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You have in your hand papers from a report by a Night Stealers clan member into the disappearance of Unarius the Mage. It is the first part of his report.
Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
The Night Stealers clan today received an order to investigate the disappearance of Unarius the Mage, one of the greatest mages there has ever been. I have been commissioned with leading the investigation. To be more precise, I volunteered as the process promises to be fascinating. All case materials will be attached to the report and detailed notes will be kept, so that all the information can be handed over to the client at the end of the investigation.
Recently, the world of Faeo was shaken by the terrible news of the mage's demise. However, the client has every reason to suspect that Unarius is hiding somewhere, and that his death was in fact staged by the wizard himself: it's unlikely that such a powerful mage could suddenly disappear without a trace. The client has asked to remain anonymous and his name will not be mentioned on any of these pages. I will note, however, that he is very interested in discovering the mage's whereabouts as soon as possible. This is because of a strong desire to find out the secret technology behind the negators. Based on that information, he aims to create a terrible weapon, capable of dispersing enemy magic in battle! This weapon would be capable of depriving hostile mages of their magic power. One can only imagine the superiority one would gain from such a weapon, what a mighty and terrible enemy one would become! It is for this reason that the client needs the mage, because only Unarius knows the secret of the negators' birth and only he can handle antimagic technology, capable of making a whole army invincible.
Along with the order, the client handed over a bag of gold as a down-payment, the rest to follow after the report is presented. The client has promised to cover all expenses incurred as a result of the investigation. I am ready to act quickly and decisively to complete the order.
My preliminary investigations have only confirmed what a complex investigation this will be. The mage who has disappeared so suddenly is a most mysterious personality. He is one of the greatest and mightiest mages in the whole of Faeo and a gifted inventor. He is responsible for many great discoveries, such as the incomparable negators, and the much sought-after time scrolls. Unarius also had several adepts, one of the closest to him being the Necromancer, who is notorious for his fondness for black magic. Unarius led a reclusive life, shunning contact with Faeo's inhabitants, and he spent a great deal of time alone, with just his magic books and scrolls for company. It is no easy task to find a wizard capable of comparison with him in terms of magic power and inventiveness.
That is all the information I currently and from the first rays of Mirrow in the morning, I will begin the investigation in earnest. Everything I see and hear will be recorded in detail. My first task will be to inspect the so-called crime scene, and I will attach the notes of my findings to the case file.
-------------------------------
Crime scene inspection
Unarius was last seen on the Allayas Wastelands, and I arrived there at midday. From a cursory inspection of the scene, I uncovered a number of interesting details. A pentagram was found on the ground, constructed from smooth, flat stones. Each of the five corners was marked with a boulder, differing in size from the others. It was possible to make out the remnants of symbols, engraved onto the stones. One of the boulders, which was covered with moss, with engraved with an oak tree ? wood. Another had a depiction of a salamander ? fire. It should be noted that this stone was covered with ash, as if it had been burnt. A third boulder showed the markings of money ? metal. The fourth corner was daubed with clay and had traces of footprints ? earth. Finally, the boulder in the last corner had watermarks on it. The drops engraved on it clearly symbolised water.
I was stunned by what was in front of me! From what I had been taught in the past and from what the client had told me, it was clear what it was. The elements depicted on the pentagram characterise the interdependence of all existing objects and phenomena: wood begets fire, fire begets earth, earth begets metal, metal begets water and water begets wood.
The grass in the centre of the pentagram had been trampled down and the ground was mottled with ruts and small craters. I also found shreds of skin and scraps of soggy, yellowed paper.
All the evidence points towards the mage conducting some sort of magic ritual on the wastelands, the purpose of which remains a complete mystery. But one thing is certain ? the ritual is directly linked to Unarius' disappearance. As such, I need to find out as much about it as possible. Anything else that may have been of use at the scene has been destroyed by wind and pouring rain.
-------------------------------
Unfortunately, I have no access to magic books, but even if did, I wouldn't be able to decipher the ancient mage languages in which many of them are written. My inquiries with who had some sort of connection to Unarius led to nothing. It seems the mage kept almost entirely to his mansion, entrusting no one with his thoughts. The only thing I can do now is interview the witnesses to the events of that nightmarish night on the Allayas Wastelands. Just as I had thought the tangled mystery was beginning to unravel its secrets, new obstacles to the truth have emerged?
Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
The Night Stealers clan today received an order to investigate the disappearance of Unarius the Mage, one of the greatest mages there has ever been. I have been commissioned with leading the investigation. To be more precise, I volunteered as the process promises to be fascinating. All case materials will be attached to the report and detailed notes will be kept, so that all the information can be handed over to the client at the end of the investigation.
Recently, the world of Faeo was shaken by the terrible news of the mage's demise. However, the client has every reason to suspect that Unarius is hiding somewhere, and that his death was in fact staged by the wizard himself: it's unlikely that such a powerful mage could suddenly disappear without a trace. The client has asked to remain anonymous and his name will not be mentioned on any of these pages. I will note, however, that he is very interested in discovering the mage's whereabouts as soon as possible. This is because of a strong desire to find out the secret technology behind the negators. Based on that information, he aims to create a terrible weapon, capable of dispersing enemy magic in battle! This weapon would be capable of depriving hostile mages of their magic power. One can only imagine the superiority one would gain from such a weapon, what a mighty and terrible enemy one would become! It is for this reason that the client needs the mage, because only Unarius knows the secret of the negators' birth and only he can handle antimagic technology, capable of making a whole army invincible.
Along with the order, the client handed over a bag of gold as a down-payment, the rest to follow after the report is presented. The client has promised to cover all expenses incurred as a result of the investigation. I am ready to act quickly and decisively to complete the order.
My preliminary investigations have only confirmed what a complex investigation this will be. The mage who has disappeared so suddenly is a most mysterious personality. He is one of the greatest and mightiest mages in the whole of Faeo and a gifted inventor. He is responsible for many great discoveries, such as the incomparable negators, and the much sought-after time scrolls. Unarius also had several adepts, one of the closest to him being the Necromancer, who is notorious for his fondness for black magic. Unarius led a reclusive life, shunning contact with Faeo's inhabitants, and he spent a great deal of time alone, with just his magic books and scrolls for company. It is no easy task to find a wizard capable of comparison with him in terms of magic power and inventiveness.
That is all the information I currently and from the first rays of Mirrow in the morning, I will begin the investigation in earnest. Everything I see and hear will be recorded in detail. My first task will be to inspect the so-called crime scene, and I will attach the notes of my findings to the case file.
-------------------------------
Crime scene inspection
Unarius was last seen on the Allayas Wastelands, and I arrived there at midday. From a cursory inspection of the scene, I uncovered a number of interesting details. A pentagram was found on the ground, constructed from smooth, flat stones. Each of the five corners was marked with a boulder, differing in size from the others. It was possible to make out the remnants of symbols, engraved onto the stones. One of the boulders, which was covered with moss, with engraved with an oak tree ? wood. Another had a depiction of a salamander ? fire. It should be noted that this stone was covered with ash, as if it had been burnt. A third boulder showed the markings of money ? metal. The fourth corner was daubed with clay and had traces of footprints ? earth. Finally, the boulder in the last corner had watermarks on it. The drops engraved on it clearly symbolised water.
I was stunned by what was in front of me! From what I had been taught in the past and from what the client had told me, it was clear what it was. The elements depicted on the pentagram characterise the interdependence of all existing objects and phenomena: wood begets fire, fire begets earth, earth begets metal, metal begets water and water begets wood.
The grass in the centre of the pentagram had been trampled down and the ground was mottled with ruts and small craters. I also found shreds of skin and scraps of soggy, yellowed paper.
All the evidence points towards the mage conducting some sort of magic ritual on the wastelands, the purpose of which remains a complete mystery. But one thing is certain ? the ritual is directly linked to Unarius' disappearance. As such, I need to find out as much about it as possible. Anything else that may have been of use at the scene has been destroyed by wind and pouring rain.
-------------------------------
Unfortunately, I have no access to magic books, but even if did, I wouldn't be able to decipher the ancient mage languages in which many of them are written. My inquiries with who had some sort of connection to Unarius led to nothing. It seems the mage kept almost entirely to his mansion, entrusting no one with his thoughts. The only thing I can do now is interview the witnesses to the events of that nightmarish night on the Allayas Wastelands. Just as I had thought the tangled mystery was beginning to unravel its secrets, new obstacles to the truth have emerged?
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
please use Font size at least 10 for better forum reading
please use Font size at least 10 for better forum reading
You have in your hand papers from a report by a Night Stealers clan member into the disappearance of Unarius the Mage. It is the second part of his report.
Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
Interrogation of witnesses to Unarius the Mage's disappearance
-------------------------------
Information received from Phelonia the Ploughman and recorded verbatim
?On that ill-fated day, I had been sharpening the blade on my plough, you know, since the morning. The weather had gradually deteriorated, and I, you know, really had to get on with ploughing the neighbouring field. I was thinking I wouldn't manage it before the rain. Not a chance. And then I saw it: this old man rushing about. To be, er, honest with you, I didn't recognise him straight away. He was running very quickly, you know. But he was muttering something. It was about some sort of earth person. Gelen, galum, golem?oh, what was it?! Then I was hooked! I've always been very curious since I was a child, you know. I sped off after him, straight to the wastelands. And the mage didn't notice a thing. He was too immersed in himself. He'd gone quite mad, you know? That's probably why he dropped his papers. I'll have those, I thought, thinking they might come in useful? I thrust them against my chest and was off. I ran home, the rain coming down in torrents and completely forgot about the find which I had stuffed under my shirt, until I was putting some things away in the barn and wringing out my soaking shirt, you know. When I got home, I took the pages out, but the ink had run everywhere and the paper just, you know, disintegrated in my hands. There are only a few scraps still intact, and even there the lines have run and the mage's scribbles are hard to make out. It doesn't even look like our language, to be honest with you ?
-------------------------------
Phelonia the Ploughman handed over the remaining papers and on closer inspection they turned out to be notes from Unarius' diary. Unfortunately, they shed no light on the events of that rainy night, only further confusing me. It's possible they're entirely useless to the investigation! At the moment, it's not possible to connect the scraps to understand exactly what the mage is trying to describe. I've attached the scraps below. Several parts are impossible to make out, but the general idea is clear!
-------------------------------
Remaining scraps of Unarius' diary
First scrap
The world is called Dantar. I'm ready to bow before its unimaginable beauty and power. My research intentions are pious and good. I can't interfere with this world's passage of time for the moment. My first visit was greeted with an unbelievable wonder! Black stone walls towered above me, the temple's summit scraping the heavens. I have been getting bad new, however, about the rebirth of a mighty and ancient weapon within this building's walls, as if wan...
Unknown races inhabit Dantar, constantly at odds with one another, sowing discord and waging war. They differ in body and mind from each other and from us. Some inspire only disgust, the stench of their carrion and their ugliness capable of eclipsing even Chaos spawn. Others captivated me with their beauty as they rushed past on their winged horses. A third staggered my mind with an amalgamation of?
Good and evil are incapable of living together. Each of the races leans towards one of the primary elements: light or dark. Dantar was weaved from these two elements and their power is contained in the Heart of Dantar, at the very centre of the world. The magic stone contains a colossal energy, which does not fail to res?
Second scrap
I can't stop thinking about creating a human-like giant, an invincible enemy. There is no doubt in my mind, from the mighty knowledge I have acquired from magic books, that I am capable of creating a Golem. He will be born of earth and clay, through magic, in order to stu?
-------------------------------
Unarius's diary further confuses the case, because I have not had the chance to establish what relation it has to the ritual on the Allayas Wastelands. It's clear that the mage visited this mysterious, unknown world. But how? It's possible that it has some connection to the time-travelling scrolls he created. Does that mean that these peoples once inhabited our world? Or had the mage gone senile, like many suggest? I have decided to question the Necromancer about the time scrolls. He was Unarius' most ardent adept; he should know a lot! I will attach a sheet to this report, detailing the main points of my conversation with the dark mage Necromancer.
-------------------------------
Information received from the Necromancer about time scrolls
The magic scroll was created by Unarius to make possible time travel. With its help, a portal is created and through it you can travel several hundred years into the past and observe the greatest events in Faean history. The mage long dreamed of realising this plan and, when he managed it, he was completed engrossed in it. He never spoke about Dantar, said nothing about a Golem...
The Necromancer knows nothing about the mysterious world or clay giant. The time-travelling scroll requires nothing as complex as what these things suggest. The dark mage believes the symbols of interdependent elements found at the site of the ritual suggest it was an ancient ritual, learnt by Unarius during his time-travelling.
The Necromancer also revealed some other interesting information. One of the magic books, about ancient elixirs and rites, mentions a pentagram ceremony involving a salamander. It is rare to come across such rites! The book's author, a practitioner of black magic, was deprived of his magic powers more than 500 years ago. It's possible that with his assistance, Unarius was able to complete the ritual on that fateful day.
The Necromancer is in no doubt that Unarius is dead. Interdependence rituals are extremely dangerous and every mage knows they more often than not lead to death. One of the side effects is the possibility of losing one's magic powers, as happened five centuries ago to the practitioner. He died a mere mortal, having lost his powers and now a young lady by the name of Galendy, a distant relative of the practitioner's, keeps his notes?
-------------------------------
I am beginning to strongly believe that the root of the disappearance is in the mysterious ritual, unravelling the secret of which could allow us to establish exactly what has happened to Unarius. My conversation with the Black Mage has led me to the next stage of the investigation ? I must speak with Galendy and ask her permission to view the practitioner's notes.
I find it strange, though, that the Necromancer is so convinced of his teacher's death?
I am leaving for the practitioner's descendant's city now?I feel the answer is near!
Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
Interrogation of witnesses to Unarius the Mage's disappearance
-------------------------------
Information received from Phelonia the Ploughman and recorded verbatim
?On that ill-fated day, I had been sharpening the blade on my plough, you know, since the morning. The weather had gradually deteriorated, and I, you know, really had to get on with ploughing the neighbouring field. I was thinking I wouldn't manage it before the rain. Not a chance. And then I saw it: this old man rushing about. To be, er, honest with you, I didn't recognise him straight away. He was running very quickly, you know. But he was muttering something. It was about some sort of earth person. Gelen, galum, golem?oh, what was it?! Then I was hooked! I've always been very curious since I was a child, you know. I sped off after him, straight to the wastelands. And the mage didn't notice a thing. He was too immersed in himself. He'd gone quite mad, you know? That's probably why he dropped his papers. I'll have those, I thought, thinking they might come in useful? I thrust them against my chest and was off. I ran home, the rain coming down in torrents and completely forgot about the find which I had stuffed under my shirt, until I was putting some things away in the barn and wringing out my soaking shirt, you know. When I got home, I took the pages out, but the ink had run everywhere and the paper just, you know, disintegrated in my hands. There are only a few scraps still intact, and even there the lines have run and the mage's scribbles are hard to make out. It doesn't even look like our language, to be honest with you ?
-------------------------------
Phelonia the Ploughman handed over the remaining papers and on closer inspection they turned out to be notes from Unarius' diary. Unfortunately, they shed no light on the events of that rainy night, only further confusing me. It's possible they're entirely useless to the investigation! At the moment, it's not possible to connect the scraps to understand exactly what the mage is trying to describe. I've attached the scraps below. Several parts are impossible to make out, but the general idea is clear!
-------------------------------
Remaining scraps of Unarius' diary
First scrap
The world is called Dantar. I'm ready to bow before its unimaginable beauty and power. My research intentions are pious and good. I can't interfere with this world's passage of time for the moment. My first visit was greeted with an unbelievable wonder! Black stone walls towered above me, the temple's summit scraping the heavens. I have been getting bad new, however, about the rebirth of a mighty and ancient weapon within this building's walls, as if wan...
Unknown races inhabit Dantar, constantly at odds with one another, sowing discord and waging war. They differ in body and mind from each other and from us. Some inspire only disgust, the stench of their carrion and their ugliness capable of eclipsing even Chaos spawn. Others captivated me with their beauty as they rushed past on their winged horses. A third staggered my mind with an amalgamation of?
Good and evil are incapable of living together. Each of the races leans towards one of the primary elements: light or dark. Dantar was weaved from these two elements and their power is contained in the Heart of Dantar, at the very centre of the world. The magic stone contains a colossal energy, which does not fail to res?
Second scrap
I can't stop thinking about creating a human-like giant, an invincible enemy. There is no doubt in my mind, from the mighty knowledge I have acquired from magic books, that I am capable of creating a Golem. He will be born of earth and clay, through magic, in order to stu?
-------------------------------
Unarius's diary further confuses the case, because I have not had the chance to establish what relation it has to the ritual on the Allayas Wastelands. It's clear that the mage visited this mysterious, unknown world. But how? It's possible that it has some connection to the time-travelling scrolls he created. Does that mean that these peoples once inhabited our world? Or had the mage gone senile, like many suggest? I have decided to question the Necromancer about the time scrolls. He was Unarius' most ardent adept; he should know a lot! I will attach a sheet to this report, detailing the main points of my conversation with the dark mage Necromancer.
-------------------------------
Information received from the Necromancer about time scrolls
The magic scroll was created by Unarius to make possible time travel. With its help, a portal is created and through it you can travel several hundred years into the past and observe the greatest events in Faean history. The mage long dreamed of realising this plan and, when he managed it, he was completed engrossed in it. He never spoke about Dantar, said nothing about a Golem...
