Post by Markal Cassalantar on Jun 28, 2013 12:56:42 GMT -5
5th April, 23 CLE, Witherwood Academy ...
The necromancer's office would have been swallowed entirely by darkness had it not been for several luminescent globes lazily drifting in the room, their teal glow making the forms within barely distinguishable.
In the center of the room, there was a table intentionally pulled out and left bare save for a small canvas square where a crystal paperweight was resting, carved in the likes of a rose. Markal had been circling all around it for over an hour now, his expression contorted in a thoughtful scowl as he hummed out and muttered uncomprehendingly under his breath.
Further away, at the back of the wall, the Professor's desk was filled with the usual decor, paperwork and files thrown willy-nilly around - the only part where the genius' chaos did not stretch was around a small, lacquered stand where a silken pillow rested and on top of it, a polished human skull. Its proprietor watched with great delight the necromancer's mental struggle, her pupil less eyes following his frantic pacing. A shrill whisper escaped past her bruised lips as a cruel smile was spread over her spectral features.
Pace any longer, darling, and the table will start spinning.
Markal stopped in his tracks to glance at the banshee, raising his eyebrows momentarily as he broke out of his current train of thought. Just then, one of the light-wisps passed near his head - in the blink of an eye, his hand shot up to clench around the globe of light, his palm radiating with necromantic magics in order to manipulate the essence. He stepped to the table and held it above the rose, lowering it bit by bit. The wisp continued to shimmer lazily and otherwise unaffected ... until it grew too close to the rose and began to phase in and out of existence, seeming to struggle out of the necromancer's grasp and get as far as possible from the object.
Markal smiled and complied, releasing his grip and letting the teal globe slip out immediately only to resume its lazy drifting around the room, though this time consciously avoiding both the necromancer and the table. Markal brought his hand to rub at his beard as he spoke out in a collected voice, devoid of the usual eccentric articulation that was so characteristic him.
It it as I suspected - the Raven had more in mind than just a token of his word. It does not prove he will keep it, however, but he is even more suspicious of me ... I may have thrown my cards far too early, and poorly so.
The banshee drifted to his side to slide a spectral hand on his shoulder.
After all I have taught you, you still stumble and err, Markal. But not to worry - I am at your side, now and forever ... you cannot go wrong with that.
Markal smiled slyly at those words as he glanced from the corner of his eye to the banshee 'leaning' on his shoulder before he spoke out, returning back to his usual manner of speech.
Perhaps the best investment I have made in my entire life, my dear. I trust you already have a plan formed ten times over now. What is it ... that you see?
Estelle floated towards the table and above the rose, extending her hand for her fingertip to touch the very tip of the crystal rose - a soft, magical hum was heard momentarily before it disappeared ... the clear, see-through glass suddenly lost its shine as it gradually colored black, from the core to the outer petals.
What you see as a veiled dagger beneath a token of loyalty, I see an omen, a sign ... an invitation. Whatever it is you wish to attain, Markal, you cannot do so without the set - you will need both Raven ... and Rose.
Markal let out an aggravated sigh as he raised his chin up.
And what you suggest is ...?
Estelle laughed out in a sinister fashion, which sounded like countless chains rattled against rust-eaten bars.
Why, a visit, of course! Get your staff and your cape, Markal - she would be waiting.
Nighttime slowly fell across Noxus as its inhabitants trickled in a steady influx towards the residential areas, the market place eerily lit up by the lampposts as the bared skeletons of the market stalls stood by, silent witnesses to whatever events would unfold.
Markal strode by at a brisk pace, shrouded in a heavy dark-green cloak embroided with gold-and-silver thread representing the colors of his house. His soundless steps were accompanied by the soft thunking of his staff against the cobblestone, the skull's teeth clattering together with each bump. Curiously, Markal remained close to the lampposts that shed a light on his visage - a frown of utmost displeasure.
He paused from his stride only to raise his hand which clenched a black crystal rose within - he stared at it disdainfully before he glanced at the skull.
For your sake, I hope this will work ... and it will be worth my time.
An eerie shrill was heard as a strong gust of wind howled through the empty marketplace, blowing the loose folds of his cape around - indubitably an answer to his rhetorical statement.
