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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:47:08 GMT
*The earlier pages of this book were used to scribble magical formulai and notes that Alvatore might forget. This large stack of parchment, leather-bound and tied, might even have notes from before Alvatore became a Lich. However, as he became more attuned to his 'un-life', his ability to remember specific tangent details grew but he still wrote memorandums in this journal, it had become a habit. Eventually the Journal became something a-kin to a friend and sometimes Alvatore has long conversations with it, sometimes amusing, sometimes enlightening. These last few pages are of that nature*Alvatore - The Grey - You'd think they could have come up with a better label I'm forced to ponder the titles I've been given, Memda. Perhaps not forced, but it was brought to my attention so violently this morning. I'd just left our hidden cave, which reminds me we'll probably have to move again - sorry Memda, I know you like it here- when a small child happened to be playing rock and wall. So a rather pointed rock lodged itself in my skull, for a moment I thought the little lady meant to hit me but she was so surprised and apologetic, I doubt a child of that age could be so maniacal. Unless of course she wasn't human and she was just posing as human but I think that fairly unlikely, feel free to disagree Memda some of my best equations have come from your debates. Ah, so we are agreed? Very good. The apologetic girl went into hysterics when she saw the thing sticking through the other end of my robe, that little angel really threw like a devil. On second thought that, in-itself, is probably proof of some other kind of heritage, although she could of just been affected emotionally . . . what's that Memda? Oh dear, I am leaving the subject again aren't I, alright let me focus. Well, the rock was sticking out my skull and the girl could see it, I considered falling over and playing 'dead or injured' but that seemed an even cruelty trick to play on the child and emotional scaring . . . Well in the end I decided to simply remove the rock and assure her I was fine. I didn't bother moving forward in a 'caring stance', I knew she'd run the moment I pulled the rock out. That had the unpleasant side effect of lowering my hood, as well and the girl shouted out all my nicknames. Apparently some-one had informed her of my exact appearance, unless anytime a humanoid meets up with a skeletal figure they shout out: Alvatore the Curse'd one! The Gray! The Moraless! That has a somewhat humorous aspe . . . alright, I'm sorry Memda. So, this girl shouts out an entire list of names, crosses herself and after a second or two of standing still - I suppose she thought she could banish me? - She took off running and screaming, shouting that I was in-town. So we'll need to be moving soon, Memda, I guess it wasn't wise to use a cave almost literally in town, I'll make note of this mistake for our next home. The point I was driving at though: You think the villagers could come up with a better label! Why not label me 'child killer' or 'village burner'. Instead they stick with these strange titles filled with half-truths and assumptions. . . Yes I agree Memda, oh you? You want to think about it? Well be my guest, we can both think over it. Maybe we'll find an interesting answer *The next four pages go into detailed magic-theory, Alvatore discusses his plan to eradicate disease by infusing living creatures with a certain amount of negative energy. So far he's been unable to test and the entire theory seems to be unsatisfactory but he informs 'Memda' that he is determined to follow this line of calculation for at least a couple months, more.*
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:49:42 GMT
*On the previous few pages Alvatore was arguing with his memorandum about moving. Apparently: Alvatore believed that Memda was tired of moving. Alas, they moved none-the-less and they moved to Alvatore's *permanent* home-cave. He's been residing in this cave for at least a decade. This extract comes from their first day finding the cave. Alvatore - The Curse'd - Alvatore Finds a New Home! Well, that was some trek, wasn't it Memda . . . yes, yes I know you didn't want to . . . Memda . . . Memda we had to go! No, No we couldn't of . . . Lydia, Memda! No. NO! She's still following me and you know it. Okay, okay, OKAY! Listen, we are here now. So let's get comfortable we shouldn't have to move for a nice long time. Yes, YES I'll be careful, I promise! No, don't worry I won't lead anyone to the cave. Okay, well let's not make safety plans before we've gotten the chance to see the cave. NO, there isn't any rush. No. I promise I won't leave the cave before we make a plan. It can WAIT, let's take a week to enjoy the cave! Then we can start making emergency strategies. *Two lines of illegible script* "Oh, I'm sorry Memda, it's just . . . it's just. I think we've found it, our home. Look at this? What is this? Some kind of phosphorescent crystal? You'd never have guessed this cave would be so deep and elaborate, not from that crack. This is a real abode! Oh come on . . . come ONNN. Yes it is suitable you're just upset about leaving our last cave! Don't deny it! LOOOK AT THIS! It's a freakin' hot-spring! Well . . . that's true, but still. Okay I CAN'T enjoy the hot spring but what if . . . yes I know, no guests but what if I want to cleanse my body . . . and clothes. It's still a hot-spring. SO!? So think of the real estate pricing on this land, this is prime property. Yes, yes. Well I suppose . . . okay yes, being in the middle of nowhere does lower the price significantly but say they built a town around here . . . yes we'd have to move but that isn't the point! Okay, fine, it's true I didn't pay anything for it and no-one will ever agree that I OWN it but there is no need to be so bloody pessimistic. Listen you need to calm down, I can't talk to you at all. No, you aren't being irrational . . . You'll learn to like it. . . *The last few lines are smeared onto the back of the previous page, this book was shut suddenly*
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:51:56 GMT
