LoF: Lockesville

[Milanthir]

Milanthir, the Elven Mage

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It's interesting - the Fair Folk are indeed not entirely friendly with humans, but this absolute lack, even within the temple, of elves is almost worrysome. I do, however, have an agenda for today, so I suppose such ramblings are out of place. Now... Were I an arsonist, helping a convicted criminal to hide inside of a town, where would I be...

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Searching the Temple for any hint of clues, he looks for one of the chief clerics - or someone he assumes to be one.

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Spells Memorized (5/4/3/2): disguise self (1), silent image (2), friends (1) / forget (1), THUL (1), Knock (1), rope trick (1) / suggestion (1), dispel magic (1), major image (1) / fire charm (1), magic mirror (1)

[Morgeruat]

Oley, Magick's True Master

Oley watched as the bones and leaves fell, from the height they had been dropped from they should have bounced or drifted out of the circle, but curiously they all stayed withing the drawings, not even daring to do so much as bounce or blow out of the sections they first touched down in. He continued chanting as he tied the piece of string to the crystal feeling it grow warm as the words of power wrapped around it, causing it to begin to glow with a soft blackish light that occasionally flickered with red like a log after it had mostly burned out. He lowered the string watching the suspended crystal with rapt attention. Slowly it began spinning, and then rocking back and forth as the glow seemed to soak into the crystal revealing in it's polished depths blackened embers flickering with the life of flame.

The crystal then began to pull in one direction, stopping it's rocking parallel to the floor, he knew the crystal and string were pointing directly at the current location of the arsonist, but he would need help. He spoke a word of cancellation and the crystal dropped, swinging normally as he stood and started for the door. He heard a knocking then, distant and in the direction of his home, whomever it was would have to wait, this developement was big, and he would need others to do the bulk of the work he had ahead of him.

[Larry_OHF]

For Milanthir:

The priest that was on duty for receiving walk-ins approached the elf and smiled as he said,

"Welcome to the House of Demeter, friend. Have you come to seek the Great Lady's aid in something?"

[Sever]

Sever

Sever tentatively took a seat outside Oley's establishment and shook his head in wonder when he didn't fall flat on his backside. Like most people in the city, he had grown up around magic users of all descriptions. Whilst he always had to respect their abilities, the few that he had met all seemed to conform to the strict ideology of spell efficiency and practicality. The notion of novelty, it seemed, was lost on them - magic was solely for the purpose of the advancement of power. And yet here he was outside the abode of probably the most powerful person he would ever meet, and he found himself distracted by invisible chairs.

"That is a neat trick. But to what purpose i couldn't even guess. This Oley certainly seems to be a character. I'm looking forward to meeting him. Where i come from, mages are a bunch of old bores."

[Larry_OHF]

For Sever:

The guard smiled and leaned back in his chair, enjoying what he called a day off.

After waiting a couple minutes, the guard sat back up straight and said,

"You know...there's no telling how long Oley is going to take. He sometimes spends hours in the bar and maybe we just missed him as we were heading off towards Vincent's place. Never ask him why he drinks so much, by the way...if there is one thing I can assure you of in this life, its that you do not want to ask him that! So as I was saying, why don't we head back and see if we can't find him at his favorite place to hang out? I don't want to keep you out here all day, and he don't really care if you're waiting...so let's go find him. Maybe we'll catch him in a good mood before he gets really, really drunk. He'll be no use to you then, unless you want to be a chipmunk for the day or something. Hah! Let's go, shall we?"

The guard stands and pats out the wrinkles from his uniform.

[ 02-03-2006, 11:41 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Morgeruat]

Oley, the wise, the all powerful

Oley felt a tickle at the back of his neck, a sixth sense that had saved him many times before as an adventurer, someone somewhere was talking about him, he considered that in light of the knocking at his door and mumbled a command word into a cufflink on his robe as he wiped the dirt and crusted debris from it.

Outside Oley's Shop

A loud booming voice majestic, regal, commanding, and totally unlike that of the drunkard mage sounded from the door. "Enter here, if ye do not fear death, spell out Nordlar inside and seek me within the next room" The voice then vanished as suddenly as it had come, and silence rose, not even insects dared disturb the eerie quiet as the mage's door silently swung open.

[Sever]

Sever

As Sever and the guard escort were about to leave Oley's shop, a deep voice resounded from the door. Of magical origin and demanding one's complete attention, the pair stood still as it dictated the will of the former Archmage. Only once the voice had ceased and the door was fully open did Sever speak.

"Now that's more like what i expect to encounter when dealing with a mage. Practical and effective. Blunt but subtle. And were i not presently in the company of one of the town guard, i'd not be willing to find out any more. For those in my trade, such messages simply translate to "sod off"."

Sever stood for a moment pondering his next course of action, all the while conscious of his outward appearance to his escort. In his experience, mages were a tricky lot. One never knew exactly what to expect save trouble at the first missed step. They were more or less immune to the methods of a thief of Sever's current skill and it was impossible to guess what they did or didn't know - professional paranoia oft times gave way to panic whenever one tried.

"But this is your town and you know the man. It's your call, my good man."

[Larry_OHF]

For Sever:

The guard looked a little pale, and sheepishly said,

"Well...I guess he'd not be allowed to stay in town anymore if the Lockes found out that he'd harmed us...and he likes this place because its where Vindson lives, so he's not looking to move anytime soon. I think we're going to be alright."

With that, the two men entered the residence of the ArchMage of Intrigue.

Once inside, the only thing to see was a barren room which led to a closed door on the other side. What was odd about this room were the tiles of the floor. Most had an engraved letter on them like runes, and a few were blank. They were in no particular order. Remembering the command of the Voice, the guard looked towards the letters and spotted an N. Looking ahead, he spotted the remainder of the letters and realized that it was no hard task to spell Nordlar across the board.

"Okay. Now...I wonder what would happen if we miss a letter? I had better go first. Mr. Locke would have my head if I let you get harmed on my watch."

The guard moved forward to spell out the name...N...O...R...D...L...A...R! Poof!!

The instant the guard stepped down on the last R, he vanished with no sound, no scream, no lights, no smoke...nothing. He was simply not there anymore.

OOC>>>The interior of the room came from Morgie's PM to me concerning it.

[ 02-04-2006, 08:34 AM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Morgeruat]

OOC: there is a thick curtain covering the wall Sever is against (on both sides of the door).

[dplax]

Vindson

Sweat was pouring from Vindson, as he piled more and more wood on the fire, in order to melt the metal he would be making the arrowheads from.

Once the metal was glowing white he removed it from the fire and poured it into the cast. Once the metal in the cast had sufficiently cooled down, Vindson threw it into the metal bowl next to him. He repeated the operation several dozen times more, making himself a stock of arrowheads for the weeks to come.

Once that was done, he got to work on the armor Sever had left him. He patched the places where it helped, and where the leather had been too badly burnt, he cut out the burnt parts and replaced them with leather from his own stock, closely sewing the different parts together. The leather wouldn't be as good, as it had been originally, but Vindson made sure it would be as close as possible.

He left the making of the silver sword last, but after two more hours work even that was done.

Letting the gleaming sword cool on the anvil, he picked up the curved blade Sever had left him, and started examining it, his expert eyes finding the methods with which the metal had been thus curved.