The Necromancer knows nothing about the mysterious world or clay giant. The time-travelling scroll requires nothing as complex as what these things suggest. The dark mage believes the symbols of interdependent elements found at the site of the ritual suggest it was an ancient ritual, learnt by Unarius during his time-travelling.
The Necromancer also revealed some other interesting information. One of the magic books, about ancient elixirs and rites, mentions a pentagram ceremony involving a salamander. It is rare to come across such rites! The book's author, a practitioner of black magic, was deprived of his magic powers more than 500 years ago. It's possible that with his assistance, Unarius was able to complete the ritual on that fateful day.
The Necromancer is in no doubt that Unarius is dead. Interdependence rituals are extremely dangerous and every mage knows they more often than not lead to death. One of the side effects is the possibility of losing one's magic powers, as happened five centuries ago to the practitioner. He died a mere mortal, having lost his powers and now a young lady by the name of Galendy, a distant relative of the practitioner's, keeps his notes?
-------------------------------
I am beginning to strongly believe that the root of the disappearance is in the mysterious ritual, unravelling the secret of which could allow us to establish exactly what has happened to Unarius. My conversation with the Black Mage has led me to the next stage of the investigation ? I must speak with Galendy and ask her permission to view the practitioner's notes.
I find it strange, though, that the Necromancer is so convinced of his teacher's death?
I am leaving for the practitioner's descendant's city now?I feel the answer is near!
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
please use Font size at least 10 for better forum reading
please use Font size at least 10 for better forum reading
You have in your hand papers from a report by a Night Stealers clan member into the disappearance of Unarius the Mage. It is the third part of his report.
Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
The lady turned out to be a young woman, renowned for her piety and calm nature. Her family can be traced right back to ancient times and is one of the most respected in the city. For centuries, scrolls with notes about spells and charms were passed down through Galendy's family. Unfortunately, few remain. The practitioner destroyed most of his notes shortly before his death. But the lady did tell me a family legend about an old man who, I suspect, could turn out to be Unarius himself. Below is Galendy's story, word-for-word.
-------------------------------
Story of the mysterious guest
My ancestor was practitioner of black magic and one of the most talented masters of elixir production of his time. He knew many complex recipes, which he kept in a huge book of magic. According to ancient custom, magic books were to be written in a language known only to wizards. Now, of course, not everyone observes the rule, but then it was adhered to religiously. Zaraques, as my ancestor was called, was very enthusiastic about dangerous salamander charming rituals. Salamanders are lizard-like creatures, which live in fire. The salamander is inseparably linked with this element and so even using images of them is a risky business, wherever or however it might be done.
A misinterpretation and too much haste during an interdependence ritual led to Zaraques losing his magic powers. The only thing that remained was his ability to write in the mages' language. Then one day, when he was noting down a ritual, someone knocked on his cell. Opening the door, the practitioner saw a grey-haired old man before him, whose eyes shone with wisdom. The unknown visitor told him that he had come from afar and wanted to look at a magic book. Zaraques immediately felt the energy emanating from the guest, and did not stop for pointless questions.
Remembering that only a mage could read the book, the owner opened it up in front of the old man. The unknown guest spent a whole day reading it and then left, thanking Zaraques.
Several days went by when, leafing through the book, my ancestor found strange drawings in it. He knew who had left them and what they meant! The drawing showed the element which the practitioner had drawn incorrectly, depriving him of his powers. It was not a handful of earth that should have crowned the pentacle stone, but a footprint! He rushed to his notes and scribbled something down. Then, in a fit of rage and despair, he tore the pages from his magic book and tossed them into the fire, closely followed by a whole stack of scrolls! To the end of his life, he never again went near his notes or entered his magic library?
-------------------------------
I am now in no doubt that the mysterious guest was Unarius! He went to the past to find out about the interdependence ritual which had been torn from the book. And he succeeded!
I was very surprised that Galendy so readily acquiesced to my request to look at Zaraques' notes. She said she was happy that they might be of use to someone. The lady allowed me to take them away for a while after I promised to take care of them. You can imagine my surprise when I found among them a description of a ceremony just like the one Unarius conducted! Starting with the old man's drawings and the pentagram ritual, the practitioner gave a detailed account of the sequence of events, revealing at last the ritual's secret!
I didn't stop to write down the whole ritual, instead paying more attention to the most important part ? its purpose!
A sheet with extracts of my writings on the practitioner's notes is attached to the case file.
-------------------------------
Ritual of interdependent elements
?And when all the elements are gathered together, the chain will be locked! The oak will be overgrown with moss, the fiery house will find a salamander, pure water will trickle from the stone, footprints of brown clay will trample around and bronze money will turn to gold! Finally, the centre of the pentacle will light up with a sparkling light! And the traces of this activity will be hidden by neither wind, nor rain?
?And if it were possible to create something for time travel, so as to apply it at the moment the pentagram elements merged, a new spatial portal would open, and the path to other worlds would stretch out before our very eyes!...
-------------------------------
Now, finally, everything's clear! The ritual, conducted on that rainy night, when Unarius the Mage was lost, allowed spatial teleportation! If all the information I have gathered during this investigation is brought together - the inspection of the scene of disappearance, the questioning of witnesses, the pieces of paper ? then a clear picture of what happened emerges. Unarius the Mage really isn't dead! There is a weight of evidence supporting the supposition that the mage has simply left Faeo, through a spatial portal to another world. At the end of my report I can summarise the work investigative work conducted and recreate in detail a picture of the teleportation.
And so'the mage always aspired to new understanding. Having conquered time, he threw himself into unravelling the secrets of spatiality. Unarius studied all the books and documents he could and understood that he needed to join the contours of time and the essence of being. Having discovered that the secret of an ancient magic interdependence ritual had been lost, he decided to go to the past to the famed practitioner in order to obtain the desired knowledge about the ritual. Thanks to the scroll he invented, time was no barrier to the mage!
The ancient magic book and Zaraques helped him understand the essence of the ceremony, but there was not enough of one element in the description, which remained undiscovered by the practitioner. Unarius easily uncovered the missing link and even by chance drew it on the pages of the magic book, which was then torn up by a furious Zaraques. Returning to our time, the great mage completed his first spatial journey and, evidently, ended up in a world called Dantar. We can only guess how many times Unarius went there and back.
Evidently, he has now decided to settle permanently in Dantar. On the day of his disappearance, the mage was rushing about because of the rain, which might interfere with his ritual. However, he managed to teleport. The traces on the stones found upon inspecting the scene on the Allayas Wastelands clearly show this.
The investigation can now be considered complete. I have ascertained that Unarius the Mage has left the world of Faeo and settled in another world. It is not possible to find this world without Unarius' knowledge and inventions. Therefore, the case is closed. All the materials will be passed to the client upon payment of all outstanding fees.
Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
The lady turned out to be a young woman, renowned for her piety and calm nature. Her family can be traced right back to ancient times and is one of the most respected in the city. For centuries, scrolls with notes about spells and charms were passed down through Galendy's family. Unfortunately, few remain. The practitioner destroyed most of his notes shortly before his death. But the lady did tell me a family legend about an old man who, I suspect, could turn out to be Unarius himself. Below is Galendy's story, word-for-word.
-------------------------------
Story of the mysterious guest
My ancestor was practitioner of black magic and one of the most talented masters of elixir production of his time. He knew many complex recipes, which he kept in a huge book of magic. According to ancient custom, magic books were to be written in a language known only to wizards. Now, of course, not everyone observes the rule, but then it was adhered to religiously. Zaraques, as my ancestor was called, was very enthusiastic about dangerous salamander charming rituals. Salamanders are lizard-like creatures, which live in fire. The salamander is inseparably linked with this element and so even using images of them is a risky business, wherever or however it might be done.
A misinterpretation and too much haste during an interdependence ritual led to Zaraques losing his magic powers. The only thing that remained was his ability to write in the mages' language. Then one day, when he was noting down a ritual, someone knocked on his cell. Opening the door, the practitioner saw a grey-haired old man before him, whose eyes shone with wisdom. The unknown visitor told him that he had come from afar and wanted to look at a magic book. Zaraques immediately felt the energy emanating from the guest, and did not stop for pointless questions.
Remembering that only a mage could read the book, the owner opened it up in front of the old man. The unknown guest spent a whole day reading it and then left, thanking Zaraques.
Several days went by when, leafing through the book, my ancestor found strange drawings in it. He knew who had left them and what they meant! The drawing showed the element which the practitioner had drawn incorrectly, depriving him of his powers. It was not a handful of earth that should have crowned the pentacle stone, but a footprint! He rushed to his notes and scribbled something down. Then, in a fit of rage and despair, he tore the pages from his magic book and tossed them into the fire, closely followed by a whole stack of scrolls! To the end of his life, he never again went near his notes or entered his magic library?
