All Abuzz (Open RP)

[Aswe]

Aswe stared at the rod of Erlick in a mixture of awe and vexation. It had been a few days, almost a month since it started making noise. First in her depot, then an office above the library and following a noise complaint from the librarians, here out in the woods under a mighty and gnarled eldan oak, she'd hoped the wisdom would rub off on her.
The physical structure of the rod hadn't changed, still a thin iron rod, still cold to the touch, still had a moveable section to cover the light,still had some level of apparently useless engravings,all of that hadn't changed. The only thing that had was that a small, imperceptable whine had increased in volume until it had become a noticeable hum and now an angry drone, though she was certain the light within now began to flicker as well.

She'd subjected it to several tests over the last few days, most in order to quieten it. She had swaddled it in thick rags to muffle it, she'd buried it in earth, she had even submerged it in water (That seemed to make it louder) and without any magical knowledge or expertise she was decidedly diffident to disassembly.

Aswe's own investigations into the artifact hadn't turned up much of interest as to why it would be doing this. The rod itself was created in Albar for a somewhat cowardly nobleman named Erlick who had an incredibly pointed and debilitating fear of the dark, but also had a curious responsibility of ensuring the family crypts were not being misued by necromancers or errant Chergan heretics. Thus he had the rod created by (as the documents called him) 'An itinerant mage of Lor Angur'. it's powers reported to repel the undead and to give out unerring light without fuel. How it came to be in Runewick is a mystery of it's own, but her own theory was that it was traded by some impoverished noble or one who had no fear of the dark.

She shook her head in consternation, she was being beaten by an iron rod. She would bury it here again, and return home to her beloved wife, Irina, "she can help" Aswe thought "Her mind matches mine."

After several hours of discussion, postulation and thesis they had come to some sort of theory:

Aswe spoke: "I will.. have to track down any mage i can and shake them by the shoulders" it felt as though admitting defeat, but she knew one could not ask a blacksmith to be a surgeon, why ask her to be a mage?
Irina looked to her, her mind swimming in contemplation "I still think it's possible that something is trapped in this rod"
Folding her arms Aswe nodded. "I am leaning that way as well, or some level of corruption from the island."
"When you put it in liquid it gets louder you said? Afraid of drowning?" Irina postulated
"Possibly...Hrmm.." Aswe stroked her chin, various speculations entered her mind, and almost just as many left again
Irina looked at her. her brows furrowed"What's going on in that pretty head of yours? Tell me"
"It is supposed to.. repel the undead, isn't it? If something has gotten inside - an undead soul, perhaps it is an expression of pain?"
Irina pursed her lips slightly "An obvious thought"
"What do you think?"
"I wonder how this defence works? Maybe it's something that lives off the undead and is hungry?"
"Perhaps... Perhaps i should find some Undead and test their reaction?"

The next morning Aswe placed a notice on the boards: "Mages sought for experiment" and sent a few choice doves.

[Asphy]

An elfess sits at a small table in Runewick's tavern and takes turns writing on various parchments, some of which seem to have barely room for more than a few words.
She looks thoughtfully at the parchments spread out in front of her and leans back a little. As her gaze wanders around the room, it lingers on the notice board next to the entrance door.
Finally, she lays the parchments on top of each other and carefully rolls them up like a well-kept treasure. After tying the scroll together, she looks around the tavern and quickly stows the scroll away so that nobody notices it.
She places a few pieces of silver coins next to the empty wine glass, rises and goes to the notice board. An apparently newly posted letter arouses her curiosity.

"Mages sought for experiment" Aswe

She lets out a short laugh as she reads the text. "Look at you, experimenting with mages! If they're so careless with their mages, I'm not surprised I don't see any here," she says half aloud and looks mischievously at Rose, who has just picked up the empty wine glass and coins from the table.
"It's been a long time since the magicians came here to celebrate." Rose calls back and adds: "I don't know what they do with them here. Anyway, hardly any mages come in here anymore. But I don't miss them anyway, they weren't as generous with their tips as you are."

Asphyxine turns back to the board with a smile, then takes a quill and writes a message on the lower blank area of the parchment.

Aswe. We have only met briefly, but I am pleased to inform you that Master Cartaphilus has now reached Runewick. If I interpret your request to mean that no experiment is to be carried out with the mage, but that you are looking for an experienced mage to support you in an experiment, then I am happy to offer you our assistance.

Best regards, Asphyxine

[Clairette]

Clairette didn't watch the letter dove fly away. She opened the letter and read it. Then she frowned.

---------------

Some days later, the dark skinned elfess wrote an answer to Aswe.
Sitting at the table in the flat surrounded by everyday chaos and her pets, Claire dipped an quill into an ink bottle and began to scribble on a paper.

Dear Aswe,

consider me intrigued, I am willing to help you with this riddle.

And yes, Clairette was indeed curious.

I do suggest we either meet in Galmair, or if you prefer we can meet at the Hemptie as well. Left Hand Oxiana is as curious as ever about magic experiments and wishes to accompany me.

That was not the whole truth, both Clairette and Oxiana did not want the mage to go to Runewick. The reasons for this were the political development between the realms as well as general suspicions and bad past experiences. Clairette thought that Aswe might be aware of this already anyway, and that it was a nicer gesture to not spell this out in her letter. "Aswe tries to fix this chaos", she thought and muttered to herself in her odd elven dialect: "So I should not discourage her."

Further allow me to ask a few questions:

Asking more questions, and preferably keeping written answers had become a way to go about experimenting. It had been very troublesome that noone had kept past records on the events around Letma. So, Claire had decided to at least take notes of whatever she could write down about her studies and findings. Given the writings could prove helpful in a few decades taking written notes was no big effort.

Plus, asking questions helped to narrow down a theory, depending on the answers. Yet, not having seen the artifact in question and Aswe's letter being sparse on information, there was not much of a chance to narrow down the theories just now. The questions were more like tossing stones at a target - blindfolded.

- When did the rod change it's behaviour? Did anything happen before that? Has it been magically charged for example?

- Has it shown this behaviour in the past?

- Does it still fullfill it's purpose for keeping undead away?

~ Mage Clairette

Clairette re-read her letter, muttered some more. With a content gleam in her eyes she went up the stairs to the balcony and told her pet dove, a tiny white bird, to carry the letter to Runewick.

[Aswe]

Aswe looked over at the well written pages, one from a haughty dove and the other torn from the corner of a poster. she nodded to herself, ample enough help she decided. two replies, three people. One purported to be a master of magic and science. She took a quill to paper and began to write two replies, detailing the situation, the gist of it, what she had tried, what she feared, and of course what she asked of them.

Thank you for replying to my message.
I seek magically inclined minds to study this rod. Given it has two known properties of giving out light, and repelling the undead my thoughts are to test them both. Looking at the light in the rod, it seems to be losing its strength and power. The light has dropped from a powerful cone to a flicker and now it can barely light a thimble full of space. So it stands to reason that perhaps its other function is now diminished as well. While it now emits a noise that would certainly attract the undead, I wish to know if this noise overwhelms the magical compulsion to flee the rod should impart upon them.

For this, I would require others to join me to the dead marshes to determine if my hypothesis is correct. While preparing this expedition, I will provide access to the rod. Do be aware, in my own studies I have found it to be almost poisonous to the mind and the disposition. I have found my own emotions twisted by this artefact, from anger to happiness to sadness and everything between. All of these emotions are amplified and intensified, and this is prior to the annoyance created by the noise the rod emits.

