Tri Tri
Wicked Fan
The Ship's Navigator
Posts: 66
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Post by Tri Tri on Sept 30, 2010 21:42:31 GMT -5
Alright bear with me with this new story, I'm still a little iffy on it. I got the general idea from a book, but changed everything around. Also, when you see a word in itallics and don't know what it is, look down at the bottom of the post for a key. By all means, let me know if something doesn't make sense! Enjoy! ----------------------------------- The Magicians' Quarrel The temperature of the room dropped fast. Ice formed thickly on the curtains, creating a crusty barrier against the window. The flickering glow from multiple candles burned shyly from the shrinking wicks, producing barely enough light in the lonely room. Wood floorboards and the old, cracked walls groaned and creaked in the overwhelming pressure, showing obvious signs of wearing and age. A controlled yellow cloud appeared in every corner, with a chokingly pungent scent to follow. Dark, mysterious shadows billowed within the smoke, writhing to get out. Distant sounds of footsteps and muffled screams grew steadily louder as if an invisible stampede was flooding the landing. The cloud of smoke swelled together creating a form of some sort, spitting out black tongues eating frantically at the dense fog. A subtle pause ensued before two vivid green eyes materialized in the heart of the smog. Hey, it was their first encounter. He wanted to scare her. And he did too. The petite, red-headed woman shifted endlessly in her seat, bound and barely able to move. Her eyes were in slits -hardly showing the hazel color- glaring at the man on the opposite side of the room. “Where is it?” The man demanded harshly. His breath was visible in the chilled air, billowing out then disappearing silently. “ Whaur is what?” The woman snapped back in an almost sing-song tone of voice. She knew exactly what he was after, but was not going to give in easily. “You know very well what!” The man retorted and hastened closer to the imprisoned woman. “Listen very closely now. I don’t care about you.” He paused briefly after each word in order to add emphasis. “My conscience won’t be tarnished by what I could do to you, and believe you me, you are treading down the wrong path. You are playing with fire if you think you can toy with a true magician such as myself. This is London; my actions can go unnoticed.” They were in a small, clammy room at the top of a dismal townhouse. There was a slanted wall on one side with peeling wallpaper and a single window in another corner. Whatever furnishings were originally in the room were covered by a black fabric, concealing them - most likely a cabinet, chest of drawers, and a desk. “I just want everything returned to me, no matter the price paid.” If the room hadn’t been frozen and trembling already, it sure was after that little speech. The man spoke in a low voice, his words presenting themselves as cold, threatening daggers aimed at the woman. They merely shattered against her tough, defensive exterior, leaving only a trace of tiny bumps all along her body. She was as pale as a corpse, shaking like a blade of grass in a windstorm. A bead of cold sweat dripped from her brow, turning to ice before it pelted to the floor like hail on a tin roof. Her jaw quivered vigorously from the icy temperature and the faint clattering sound of her teeth echoed quietly throughout the room. “I ken what yer doin’ ere, and “believe you me”, it’s not gonna wark! Yer a bloody bystart an’ yer cliver cantrip wull niver break me!. I wouldn’t even think aboot tel—” An invisible hand grasped firmly at her throat, choking her like a wriggling fish. Candles all around the room huffed out, leaving a small trail of smoke rising off the deceased wicks. The only light came from the two bright green eyes hovering in the dense fog directly in front of her. Thin blue tendrils of fire emerged from the floorboards under the cloud and licked their way around the chair and woman’s legs. Her face, wide-eyed, mouth agape, had turned a dark shade of red as she clawed at the invisible force at her throat. The man, muttering under his breath, passed slowly around the mystic fog and faded away with the rest of the room as everything went black. Aboot- about Bystart- bastard Cantrip- charm, magic, trick Cliver- clever Ken- know Niver- never Wark- work Whaur- where Wull- will Okay, I've heard that this is pretty confusing, so let me know if you have questions. It'll get better with future posts. So just hang in there. XD
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Tri Tri
Wicked Fan
The Ship's Navigator
Posts: 66
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Post by Tri Tri on Oct 6, 2010 10:46:54 GMT -5
Two weeks earlier.