-------------------------------
I am now in no doubt that the mysterious guest was Unarius! He went to the past to find out about the interdependence ritual which had been torn from the book. And he succeeded!
I was very surprised that Galendy so readily acquiesced to my request to look at Zaraques' notes. She said she was happy that they might be of use to someone. The lady allowed me to take them away for a while after I promised to take care of them. You can imagine my surprise when I found among them a description of a ceremony just like the one Unarius conducted! Starting with the old man's drawings and the pentagram ritual, the practitioner gave a detailed account of the sequence of events, revealing at last the ritual's secret!
I didn't stop to write down the whole ritual, instead paying more attention to the most important part ? its purpose!
A sheet with extracts of my writings on the practitioner's notes is attached to the case file.
-------------------------------
Ritual of interdependent elements
?And when all the elements are gathered together, the chain will be locked! The oak will be overgrown with moss, the fiery house will find a salamander, pure water will trickle from the stone, footprints of brown clay will trample around and bronze money will turn to gold! Finally, the centre of the pentacle will light up with a sparkling light! And the traces of this activity will be hidden by neither wind, nor rain?
?And if it were possible to create something for time travel, so as to apply it at the moment the pentagram elements merged, a new spatial portal would open, and the path to other worlds would stretch out before our very eyes!...
-------------------------------
Now, finally, everything's clear! The ritual, conducted on that rainy night, when Unarius the Mage was lost, allowed spatial teleportation! If all the information I have gathered during this investigation is brought together - the inspection of the scene of disappearance, the questioning of witnesses, the pieces of paper ? then a clear picture of what happened emerges. Unarius the Mage really isn't dead! There is a weight of evidence supporting the supposition that the mage has simply left Faeo, through a spatial portal to another world. At the end of my report I can summarise the work investigative work conducted and recreate in detail a picture of the teleportation.
And so'the mage always aspired to new understanding. Having conquered time, he threw himself into unravelling the secrets of spatiality. Unarius studied all the books and documents he could and understood that he needed to join the contours of time and the essence of being. Having discovered that the secret of an ancient magic interdependence ritual had been lost, he decided to go to the past to the famed practitioner in order to obtain the desired knowledge about the ritual. Thanks to the scroll he invented, time was no barrier to the mage!
The ancient magic book and Zaraques helped him understand the essence of the ceremony, but there was not enough of one element in the description, which remained undiscovered by the practitioner. Unarius easily uncovered the missing link and even by chance drew it on the pages of the magic book, which was then torn up by a furious Zaraques. Returning to our time, the great mage completed his first spatial journey and, evidently, ended up in a world called Dantar. We can only guess how many times Unarius went there and back.
Evidently, he has now decided to settle permanently in Dantar. On the day of his disappearance, the mage was rushing about because of the rain, which might interfere with his ritual. However, he managed to teleport. The traces on the stones found upon inspecting the scene on the Allayas Wastelands clearly show this.
The investigation can now be considered complete. I have ascertained that Unarius the Mage has left the world of Faeo and settled in another world. It is not possible to find this world without Unarius' knowledge and inventions. Therefore, the case is closed. All the materials will be passed to the client upon payment of all outstanding fees.
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you have come across an extract from the chronicles of the Brotherhood of Virtue, which date back to their very foundation. Listen to my words, warrior.
A long time ago, on the 308th day since Sheara's arrival, our cloister acquired a new brother. He came from afar, his young and inquisitive mind gaining our favour, his virtuous heart dispelling all doubts about the correctness of our decision. We began to give him shelter and bread and he paid us with obedience and meekness. Our novice brother was called Marmaluke, a name which we soon discovered was entirely apt for him, because in antiquity it was a name for those whose souls were capable of conceit.
The diligent student quickly familiarised himself with all our main manuscripts and studied ancient letters. Those who suffered turned to him for help, because he never refused anyone a blessing or a good word. And there was nothing that Marmaluke didn't know about curses. It was as if the sacred fire itself favoured him.
We do everything we can to assist the accession of justice and virtue in the world, calling for mercy and patience towards everyone, and Marmaluke became a celebrated member of our noble cause. He was always one of the most active participants in gatherings of our brothers and sisters, his opinion was listened to and he was a skilled and experience master.
The only thing that depressed us was brother Marmaluke's desire to extract profit from everything. He tried more than once to convince us with fiery speeches and passionate eyes that the Brotherhood could do more good by selling blessings. He believed that giving them away left, right and centre only hindered the Brotherhood from becoming a powerful organisation. The thought wouldn't leave him alone; it was a terrible burden on his mind. And with it he undermined our founding principles, because for us a kind word is the best kind of gratitude. We didn't give any significance to his ramblings, because his services were irrefutable and he did an honest share of work. If only we could have imagined?
We began to notice things, bad things: Marmaluke would disappear for days on end, leaving his cell completely empty. And when he appeared, it was like a dark cloud wandering the passageways. He became reticent, didn't want to speak with anyone. Then, one evening, Our Worthy Brother Sinegao knocked on his door, and from under the hem of Marmaluke's cassock fell a sparkling blood red crystal. Sinegao was weak-sighted, but he couldn't fail to notice its luminescence. And it was then that the terrible truth dawned on us!
Marmaluke stretched out his hands, burst into a sinister laughter and poured out everything that had been weighing on and torturing his soul. He called us an assembly of blind men and idiots, condemned to eking out a life of poverty. He said he had no desire to live a life of penury, when many would pay gold mountains for his knowledge and help. Nor did he want to squander his talents in vain any longer. And with these parting words, Marmaluke left us. No one tried to stop him, nor would they have succeeded.
After several days, strange things began to happen in Faeo. Warriors came to us, complaining that apotrope magic no longer protected them for curses. We were at a loss to explain what was happening, or more precisely how. We agonised over the possibilities, awaiting news and then it came to us, but from an entirely unexpected source. A dying told of us a bloody battle, not far from Thorn Apple Brushwood. Just when it appeared the battle had been lost, a short fellow with wind-swept hair appeared. He raised a crozier above his head and in that moment all the Brotherhood's saving charms were dispersed from those they were protecting. His eyes shone with conceit! We couldn't believe what we heard: there was only one person who matched the description given to us!
News of Marmaluke's betrayal with the stone lay heavy on our hearts, as if they had been pierced by a burning arrow. We remembered his parting words and hanged our heads in shame. Yielding to temptation, in an endless pursuit of power and wealth, Marmaluke had crossed to the side of our cursed enemies, betraying the Brotherhood's ideals. All the secrets with which he had been entrusted were now in the hands of the Bringers of Evil. As we later found out, they had long searched for a avaricious member of our Brotherhood, someone with an insatiable arrogance who could be bought for a price and who was ready to do anything for his own vanity.
It was an ordeal for all of us. Marmaluke had fooled us all, hiding his weak soul.
But worse than anything was the traitor's monstrous creation: to win the trust of the Bringers, he created a crozier which could disperse any of the Brotherhood's magic.
We did not let the events cause us to lose heart, though, because although the world was imperfect, our purpose and aim of bringing virtue to Faeo became ever more noble and valuable. We must imbue Faeo and its citizens with tolerance and enrich the lives and souls of all who call Faeo home.
A long time ago, on the 308th day since Sheara's arrival, our cloister acquired a new brother. He came from afar, his young and inquisitive mind gaining our favour, his virtuous heart dispelling all doubts about the correctness of our decision. We began to give him shelter and bread and he paid us with obedience and meekness. Our novice brother was called Marmaluke, a name which we soon discovered was entirely apt for him, because in antiquity it was a name for those whose souls were capable of conceit.
The diligent student quickly familiarised himself with all our main manuscripts and studied ancient letters. Those who suffered turned to him for help, because he never refused anyone a blessing or a good word. And there was nothing that Marmaluke didn't know about curses. It was as if the sacred fire itself favoured him.
We do everything we can to assist the accession of justice and virtue in the world, calling for mercy and patience towards everyone, and Marmaluke became a celebrated member of our noble cause. He was always one of the most active participants in gatherings of our brothers and sisters, his opinion was listened to and he was a skilled and experience master.
The only thing that depressed us was brother Marmaluke's desire to extract profit from everything. He tried more than once to convince us with fiery speeches and passionate eyes that the Brotherhood could do more good by selling blessings. He believed that giving them away left, right and centre only hindered the Brotherhood from becoming a powerful organisation. The thought wouldn't leave him alone; it was a terrible burden on his mind. And with it he undermined our founding principles, because for us a kind word is the best kind of gratitude. We didn't give any significance to his ramblings, because his services were irrefutable and he did an honest share of work. If only we could have imagined?