Clairette raised some queries in her reply:
- When did the rod change its behaviour? Did anything happen before that? Has it been magically charged for example? The rod changed its behaviour a few weeks ago. it was sitting safely in my depot in Runewick before this.

- Has it shown this behaviour in the past? Not since it has come into my possession.

- Does it still fulfil its purpose for keeping undead away? This is something i hope to determine.

Aswe leaned back in her chair, thoughts of how things could go wrong waded through her mind briefly, she added another paragraph

Given I have no magical knowledge or expertise I shall have to defer to you and your colleagues in how to organise the examination. I ask that you all be respectful and open to suggestions, I do not wish for this to be unseated by disagreement, Runewick and perhaps all of Illarion's safety may rely on this.

I ask you to come to the hemp necktie in two days, where we can discuss this.

- Aswe

She nodded to herself, and after a quick proofreading (repaid with a kiss on the cheek) from Irina. Aswe attached the notes to a dove's leg, fed them a little grain, and let them go.

[Asphy]

Asphyxine looked at Cartaphilus, waiting for him to read through the message she had received from Aswe.
Cartaphilus looked up and gazed over the railing from the roof platform of the mage's hut into the distance. Then he turned to the elfess sitting next to him and gave her a brief nod. Asphyxine took the letter from his hand and skimmed it again, then began to write on the back of the parchment.

Dear Aswe

Your message tells us that it is about a staff that has magical properties. In your letter you point out that you have no magical knowledge. How did you get this staff and how long has it been in your possession? And where does this staff come from? What seems important to us for a qualitative assessment of the change: Was the magical property of the staff examined by a person with magical expertise before the changes you described?
Master Cartaphilus and I will be happy to assist you with the investigation.
Please give us a date for a meeting to discuss the next steps.

With best regards
Asphyxine

After Cartaphilus, who was watching her writing, nodded again, she rolled up the parchment, got up and went to find a messenger.

[Aswe]

ASwe looked over the back of the parchment, silently reading the words. She nodded to herself and pulled another sheet from Runewick's apparently inexhaustable supply.

"Councillor Aswe? The head street sweeper is here to see you" came a voice. It was her new aide. Hiring him had been a stroke of genius. She was no longer burdened by the minutia of her own personal logistics.
Aswe nodded to her aide, then spoke "A few minutes. I must reply to a missive."

Aswe dipped her quill into the ink. taking a few moments to think.

Greetings.

The rod itself is something of a mystery to us. It was recovered in an expedition to the pauldron isle. An island which fell to the undead and ruin a long time ago. Some years later, an expedition was held to either explore or retake the isle, this failed and the rod was lost for some fifty to seventy years. it's original home appears to be Albar, created some two centuries ago. Given that on it's recovery a year ago it displayed no behaviour that raised suspicion i felt that an examination was not necessary. We should meet in two days, just east of the hemp necktie. I do not wish to bring the rod into a populated area, in case there are any complications.

- Aswe

[Cartaphilus]

Asphyxine and Cartaphilus returned to Runewick from the Dewy Swamps, which Aswe had elected as temporary hiding spot for the Rod of Erlick. There the two mages had learned first-hand what led Aswe to bury it in such a remote place: Once unearthed, the Rod's horrendous buzzing was so unbearably loud that it made a conversation between the three all but impossible, until Aswe returned it to the boggy soil again. Back in Runewick, the two mages dipped their feet in the creek at the inn to wash off the swamp's mud before entering the establishment, where they ensconced themselves on its balcony to recapitulate their observations and thoughts.

Although simply burying a magical artefact in the ground is hardly an appropriate way to store it, at least it should cause no harm there. Besides, the Rod's arcane structure was doubtlessly already ruined by decades of exposure to the mana vortex of Pauldron Isle, or so they surmised. Whatever damage it would suffer while laying buried in the bog would be negligible in comparison. While the mana vortex on Pauldron Isle must have fully drained the Rod of its mana and warped its arcane structure, its return to Runewick with its rich mana streams may have replenished and overcharged the broken artefact's mana flow, causing its strange behaviour. This at least would explain the Rod's change from dormancy to malfunction while it was in Aswe's possession. "Akin to a cup, which has been cracked," as Aswe fittingly described it, the damaged artefact was now leaking its "content" in unexpected ways. While the Rod's buzzing was a nuisance, its other reported effect was more worrisome: the Rod amplified its wielder's emotions, such as sadness or anger, or so Aswe claimed. If the Rod only affects Aswe or also others in this manner was not known yet.

Unfortunately, no records were found in Runewick's archive how the Rod of Erlick worked before it was lost during that fateful expedition over fifty years ago, which made Cartaphilus doubt if it ever worked as intended to begin with, not to mention its dubious origin from an unnamed "itinerant mage." If the Rod was the work of a charlatan, it would explain why the Rod's purported ability to repel undead did not avail the unfortunate adventurers who brought it with them to Pauldron Isle. Without any records, the Rod's true nature could only be revealed through personal arcane examination and careful experimentation. Only once the inner workings of the Rod's arcane structure and the extent of its damage were understood could its restoration be considered.

It was decided to deliberate with other fellow mages on the course of action. To this end Cartaphilus dictated a letter to Asphyxine, his assistant:

Fellow students of the arcane arts

After a precursory inspection of the Rod of Erlick, we are led to believe that its arcane structure must have suffered severe damage through a suspected mana vortex on Pauldron Isle.
To gain further insight into the artefact's arcane structure and the cause of its current behaviour, we suggest performing a ritual of arcane examination.
Due to the Rod's noisiness, which would disturb our chants and concentration during a ritual, we decided to commission a soundproof wooden box to contain the Rod for the planned rituals.
The box shall be cushioned to muffle the Rod's buzzing and made of magically inactive wood, such as dead thornbog wood, so that it won't interfere with the flow of mana.
Furthermore, we are interested in studying some of the Rod's current, peculiar effects. For this, we would require a test subject, preferably one without magical affinity.

Together we may be able to unravel this artefact's mystery and learn how to restore it. We look forward to your professional advice and cooperation in this matter.

Sincerely,
Cartaphilus

After having made sure that all was written to her master's satisfaction and signed by him, Asphyxine sent copies of this letter to Caswir Drakull in Runewick and Clairette in Galmair.

[Cartaphilus]

Cartaphilus lounged in his chair, enjoying his pipe and the warmth of the chimney's crackling fire, safe from the cold wind and lashing rain outside, which heralded the beginning of Chos. The table to his side was occupied by a stack of parchments and a narrow, long box made of bogwood, which Aswe had provided to soon house Erlick's Rod - small progress in tackling the Rod's issue, but progress nonetheless. The sorcerer took one of the parchments from the stack and a deep drag from his pipe.

"Too busy pursuing own research to support Galmair and its allies," he read to himself and exhaled a cloud of smoke at the letter in his hand. "Clairette's research must be most intriguing, or perhaps urgent, if she declines to examine a magical artefact such as the Rod of Erlick. One wonders what she is working on," Cartaphilus mused and took another puff of his pipe.
Aswe had mentioned some "political wrangling" to Cartaphilus, but he cared little for such mundane issues as politics, and doubted that a fellow student of the arcane would be deterred from studying a magical artefact by them either.