The streets of London are no place for a person at night. Vile creatures and spirits lurk in each alleyway and under every cobblestone forcing you to always be on your guard. To any ordinary human, this would not be an issue – creatures such as that don’t exist in their world. For a magician, however, it is very different. Rose was neither a commoner nor a magician – at least not by societal standards. Women were strictly forbidden to become magicians, let alone even open a magician’s spell book. Growing up, women learned the ways of the house; cooking, cleaning, and raising a family – to Rose, all the “borin’ rubbage”. Very few were formally educated and fewer than that made a name for themselves. Depending on the family, the young woman may marry, and for some, they may become a magician’s wife. At a young age, Rose imagined herself as a powerful woman with a solitary life. Not once had she depended on anyone for anything, and she wanted it to remain that way. Never did she wish to marry some snobby magician either. No, she wanted to BE a magician. After running away from her home in Scotland at the age of fourteen, Rose fled to London. Of course, she couldn’t study with the other scrawny adolescents, so she taught herself everything. From studying the vast number of demons, to memorizing the magician-history linking all the way back to the beginning in Prague, to her very first major summoning at the age of seventeen, she mastered it all by herself. No one knew of her knowledge and abilities, which was just how she preferred it. She breezed through the most challenging of books, each written in Latin, French, or Aramaic with three columns of minute print on a single page. Everything she needed to know was spelled out for her in the giant volumes; which, like everything else she possessed, were stolen. After a certain point in her studies, she realized the use of spectacles or contact lenses were imminent. Spectacles or lenses would allow her to see on each of the seven planes. Rose had acquired her own set of contact lenses which naturally belonged to an elderly magician with a poor sense of security. Humans, of their pathetic sort, only see on the first plane - trees, flowers, animals, other humans, and everything in the natural world. The second plane was slightly more difficult to detect, the ability given to cats, other powerful demons, and most magicians. Magicians have their own way of intruding on each plane, though only through the use of their spectacles. Between the third and sixth plane was where most demons dwelled – Imps and Implings, Afrites, Sentries - not such a big deal to those who know how to control them. And then on the seventh, the rarest ability, could hold more powerful demons such as a Djinni. Those were the ones you want to watch out for. Walking down the dark, foggy London street, Rose retraced her footsteps from her not-so-distant teenage years. The shadowed sky was peeing with rain, disturbing only those who were awake and listening to the faint pattering of water drops hitting the tin roofs. She scanned each plane – nothing out of the ordinary; just a few measly Implings guarding their master’s giant abodes. No trouble there. Imps and Implings posed no real threat to Rose. They just got in the way. Small, ugly demons and the weakest sort. Aphrites were slightly more bothersome and Sentries more so than that. Nothing to be afraid of though – the Sentries – just not creatures you want showing up on your doorstep unexpectedly. Rose had practiced summoning the minor demons over and over and over again until she could do it in her sleep. Each summoning became quicker and more precise; just the ability of a magician. Then there’s the Djinni. The worst demon of them all. Most magicians go half their lives before even thinking of summoning a Djinni. Nasty creatures, they are, which can take any form at any time, anywhere. They can seize their summoner’s final breath without so much of a hesitation. Only the most powerful magicians summon Djinni; only the most feared. Rose had summoned her first Djinni at seventeen years of age – extremely rare for a magician and unheard of for a woman. As she sauntered through the lonely street, soaked to the bone from rain, Rose concocted a plan; one which could change her life. No longer would she live on the streets, having to steal from the commoners in order to survive. She had learned everything from all her books – which was a large number – and no matter how daunting it seemed, she was going to acquire the Book of Spells and Detonations. Even if that meant paying a visit to the House of Parliament.