We began to notice things, bad things: Marmaluke would disappear for days on end, leaving his cell completely empty. And when he appeared, it was like a dark cloud wandering the passageways. He became reticent, didn't want to speak with anyone. Then, one evening, Our Worthy Brother Sinegao knocked on his door, and from under the hem of Marmaluke's cassock fell a sparkling blood red crystal. Sinegao was weak-sighted, but he couldn't fail to notice its luminescence. And it was then that the terrible truth dawned on us!
Marmaluke stretched out his hands, burst into a sinister laughter and poured out everything that had been weighing on and torturing his soul. He called us an assembly of blind men and idiots, condemned to eking out a life of poverty. He said he had no desire to live a life of penury, when many would pay gold mountains for his knowledge and help. Nor did he want to squander his talents in vain any longer. And with these parting words, Marmaluke left us. No one tried to stop him, nor would they have succeeded.
After several days, strange things began to happen in Faeo. Warriors came to us, complaining that apotrope magic no longer protected them for curses. We were at a loss to explain what was happening, or more precisely how. We agonised over the possibilities, awaiting news and then it came to us, but from an entirely unexpected source. A dying told of us a bloody battle, not far from Thorn Apple Brushwood. Just when it appeared the battle had been lost, a short fellow with wind-swept hair appeared. He raised a crozier above his head and in that moment all the Brotherhood's saving charms were dispersed from those they were protecting. His eyes shone with conceit! We couldn't believe what we heard: there was only one person who matched the description given to us!
News of Marmaluke's betrayal with the stone lay heavy on our hearts, as if they had been pierced by a burning arrow. We remembered his parting words and hanged our heads in shame. Yielding to temptation, in an endless pursuit of power and wealth, Marmaluke had crossed to the side of our cursed enemies, betraying the Brotherhood's ideals. All the secrets with which he had been entrusted were now in the hands of the Bringers of Evil. As we later found out, they had long searched for a avaricious member of our Brotherhood, someone with an insatiable arrogance who could be bought for a price and who was ready to do anything for his own vanity.
It was an ordeal for all of us. Marmaluke had fooled us all, hiding his weak soul.
But worse than anything was the traitor's monstrous creation: to win the trust of the Bringers, he created a crozier which could disperse any of the Brotherhood's magic.
We did not let the events cause us to lose heart, though, because although the world was imperfect, our purpose and aim of bringing virtue to Faeo became ever more noble and valuable. We must imbue Faeo and its citizens with tolerance and enrich the lives and souls of all who call Faeo home.
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
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sk+1
You've found an extract from the Chosen Basard's great book of wisdom. Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you, warrior.
The Guards of the Gates of Knowledge
The legendary Gates of Knowledge tower proudly over the foot of the Barrow of Sadness. Not everyone has the opportunity to pass through them to receive answers to their questions or feel the palm of wisdom upon them. Three stone statues have stood guard over the gates for several centuries already, shaken neither by wind, nor by rain. Neither living creature, nor bodiless spirit can pass the keepers. The silent stone guards, standing at their eternal posts, protect the gates' great secret, but once their bodies were of living flesh?
In those distant tranquil days, when the sacred Goochar still guarded his grandeur under the watchful eye of the black-winged birds of Gur, peace reigned in Faeo. Three beautiful maiden giants appeared in the expanses of the new world. They were so pale, it was as if a fluffy white cloud had descended over the temple of the Chosen. Wisdom shone on their meek faces, they radiated harmony and it seemed as if they knew the answer to any question of existence.
The maidens lived a life of solitude in the open ranges near the Gates of Knowledge, which drew their attention from the first time they saw them. Every day they spent several hours writing on never-ending scrolls with the sharpened feather of a mysterious bird. When the feather ceased contact with the drying paper for more than a few minutes, the scroll began to slowly melt away into the air and disappear. It was the giantesses' very own miraculous manuscript.
One day, one of the Chosen came across their abode completely by chance. He was not frightened by the giant size of the strangers, but instead enchanted by their grace and simply asked to drink water from the spring beside their house, before taking his leave. The next day, the young wise man decided to show his gratitude to the generous maidens and headed back to their abode. He found no one in the spacious cabin and was just about to leave when he saw an extraordinarily large feather. Touching it lightly, the Chosen felt it to be no heavier than the petals of the wonderful flowers that grow on the Glade of Oblivion. The fluffy end of the feather lay softly on his small hand, and the other end was hidden high above. In that instant a huge paper scroll began to slowly appear in the air. The youngster could not believe his eyes! He had barely recovered from the surprise when the pale giants tore into the house. Seized by anger, they hurled curses upon the uninvited guest in a language unknown to him. One of them raised her hand and took a swipe at the Chosen. The blow was enough to make the poor wretch bid farewell to life for good.
It was the first killing of a Chosen since their creation by the god Bolivakhar. In that moment Bolivakhar appeared before the shamed maidens. For their deed, he turned them into three giant stone statues, leaving them with the power of speech, and commanded them to become the eternal guards of the Gates of Knowledge. From that day on their figures have crowned the entrance to the abode of wisdom, reducing experienced minds to quivering wrecks, because the sagacious maidens have a test for every wisdom-seeking visitor.
It is not enough to simply reach the location of the stone sentinels in the hope of receiving the key to the gates. A special ritual of bows must be completed to attract the attention of the proud giants. A defined number of bows must be made to each of the stone sculptures in the correct order. Only then will the majestic guards grant access to the store of wisdom, the entrance to which was sealed up by us, the Chosen. The gates protect an ancient secret, because they are capable of granting entry to a sacred place of knowledge. And knowledge can be an unbelievably powerful tool, capable not only of resolving day-to-day problems, but the fates of entire nations.
The Guards of the Gates of Knowledge
The legendary Gates of Knowledge tower proudly over the foot of the Barrow of Sadness. Not everyone has the opportunity to pass through them to receive answers to their questions or feel the palm of wisdom upon them. Three stone statues have stood guard over the gates for several centuries already, shaken neither by wind, nor by rain. Neither living creature, nor bodiless spirit can pass the keepers. The silent stone guards, standing at their eternal posts, protect the gates' great secret, but once their bodies were of living flesh?
In those distant tranquil days, when the sacred Goochar still guarded his grandeur under the watchful eye of the black-winged birds of Gur, peace reigned in Faeo. Three beautiful maiden giants appeared in the expanses of the new world. They were so pale, it was as if a fluffy white cloud had descended over the temple of the Chosen. Wisdom shone on their meek faces, they radiated harmony and it seemed as if they knew the answer to any question of existence.
The maidens lived a life of solitude in the open ranges near the Gates of Knowledge, which drew their attention from the first time they saw them. Every day they spent several hours writing on never-ending scrolls with the sharpened feather of a mysterious bird. When the feather ceased contact with the drying paper for more than a few minutes, the scroll began to slowly melt away into the air and disappear. It was the giantesses' very own miraculous manuscript.
One day, one of the Chosen came across their abode completely by chance. He was not frightened by the giant size of the strangers, but instead enchanted by their grace and simply asked to drink water from the spring beside their house, before taking his leave. The next day, the young wise man decided to show his gratitude to the generous maidens and headed back to their abode. He found no one in the spacious cabin and was just about to leave when he saw an extraordinarily large feather. Touching it lightly, the Chosen felt it to be no heavier than the petals of the wonderful flowers that grow on the Glade of Oblivion. The fluffy end of the feather lay softly on his small hand, and the other end was hidden high above. In that instant a huge paper scroll began to slowly appear in the air. The youngster could not believe his eyes! He had barely recovered from the surprise when the pale giants tore into the house. Seized by anger, they hurled curses upon the uninvited guest in a language unknown to him. One of them raised her hand and took a swipe at the Chosen. The blow was enough to make the poor wretch bid farewell to life for good.
It was the first killing of a Chosen since their creation by the god Bolivakhar. In that moment Bolivakhar appeared before the shamed maidens. For their deed, he turned them into three giant stone statues, leaving them with the power of speech, and commanded them to become the eternal guards of the Gates of Knowledge. From that day on their figures have crowned the entrance to the abode of wisdom, reducing experienced minds to quivering wrecks, because the sagacious maidens have a test for every wisdom-seeking visitor.
It is not enough to simply reach the location of the stone sentinels in the hope of receiving the key to the gates. A special ritual of bows must be completed to attract the attention of the proud giants. A defined number of bows must be made to each of the stone sculptures in the correct order. Only then will the majestic guards grant access to the store of wisdom, the entrance to which was sealed up by us, the Chosen. The gates protect an ancient secret, because they are capable of granting entry to a sacred place of knowledge. And knowledge can be an unbelievably powerful tool, capable not only of resolving day-to-day problems, but the fates of entire nations.