At least Caswir Drakull, whose acquaintance Cartaphilus had finally made, seemed keen to investigate the Rod. As Runewick's foremost mage, second only to Elvaine Morgan himself, and leader of the local mages guild, the Illuminates, whose ranks Cartaphilus had recently joined, it was, of course, Drakull's obligation to lend Runewick his aid in this matter, but also his prerogative to helm this magical phenomenon's investigation. Cartaphilus pulled another parchment from the table, a map of Runewick's surroundings, which had been assiduously annotated and covered with intersecting lines of blue ink.

"Our efforts of charting the local flow of mana streams are already proving useful," murmured the sorcerer as his fingertip followed the blue lines on the map, pausing at one of the intersections. "This area is replete with mana, perfect to conduct a ritual. As we seek arcane insight, spirit will be our ritual's chief element, which should be fortified by aligning our ritual circle towards the Eldan oak there. Suitable incantations must be prepared and pure elements procured. I shall confer with Drakull on this matter."

Cartaphilus turned his eyes from the map to the window, the raging storm rattling its glass panes. "If only he weren't so elusive. The month of blood is nigh, and at this pace the Rod won't be restored in time to avail us against the coming darkness. Though perhaps we will find other ways to use this Mas to profit our research."

[Cartaphilus]

Led by Aswe, the three Illuminates Caswir Drakull, Cartaphilus, and Asphyxine marched into the Dewy Swamps to reclaim the Rod of Erlick from the bog in which Aswe kept the artefact hidden. On the way, Aswe explained the Rod's curious effect on the emotions of those who touch or spend enough time around it, and urged the mages to not bring it into Runewick proper until its study was concluded and Mas had passed.

Cartaphilus surveyed the swampy copse around them suspiciously - this wasn't the first time that they came here for the Rod, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that their dig didn't go unnoticed. Well, it certainly didn't: Henry Darter, the strangely reclusive butcher, watched and heard it all. What if he had stolen it? What if other witnesses had learned of the Rod's whereabouts? Somehow, Cartaphilus felt that they weren't alone, but whenever he heard something rustling the shrubbery, it just turned out to be a pig. Perhaps the Rod's influence was getting hold of him, Cartaphilus reasoned, turning his cautious suspicion into paranoia.

Caswir's shovel pierced the muddy soil where Aswe pointed to, and as the hole became deeper, the Rod's distinctive buzzing noise became louder and louder, leaving no doubt that this was indeed the right spot and that the Rod was still there. Finally, the Rod of Erlick came to light, and its deafening buzz echoed through the entire swamp, causing the pigs to scurry away and flushing flocks of birds out of the trees.
"Please," shouted Aswe over the loud, droning noise, "put it in the box!"
Asphyxine hurried to rinse off the dirty Rod with a bucket of clean water which they brought for this purpose from Runewick, before Cartaphilus, wearing gloves as to avoid direct contact with the Rod, shut it away in the bogwood box. The Rod of Erlick was secured, and its loud buzz muffled to a quiet, but still fairly annoying hum.

While Aswe returned to Runewick, the Illuminates carried the chest containing the Rod to the Quadruped Red Bird in Yewdale, the headquarters of the Illuminates, to safely store it there and to decide how to proceed with the Rod. A few bottles of Caswir's home-made, elven wine were opened to celebrate the Rod's safe recovery and to simulate the imminent discussion. Caswir argued in favour of a careful approach, wishing to observe the Rod first to see if its mana flow would stabilise, before subjecting it to any spells or experiments, being even hesitant to cast a warding circle around it as to contain whatever magical effects the Rod may have on its surroundings, though his two colleagues in the Illuminates were sceptical to leave the Rod without any protective spells.

"Originally, it was intended to repel undead, but in its broken state it may do the very opposite and attract undead or other abominations with its mana energy. In the worst case, it may act like a beacon during Mas, luring all kinds of horrors to Yewdale and the guildhall itself," Cartaphilus and Asphyxine cautioned, but ultimately consented to their guild leader's decision to leave the Rod untouched for a few days before casting a spellbinding circle around it.

With all said and done, Cartaphilus and Asphyxine bid Caswir farewell and made their way back to Runewick, spotting a strange man dressed like a wizard skulking around Oldra's altar as if he was watching them. His behaviour seemed rather suspicious, and they hadn't seen him in Runewick before, but maybe he was just one of Runewick's many magic students wishing to pray to Oldra. Why else would he have been there?

[Cartaphilus]

Cartaphilus placed his quill in its inkwell, having finished the latest entry in his notebook on the Rod of Erlick. In the dim light of his desk's candle, he proofread his work one last time, mentally recapitulating the recent events.

24. Chos 72.

The month of blood draws near, and the Rod of Erlick and all of Yewdale are in grave peril. Drakull reported that a band of thieves tried to break into the Quadruped Red Bird, the Rod's current repository. One of the thieves fit the description of the mage whom Asphyxine noticed last night prowling around Yewdale. We surmised that our excavation yesterday drew some unwanted attention, which is unsurprising, for the woods are rife with outlaws who certainly were alarmed by the Rod's permeating noise. One of them, presumably the hedge wizard, must have witnessed how we dug it up and carried it away in a chest, resembling a successful treasure hunt. He must have stalked us to the Quadruped Red Bird, and after I and Asphyxine departed, summoned his accomplices, set on pillaging our treasure. Fortunately, Drakull kept watch and made the thieves pay for their trespassing with their lives; drastic measures, but the artefact's safety mustn't be compromised.

Worse than mundane brigands, groups of undead found their way to Yewdale. They must have marched all the way from the Dead Marsh. Drakull dispatched them, but for all we know more may arrive. There is no doubt that the Rod of Erlick lured them to this place. The corruption of its arcane structure must have reverted its effect: Rather than driving the undead away, the Rod emits some magical pulse which attracts them, even across a long distance. The chest which contains the Rod may muffle its sound, but its bogwood is magically inactive, with mana energy passing through unimpeded. Inaudibly, invisibly, the Rod of Erlick beckons, and the mindless undead heed its call, drawn to it like moths to light.

It must be contained. A spellwarding circle must be established around the Rod immediately, but such a demanding ritual will require Drakull's presence. With Asphyxine's assistance, I have cast a warding spell on the Quadruped Red Bird's door to prevent any undead from breaching it. It is an emergency solution, we must hope that the enchantment will hold until Mas has passed.

[Cartaphilus]

Entries in Cartaphilus's personal notebook on the Rod of Erlick, written over several days. Some of the pages are singed by fire and smeared in dried blood.

03. Mas 72.

We are under siege! Since three days Yewdale is beset by drow, beholders, and a seemingly endless horde of their undead minions - an unholy alliance of two chthonic races. Worst of all, they brought skeletal dragons, reanimated by their dark magic. Magnificient creatures, terrifying weapons, spewing fire and noxious gas, clawing and biting even through shields and armour. How have they learned such astounding arcane arts, what forbidden knowledge may they possess that we do not?

The fiends must have come for the Rod of Erlick, for they surround our guildhall. It is fortunate that we recovered and brought the Rod into safety just in time before Mas, for there is no doubt that if it still remained in the swamps, this dark army would have found and claimed it unopposed. What twisted designs may they have for this corrupted artefact? It is better we never find out.