Rubbage- Rubbish
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Tri Tri
Wicked Fan
The Ship's Navigator
Posts: 66
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Post by Tri Tri on Oct 7, 2010 11:15:46 GMT -5
Lord Ryan Kelly was a very short-tempered man. He needed to be, though, in order to rule in the House of Parliament. There was no one so rude, so temperamental, so stubborn, so grouchy, yet so intelligent as Lord Ryan Kelly. His cold, sinister personality mirrored his appearance exactly – short black hair like a moonless sky at midnight, extremely rigid stance and posture, and piercing blue eyes of a fierce storm. Each day his strong, unsettling voice echoed from his office and down the long hallways of Parliament as if it was a vicious wind, cooling the entire building. “Arthur, fetch me my tea, will you! And where is Mr. Shyler? He was scheduled to be here ten minutes ago! Has no one a sense of time in this damned city? This business arrangement is of the utmost importance and Mr. Shyler is well aware of that!” Arthur, Lord Kelly’s assistant and servant, was sure steam would swell out of the Lord’s ears. Throughout all his years serving in Parliament, Arthur had learned to stay out of the way of Lord Kelly’s endless rage. The building could catch on fire and it still wouldn’t interrupt Lord Kelly’s focus and constant shifting of papers on his large wooden desk. Arthur was an older man with short graying hair and small circular eyeglasses. He ambled through the grand office, slightly hunched, and placed a small tea cup and plate next to the growing stack of papers on Lord Kelly’s desk. “He’s on his way, sir.” Arthur calmly reassured him. “So is the new year!” Lord Kelly snapped bitterly. “He’s going to get a piece of my mind when he arrives, you can be sure of that!” He emphasized his last word with a loud thunk of an extremely thick, bulging book on top of his desk, rattling his tea cup. He checked his watch and began pacing behind his desk, a usual routine for Lord Kelly. “Pardon me, my Lord,” a maidservant glided into the room quietly, not bothering to waste time with knocking. “Your wife has called.” Lord Kelly’s pacing never faltered. “What does she want now?” He huffed. Before the servant could respond, he spoke again. “Nevermind her reasons, I haven’t the time. Tell her I shall be home for supper and expect a nice, hot meal, understood?” His brow furrowed as he glanced at his watch again. “Yes my Lord.” The maidservant bowed slightly and exited the room as swiftly as she entered, with Arthur right at her heels. “Unbelievable.” Lord Kelly mumbled scornfully as he drew out the lines of his summoning pentacle, impatiently awaiting Mr. Shyler. He had it all, Ryan Kelly. He was the best, most-honored magician in all of London. He was also the most feared. Those who knew him personally lived in fear around him, and those who did not, even more so. Being a politician certainly gave him power and wealth, which was quite obvious by his immensely sumptuous house. He lived in the Villas, which was where the highest of all magicians lived – large white manors, several stories high, with wide pillars and perfectly trimmed, flourishing gardens. Each estate stretched across nearly an entire city block, enclosed completely by high, thick, vine-coated walls. Lord Kelly lived in his mansion inhabited solely by himself and his wife. They had no children. Magicians were strictly prohibited from having children of their own, and Lord Kelly despised the idea of adopting an uncontrolled, crying, screaming mess running around the fragile house, breaking things. He saw very little of his wife, working as much as he did, which hardly bothered him. He was only married because the law required it of him – that’s as far as their connection between husband and wife went. Although they lived alone, there was constantly servants hustling about the manor, tending to the gardens, or landscaping, or the kitchen. Lord Kelly never acknowledged his servants; to him, they were invisible. Instead, he devoted all his attention at home to his magic. At work, he tended to his political affairs, but home was where he brushed up on his skills, honing in on the toughest spells for hours at a time. It was hard to tell whether Parliament or his own house had more demon security. It was just as difficult to tell which house had more valuables, too. However, Lord Kelly’s valued possessions were usually considered pointless and garbage to everyone else. But that wasn’t always the case. --------------- If you're ever confused, let me know, because others have gotten kinda lost. It'll clear up with more posts, though.
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Tri Tri
Wicked Fan
The Ship's Navigator
Posts: 66
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Post by Tri Tri on Oct 8, 2010 12:29:35 GMT -5
Rose~
A large black crow squawked in a nearby tree, startling Rose a great deal. She had devised her plan not but a couple nights prior, and now she was loosely in its grasps. She had crossed the bridge with no trouble whatsoever, and was catching her breath under a small patch of trees. The House of Parliament looked much bigger up close; much more terrifying as well. The large towers and spires loomed over her, and even in the dark she was still able to sense the shadow cast by the massive building. She’d obviously never been inside before which was a major disadvantage. Who knows what could be lurking inside, waiting for unexpected trespassers. That is, IF she could get inside. Her heart was beating rapidly yet constant, slowing slightly as she caught her breath. Rose scanned each plane searching for danger. An evil, perilous force was definitely present inside the building – she just couldn’t detect what it was. The entire building had some sort of protective shell around it – like a dome incubating its power. Around the exterior hovered ten or eleven sentries, patrolling the border. Their dark red bodies were the same color as Rose’s hair, which, to her misfortune, was quite apparent in the night sky. She had tied her hair high up on the back of her head and off her neck, keeping it out of her face. Two of the sentries flew toward the same corner of the building from opposite ends at collided head-on with each other. Powerful demons, yes; smart, not so much. After several minutes of scoping out the best, most isolated route, Rose took off running at the water’s edge behind the magnificent building. As she drew nearer, she muttered a quick, simple spell of concealment, making her invisible up until she reached the cold, stone wall of Parliament. She pressed her back firmly against the wall trying to blend in. If only she were a demon herself – she could easily transform into a lizard and truly be camouflaged. But alas, this was the best she could be. It was hardly a surprise that there wasn’t an entrance on the rear side of the building, where she hid. She looked for another way in. She obviously couldn’t waltz in the main lobby and expect to get out alive. Surely there was another way in…a window? No luck there, they looked as if they had never been opened in the first place. She arched her head upwards toward the sky. The roof. Almost all buildings in London had a roof exit. Her only obstacle was the high wall in front of her. A gentle breeze chilled her, cooling the back of her neck as her hair bounced behind her. She suddenly caught a distinctively repulsive scent in the breeze. Sentries. Their one major weakness – which constantly warned anyone of their presence – was their smell. It was a foul smell, getting trapped in Rose’s nose and throat. She tried not to gag, for that would give away her position. She checked the planes and on the fifth one she spotted it. The short, fat sentrie was flying toward her along the edge of the wall. Luckily it hadn’t seen Rose yet, giving her just enough time to cast another concealment spell. The sentrie floated by not but two feet away and paused right in front of her. She held her breath so she wouldn’t cough at the horrid aroma. Apparently finding no danger, the sentrie continued on its way, leaving Rose gasping for fresh air.