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
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You've found an extract from a book of relics, belonging to Menachem the Antiquarian. Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
In those glorious and distant times, when the Elts Vale breathed easy and there were no bloody wars, tearing our world apart with their ferocity, something happened which shook the peaceful lives of the hard-working gnomes. Whilst working in the silver mines, one of the gnomes' hammers crashed against something unusual. With a fizzing noise, red-orange sparks flew off in all directions, a terrible din filling the labyrinths of the cave. The iron tool had clearly met a steel wall, behind which lay an empty space. The wall turned out to be a massive door, engraved with an unknown language and covered in rust thanks to the dampness of the underground passages. It was impossible to open the door: there was neither a handle, nor a lock, but every day, with the rising of Mirrow, industrious gnomes tried to break down the bulwark. And when they were just about to give up in despair, the steel suddenly gave way: a small hole with rough edges, as if it were created by an animal's sharp fang, opened out onto the dark corridor. After several minutes, it had been widened, thanks to the intense blows of axes, and several gnomes rushed through it with burning axes.
Before them stretched a beautiful burial vault, covered with silvery-white cobwebs. In the centre, on a small rostrum, a sarcophagus of black wood towered above everything else. The dark timber was well-preserved, unscathed by both time and insects. The heavy lid did not yield easily, as a whole group of panting and swearing gnomes tried to heave it off. Finally, with a deafening whine and a horrible screech, the wooden lid crashed to the stone floor, the noise echoing down the long corridors, causing small pebbles to fall from the ancient walls.
A mage, wrapped in gold-embroidered black velvet, lay in the sarcophagus. If the gnomes had have been able to decipher the ancient language, they would have read the dedication on the door and known that the body of a mighty mage lay in the burial chamber, sentenced to eternal oblivion for his evil deeds. But the brave miners didn't know. All they understood was that the tomb belonged to a mage, because no one else could have remained so preserved in the damp mountain chambers.
They decided to touch nothing and only to take a mould of the sorcerer's face, so as to perform a ritual to beg the spirit's forgiveness for the disturbance. Then the tomb entrance was sealed up.
Returning to the vale, the gnomes found that the cast had altered significantly. The unnaturally large mouth had stretched into a savage grin, sharp teeth had grown and the huge empty eye sockets gaped with pain on the distorted face. The Mask of Horror, as the gnomes began to call the deformed cast, was placed in the depository and the gnomes impatiently and nervously awaited their hour.
But before then, its mysterious abilities were discovered when one of the keepers accidentally put it against his face. He saw before him a harrowing scene: himself drowning in a river. The vision was so accurate and detailed, that it was as if it actually happened. Trembling with fear, the guard knew that the devil's mask had read his thoughts, found out his greatest fear and rendered it before him. And so the mould's terrifying power was discovered! Anyone who wore it began to see terrible visions and have awful dreams in which their greatest fears were depicted. Some saw red tongues of flame swallow up their bodies, others watched themselves fall from inconceivable heights onto jagged rocks and yet more watched as monsters tore their flesh to pieces. A multitude of different images of death presented themselves to unfortunate and horrified eyes. It was as if an unknown power had penetrated the subconscious and realised the gnomes' most terrifying nightmares.
The artifact instilled fear in the gnomes; they were scared of it. No wonder the decision was taken to use it as a punishment. If the offence was small, such as a drunken fight or petty theft, the mask was only worn for a few minutes, sometimes just a few seconds. But if someone deserved a serious punishment, the offender would be tied to a large board while leather straps attached the mask to his face for several long hours, sometimes even days. Some couldn't bear the torment and died of a heart attack, some simply went out of their minds with fear.
The Mask of Horror controlled the fate of criminals and although the black mage continued to do evil from oblivion, the wise gnomes had found a way to turn it to their use. The mask's power to punish and deter was immense and helped to preserve the conciliatory balance of Elts Vale. But just as the gnomes had breathed life into the mask, so the magic left it when the last of the little toilers ended his existence on Faeo. Many Humans and Magmars, sorcerers and fortune-tellers, have since tried to revive the power slumbering in the gnomes' artifact, but no one has yet succeeded. Many believe, however, that the day will come, when the Mask of Horror once more throws anyone who dares to wear it into the abyss of fear.
In those glorious and distant times, when the Elts Vale breathed easy and there were no bloody wars, tearing our world apart with their ferocity, something happened which shook the peaceful lives of the hard-working gnomes. Whilst working in the silver mines, one of the gnomes' hammers crashed against something unusual. With a fizzing noise, red-orange sparks flew off in all directions, a terrible din filling the labyrinths of the cave. The iron tool had clearly met a steel wall, behind which lay an empty space. The wall turned out to be a massive door, engraved with an unknown language and covered in rust thanks to the dampness of the underground passages. It was impossible to open the door: there was neither a handle, nor a lock, but every day, with the rising of Mirrow, industrious gnomes tried to break down the bulwark. And when they were just about to give up in despair, the steel suddenly gave way: a small hole with rough edges, as if it were created by an animal's sharp fang, opened out onto the dark corridor. After several minutes, it had been widened, thanks to the intense blows of axes, and several gnomes rushed through it with burning axes.
Before them stretched a beautiful burial vault, covered with silvery-white cobwebs. In the centre, on a small rostrum, a sarcophagus of black wood towered above everything else. The dark timber was well-preserved, unscathed by both time and insects. The heavy lid did not yield easily, as a whole group of panting and swearing gnomes tried to heave it off. Finally, with a deafening whine and a horrible screech, the wooden lid crashed to the stone floor, the noise echoing down the long corridors, causing small pebbles to fall from the ancient walls.
A mage, wrapped in gold-embroidered black velvet, lay in the sarcophagus. If the gnomes had have been able to decipher the ancient language, they would have read the dedication on the door and known that the body of a mighty mage lay in the burial chamber, sentenced to eternal oblivion for his evil deeds. But the brave miners didn't know. All they understood was that the tomb belonged to a mage, because no one else could have remained so preserved in the damp mountain chambers.
They decided to touch nothing and only to take a mould of the sorcerer's face, so as to perform a ritual to beg the spirit's forgiveness for the disturbance. Then the tomb entrance was sealed up.
Returning to the vale, the gnomes found that the cast had altered significantly. The unnaturally large mouth had stretched into a savage grin, sharp teeth had grown and the huge empty eye sockets gaped with pain on the distorted face. The Mask of Horror, as the gnomes began to call the deformed cast, was placed in the depository and the gnomes impatiently and nervously awaited their hour.
But before then, its mysterious abilities were discovered when one of the keepers accidentally put it against his face. He saw before him a harrowing scene: himself drowning in a river. The vision was so accurate and detailed, that it was as if it actually happened. Trembling with fear, the guard knew that the devil's mask had read his thoughts, found out his greatest fear and rendered it before him. And so the mould's terrifying power was discovered! Anyone who wore it began to see terrible visions and have awful dreams in which their greatest fears were depicted. Some saw red tongues of flame swallow up their bodies, others watched themselves fall from inconceivable heights onto jagged rocks and yet more watched as monsters tore their flesh to pieces. A multitude of different images of death presented themselves to unfortunate and horrified eyes. It was as if an unknown power had penetrated the subconscious and realised the gnomes' most terrifying nightmares.
The artifact instilled fear in the gnomes; they were scared of it. No wonder the decision was taken to use it as a punishment. If the offence was small, such as a drunken fight or petty theft, the mask was only worn for a few minutes, sometimes just a few seconds. But if someone deserved a serious punishment, the offender would be tied to a large board while leather straps attached the mask to his face for several long hours, sometimes even days. Some couldn't bear the torment and died of a heart attack, some simply went out of their minds with fear.
The Mask of Horror controlled the fate of criminals and although the black mage continued to do evil from oblivion, the wise gnomes had found a way to turn it to their use. The mask's power to punish and deter was immense and helped to preserve the conciliatory balance of Elts Vale. But just as the gnomes had breathed life into the mask, so the magic left it when the last of the little toilers ended his existence on Faeo. Many Humans and Magmars, sorcerers and fortune-tellers, have since tried to revive the power slumbering in the gnomes' artifact, but no one has yet succeeded. Many believe, however, that the day will come, when the Mask of Horror once more throws anyone who dares to wear it into the abyss of fear.
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
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sk19
You've got your hands on an extract from a magic book of spells, detailed a spell called Summoning an Ancient Spirit for Understanding the Future. Listen carefully to my words, warrior.
Only experienced sorcerers and sorceresses can use this spell because its power is so great. Only selected spirits can tell you about the future, and you should already know their time, name and seal. It's strongly recommended to never summon any of them simply to help you. The results are unpredictable, because the ancient spirits bow to no one! If you are curious, never summon them to satisfy your curiosity, because a great horror will arise and death will follow. You should also remember that there is no way to drive out the ancient spirits; they leave only when they want to. If having read this you don't heed the voice of reason and try to satisfy your knowledge of the future, then you must study extremely carefully how to conduct the summoning ritual.