04. Mas 72.

The magic seal which we placed on the guildhall's gates before Mas bought us valuable time to organise its defence, but the seal's power is waning and it may soon be broken. Drakull, Asphyxine, and I desperately fight to defend the Rod and our very lives. Sir Sirt (Note to self: Inquire about proper spelling of his name in Common script), a reptilian knight of Cadomyr, came to our relief, fighting no less doggedly. We have barricaded ourselves in the guildhall, shooting spells and arrows through the windows to drive the invaders back, but no matter how many undead we slay, their broken bones continue to reassemble. The undead dragons unleash their lethal breath against the guildhall's walls and through the windows, engulfing us in flames and setting the interior ablaze. Fortunately, Drakull kept a water barrel in his bar, so that the conflagration could be quenched. The guildhall's stone walls stand firm, and so does our defence, but our supplies are diminishing fast. If no reinforcements arrive soon, we will have to evacuate.

05. Mas 72.

Tragedy! Drakull and Sir Sirt attempted to make a sally, but the besiegers used the opportunity to breach through the unlocked gate, pouring inside. At the very same time, Asphyxine was preparing a ritual to shield the Rod. Even a skeletal dragon broke into the hall, wreaking havoc. Fire and chaos. I sought refuge upstairs in the keep. Clamour and screams downstairs. I saw Drakull fall as I hurried upstairs, and heard Asphyxine cough and choke violently on the smoke and poison gas below. Sirt managed to push the intruders back and to barricade the gates before he followed me upstairs, his scales burnt and bruised. Reduced to two, and with the guildhall still surrounded, we saw little choice but to evacuate to Runewick through a magic portal which I opened on the keep's roof.

01. Eldas 73.

Thanks be to Cherga, we found Ashpyxine in the hospital, enfeebled by the dragon's toxic breath, but alive. She will recuperate with enough time and rest. No sign of Drakull, though. I fear Cherga claimed his soul. Foolhardy as he may have been, he fought gallantly and gave his life in our and Runewick's defence. May he rest in peace.

Ksah (Note to self: Ask her about proper spelling. Pointless, she does not speak Common and is presumably illiterate), a skittish lizardwoman and companion of Sirt, found her way to Runewick and joined our party. The Common tongue is as alien to her as the use of clothing. Armed with a primitive sling and with no armour but her very scales, she was of negligible use against our formidable foes, but needs must, and in our desperation all help was welcome. More importantly, Ksah brought news of someone else still fighting against the undead dragons in Yewdale. More reinforcements?

We made haste to Yewdale and found a lone swordsman who introduced himself as Bidukan, knight of Kallahorn. It is evident that Sir Sirt and Sir Bidukan are rivals, though I do not know their story yet, and the urgency of our situation allowed for no questions. Despite their differences, both knights lent us their help and fought side by side, proving their skill and valour against the invaders. With Eldas's dawn, the influence of Mas waned, and the numbers of the fiends dwindled. Sir Bidukan by himself made sure to purge Yewdale of any and all remaining undead before he departed again.

Mas is over, the fiends are vanquished, and Yewdale and the Rod of Erlick safe. When all had left, I returned to the battlefield to retrieve samples of the bones and ashes to which the undead were reduced. Residual mana energy of the necromantic enchantments which once animated them still lingers in their remains, and their study will surely be a worthwhile endeavour.

[Cartaphilus]

From Cartaphilus's personal notebook on the Rod of Erlick.

15. Elos 73.

With the dangers of Mas over, Asphyxine boarded the first ship bound for the mainland to do further research in Lor-Angur on the origins of the Rod of Erlick. In the meantime I have met with Drakull, who, thanks be to Cherga, still walks among the living. While all corporeal wounds which he suffered during Mas appear to have fully healed, I fear that his spirit suffers under the Rod's malignant influence.

Aswe had warned us of the Rod's deteriorating effect on the emotions of those who spend enough time in its proximity, and Drakull keeps close watch over the Rod since around two months, which doubtlessly took its toll on him. In fact, Drakull no longer keeps the Rod merely locked inside the guildhall, but chose to carry it on his person at all times for fear of further attempts at burglary, or so he explains.

He also believes that the Rod is, in fact, not broken, but possessed by some otherworldly being. Convinced of his own strength of will, Drakull asserts that the Rod has not affected him yet, and that he may eventually be able to put it to great use by means of "vessel magic," as he describes it. I do not know how he comes to intuit this without having subjected the Rod to proper arcane examination yet, and though his assumptions are not impossible, it is premature to leap to such conclusions before conducting an examination ritual. I fear that his fascination with "vessel magic" makes him particularly susceptible to the influences of higher powers. If Drakull's assumptions are true, could these insights have been revealed to him by whatever being possesses the Rod, and could Drakull be already touched by it?

Considering Drakull's long-lasting closeness to the Rod, I reminded him in no uncertain terms of its dangers, and requested to relieve him of its custodianship until Asphyxine's return, a cautionary measure to prevent prolonged exposure by passing it from person to person. However, he vehemently refused to part with the Rod under all sorts of pretences, such as that the Rod would be too dangerous for me, and that only he could keep it safe. If the Rod heightens its bearer's negative feelings, Drakull's possessiveness and hubris may be manifestations of this effect.

The Rod also seems to cloud his judgement, for once I showed him the ritual site at the Elstree Forest which I and Asphyxine chose, he outright rejected it. Instead, he suggests performing our ritual, despite its potential risks, close to Runewick. All this may be indicative of the Rod's growing influence over him. I hope Asphyxine returns soon with useful revelations about the Rod.

[Asphy]

The shioulette of Runewick loomed over the horizon, the long banners on the guardhouse waving faintly in the breeze that carried two plumes of smoke from the chimneys of the workshops eastward across the sea.
Asphyxine stood at the bow of the sailing boat, which was making course for the town ahead. She has asked the captain not to call at the main harbor of Yewdale but to moor directly in the south harbor in Runewick.

- - -

Her journey took her through several libraries in Lor Angur, in none of which did she find the information she was looking for. So that no one would notice her more than necessary, she dressed inconspicuously like a trader in the evenings between visits to the various faculties and covered her tied hair under a headscarf. She also changed her hostel every day. On the ninth evening of her stay, she stayed at an inn near the northern city wall of Lor Angur. It was a part of the city from which only the spires of the proud towers on the southern edge of the city could be seen, if the clouds of smoke rising from the chimneys of the numerous craftsmen's houses allowed it.
This part of town was by no means a slum, but it was characterized by the craftsmen and merchants who provided for the proud city and who had prospered as a result. The inn where Asphyxine stayed for the night was clean and tidy. It was mainly itinerant merchants and traveling craftsmen who stopped here, so Asphyxine did not arouse any suspicion in her clothing. Members or servants of Lor Angur's academic faculties were not represented here.

Asphyxine therefore noticed a man who differed from the other guests in that he wore a floppy hat with a wide brim and flattened peak, a hat similar to the one she usually wore herself. These types of hats were worn as a silent identifier among certain people who shared an interest in a particular arcane field. The man sat alone in an alcove of the dining room at a table that was only set up for one person. Nothing unusual, as some of the guests passing through preferred these seats after exhausting market days.

The two long main tables in the dining room were a hive of activity and chatter. People still traded, talked and laughed here and even made appointments for the night. So no one found it unusual that Asphyxine took a stool and sat opposite the man. She gave him a brief smile and before he could say anything, she looked at him seriously and spoke so quietly that almost only her lips formed the word "Evocatio".