Rose remained pressed against the wall for several minutes before moving again. She constantly flipped through the planes, searching, but there were no other creatures near by. She focused her attention back on the high wall and how she was going to reach the roof. She suddenly remembered an old spell which created invisible platforms a few square feet which could be cast almost anywhere. She racked her brain for the correct arrangement of words and syllables. She muttered the words quietly yet carefully and a small flicker of light appeared before rapidly vanishing. She jumped up, grabbed the edge of the invisible platform, and hoisted herself up. She mumbled the spell again and another platform materialized off to her left slightly higher than the first. Repeated words and lots of flickering lights later, Rose was on her last step off to the roof. Perfect timing too because the sentrie from earlier was floating back along the same path. She was halfway in. Seeking out the best way onto the roof, Rose made the tedious leap across the gap, many feet above the ground, and clung onto a large spire jutting out into the night sky. She looked down over her shoulder at the immense drop off below. She tightened her grasp around the stone pillar-type thing and wiped her perspiring forehead across her upper arm. It wasn’t an easy climb up and Rose’s muscles quivered from their excessive working. She slowly inched her way around the spire with one foot out, blindly searching for more stable ground. Her toe caught the tip of something hard; she was almost there. A few more inches and Rose collapsed onto the roof, breathing heavily. She took a few moments to ease her tense heart and mind before inspecting her surroundings. She was on the very edge of the roof, leaning against a low stone wall which ran all the way around, like a fence enclosing a park. The actual roof slanted up on both sides, coming together in a steep point. It was much cooler way up on the roof, Rose noticed, and pulled her sleeves down over her forearms. She scanned the planes yet another time; nothing on the roof. There was also no door either, as she had hoped. She rose and was instantly drawn to the view off of the roof over the city. She could see all of London beneath her, sleeping soundly under the warm blanket of protection from the house of Parliament. The soft glow of light from each street lamp made it difficult to determine where one city block ended and another began. Way off to her left there was a bare patch with hardly any lights. She assumed that was The Villas. She had never been close enough to actually SEE the magician quarters of the city, though she had no real desire to. Rose would have loved to stay up on the roof all night, or at least to watch the sunrise. Sunrise. She snapped back to reality. She still needed to get inside, find what she came for, get out, and clear away from the building all before sunrise. The clock tower struck two; she still had a couple of hours. Carefully, Rose edged her way along the very narrow ledge of the roof, searching for a window, door, anything. At the opposite side, she spied a small grate, presumably a vent of some sort. She hurried toward it, warming her quickly numbing limbs. It was indeed a small air vent, most likely leading to a storage room on the top level of the building. She pondered performing a summoning on the roof, no matter how limited space she occupied, but soon concluded it would be too risky. The summoning could capture the attention of the pestering sentries many floors below, who would fly up and seize her in a heartbeat. No, she would have to take a risk. Heck, the entire escapade was a huge risk. She tried the grate – bolted shut, of course. She mumbled another spell and suddenly two large, dark purple hands appeared out of a thick, condensed cloud. Rose uttered another spell which put a sound barrier over top of her and the hands, confining any sounds from escaping. The hands grasped the edges of the grate and yanked. The bolts curved and screeched under pressure before the entire grate burst off all hinges with an echoing clang. Thankful the noise couldn’t be heard outside their sound shell, Rose spoke the few words of the dismissal spell and the hands and cloud vanished. The vent was large enough for a lean figure to fit into, but small enough to make a person claustrophobic. Rose was not eager to climb into it. Demons caused her no fright or discomfort. Small, confined spaces were a different matter. She was forced to exhale all the stale air in her body, making her as thin as possible. As she squeezed into the vent, Rose took one last look at the roof and night sky, and dropped down, disappearing into the House of Parliament.