You need basic magic tools, which can be obtained from any good antiques' shop or other well-known locations. You will need a crystal-encrusted staff, to show the spirit the way and a dagger to draw the correct symbols in the earth. But the dagger must be brand new, freshly forged and never have been in contact with blood, Human, Magmar or animal. You will also need some special incense with which to shroud yourself so that the spirit will agree to come to you. Don't forget the brazier, either, because fire is essential for purification. Finally, you will need some parchment, on which you must accurately draw the seals and magic symbols in advance.
Furthermore, the exorcist must be appropriately clothed. This means you must wear a cloak made from a black material that fully covers the body. It should be brand new and sewn by you whilst incanting a spell. It should not be used for any other purpose, otherwise it will lose its power, and it must be made four nights before the ritual is to be conducted, the final stitch being made in the hour of Mirrow's obscuration. It should then be hidden until the following night. During preparation, it is expressly forbidden to speak with anyone, because the spirits find out about everything.
When everything is ready and in order, take the dagger and draw two circles on the ground, one insider the other. Between these circles write the ancient spirits' names, which I will not record here, because it is forbidden to utter or write them outside the boundaries of the ritual. Place the brazier in the centre of the circle and purify everything around it with the heat of the fire. Take the staff and, holding it aloft, take out the pre-prepared parchment, with the appropriate drawings and words on. Read the message, looking only at the parchment. Do not lift your eyes for a second, not even when you hear strange sounds and want to satisfy your curiosity. Do not tear your gaze away until the very last letter. When you finish incanting, sit in the centre and wait
Finally, you will see an unbelievable scene! First will appear a multi-armed, multi-headed spirit in the form of a huge animal. The spirit will be followed by a winged figure, with a decomposing reptilian bird head, emerging from the fog. Don't say a word! Next you will hear an incorporeal spirit, whose voice will make your ears bleed. Finally, the main spirit will appear, whose image will be too terrible to contemplate: a shapeless, changing mass, consisting entirely of the faces of the souls it has devoured.
If you manage to overcome the horror, if you conquer your fear, then ask the one question you want answered. But remember! Take no gift from the first, don't look the second in his worm-infested eye sockets, don't ask the third a question and let the fourth pass, for he's highly unpredictable.
And if you decide to take this step and conduct this ritual, know that any communication with ancient spirits always leaves a trace. Everything moves in circles?
Only experienced sorcerers and sorceresses can use this spell because its power is so great. Only selected spirits can tell you about the future, and you should already know their time, name and seal. It's strongly recommended to never summon any of them simply to help you. The results are unpredictable, because the ancient spirits bow to no one! If you are curious, never summon them to satisfy your curiosity, because a great horror will arise and death will follow. You should also remember that there is no way to drive out the ancient spirits; they leave only when they want to. If having read this you don't heed the voice of reason and try to satisfy your knowledge of the future, then you must study extremely carefully how to conduct the summoning ritual.
You need basic magic tools, which can be obtained from any good antiques' shop or other well-known locations. You will need a crystal-encrusted staff, to show the spirit the way and a dagger to draw the correct symbols in the earth. But the dagger must be brand new, freshly forged and never have been in contact with blood, Human, Magmar or animal. You will also need some special incense with which to shroud yourself so that the spirit will agree to come to you. Don't forget the brazier, either, because fire is essential for purification. Finally, you will need some parchment, on which you must accurately draw the seals and magic symbols in advance.
Furthermore, the exorcist must be appropriately clothed. This means you must wear a cloak made from a black material that fully covers the body. It should be brand new and sewn by you whilst incanting a spell. It should not be used for any other purpose, otherwise it will lose its power, and it must be made four nights before the ritual is to be conducted, the final stitch being made in the hour of Mirrow's obscuration. It should then be hidden until the following night. During preparation, it is expressly forbidden to speak with anyone, because the spirits find out about everything.
When everything is ready and in order, take the dagger and draw two circles on the ground, one insider the other. Between these circles write the ancient spirits' names, which I will not record here, because it is forbidden to utter or write them outside the boundaries of the ritual. Place the brazier in the centre of the circle and purify everything around it with the heat of the fire. Take the staff and, holding it aloft, take out the pre-prepared parchment, with the appropriate drawings and words on. Read the message, looking only at the parchment. Do not lift your eyes for a second, not even when you hear strange sounds and want to satisfy your curiosity. Do not tear your gaze away until the very last letter. When you finish incanting, sit in the centre and wait
Finally, you will see an unbelievable scene! First will appear a multi-armed, multi-headed spirit in the form of a huge animal. The spirit will be followed by a winged figure, with a decomposing reptilian bird head, emerging from the fog. Don't say a word! Next you will hear an incorporeal spirit, whose voice will make your ears bleed. Finally, the main spirit will appear, whose image will be too terrible to contemplate: a shapeless, changing mass, consisting entirely of the faces of the souls it has devoured.
If you manage to overcome the horror, if you conquer your fear, then ask the one question you want answered. But remember! Take no gift from the first, don't look the second in his worm-infested eye sockets, don't ask the third a question and let the fourth pass, for he's highly unpredictable.
And if you decide to take this step and conduct this ritual, know that any communication with ancient spirits always leaves a trace. Everything moves in circles?
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
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You've found an account by one of the lost members of a secret Destroyers of Chaos detachment. Listen carefully to what it says, warrior.
My name is Juntos. I belong to an ancient Magmar clan. As with the nine other warriors, I am a member of an elite Destroyers of Chaos detachment, specially created to undertake a top-secret mission. We were carefully selected and in our group there are Humans and Magmars. We are the best of the best. We were sent to the Isles of Fay-Go to destroy a nest of defilers, to destroy evil at its source. As the organisers found out, these defilers occupy themselves with spreading chaosness. More often than not they look like regular beetles, which have grown to incredible sizes. No one knows about the operation. We were informed early on that in the event of our defeat, our names and details would be committed to oblivion and everything to do with the case would be erased from the pages of history. But for the sake of our great aim, we were ready to sacrifice ourselves. I am the sole survivor from the detachment, but my hours are numbered: a deep wound in my chest is hastening my passage to the world of the dead. I must tell everything as it was, because it's incredible, unbelievable? Here's my story?
We arrived on Fay-Go when Mirrow's rays were beating mercilessly down. It was decided to leave the boat in a quiet cove, away from curious eyes. We moved deep across the island, towards the Black Hole burrow, where it had been calculated by those that sent us that the defilers' lair was located. By our estimations, the journey would not take long, if nothing unforeseen happened. It happened. Evidently, our landing had not gone unnoticed, and we were attacked by surprise by a whole regiment of vicious GunglXOs. Waving their giant hatchets, as if they were covered with clotted blood, the bloodthirsty monsters mercilessly laid into us. Inarticulate noises, like a muffled snarling, made the air tremble. We fought fearlessly, our excellent preparation bearing fruit. Each of us took his place and we assumed a pre-determined formation, allowing us to not only repel the attack, but to go on the offensive ourselves. When the body of the last Gungl crashed down at our feet, deprived of its head, I looked anxiously round. Everyone was in one piece; there were only a few minor injuries and fatigue to deal with. It was decided to have a half-hour rest and then to continue moving towards the target?
Close to midnight, our detachment reached the Black Hole, located by sheer mountain cliffs. Long, three-strand ropes of the toughest Berona tiger fur were capable of holding several warriors. They were knotted at regular intervals to ease our descent and, in case of a successful outcome, our ascent. Tightly securing one end of the line, we let it drop into the burrow and then, one-by-one, with intervals of several minutes, began to descend into the blackening abyss. When the soft leather boots of the last warrior hit the ground at the bottom of the hole we regrouped and began to move through the labyrinthine underground cave, not forgetting to mark the crumbling earth walls. Looking around with dread, each of us tried to find some sort of hook, a detail, along the monotonous passageways to remember, to help us find a way back, if one or other of us were fated to be left alone in the doom-laden vaults. We moved carefully, trying to step silently along. The dim light of our torch barely lit the way, but any brighter and it would have given us away. We edged towards the target and increasingly heard strange rustling sounds and saw giant shadows flitting along the labyrinthine corridors.
Suddenly, a giant beetle blocked out path, appearing out of nowhere, as if it had just arisen from the earth. It was our first meeting with a defiler. Moving its long antennae, it made no effort to attack us and disappeared along a parallel corridor. The defiler moved nimbly and you certainly couldn't call it clumsy.
We moved deeper, but before we'd managed to move a few metres, a cry rang out from Varl, who had been isolated from the rest of the group. We saw a terrible scene: behind us his body disappeared into an earthy funnel, dragged below by some unknown force. It was inconceivable, but it created the impression that it was a trap: the scout beetle had diverted us while the others burrowed away directly beneath us. I felt a troubling vibration beneath my feet. With a gesture, I indicated this to my comrades and we threw ourselves headlong down the gloomy corridor. The earth opened up beneath us and two more warriors disappeared into its bowels. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw lumps of earth and clay flying everywhere behind us and, boring through the earth to the surface climbed the repulsive defiler beetles. In a flash, they had filled all the passages, cutting off all our retreat routes. It would have been pointless to run at random in the darkness and so we lit several more torches.