Her counterpart looked at her silently for a moment. From his features, he was a middle-aged man, his posture and narrow face and stern blue eyes reminding her of Cartaphilus in his younger years when he joined her. His gaze fell on Asphyxine's hands, obviously the fine hands confirmed to him that the proud posture of his counterpart was not a physically working person, and that she did not belong to the trade that took care of lonely men due to the mention of the code. His answer was a short nod, accompanied by a stroke of his finger across the brim of his hat.

"What brings you to me?", he whispered to her. "I'm looking for information about a certain bound spell," she whispered back as she stood up and walked away with an inviting smile. The man in the hat hesitated for a moment, drained his glass in one gulp, placed a coin on the table and followed her. If a few glances observed this scene, they only gave her a smile. No one suspected what really connected the two of them.

Asphyxine opened the door to her chamber and let the man with the hat go first, looking around before entering herself and closing the door behind her. The man stood next to the window with his back to the wall and looked at her waitingly as he kept glancing out of the window down to the alley. Asphyxine took off her headscarf, took her own brimmed hat out of her shoulder bag and put it on. Asphyxine made a few gestures with her fingers on the brim of her hat, to which the man responded with gestures of his own. Relieved, they both nodded to each other.

"A ..certain..Bound spell?", he asked. "I'm looking for an explanation of a spell that seems to be bound in a metal rod. This spell seems to be out of control," she replied.
The man gestured for her to continue. "It's about the rod of an Albarian nobleman named Erlick, this rod was created for him for the purpose of driving away the undead," she explained.

"Do you have this rod?" he asked again. "Does the name mean anything to you?" she replied with a counter-question. With a slight nod, he followed up: "Do you have it?". "No, I'm here to look for information for the owners of the rod about what and how it was made."

The man came a little closer and lowered his voice "You will find the answer in the third citadel of Lor Angur, go to the library of the arcane faculty there. The book is on a shelf whose number and shelf row you will find in two other books. Find the librarian Al'Haihinn Neprokabara there and ask for the book about Lor Angur, which was written by his great-uncle who was once the librarian of the seventh citadel in Lor Angur. I will also give you the book "About the Planes" by Jakob Sternenglanz." With these words, the man went to the door, opened it, gave Asphyxine another dark look and went out.

Glad for the information, but uncomfortable with the idea that this stranger knew the purpose of her presence, she examined her clothing and equipment to see if anything could give away her origin or name. She traveled under an alias, only some of the librarians may have seen her in Lor Angur before, but even they did not know her name or her connection to Cartaphilus.

"At least we have a lead," she said to herself, but reminded herself to be very careful.
She repeated the names of the books and authors quietly several times to memorize them and not have to write them down.

She looked out of the window, down at the alley, which was still bustling with activity, but tried in vain to catch sight of the man to see which way he was going.
Looking up at the sky, she realized that the sun was still high here so far north.

She quickly changed her clothes, threw a simple cloak over her mage robes and hid the clothes she had worn as camouflage under the bed. Hiding her hat in her pocket and pulling her headscarf down low, she left the room, placed a generous sum of coins on the counter for the innkeeper downstairs as she passed and stormed out of the house. Behind her, she heard the landlord's voice: "Well, the gentleman has shown himself to be generous for the short number.", whereupon laughter immediately rang out from the bar.

The third citadel of Los Angur was located on the opposite side of the northern craftsmen's quarter. To get there, she first had to cross the sixth citadel, and then the one that was almost twice the size of the six outer citadels at four miles across. Asphyxine decided not to take the direct route, she didn't trust this man, and a detour might even buy her some time.
She took the route via the fifth and fourth citadel, as she usually stayed in the second citadel before traveling to Runewick with Cartaphilus. On the way, she removed her simple cloak and headscarf, as she was less conspicuous within the arcane areas when dressed as an academic.

After almost eight miles of brisk walking, she arrived at the library of the third citadel . She had never been here before, but the libraries of Lor Angur's outer citadels, like the citadels, were all set up identically. So she quickly found her way to the librarian's office.

"Al'Haihinn Neprokabara?" she called questioningly into the room. Immediately afterwards, part of a head rose from behind one of the writing desks and appeared at the side of the desk to scrutinize her in full size. "Who's that?", it came back. "Noraline del Rosa," she replied. "I'm new here and would like to enrol for studies. Before that, however, I would like to study two works to withstand the questions of the Protectors." "And what did the lady have in mind?", he asked as he jumped off a stool behind the desk. In front of her stood a small person with a funny pot hairstyle, a wide mouth with large teeth, on his broad nose he wore a kind of double glass, which some of the wealthy mortals with aging eyes had made by very artistic glass craftsmen to recognize the small print in the books, or to examine drawings for tiny hidden messages.

A deep red robe enveloped the dwarf's body, at first Asphyxine thought of a halfling, but from his name and linguistic expression it seemed to be a very small human.
Asphyxine smiled at him and said: "I was recommended the book of your dear great-uncle Ud’Hinius." "Which one?", the midget replied with a mischievous grin. 
"The book about Lor Angur!" "Ha, lucky you, Uncle Ud'Hinius only wrote that one," he blurted out with a wink after a short delay.
"So I can't read a second book by him then?" "Nah!".
"Then I'd like to prepare for the Protectors' questions with something more professional, namely the book The Planes by Jakob Sternenglanz."
"Is that all, or something else?", asked Al'Haihinn. Asphyxine replied in the negative and the little man dashed off.

Asphyxine looked around and then retreated to an alcove that was only dimly lit. There she waited for the librarian to return and listened for sounds from the corridor.

In the distance, she heard the sound of a door, which then fell silent again. Then she heard a murmur from a different direction that got louder and then quieter again. This murmur was accompanied by an echo when it got louder and was obviously coming from the little librarian who walked through the halls with the bookshelves.

When the librarian finally re-entered the office, Asphyxine quickly emerged from the alcove and walked towards him. "How many bookshelves does this collection actually have?", she asked the little man, who heaved the rather thin books onto the desk with somewhat exaggerated effort.

"No one has managed to count yet because new ones are always being added. But there must be just over 2000 by now," he replied, not without pride at the treasure he was managing.

"A large number then..." Asphyxine replied more to herself, but continued to ask. "How big are the shelves and how are the books organized?"
"Each shelf has eight boards, and depending on how thick the books are, there are twenty to thirty books, or scrolls if they fit together thematically."
"I admire your overview of this very large collection," Asphyxine said to the little man, who must have felt almost twice as tall with pride at that moment.

"In the middle of the large book hall is the reading area," Al'Haihinn told her on the way and pointed in the direction of the book hall. Asphyxine took the books, smiled at Al'Haihinn and went in the assigned direction through a door into the book hall.

She could tell from the dome-shaped roof which way to go to the center of the library. The shelves were lined up in a ring around the center of the hall, offset from each other so that there was no aisle leading to the center of the hall. She walked towards the center with staggered steps, always orienting herself by the ceiling, looking at the number of the shelves from time to time. The numbers seemed to increase towards the center.

Eventually she reached a large square that was certainly six to eight times the size of the Elara hall in Runewick. Tables and benches were arranged in a circle, some of them with oil lamps burning behind long glass tubes. These oil lamps behind glass could also be found between shelves. Asphyxine went to the center of the reading area and, looking around, noticed that there were two continuous aisles between the shelves, one leading from the side of the library office and one leading in the opposite direction. According to her orientation, this corridor should lead to the south, as she entered the library from the north.

Obviously because it was early evening, no one else was to be seen or heard in the reading area of the library. Only in the distance from the north did she hear little Al'Haihinn laughing and whooping again and again, apparently he had found an amusing evening read.