* Several arguments with Memda later and a loose security setup to protect the cave * Alvatore - The Curse'd - Alvatore Finds a New Town Well, Memda, this home of ours is turning out to be just perfect. Four leagues away from a sizable merchant town, the perfect distance! I can easily get there in . . . 5 hours, and obtain the necessary components to continue my experiments. It's very safe, Memda, do you realize how much searching and how far they'll have to send their net to discover this place? Yeah, we might as well be in another continent for all the good searching will do them. And they wouldn't be able to follow me back, not with me sprinting full length the entire way. Not unless they were undead themselves . . . and if that's the case I don't think we'd have a problem. Yes Memda, I'm sure we'll be fine. I'll make contact with some black-market merchants. You know the type they are willing to sell to anyone, they don't care. *This is the end of that journal entry, but another labeled the next day is just underneath.* I've been to Bumbledale, the name of their town apparently. It seems it was named after their founder: Jellings Bumble-blossum, a halfling with an unparalleled aptitude at making Blossoms, you know those pastries. At one point the town was known for their unbelievable blossoms . . . not anymore though but down at Bubmle's they still make a mean pastry, or so they say. Bumble's ? That's the name of their famous pastry shop. No, no girls with rocks today. At least none that I saw . . . ANYWAYS, a healthy black-market as in most merchant-postings. And I've come into contact with several contractors, some people who can get me what I'll need. Of course the prices are steep. I may have to stir up some of my alchemical mixtures for the villagers. Either way I'll need to find some way to make the money for my components. I'll search out the country side but I'll need some supplies that don't grow in these parts. Well, this should prove interesting, huh, Memda?
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:53:10 GMT
Alvatore - The Lonely - Memories of A Sister; Volume I: Lichdom Ahh, Memda. On this 245 anniversary of my lichdom I am reminded of my dear sister. I can still recall the day the day she walked into my house right after I had finished the ritual. I've never told you this story? REALLY? Well, get comfortable Memda because this isn't a short story, in fact, it's really still going on. Anyways, Lydia walked in on me the day after the ritual had been completed. Somehow she felt I was in-danger, I don't know maybe she even had a spell on me but she came rushing into the house, she didn't even bother knocking. And this was when Lydia lived in 'The Four Soul' woods. She was miles upon miles away from me, she must have drove her poor charger to death . . . actually I never saw that strawberry again, maybe that's exactly what happened. Lydia spotted me sitting on the floor, I was already turning pale as my organs began to stop functioning. And she cried over me, I-I have no idea what she thought at the time but it certainly wasn't that I'd turned myself into a lich. After at least 3 minutes of silence she pulled away, just beginning to notice the blood all over her hands. Becoming a lich isn't a light business and if you mess up the ritual . . . well that's it your dead either way. One way you'll come back the other, well you don't. Lydia began to notice the numerous markings about the room. The cryptic symbols, and dark books. Even then I don't think she contemplated what I had done. I don't think she COULD. I bet she thought someone had bound me and went through great lengths to prepare a curse. Because she began mumbling something about a healer and a priest. As I turned and blinked up at her and she stared down at my confusion but realizing I wasn't afraid at ALL, I think she began to understand. Her pupils dilated to miniscule pricks and after stumbling backwards over a red-tallow candle she frantically grabbed at one of the books lain about the room; then another; then another . . . The expression on her face. I've never seen EVERY expression but joy reflected in a face before that day. Even pride, somehow she was amazed that I could complete such an outrageously complicated ritual, astounded I'd even try. But most of all there was fear, love and worry. She grabbed for my hands when she had full comprehension of the situation and, there and then, my sister asked me to kill myself. There is no CURE for undeath, as she well knew. One's that have been transformed may be revived but only into their undeath. The complex organic system can't take over again after magic has become the complete and only thing that feeds a being and keeps it going. So I was to do the only thing possible to save my 'honor' in the eyes of the world. But I never cared about honor and although I regret the persecution from others, I don't plan to bend my knee to their ideas of right and wrong. And at that time I felt just as strongly, if not more so. And of course I refused. Her hands slipped like water from mine and that day I saw my sister's heart die. Her eyes went cold and the beginnings of her insane obsession creeped in. *I* was evil now, *I*, her loving younger brother; the one she came to when she couldn't handle the politics of the council or some other trouble bit her to the core. The one with the home she'd creep into and cry with or laugh with before leaving the next day. I was evil. And then one of Lydia's great rages flew through her, a rage that had never-ever been directed at me in violence, if AT me once or twice when we were young but never in violence. And I had about half a second to roll out of her line of sight as a ball of fire burst on my carpet. |
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:53:49 GMT