The necromancer's office would have been swallowed entirely by darkness had it not been for several luminescent globes lazily drifting in the room, their teal glow making the forms within barely distinguishable.
In the center of the room, there was a table intentionally pulled out and left bare save for a small canvas square where a crystal paperweight was resting, carved in the likes of a rose. Markal had been circling all around it for over an hour now, his expression contorted in a thoughtful scowl as he hummed out and muttered uncomprehendingly under his breath.
Further away, at the back of the wall, the Professor's desk was filled with the usual decor, paperwork and files thrown willy-nilly around - the only part where the genius' chaos did not stretch was around a small, lacquered stand where a silken pillow rested and on top of it, a polished human skull. Its proprietor watched with great delight the necromancer's mental struggle, her pupil less eyes following his frantic pacing. A shrill whisper escaped past her bruised lips as a cruel smile was spread over her spectral features.
Pace any longer, darling, and the table will start spinning.
Markal stopped in his tracks to glance at the banshee, raising his eyebrows momentarily as he broke out of his current train of thought. Just then, one of the light-wisps passed near his head - in the blink of an eye, his hand shot up to clench around the globe of light, his palm radiating with necromantic magics in order to manipulate the essence. He stepped to the table and held it above the rose, lowering it bit by bit. The wisp continued to shimmer lazily and otherwise unaffected ... until it grew too close to the rose and began to phase in and out of existence, seeming to struggle out of the necromancer's grasp and get as far as possible from the object.
Markal smiled and complied, releasing his grip and letting the teal globe slip out immediately only to resume its lazy drifting around the room, though this time consciously avoiding both the necromancer and the table. Markal brought his hand to rub at his beard as he spoke out in a collected voice, devoid of the usual eccentric articulation that was so characteristic him.
It it as I suspected - the Raven had more in mind than just a token of his word. It does not prove he will keep it, however, but he is even more suspicious of me ... I may have thrown my cards far too early, and poorly so.
The banshee drifted to his side to slide a spectral hand on his shoulder.
After all I have taught you, you still stumble and err, Markal. But not to worry - I am at your side, now and forever ... you cannot go wrong with that.
Markal smiled slyly at those words as he glanced from the corner of his eye to the banshee 'leaning' on his shoulder before he spoke out, returning back to his usual manner of speech.
Perhaps the best investment I have made in my entire life, my dear. I trust you already have a plan formed ten times over now. What is it ... that you see?
Estelle floated towards the table and above the rose, extending her hand for her fingertip to touch the very tip of the crystal rose - a soft, magical hum was heard momentarily before it disappeared ... the clear, see-through glass suddenly lost its shine as it gradually colored black, from the core to the outer petals.
What you see as a veiled dagger beneath a token of loyalty, I see an omen, a sign ... an invitation. Whatever it is you wish to attain, Markal, you cannot do so without the set - you will need both Raven ... and Rose.
Markal let out an aggravated sigh as he raised his chin up.
And what you suggest is ...?
Estelle laughed out in a sinister fashion, which sounded like countless chains rattled against rust-eaten bars.
Why, a visit, of course! Get your staff and your cape, Markal - she would be waiting.
Nighttime slowly fell across Noxus as its inhabitants trickled in a steady influx towards the residential areas, the market place eerily lit up by the lampposts as the bared skeletons of the market stalls stood by, silent witnesses to whatever events would unfold.
Markal strode by at a brisk pace, shrouded in a heavy dark-green cloak embroided with gold-and-silver thread representing the colors of his house. His soundless steps were accompanied by the soft thunking of his staff against the cobblestone, the skull's teeth clattering together with each bump. Curiously, Markal remained close to the lampposts that shed a light on his visage - a frown of utmost displeasure.
He paused from his stride only to raise his hand which clenched a black crystal rose within - he stared at it disdainfully before he glanced at the skull.
For your sake, I hope this will work ... and it will be worth my time.
An eerie shrill was heard as a strong gust of wind howled through the empty marketplace, blowing the loose folds of his cape around - indubitably an answer to his rhetorical statement.
