Post by Roc Wrong on Sept 28, 2013 22:56:53 GMT -5
(After 2 lost posts due to tech errors, enjoy the abridged version of a much longer post.)
The cloying smell of blood had finally become overpowering. Almost with a shrug, the pungent aroma of Roc's coffee surrendered keeping it at bay. What he wouldn't give to open a window without setting off some sort of trap. A soft sigh laced with disgust broke the strained silence. Forcefully dragging his eyes away from his coffee mug, Roc focused upon the carefully carved summoning sigil. His employer...former employer, had made a show of taking great pride in it's design and make. Now it was entirely filled by it's creator's blood, mingled with that of his murderer. Both of whom were making a rather undignified mess in sharp contrast to earlier posturing. As if the physical mess weren't enough, there was the promised pain of sorting this out with the authorities and next of kin. So much for what was to be a simple open and shut case.
The request had originally sounded routine enough, draft a binding magecraft agreement to settle a dispute. The trip was much the same, that is until arriving when the details were laid out. A greater ritual where the participants would duel to the death for the honor of acquiring the Holy Grail. Emphasis and capital letters Holy Grail. A relic that would bring about the realization of any wish the winner desired. To that end, the spirits of dead heroes holding a similar desire would be brought forth to battle as proxy. The noble head had decided to enlist the aid of a magus killer, for what specific reason...Roc decided not care to dwell upon. His purpose was to draft and bear witness to a binding contract for this ritual.
However, somehow Roc doubted his employer expect to receive this sort of honor. Especially not quite so soon. If possible death had been in his thoughts, it likely would have been in some climatic end battle instead of before he even entered. Only the second day of the war, barely even morning with dawn's first rays hinting over the horizon. It had been three days since Roc had arrived, to create a contract and wait on a late magus killer. Plenty of time to listen and endure the ire of a noble lineage, all while commuting each day from his hastily rented apartment to this large, out of town estate. On his own dime of course, a privilege and opportunity as the deceased had put it. When the man had finally arrived, the duo had wasted no time jumping into heated discussion. Excusing himself to go get coffee, Roc came back to narrowly avoiding being impaled by flying debris.
Once the noise had died down and the earth had stopped shaking, there really was little left of the once pristine study. Only a horribly marred chair, table, and the sigil itself remained intact. Everything else was reduced to utter ruin. Of the two conspirators, the less said the better. As big a mess as this was, explaining it to the authorities and next of kin would be even worse. Given anything he could have used to discern the cause had ceased to exist. Much like his paycheck. In the face of such a disaster, he did the only sensible thing an English gentleman could do.
Roc sat down and finished his coffee, ignoring every god damn thing that had occurred today.
....
.......
..............................
When that action had run it's course, Roc's attempt to escape reality promptly failed. Neither the strange seals that had come to exist on his hand, or the mess were going anywhere. Speaking of which, the catalyst that was prepared was in remarkable condition. Considering, it was an obviously ancient bow that had just resisted a very powerful and condensed explosion. Indeed, ignoring a blood splatter decal and scorch marks it appeared no worse for the wear. What on earth was it made of to survive that?
Yes, that seemed to be the question he asked every day, wasn't it? The one question to which he never came close to finding an answer. A question where you only received more empty answers and a dozen more questions in it's place. It never seemed to end, with every day ending Roc seemed farther and farther from the truth he sought. Each truth found seemed to push him farther away from the single truth. Then....perhaps it was time to get a different perspective on this question. After all...wasn't there another avenue of investigation right in front of him?
Assured that he had the ritual perfectly memorized, Roc felt the summoning chant slip past his lips and pushed apart the veil of time to bring back an ancient legend.
The cloying smell of blood had finally become overpowering. Almost with a shrug, the pungent aroma of Roc's coffee surrendered keeping it at bay. What he wouldn't give to open a window without setting off some sort of trap. A soft sigh laced with disgust broke the strained silence. Forcefully dragging his eyes away from his coffee mug, Roc focused upon the carefully carved summoning sigil. His employer...former employer, had made a show of taking great pride in it's design and make. Now it was entirely filled by it's creator's blood, mingled with that of his murderer. Both of whom were making a rather undignified mess in sharp contrast to earlier posturing. As if the physical mess weren't enough, there was the promised pain of sorting this out with the authorities and next of kin. So much for what was to be a simple open and shut case.
The request had originally sounded routine enough, draft a binding magecraft agreement to settle a dispute. The trip was much the same, that is until arriving when the details were laid out. A greater ritual where the participants would duel to the death for the honor of acquiring the Holy Grail. Emphasis and capital letters Holy Grail. A relic that would bring about the realization of any wish the winner desired. To that end, the spirits of dead heroes holding a similar desire would be brought forth to battle as proxy. The noble head had decided to enlist the aid of a magus killer, for what specific reason...Roc decided not care to dwell upon. His purpose was to draft and bear witness to a binding contract for this ritual.
However, somehow Roc doubted his employer expect to receive this sort of honor. Especially not quite so soon. If possible death had been in his thoughts, it likely would have been in some climatic end battle instead of before he even entered. Only the second day of the war, barely even morning with dawn's first rays hinting over the horizon. It had been three days since Roc had arrived, to create a contract and wait on a late magus killer. Plenty of time to listen and endure the ire of a noble lineage, all while commuting each day from his hastily rented apartment to this large, out of town estate. On his own dime of course, a privilege and opportunity as the deceased had put it. When the man had finally arrived, the duo had wasted no time jumping into heated discussion. Excusing himself to go get coffee, Roc came back to narrowly avoiding being impaled by flying debris.
Once the noise had died down and the earth had stopped shaking, there really was little left of the once pristine study. Only a horribly marred chair, table, and the sigil itself remained intact. Everything else was reduced to utter ruin. Of the two conspirators, the less said the better. As big a mess as this was, explaining it to the authorities and next of kin would be even worse. Given anything he could have used to discern the cause had ceased to exist. Much like his paycheck. In the face of such a disaster, he did the only sensible thing an English gentleman could do.
Roc sat down and finished his coffee, ignoring every god damn thing that had occurred today.
....
.......
..............................
When that action had run it's course, Roc's attempt to escape reality promptly failed. Neither the strange seals that had come to exist on his hand, or the mess were going anywhere. Speaking of which, the catalyst that was prepared was in remarkable condition. Considering, it was an obviously ancient bow that had just resisted a very powerful and condensed explosion. Indeed, ignoring a blood splatter decal and scorch marks it appeared no worse for the wear. What on earth was it made of to survive that?
Yes, that seemed to be the question he asked every day, wasn't it? The one question to which he never came close to finding an answer. A question where you only received more empty answers and a dozen more questions in it's place. It never seemed to end, with every day ending Roc seemed farther and farther from the truth he sought. Each truth found seemed to push him farther away from the single truth. Then....perhaps it was time to get a different perspective on this question. After all...wasn't there another avenue of investigation right in front of him?
Assured that he had the ritual perfectly memorized, Roc felt the summoning chant slip past his lips and pushed apart the veil of time to bring back an ancient legend.