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Tri Tri
Wicked Fan
The Ship's Navigator
Posts: 66
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Post by Tri Tri on Oct 11, 2010 12:07:52 GMT -5
Rose~ Rose was inside. Inside Parliament – the most powerful building in all of England. It suddenly became very real to her; there was no turning back now. Just as she had guessed, the air vent led into a small, dark store room filled with boxes stacked from floor to ceiling. She kicked open the grate, which luckily hardly made a sound, a crawled onto the top of an old, cracked bookshelf before jumping to the ground. The clammy air made it difficult to breathe after sitting untouched for who knows how many months. She stood still momentarily, listening for any sounds of intruders just beyond the door. Nothing. The planes were all clear as well which greatly eased her nerves. Rose surveyed the room – it was cramped and narrow, but there was just enough space to draw out a small summoning pentacle. She couldn’t go parading through Parliament without some sort of defense. She didn’t have nearly enough materials or time to summon a Djinni, even though that would be the best option. Instead she settled for a high level sentire, which would save time and energy. Rose took out a stunted nub of chalk from her satchel, which had been used many times before, and hastily drew out the correct lines of the pentacle. The magician’s pentacle is the most crucial part of any summoning. Each line needs to be sketched fully and correctly in order for the summoning to work. The lines and symbols vary depending on the type of demon which is being summoned, as well as how many lines are needed. Pentacles for summoning Imps are the most simple and ordinary, accounting for all the lower level magicians who summon them. The pentacle for a Djinni is the most complex - called Addlebrand’s pentacle. Rose had spent eight months alone on drawing out one Addlebrand’s pentacle, just to get every single detail correct. The runes are so intricate and confusing that from close up, it looks like a puzzling spider web, but from afar, the intense symbols and patterns become more apparent. Some magicians have spent their entire lives on Addlebrand’s pentacle and others have even gone mad from it. Luckily for Rose, that wasn’t the case. The pentacle was also the magician’s shield. Standing within the completed pentacle, they were safe and in control. Should the magician extend so much as a finger outside the protective circle, their lives could be seized with little effort from their summoned demon. Demons are deadly creatures who are constantly looking for ways to torture or destroy their summoner. Fortunately, Rose had been very thorough with her sketches and preparations. She set down several candles and a small container of incense to help lure out her demon, and spoke the words and incantations of the summoning spell, enunciating clearly. Even if one word was pronounced wrong or was not in the correct place, the entire summoning could go awry, and who knows what would happen after that. Not many have lived to tell about it. A faint cloud began accumulating in the center of the other empty pentacle a few feet in front of Rose. It changed colors constantly until finally a solid red creature emerged. Rose needn’t be scared, for this particular sentrie was under her command. Its three eyes blinked at different times, and a long, hairy tail was wrapped all the way up above and around one of its horns. It simply waited. The demon knew its task at hand already because of the spell Rose had issued. It had clear orders to protect her from any danger and to kill everything in their path. Assuming the old, dusty room hadn’t been used in months, Rose huffed out candles and left the drawings and incense on the floor. She moved over to the door and scanned through each plane; still clear. Demon in tow, Rose opened the door and slipped further into the halls of Parliament. Since I've never seen the interior of Parliament, I don't really know what it looks like, so just bear with me with the descriptions. I'm just making them fit the story.