Asphyxine sat down at a table in the outer ring. She opened the book about 'Lor Angur'. On one of the very first pages, she noticed the sentence with a number 'Lor-Angur is a town which has been founded in 1647 BW and is reigned by mages.'
She leafed through the book a little faster to get an overview; it was a description of the structure and organization of Lor Angur. A description of the libraries was completely missing. Wasn't Al'Haihinn's great-uncle Ud'Hinius also a librarian?
Yet he never mentioned the libraries in this book. Did the mighty Lor Angur have to fear looters? Whatever the reason, the shelf he was looking for was not described here. Asphyxine leafed through the other book, 'The Planes'. She had seen copies of this book in other libraries and remembered the author's name. But even in this book, she found no direct references to specific books or even the library of the third citadel of Lor Angur.

Asphyxine opened the first page of the book about Lor Angur again and looked at the number 1647. She then leafed through both books in parallel to discover a similar high number, but found none. This number could be an indication of the shelf number, as Al'Haihinn said there were about 2000 shelves. Asphyxine skimmed the texts of both books again, then packed them up and hurried off to find the shelf. Her assumption that the high numbers were on the inside proved to be correct, as there was a shelf with the number 2087 in the inner circle by the aisle, with the number 2088 to the right of it. She continued to the middle and when she found a shelf with the number 1567 to the right of the aisle, she walked along this row until she finally stood in front of shelf number 1647. As Al'Haihinn said, the shelf consisted of 8 boards all completely filled with different books. There were no inscriptions on the spines of the books, only a few had initials or individual runes. All the spines were in good condition, but judging by the shelf number, the shelf could well have been put up a few dozen decades ago.

She briefly took out some books, but realized that this would take a long time. She looked around listening while she opened the book about the planes. It was about planes and intermediate planes, was that a clue for the shelf?
She called herself to silence and began to read. After she had read through the text twice, she noticed a few numbers that could not be clearly assigned. She began to read a third time. She paused at one sentence. "It is also known that the five elements and their gods as well as the eleven younger gods all reign over a plane of their own." "Five elements and their gods... eleven younger gods..." she whispered and looked at the eight boards in front of her and counted up from the bottom "... four... five." The count of the shelves went to the right. She counted the spines of the books on the fifth board from left to right "... nine, ten... eleven." She looked for a moment at a small dark blue book with an R carved on the spine, just as other books obviously had initials, only this one only had one.
She counted up another five and eleven to the right. It was now unclear whether the counting was correct, but it was time to check.
She put the other two books to one side, took out the blue book, opened it and walked in the direction of one of the glass oil lamps to see the text better.

The first page read 'Raiquan' Asphyxine looked around, it had become quiet. The distant laughter of Al'Haihinn had fallen silent at some point. She flipped through the book hurriedly, her gaze passing over words like ...'summoning'... and ...'bondage of the spirit'....
There were also notes listed under the headings of 'dangers' and 'exorcism'. Asphyxine caught sight of the notes ....'possession of the creature'...and …'obsession from'...
There was a noise from the direction of Al'Haihinn's office, it sounded like a hard bang, like something falling to the ground and breaking. Then there was silence again. Asphyxine wondered what she should do, was it the right book, or should she try other counting directions?
She quickly leafed through it, there were various lists of ritual spells, runes and material lists, with a few names above them. As she leafed through, she suddenly stopped and quickly turned back a few pages. 'Baron Erlick' was written there, including many of these lists and notes that ran over several pages.
Again she heard a noise, this time closer and from a slightly different direction. Perhaps it was Al'Haihinn sorting through some books. She wanted to investigate, certain that she had found the right writing, she closed the book and put it in her bag.

She crept towards Al'Haihinn's office in roughly the same way she had come. When she reached the end of the last row of shelves, she walked to the side so that she could see into the office. Through the open door she saw a body lying on the floor in the corridor, it was unmistakably the little librarian Al'Haihinn, lying there with his skull bashed in, the blood around him looking like an extension of the red robe that flowed from around him.

Asphyxine noticed a lightning-like reflection of light on one of the glass oil lamps and at the same time a pressure on her body; she knew this perception as a pre-wave that preceded a trapping spell. Quick-wittedly, she threw herself to the floor and rolled to the side as the mana wave of the trapping spell shot over her from inside the hall. She plucked her wand from her robes and placed a magical clasp around the trapping beam. With her right hand, she pointed in the direction the catch spell was flowing. She shouted "JUS FHEN ANTH KEL" and a portal opened into which the trapping spell shot at the same time. With "JUS ANTH FHEN QWAN" she hurled the mana from her grasp of the trapping spell towards the portal. The fang beam accelerated again and shot further into the open portal, dragging its creator with it, who disappeared into the portal with a loud roar. "JUS FHEN ANTH KEL" shouted Asphyxine, whereupon the portal closed again and disappeared. For a moment, she thought she recognized the man with the hat from the inn in the figure. She ran to the aisle between the shelves to the south, across the tables of the reading area and through the opposite aisle to the other end of the hall. There she opened another portal, but ran out of the hall through one of the doors and finally, after many corridors and stairs, came out of one of the entrances to the huge library building.
By now it had become dark. She crept south through the third citadel towards the city wall, nobody stopped her as she went out through a gate.

[Cartaphilus]

Asphyxine returned from Lor-Angur not only with new revelations relevant to the Rod of Erlick, but also with an illness. Fortunately, it was nothing serious, but merely a common cold or flu, if elvenkind suffers from such maladies. Nevertheless, the journey across the sea and the illness left her fatigued, and more than anything, she preferred to stay in bed, even if it meant missing the Illuminate's imminent gathering.

Absorbed in the study of Asphyxine's findings, Cartaphilus almost forgot about the meeting himself. He quickly threw his green guild cloak over his shoulders, and with hat on head and wand in hand rushed out to Yewdale.
"Curses, the meetings must already have begun! Such tardiness is unbecoming to a wizard," Cartaphilus grumbled to himself as he made haste across the long Lunord Bridge.
Arriving at the Quadruped Red Bird all out of breath, he knocked at its door, and prepared himself to inform his fellow mages that a wizard is never late, nor early, but that he arrives precisely when he means to. However, much to Cartaphilus's disappointment, the door remained unanswered. Worse, it was locked, and where he expected to hear cheerful laughter and heated debates, he found only silence.
"Perhaps they went out on a stroll to enjoy spring's bloom," Cartaphilus pondered, and settled on the bench in front of the guildhall to wait for their arrival. He waited in vain.
"Alas, where in Zhas, the month of loyalty and friendship, are the loyal friends of the Illuminates?"

Disheartened, the old sorcerer made his way back to Runewick, where he happened upon a distraught Aswe, who, unusually, wore her hair blonde and her dress black. With great sorrow, she shared the grave news and reason for her sombre appearance: Her wife, her Irina, was no more. In a tragic accident, Aswe explained, Irina had unluckily slipped on a bar of soap, her impact breaking her neck. There was no helping her. Her death was instant and hopefully painless. Cartaphilus could do little but offer his condolences to the grief-stricken widow, and direct her to Gregor Remethar, the local mortician, to afford her late wife a proper funeral. And so, with a heavy heart, Cartaphilus returned home, where he sought solace in a cup of wine and the chimney fire's warmth, his rumination inevitably turning to Irina's sudden death.