A narrow passage led us to a vast, open cave with a host of entrances and exits. The torches illuminated the ceiling and we saw a terrifying image! Tiny oblong cocoons hung from all the walls surrounding us and above our heads. An odious slime, giving off a foul stench, fastened them in place. They were like brown pods; the whole cave floor was strewn with pieces of torn cocoons. Then things got worse and from a small opening a sticky larva with a transparent, not-yet-hardened shell, emerged. Where to run? One of us rushed into the opposite corridor but stopped abruptly and began to move back. We were in a trap! All the corridors were full of defilers; they had completely surrounded us.
According to our orders, we were to blow the nest up with a magic bomb, kept in a canvas sack on my back. The nest had been discovered and now was the time to act. Each of us understood that there was no escape and that we would perish with these creatures. Failing the mission was not an option. It was pointless to try and fight the swarms of giants; there were only seven of us left. By now the defiler beetles had encircled us. I dropped my backpack to the ground, untied the cord and took out a heavy vessel made of thick glass. An unbelievably destructive power was held within this capsule which would be more than enough to completely destroy the earthy cocoon store and its guards. I carefully unscrewed the lid and a shining clot of energy hung in the air, like a sparkling balloon. The smallest touch and everything would be finished!
I also had some untouched stores in my bag ? scrolls of teleportation, capable of transporting a Human or a Magmar from one place to another. I had been given these for a special purpose: I should return whatever the outcome to report what happened. It hurt to leave my comrades, but the mission was the more important than anything and much depended on me. They would understand. I took them out and began to slowly read the contents?
I came to in a different cave, the entrance to which was blocked by earth as a result of the explosion. Whether it was chaosness or whether I had not read the scroll to the end, I was still underground. Getting up and putting pressure on a bleeding wound, I noticed something looking at me from the darkness. In the opposite corner, a defiler was observing me with cold contempt. This defiler's size exceeded all the others I had seen earlier! It was the powerful queen, laying eggs, from the cocoons of which emerged the young. The queen was giving birth to the next generation of chaosness distributors! We had destroyed the nest, but not the very beetle that could create tens, hundreds of similar cocoons. The beetles led us into the depository, taking us away from the queen. That which begat evil was still alive and I no longer had the power to destroy it. Had all our efforts really been in vain?! Who would report this information back to the surface?
My name is Juntos. I belong to an ancient Magmar clan. As with the nine other warriors, I am a member of an elite Destroyers of Chaos detachment, specially created to undertake a top-secret mission. We were carefully selected and in our group there are Humans and Magmars. We are the best of the best. We were sent to the Isles of Fay-Go to destroy a nest of defilers, to destroy evil at its source. As the organisers found out, these defilers occupy themselves with spreading chaosness. More often than not they look like regular beetles, which have grown to incredible sizes. No one knows about the operation. We were informed early on that in the event of our defeat, our names and details would be committed to oblivion and everything to do with the case would be erased from the pages of history. But for the sake of our great aim, we were ready to sacrifice ourselves. I am the sole survivor from the detachment, but my hours are numbered: a deep wound in my chest is hastening my passage to the world of the dead. I must tell everything as it was, because it's incredible, unbelievable? Here's my story?
We arrived on Fay-Go when Mirrow's rays were beating mercilessly down. It was decided to leave the boat in a quiet cove, away from curious eyes. We moved deep across the island, towards the Black Hole burrow, where it had been calculated by those that sent us that the defilers' lair was located. By our estimations, the journey would not take long, if nothing unforeseen happened. It happened. Evidently, our landing had not gone unnoticed, and we were attacked by surprise by a whole regiment of vicious GunglXOs. Waving their giant hatchets, as if they were covered with clotted blood, the bloodthirsty monsters mercilessly laid into us. Inarticulate noises, like a muffled snarling, made the air tremble. We fought fearlessly, our excellent preparation bearing fruit. Each of us took his place and we assumed a pre-determined formation, allowing us to not only repel the attack, but to go on the offensive ourselves. When the body of the last Gungl crashed down at our feet, deprived of its head, I looked anxiously round. Everyone was in one piece; there were only a few minor injuries and fatigue to deal with. It was decided to have a half-hour rest and then to continue moving towards the target?
Close to midnight, our detachment reached the Black Hole, located by sheer mountain cliffs. Long, three-strand ropes of the toughest Berona tiger fur were capable of holding several warriors. They were knotted at regular intervals to ease our descent and, in case of a successful outcome, our ascent. Tightly securing one end of the line, we let it drop into the burrow and then, one-by-one, with intervals of several minutes, began to descend into the blackening abyss. When the soft leather boots of the last warrior hit the ground at the bottom of the hole we regrouped and began to move through the labyrinthine underground cave, not forgetting to mark the crumbling earth walls. Looking around with dread, each of us tried to find some sort of hook, a detail, along the monotonous passageways to remember, to help us find a way back, if one or other of us were fated to be left alone in the doom-laden vaults. We moved carefully, trying to step silently along. The dim light of our torch barely lit the way, but any brighter and it would have given us away. We edged towards the target and increasingly heard strange rustling sounds and saw giant shadows flitting along the labyrinthine corridors.
Suddenly, a giant beetle blocked out path, appearing out of nowhere, as if it had just arisen from the earth. It was our first meeting with a defiler. Moving its long antennae, it made no effort to attack us and disappeared along a parallel corridor. The defiler moved nimbly and you certainly couldn't call it clumsy.
We moved deeper, but before we'd managed to move a few metres, a cry rang out from Varl, who had been isolated from the rest of the group. We saw a terrible scene: behind us his body disappeared into an earthy funnel, dragged below by some unknown force. It was inconceivable, but it created the impression that it was a trap: the scout beetle had diverted us while the others burrowed away directly beneath us. I felt a troubling vibration beneath my feet. With a gesture, I indicated this to my comrades and we threw ourselves headlong down the gloomy corridor. The earth opened up beneath us and two more warriors disappeared into its bowels. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw lumps of earth and clay flying everywhere behind us and, boring through the earth to the surface climbed the repulsive defiler beetles. In a flash, they had filled all the passages, cutting off all our retreat routes. It would have been pointless to run at random in the darkness and so we lit several more torches.
A narrow passage led us to a vast, open cave with a host of entrances and exits. The torches illuminated the ceiling and we saw a terrifying image! Tiny oblong cocoons hung from all the walls surrounding us and above our heads. An odious slime, giving off a foul stench, fastened them in place. They were like brown pods; the whole cave floor was strewn with pieces of torn cocoons. Then things got worse and from a small opening a sticky larva with a transparent, not-yet-hardened shell, emerged. Where to run? One of us rushed into the opposite corridor but stopped abruptly and began to move back. We were in a trap! All the corridors were full of defilers; they had completely surrounded us.
According to our orders, we were to blow the nest up with a magic bomb, kept in a canvas sack on my back. The nest had been discovered and now was the time to act. Each of us understood that there was no escape and that we would perish with these creatures. Failing the mission was not an option. It was pointless to try and fight the swarms of giants; there were only seven of us left. By now the defiler beetles had encircled us. I dropped my backpack to the ground, untied the cord and took out a heavy vessel made of thick glass. An unbelievably destructive power was held within this capsule which would be more than enough to completely destroy the earthy cocoon store and its guards. I carefully unscrewed the lid and a shining clot of energy hung in the air, like a sparkling balloon. The smallest touch and everything would be finished!
I also had some untouched stores in my bag ? scrolls of teleportation, capable of transporting a Human or a Magmar from one place to another. I had been given these for a special purpose: I should return whatever the outcome to report what happened. It hurt to leave my comrades, but the mission was the more important than anything and much depended on me. They would understand. I took them out and began to slowly read the contents?
I came to in a different cave, the entrance to which was blocked by earth as a result of the explosion. Whether it was chaosness or whether I had not read the scroll to the end, I was still underground. Getting up and putting pressure on a bleeding wound, I noticed something looking at me from the darkness. In the opposite corner, a defiler was observing me with cold contempt. This defiler's size exceeded all the others I had seen earlier! It was the powerful queen, laying eggs, from the cocoons of which emerged the young. The queen was giving birth to the next generation of chaosness distributors! We had destroyed the nest, but not the very beetle that could create tens, hundreds of similar cocoons. The beetles led us into the depository, taking us away from the queen. That which begat evil was still alive and I no longer had the power to destroy it. Had all our efforts really been in vain?! Who would report this information back to the surface?
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
please use Font size at least 10 for better forum reading
please use Font size at least 10 for better forum reading