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Tri Tri
Wicked Fan
The Ship's Navigator
Posts: 66
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Post by Tri Tri on Oct 20, 2010 10:30:29 GMT -5
Ryan Kelly~
Lord Kelly was one of the last people still in the building that evening - that was usually the case. He often worked late and yet there were still loads of things needing to be finished. He was in his office, pacing like a mad-man. Arthur always wondered how he hadn't worn a hole in the floor from all the pacing. A drink sat untouched on his desk, becoming watered down from the melting ice cubes. The fire in the large, stone hearth had died hours ago, leaving only the cooling embers glowing faintly. Lord Kelly noticed the temperature change, for he had put on his coat - all black and in the rear it came down to mid-calf. The man hardly wore anything of colour and looked basically the same everyday - which made him easy to recognize. The glow from several candles and dim wall lights reflected off his dark, fierce black hair as he moved about the room, giving his entire figure a mysterious silhouetted radiance. There was a knock at the door. "Enter," Lord Kelly snapped. A short, fat man waddled into the room. It was apparent that he was a wealthy man by the way he dressed, with one small round monocle perched between his bulbous nose and bushy eyebrow. There was only a small spot on his head which was still covered in gray hairs, thinning quickly. "Lord Kelly, my apologies for coming so late in the evening." The man spoke as he drew closer to Lord Kelly. "Not a problem, Mr. Shyler, not a problem." Lord Kelly feigned politeness. One thing was for sure - if Lord Kelly wanted something, anger and disrespect were never suitable options, even if he wasn't sincere. "Did you bring it?" His courtesy was short lived, replaced quickly by his infamous impatience and petulance "I did, sir. Not an easy task, I might add. They were very hard to acquire, lots of trouble, but if you would just--" He had pulled something out of a black case he carried, but it was snatched out of his hands by Lord Kelly before he could finish. "--be careful..." he trailed off after realizing Lord Kelly was no longer listening. "Mmhmm, yes, very good, very good...ah..." Lord Kelly mumbled to himself, nodding occasionally as he surveyed the item. "Well done, Mr. Shyler, I'll see to it you get something in return for this. I'll just put these away safely..." Lord Kelly ducked down behind his desk and removed an extremely thick book; pages falling out and bursting at the spine. He set the book on his desk as gently as possible, though it still made a deep thunk. Lord Kelly peeled back the faded, cloth-coated cover and flipped to the back of the book where the paper was wrinkled and brown from water damage. With great concentration, Lord Kelly placed what Mr. Shyler had brought - several pages of the book - back in their rightful places, the edges fitting perfectly like a puzzle where they had once been torn out. He paused, staring at the book as if in some sort of excited trance. A low, muffled cough from Mr. Shyler brought Lord Kelly back to reality. He quickly cleared his throat and stared back up at his guest. “Have you told anyone about this?” He asked sternly. “Not a soul, sir. Can’t much understand it myself, it bein’ in foreign tongues an’ all. You are most intelligent and experienced for that rare ability to decipher the Book of S—” The sudden rise of Lord Kelly’s hand cut off Mr. Shyler before he could finish. He began to rise off the floor, his plump belly and stubby legs flapping around, treading on thin air. An echo of laughter resounded faintly in the large room, ricocheting off the high walls and massive wooden bookshelves. Mr. Shyler began rotating, high above the bold maroon carpet, being spun by some invisible force. He cried out in shocked desperation while the rapid spinning increased all the more. He halted suddenly as if he struck a thick stone wall, leaving his eyes swirling in a sickened motion. The sound of laughing disappeared into the walls and Mr. Shyler was slowly lowered downwards. A few feet above the carpet, he was halted again. Lord Kelly shifted toward him, slowly. “You haven’t told a soul, aye?” Lord Kelly’s voice was grave and his brow formed a rigid line. His gaze was fixed intently on Mr. Shyler, like a hawk that had just captured its prey. “No sir! I haven’t, sir!” Mr. Shyler squeaked out. “Swear upon it!” “I swear on my life, my Lord, nobody knows of these pages or our meeting!” Mr. Shyler was shaking like a leaf – a very wet leaf from a layer of sweat which had amassed on his forehead and neck. “Good.” Lord Kelly turned swiftly and walked back to his desk. As he did so, Mr. Shyler plummeted the few feet back to the carpet below, shaking the entire floor from his ungraceful fall. “And it shall remain that way. I do hope you’re a man of your word, Mr. Shyler. It would be a shame for us to meet in this fashion again. You may leave.” Lord Kelly sipped his drink, grimaced, and set it down, overlapping the ringlet of water originally left by the glass. Not once did he glance up at Mr. Shyler as he stumbled to his feet and hurried out the door, which he insolently left ajar. Through his peripheral vision, Lord Kelly noticed Mr. Shyler’s hat and black case resting on a nearby chair. Disgusted, he picked up the forgotten belongings and raced out after the man, disappearing just as another figure made her entrance.
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Post by celticbear on Oct 20, 2010 21:07:37 GMT -5
TRI TRI! This Story Keeps Geting More and More Exciting With Every Update! Me love a Good Wizard Story! UPDATE SOON!
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