Though he never got to know her well, Irina's loss was tragic both to Aswe and to Runewick as a whole, for without Irina the academy was without a librarian. To think that something as trifling as a bar of soap could so swiftly extinguish a life. A woman in the prime of her life was delivered by an unfortunate accident into Cherga's palm, and holding the poor woman's soul in her grasp, Cherga had refused to return her to her mourning wife, who still remained in the world of the living. Whatever god or goddess Irina had in life consigned her soul to, may she find peace in their realm.

Cartaphilus lifted his wine cup towards the chimney fire, as if it were a gate to Cherga's underworld, and uttered a last toast to Irina. Holding the polished silver cup thus, the sorcerer beheld his pale countenance's reflection in it. Unlike to the wine within, age was no gain to him. When a young woman's life could be cut short so swiftly, what about the life of a frail, old man? In dire awareness of his own mortality, Cartaphilus couldn't but feel a sudden burst of envy for the elves around him, who, by capricious gods' will, measured their lifespans not in decades but millennia. Millennia to explore the world's magic and to unravel its mysteries! Though Cartaphilus's lifespan was limited, his ambition for mastering the arcane arts was not, and he loathed the impotent feeling of knowing that his very own life was at Cherga's mercy, and not his own. He emptied his wine cup with gusto, more than ever savouring its sparkling sweetness on his tongue, for as far as he knew, it could be his last.

[Asphy]

Asphyxine sat alone on a bench on the first of the two Twin Eyes Islands and gazed across at the town reflected in the calm waters of the small bay.
Cartaphilus was busy studying the book of the sorcerer Raiquan, which she had brought with her from Lor Angur. She had given him discomfort as a reason to be alone with herself and her thoughts for a while. The man with the hat she met at the Inn in Lor Angur reminded her so much of the once young Cartaphilus that she was a little startled when she met Cartaphilus again in Runewick. She realised how much he had aged in all the years they had travelled the lands together.
She remembered the young Cartaphilus she once met in an Inn in Albar. His eloquence and good manners aroused her curiosity and he quickly recognised her arcane nature. They spent a whole night talking about arcane and magic and the possibilities and opportunities that this arcane arts brought with it. Asphyxine recognised in this young human a very keen interest and, above all, a strong will to engage in the arcane. He was no longer a teenager, but still a young man, even if his expected lifespan was only a tiny fraction of eternity in the face of her contemplation of time, it was not unlikely that this human could learn and explore it.

Since then, Cartaphilus travelled with her and she taught him the basics and many secrets of magic. She was impressed by his thirst for knowledge and, above all, his courageous approach, and often felt carried away by his vigour.
Whereas in the past she had not bothered that she spend years on scientific considerations, this human at her side pulsated with an impatient thirst for knowledge and ambition, but also with tireless perseverance. Over time, she realised that the combination of this unequal pair was an enormous advantage for both of them and several similarities emerged between the two, which furthered their joint research.
Over time, her pupil also became her teacher, and as far as their relationship was concerned, her foster son became a kind of father.
It could no longer be overlooked that Cartaphilus had reached the age at which people prepare themselves for the fact that every day of their natural life could be their last.

He told her about the death of a young human woman in Runewick. Even though this tragic death was caused by an accident, which could well lead to the death of an Elf, she could feel a mixture of unease and depression at Cartaphilus.
They had come to Runewick together to make the most of the time they had left. Asphyxine stood up and walked to a group of trees under which she recognised something bright. She picked up the life root and looked at it thoughtfully. "It was time to get things done."

((I will pause playing for the time being, not because I don't like it, but without interaction it's just boring))

[Cartaphilus]

Cartaphilus, sitting at his desk, pressed his seal onto a letter, before adding it to a pile of others. A raven, the sorcerer's trusty messenger, sat perched by his side, and croaked expectantly at the pile of sealed parchments.

"Not today," spoke the old man, and gently caressed the raven's black plumage with his pale hand. "Today I need not only fleet wings, but the hands and tongues of men."

With these words, Cartaphilus turned to a gaggle of young lads standing by, messengers waiting for their orders and, more importantly, their pay. Giving the sealed writs one last, discerning look, the sorcerer arose from his chair and distributed the letters among the messengers.

"Go forth into the three realms and let it be known that the Academy summons all mages and others willing to assist an arcane ritual," commanded Cartaphilus, and reached behind his cloak for his purse, from which he gave each messenger a couple of silver coins. "Now, make haste! Begone!"

Just as they had the silver in their hands, the messengers dispersed to do as they were told.

HE EXAMINATION OF THE ROD OF ERLICK
The Rod of Erlick, an old magical artefact rumoured to once have banished the undead with radiant light, has seemingly lost its power. Now, it only puzzles those who hold it with strange noises and by addling their emotions. Some suspect that this is the work of a spirit imprisoned in the Rod's crystal.

The time has come to unravel the Rod's mysteries, and to unveil the cause of its strange behaviour. The Academy of Runewick has resolved to submit the Rod of Erlick to a ritual of arcane examination. To this end, the Academy summons all able mages of Illarion to partake in the ritual.

The Academy of Runewick also calls for volunteers to secure the ritual site, for under no circumstances must the ritual be disturbed by wildlife or intruders. A payment for these services is negotiable.

All willing participants are to meet on the 23rd of Irmas at the 12th hour ((December 21st, 20:00 server time)) at the premises of the Hemp Necktie Inn. From there, the group will travel to the ritual site; a shrine at the north-eastern fringes of the Elstree Forest.

Signed,

Docent of the Academy of Runewick

[Cartaphilus]

Drained and bruised from the examination ritual of the Rod of Erlick, Cartaphilus rested for some days. As soon as he could muster the strength to return to his desk, and his scuffed hands were able again to wield the quill unimpeded by pain, he committed his memories and conclusions of the last events to his journal.

23. Irmas 74.

The ritual of arcane examination has been performed. A great many supporters from Runewick and Galmair heeded our call and gathered in the Hemp Necktie Inn's courtyard to prepare for the imminent ritual. Clairette and Mirai Belisai of Galmair had decided to join Asphyxine's and my efforts. With four experienced mages partaking in the ritual, I had little doubt in its success. With them, however, they also brought concerns in regard to our ritual site of choice: The Eldan Oak in the centre of the shrine would sap our mana during the ritual, or so they claimed. There was also talk of a particularly dangerous spider lair. I shall ask Asphyxine to examine the shrine further, and enlist the services of some adventurers to locate this spider-infested hole and cull their numbers, lest they become a problem to Runewick.

We decided to heed the Galmairians' warning and to relocate the ritual. The choice fell, after careful deliberation and inspection of all Northern Islands, on Pen, an island strongly aligned with the element of spirit, as its runic name suggests. As we arrived on its shores, an element of pure spirit fell from the heavens at our feet, and dazzling lights danced around us, which, no doubt, was an auspicious portent. Much to our displeasure, the island's ground was largely paved. Such a stony, artificial surface disrupts the flow of mana which living, natural soil would otherwise facilitate. Asphyxine is of the conviction that this fatal flaw severely weakened the power of the protective circle which she had conjured, explaining our later difficulty in fettering the ectoplasmic apparition which we would eventually summon from the Rod of Erlick. The elemental star and protective circle were laid out as planned, following the recommendations of Djironnyma and Vitus, us mages assuming our positions at the pentagram's points. Our incantation, which we had prepared to examine the Rod's arcane structure, was amended according to Clairette's and Belisai's suggestions, and then chanted.

