigan thought of the many times in years past he and Gryphon’s Rage had defended the keep at Eagleshire. Those days had been swallowed up by the great wyrm of time, and were little more than faded memories.

These days Fionnigan had seen fates of the once great and hallowed fields of the Shire rise and fall many times. He had recently served a term as Dux Aquila for the Shire, and had sat on the throne during a particularly difficult period. It seemed every time he had served the empire in the post disaster had followed. Once it had been raids by barbarians from the north, once it was goblins, and twice it had been a famine. He seemed cursed in the political arena.

As the fields rushed underneath him Fionnigan continued to ponder these memories and thoughts. As the air rushed past his face he began to relaxe, and enjoy the flight to the Shire.

_________________
"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 Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2011 5:56 pm 
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The black mist flowed forth coiling through stacks of unsorted tomes. Torches flickered gently as the incorporeal form continued its search.

Almost freezing in place, the shadow stopped and wrapped in on itself. Slowly, it took earthly form. A hand reached out and grasped the scroll. Sutra examined his new surroundings. He smiled at the magnitude of documents that had been fitted in such a small space.

The assassins eyes scanned the walls and found a curious crest hung on a not so distant wall. A familiar sigil. Hellblazer? So this was Fionnigans personal library? Interesting.

Perhaps he would receive a personal invitation from the mage at a later date. It would allow the kingdoms only know master archivist a chance to expand on his own collection. Sutra had lost count of the number of manuscripts and collections he had transcribed. History had a habit of repeating itself, allowing those who cared enough to look back far enough to prepare for the future. A gift, suprisingly, not taken advantage of by the masses. Pity.

Sutra peeled back the leather tie and slowly searched the tattered document. An undead king. Soul infused relics. An ancient text that would contain the incantation that would defeat the unbeatable. The text he researched contained only fragments of what he was looking for. Something was always better than nothing. Even if it was bad luck.

The shade gathered the scroll back unto itself and tied the binding gingerly. The wooden ends made no sound as he returned it to its proper spot.

Sutra closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of ancient knowledge was intoxicating. Glimpses of things relegated to the memories of ancients and time flowed though his spirit. A chuckle escaped the sins lips. So much to learn from, so little time.

Taking in his surroundings, Sutra appreciated the work invested into this sacred library.

Focusing on the incantation to teleport out of the library, Sutra prepared his last thought when he realized he was not alone. The sensation of his insides being turned outside made his mind instantly panic. Sutra opened his eyes to examine his involuntary destination.

The guildmaster stood dwarfed by a stone wall, the size of a medium giant. Sutra stepped back at the disconcerting thought that his own will had been overpowered and skewed. He would never have noticed the whispers had he not attempted to still his racing heart.

He spun in place, attempting to find the source of the voices. Surely he was alone in this place. But then, what was this place he questioned.

The words began to rise in unison. They spoke in a tongue he couldn't discern. It was a language he had never studied or heard, but it carried a power he had felt only twice. The darkness was overwhelming, yet a sliver of his being yearned to join the calling void.

His right side began to burn. Thinking quick Sutra grasped at the encased shard he had recently received from King Alby himself. The small jade trinket pulsated with some sort of internal light. Sutra studied the burn hole in his garb and peered back at the 'gift' with intrigued confusion. The heat became unbearable, causing the flesh of his palm to sizzle.

The shade attempted to cast the shard out of his hand but was angered when he realized it had melded to his skin. Screams of a thousand souls wracked his mind.

Sutra threw his head back and released an unworldly howl. It was not his voice. The fallen had channeled their strength through him.

The wall began to reveal glowing glyphs as the sound of grinding stone echoed through the darkness. A blood red light broke through the widening crack and Sutra looked.

The cloaked figure tried to rip his gaze away but failed. He didn't hear himself howling and spitting anymore. The sights and sounds muted the sound of crumbling stone and burning flesh. The grinding of bone and ripping of sinew was silenced by what Sutra saw.

The pain was eternal. Oblivion greeted him with open arms.

******************

The shade launched forward from his sweat laden straw mattress, tear stained flesh slapping on the cold stone floor. Sutra crawled towards the nearest wall and coiled himself up grasping at a nearby dagger, wildly swinging at an unseen foe. The sheriff yelled obscenities at the dark.

Silence replied with the distant sound of barking dogs and a singing rooster.

'Son of a bitch...' the exasperated shadow muttered.

The sin quickly examined his right side where the shard had burned a hole through skin and cloth. Nothing. He quickly exercised his right hand and found no damage. Scrambling to his feet, Sutra found the leather bound trinket the king had delivered just a few days back. Trembling fingers unraveled the bindings and revealed the same dull piece of jade he remembered carrying back home.

Sliding down the cold stone wall, Sutra plopped down on his haunches and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and searched for the comfort of the void. He had grown strong over the small amount of time since the dreaming had found him, but even he was aware that there were things that still held covetous power and intrigue that could threaten his sanity.

The dream was not coincidental. The Hellblazer had managed to contain something of ancient power. Sutra's interest had been peaked. How was it tied to the king's relics?

Perhaps an invitation to meet with Fionnigan was required much sooner than what was planned.

