Mage's Guild
IS OFFLINE
Renown
Human (Fiend Pact)
190 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Feb 7, 2024 13:37:07 GMT -5
Blasphemy. The word had circled in the mind of the Lord of Ghouls for hours. He himself had heard the call of the Moon Maiden, Lunala, in his dreams and trances. She was his sovereign. His dark muse. Though, his prayers had gone unanswered as of late he was sure. For, it was Ziev who brought him back from the abyss. From nothingness. Thus, the Gods must live and slander is the only explanation.
Torn between two Gods. Between two worlds.
Undeath made him immortal, but he childishly ignored the Ashen Fathers and the gospels of Scern.
Bellighul now found himself in an immense library, funded by the Mage’s Guild. By magical light, dancing flames that hovered high in the air, the vampire flipped through a large tome. Supported by an ornate walnut bookrest, the pallid fingers of the Dark Mage scanning over hand-scribed pages. Beautiful scroll-like letterings from ages long past. In languages spoken only in magical circles today, however the Mage’s Guild had been transcribing them for decades now. Bellighul had little time for the scriptorium. His foul sorcery was paramount. Yet, proving his beloved Lunala was alive has taken a more, active role as of late.
Jacapo, his scarecrow manservant, shakingly held several more books in his hands. Towering higher than his pumpkin head, it wavered in it’s own height. Bellighul could care less.
“The Doctrines of Hazdrubal the Pious.” The Necromancer called out. His ghoul, Ronaldo, shakingly reached into the stack books held by Jacapo. He was illiterate and was merely guessing, hoping Jacapo would aid him in bringing their master his requested tome.
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
2
Renown
Male
Capitol Landing
I have a meeting in 5 minutes, I don't have time for an existential crisis.
107 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Vakker on Feb 7, 2024 15:42:33 GMT -5
Ah, silence. A rare commodity when one deals with the type of people whose favorite hobby is to talk about themself all day. Not about anything actually interesting they might have done, or about an interest in anything, but about themself. Their favorite foods, their opinions on other people, not anything meaningful about another person, as if only their own personal opinion on anyone else mattered. Fucking nobles.
Vakker basked in the sound of nothing, broken only by the occasional flick of a page, a distant muffled cough, and the click of hoof on stone floor. Sweet relief from his job of practically babysitting those incompetent buffoons who lucked their ways into nobility by birth, their success in life bought for them by mommy or daddy. How ridiculous. At least here in Zeinev, there was no nobility. Success was earned through, well, mostly illegal means. Still more deserved than most of those brats in Sol City, in his opinion.
The Satyr's ears perked up as he heard a familiar, but unwelcome voice break the cherished silence. Vakker peaked slowly around a shelf to see the source.
"Oh fucking hell." He whispered under his breath as he saw the ghost of a ghost yet again.
Amilcar.
|
|
Mage's Guild
IS OFFLINE
Renown
Human (Fiend Pact)
190 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Bellighul//Amilcar on Feb 9, 2024 12:43:05 GMT -5
The tower of tomes came plummeting down, crashing upon the floor and nearby desk in a crescendo of racket. Several other readers looked from their scrolls and books, one even spilling ink on the final page of his copy. Mild anger was easily explained. One lanky fellblood even made it a point to walk toward the Necromancer, most likely to shame him and his underlings. Though before he could muster a word, Bellighul flew into a quiet rage. Snapping a quill in his pallid hand, the Sorcerer's eyes burst into red hot coals, illuminating in the dusty faint light.
"You imbeciles...I'll have you flayed for this!" He growled through fanged teeth. Bellighul despised being embarrassed, more so than most, his very cultivated air of perfection and pomp would be chipped away.
The fellblood lifted his finger as if to interject, however realizing a pair of horns stick out from behind a somewhat distant shelf. A case of mistaken identity to be sure, harmless in fact, but the fellblood audibly called out to Vakker. "Ruthven! Ruthven it's nearly noon and you are still perusing the Gospels of Atlan?!" Instantly, the young bookish fellblood covered his mouth and forked tongue with bright blue hands. Bellighul launched a quick gaze over, smirking as now he was not looked at with disdain. Yet, his eyebrows twisted in slight confusion. He saw but a glimpse of a satyr's ear, but the height and reddish hair brought someone to mind.
Someone older than even Amilcar.
Jacapo was scrambling to put the books neatly into a stack, fumbling as he hurried. Ronaldo however, seeing the mere look in his master's eyes leaped over the desk and headed towards the book shelf. Using his arms like an ape, running on knuckles and a long pink tongue whipping about from his ghoulish maw. Hellbent on discovering who this Ruthven was, or isn't.
The Lord of Ghouls sat up, adopting a noble posture and sliding a hand into his vest. Regency is what he wished to convey. Though, his other hand waved but a finger, beckoning the fellblood to come closer. They obeyed. Striding towards the stately vampire, now recognizing the Dark Mage from debates and attending lectures. Bellighul's baritone voice, though spoken softly, seemed to boom in the student's ears. "Go to the vendor outside the library, bring me a mushroom and garlic shawarma with extra greens...I feel i might be having lunch with an old acquaintance."
|
|