Our ritual had an astounding effect on the Rod of Erlick: The Rod emitted an infernal, high-pitched whistle, and from it seeped a black ooze, which I suspect to be an ectoplasmic excretion. The foul, bubbling ooze spread and reached for us all, and for the pure spirit at the pentagram's tip, at which I stood, consuming it. Our spells to restrain the extending ooze showed little effect on it. As the ooze engulfed the elemental spirit, it coalesced into a shapeless blob, and the Rod of Erlick fell silent. The ectoplasmic blob hardened and remained unmoving, and proved wholly resistant against our attempts to banish it by means of our spells. Our mana reserves waned under the strain of keeping the ectoplasmic manifestation bridled, and fatigue began to overwhelm us. What power might this ooze possess that rendered it immune to the united efforts of us four mages? In our desperation, we called forth Aswe to seize the Rod from the ritual circle and to aim it at the ooze, in hopes that the Rod may recapture it. This was, of course, a most dangerous proposition, but needs must. Aswe's daring interruption of the ritual caused a violent explosion which threw me and Belisai off our feet. Fortunately, my injuries were superficial, unlike Belisai's, who, I believe, was thrown by the explosion against a tree, the impact breaking her hips. She was also splattered with black ooze, no doubt ectoplasmic residue scattered by the explosion, of which I immediately took a sample in Aswe's booze medicine flask. Aswe, despite being in the middle of the explosion, remained unscathed, and could thus as medico tend to Belisai unimpeded.

We can only hope that the apparition was successfully trapped in the Rod of Erlick, whence it came. The protective circle should have prevented any escape. The Rod remains silent, but that may eventually change. I shall study the sample of the black ooze immediately. Fresh specimens of ectoplasm must be procured, so that they can be compared to the Rod's ooze. The Faculty of Nature and Alchemy may be able to assist in this matter, since, according to Copperhand's "Slimes: A Brief History", all slimes, including ectoplasm, are an alchemical creation. Thus, if anyone is able to identify ectoplasm, it will be our alchemists. We shall experiment with the samples thereafter by submitting them to various spells, or "feeding" them pure, elemental spirit to test their reaction.

If this black ooze is indeed ectoplasm, as I suspect, it would be a strong indicator of an undead spirit abiding in the Rod of Erlick. We must unveil its secrets and learn to understand its inner workings, for this knowledge would prove invaluable to us.

[Mirai Belisai]

It had been boring since when she had awoken. Her hip joint still hurt from that luxation, but at least she could move it again with bearable pain. She run the bell, for the healer was nowhere to be heard or seen. Instead of the healer Nala came in, seeming worried at her condition … or pretended to be so.
At least she expressed the opinion, that such - how did she call it - rogue experiments were too risky.

[spoiler=thoughts you may not want to know when you are involved]
Nala was so naïve in some matters… but somehow this was refreshing in a strange way.
[/spoiler]

She told her what had come to pass until the moment when the pain, that Aswe had inflicted on her so suddenly, made her pass out. She shuddered when she remembered… it had been even worse than back in that miserable time, when she had ripped her fingers nearly down to the bone – by digging into the soil for the root of that tree – at least that is what they had told her. She did not remember quite a lot of episodes from that time, just that she awoke in curious places under dubious circumstances. No, she would not tell Nala the details. It sufficed for her to understand, that magic came at a price, and that secret knowledge required taking risks. And it was safe to say, that she had taken greater risks in the past than this time.
It was just like… you never would learn to handle a bear or boar by using your dagger just to slice carrots.
Somehow she must have dozed of, these leaves she found beside her bed to chew on, made her drowsy and sleepy, and when she came around again Nala was gone… quite a pity.

[spoiler=thoughts you may not want to know when you are involved]
A fleeting thought passed her by – Nala being kind of worried about her comment to give someone strong tights. It wasn’t her that she meant back then… but then… this might be useful insight.
[/spoiler]

She did no really have an oppinion about the outcome. This explosion came unexpected, but fortunatly the ritual was mostly over and she was not that deeply connected to it like that accursed last time... so it seemed she was save from the late consequences like last time. Whatever that something was, that had left the staff... may have gotten what it was looking for, by devouring the element ... or may have been banished by it. She wondered what future examinations would yield.

[Cartaphilus]

Cartaphilus slowly rotated a glass vial in his pale hand, beholding and ruminating on the black ooze within. Were it not for its label, one could have easily mistaken it for the inkwell in which he dipped his quill.

12. Findos 74.

I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Nalcaryos von Weißhafen, an elven mage of the now defunct order of the Bearers of Fire. He seems well-versed in the arcane arts, and we shared a lively conversation about the academy's recent breakthroughs in spatial magic and enchantments. Our talk inevitably veered off to the matter of the Rod of Erlick. He, too, shares our suspicion that the Rod may indeed house an unknown spirit, such as the trapped soul of a deceased mortal, or an immortal spirit, such as a djinn, like in the tales from the lands of Nubris. He also noted that the use of iron was a puzzling choice for the creation of such a powerful artefact, for it is the material with the least arcane conductivity. Perhaps this choice was deliberate, as to insulate its bearer from the crystal's magic. What we can be sure of is, however, that the Rod of Erlick's magical power is entirely concentrated within its crystal, and that it is the crystal which is capable of housing spirits. In any case, Nalcaryos seems eager to join our next ritual involving the Rod, and his assistance will be welcome.

Thereafter, I set out to acquire a sample of ectoplasm, which can reliably be found in places of death and decay, such as tombs. Luckily, such a place can be found just outside Runewick. Under the pretence of lighting the oil lamps in honour of the dead, I descended into the crypt under Remethar's watch, where I did as I had promised, and also took a sample of a blob of ectoplasm which emerged from one of the coffins.

With the samples of ectoplasm and the Rod of Erlick's ooze ready, I arranged a meeting with Deanna, head of the Faculty of Nature and Alchemy, who, after a demonstration of her knowledge of slimes, went on to study the sampled substances in her faculty's laboratory, where we worked well into the night. To gain insight into the substances' nature, she mixed each in a solution with pulverized obsidian, and examined their reactions through a lens cut from a black gem. My understanding of alchemical procedures is, unfortunately, limited, and thus I shall omit all further details of Deanna's experiment, lest I do her work injustice by recording it incorrectly.

After examining the samples, Deanna concluded that the Rod's black ooze bears no relation to common ectoplasm, or any slime for that matter, beyond its superficial similarity. She believes that the Rod's black ooze is an inorganic substance, created with obsidian as its catalyst by a confluence of alchemical and arcane means. Defying any conventional understanding of our sciences, she chose to describe this remarkable discovery as an "alchemagical" substance. Due to being based on obsidian, as evidenced by its pitch-black colour, Deanna believes the ooze to possess some nature-altering properties. The ooze sample proved to be wholly inanimate, which means that the spirit, which during the ritual took possession of it, no longer lingers within. If all went as planned, the spirit which dwelt in the Rod of Erlick was recaptured in its crystal. In the worst case, the spirit might have possessed the ooze as a temporary vessel to breach the ritual's protective circle and have escaped. Those from beyond require a physical vessel if they are to linger in our plane, and thus the freed spirit may have shed its oozy form and sought a new vessel for itself. Anyone touched by the possessed ooze could be its unwitting victim. I must warn the mages of Galmair post-haste. We must hope that my and Deanna's fears will be proven wrong, and that the spirit returned to the Rod's crystal.