_________________
The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu


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 Post Posted: Tue Jan 25, 2011 9:08 pm 
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Fionnigan placed the jewel in the center of the circle stitched into the kerchief spread out on the table.

“Alright boys, ante up.” Fionnigan said as he picked the top up from the wooden plate.

The three other men seated around the table placed their respective antes into the circle. A soldier from the northern posts on leave from his legion threw in a one celestial gold piece from the Celestial Kingdom, an aged retired buccaneer placed a gold doubloon from one of the eastern kingdoms in, and the small shifty half elven thief seated to Fionnigan’s right threw in a large jeweled ring. Fionnigan picked the top up off of the wooden plate and gave it a spin.

The game was a simple one and was known across many of the lands of Amtgardia, it was even said that in the far off continent of Engoku there was a version. It was known by many names as well; Morgan’s Revenge, the Tetotum, and according to some in the far east it is known as Irete Kudasai or Put and Take in the common tongue. The game was simple; place a valuable item within a ten inch diameter circle, and spin a top on which were inscribed various symbols. Once the top had ceased spinning whatever command that was inscribed on the side of the top facing up, the spinner must do; as in place another item in the circle, take an item out of the circle, or get everything within the pot, or everyone playing must throw in. The game was simple, but there had been many times Fionnigan would catch himself at a campfire or in a tavern for hours at a time spinning the Tetotum long into the pre-dawn hours.

This was in part, because of his fascination with gambling. Fionnigan was particularly intrigued by the strategies involved in certain games, but it was the effect that entropy had on the game that really drew him to cards, dice, the Tetotum, bare knuckle boxing, and any number of other gambling venues he could find. The thing about entropy was that as long as you took enough precautions against it, you could almost beat entropy. The problem was that the lengths and measure one would have to go through in order to completely remove entropy from gambling are far from attainable for the normal player. Even with as much money as he had, Fionnigan was not even capable of planning for every possible contingency without using magic to do so. And maybe that was the part of gambling Fionnigan loved the most, he could plan and plan and plan, and never possibly have a plan for every contingency. It was a challenge he could never completely conquer.

And so Fionnigan sat at the table spinning the Tetotum, and taking as much earned or stolen loot from the three men seated with him as they would allow. Finally the top began to spin itself down and dropped onto the wooden plate. Fionnigan looked to see what his spin had come up with, and saw the young currier seated directly across from him.

Out of normal curiosity Fionnigan wondered where this currier had come from and where he was off to as he collected his winnings and placed a new ante into the circle.

_________________
"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 Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 9:59 pm 
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Journal of Fionnigan Hellblazer

I haven’t been sleeping well recently. Stopped dreaming three nights ago. I woke up last night feverish and in a cold sweat. Vasilisa was cowering on the edge of bed and calling me a demon in her native tongue over and over. She said I punched her in the back, screamed, and than sat bolt right up in the bed.

I’m starting to lose my mind a bit. Those visions I had about the drow army and the necromancer haven’t been proven at all. I haven’t even been able to get anything from the wizard’s glass. It’s as though the mystical world has closed itself off to me. I’m a ship without a rudder right now. I have no compass for this right now, and it is extremely unsettling. I would go to Baron Everlast with my suspicions, but outside of being busy with their interior decorating, the Green Dragon leadership in the great hall will want proof before committing any coin or men to doing anything about it. I must prove my suspicions, but with my mystical abilities being in flux I’m going to have to rely on good old fashioned first hand reconnaissance.

Well I’m obviously not going to go out tonight, jump on Felerof, and start flying to the middle of Tanglewood forest. I have too much to do here with setting up the wizard’s guild. I should try to sleep, but I will probably just sit here till three or four in the morning pouring over the same old dusty tomes and manuscripts I’ve been looking at for over a week now.

I should also consult with my charge. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in a full turn of the moon. Perhaps he can give me a new way of looking at this puzzle. Gods above know that I could use all the help I can get at this point since the arcane realm has been cut off from me. How did everything ever get to this point? Sometimes I wish for those quiet days back on the Lake of the Plains, and my life as an instructor in the High Tower. Those days are long gone now though, and they will never be back. Just like Gryphon’s Rage, the glorious riders of the gryphon. We were a force to be reckoned with, and the air shuddered with the beat of our steeds’ wings. Yet we were torn asunder by the winds of fate, and now I am the last of that fraternity. Even the village where I grew up is gone now, wiped from the face of Amtgardia.

Well, there’s no use plowing over barren fields. I should try to get some sleep, or maybe I will just continue my research until I pass out from exhaustion. The latter sounds more likely.

_________________
"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 Posted: Wed Feb 09, 2011 11:09 am 
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The library's custodians had been of some use. They had not known exactly what he had been looking for, but they knew some of the books he had gone over. Forest took these to a large table and began to read them. He needed a clue, a passage, an indication as to which book, what information he had been after.

Forest knew there were plans in place, and knew that he was up to something. The question remained, was the plan for the good of the EH, or part of its downfall. There was an answer to that question, and it started with these books.

"What are you planning Finn?" Forest mumbled as he read into the late hours.

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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

(insert titles and awards here)


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