Alvatore - The Lonely - Memories of A Sister; Volume II: Inferno I do believe my sister thought me dead that night, she was so blinded with the tears that trailed her cheeks; making puddles upon the flaming floor than nothing but mist as the heat incinerated the small pools. I managed an escape through my window, shattered glass did little to me in my new state. The ancient tomes were lost, and not being fully sustained by magic when last I read them . . . I fear the details they shared and the calculations I made are lost. The true tragedy is the knowledge that went into flames that night and the bitter persecution emblazoned upon my sister's heart. The raging fire caught hold of my garden and the few trees I had spent nurturing. It seemed fire was a spell of tragedy for our family, bringing with it great loss. I wonder if this is why my sister has spent her life-time trying to tame it. An attempt to control the curse that afflicts our entire family . . . But that day I saw my little life in that small village torn apart and I learned the true meaning of persecution and fear. I've been running from sister and town since then, Memda. Running from the blaze that enveloped my life, unable to even let what few friends I knew I still had know. One such friend was Archmage Jahilad Elan, known as 'The yellow' back then. Now he's the obsidian but that will have to wait till next time. My mentor and research partner, we were traversing the pathways to extend and prolong life. Make life less painful and more enjoyable for all. Eventually we found ourselves upon the darker path and here we began taking great lengths to keep our research secret. Even in the center of the Magical universe, such things are not looked upon fondly. In this day and age any form of necromancy is considered evil, foreign and persecuted. But those wishing to revive their families are the first to disregard this rule and shew their hypocrisy to the people they persecute, so avidly. And then, if they should be caught consorting with these beings, all involved are put to death. Unless of course it's a lord or noble, then the thing is covered up or only the necromancer dies. . . Forgive me Memda, such things are frustrating, the double standards one places on such things. But in many ways the art of necromancy is a tricky one, and there are too many without the discipline necessary to keep it from corrupting them. . . I think that's it for now, next time we'll talk about my old mentor and his plight. |
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:54:26 GMT
Alvatore - The Lonely - Memories of A Sister; Volume III: Sequestered |
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:55:31 GMT
Alvatore - Winter - A new friend * There are quite a few scrwals here as well as some intricate pictures of a magical nexus. All the notes seem to be a thorough interpretation of the nexus' aura. Tastes, smells, feelings and sight are all recorded. And if it could be drawn, Alavtore at least attempted to replicate it.* Memda, there is much I'd like to relate and I don't think I have the time to write it all down. I've taken up a new quest for a dear friend of mine, a new friend. One: Therros of the forest. A MYCOID of all things! What's a Mycoid memda? Is this what you ask? Well let me assure you, I haven't the slightest idea. He's some kind of forest plant-fungus and he's quite the respectable fellow, poor man is tied to the forest however and his entire life is a kind of self-perpetuated experiment. I'm going to try and find a way to incorporate a 'soul' or rather a method of energy to keep him running, as it were. As we both know Memda, the common conception of a 'soul' isn't quite right, at least not through our interaction and understanding of it. Though there are certainly individual 'essences' they is little difference between the connection to the body and the flow of nature, and where one might be set 'forth' once dieing, it is more similar to a droplet falling back into the vast ocean. Unique in it's own perspective but constantly changing as time goes by and forces act upon it, and as it acts upon itself. But studies into this field are . . . solely contained to the necromatic lore and few have created true and functioning falsities of life. Many necromancers animate dead bodies, allowing them limited movement and thought as they force their actions to occur through sheer magical will. I hear tell of a 'Vampire Ordrick' who claims to have created himself, though I can make little sense of that statement. Perhaps one day I'll come upon him and be able to question the vampire. A statement like that is the promise to a very interesting conversation, even if it becomes a tad heated. |
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Post by galvinroe on Feb 17, 2014 8:56:36 GMT
Alvatore - The Slightly Mad - Studies into Arcane Lore Memda, I wonder if sometimes I don't grow mad from my studies into the magical nature of things, at times. For surely human eyes were never meant to look on this weave of material and immaterial as closely as I have! Surely such connection would drive a man insane after some time!? Still, I am no-longer a 'man' as the word usually defines and I'm most certainly not a human. I had no problem giving up these descriptive titles, nouns, adjectives. Although losing the ability to call one something is . . . frustrating at times, my main problem is with several scenarios that I've undergone recently. One's I'm thinking over as: 'Not fully logical or mentally cognizant'. The example of my turning into a tree to observe that magical nature of things, is one such example. I . . . do not know what I was thinking there Memda, that was more than slightly dangerous! It took me a week to pool my energy so I might transform myself back, I 'kept' my mental faculties but they were so distorted by space . . . my left cortex in my roots, my cerebellum within the crown of my branches. . . or things very similar to those faculties. It took too long to communicate between them and I found I lost all track of time and barely gained any knowledge what-so-ever. I didn't think to setup a counter-spell or dispell, I simply jumped ahead and in many cases that is quite dangerous. Perhaps I better be more careful in future experiments, but I . . . I don't even think about it until I've been meditating here, for several days Memda. It is dangerous, my personality can be dangerous at times. * Bellow are some sketches of arcane runes and a couple foot-notes describing an inventive process to ensure the body reverts to it's original state after any kind of anatomical change is forced or willingly cast over it
Perhaps I should be more careful, all together but I'm sure the passion of the find will sweep me away again. Let's hope I can keep my wits, next time, Memda. |
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