Deathly Reflections

For days I’ve been bedridden, confined to my quarters at the behest of a mere contagion! How utterly pathetic! I gasp for air time and again in futile hopes of besting this affliction. The cool cloth upon my head has grown hot and I feel delicate hands exchange it for another damp rag in order to control the fever. Day and night my maid attends me, working her magicks to alleviate my trauma as best she may. Between bouts of magically induced sleep I force myself to read and review the notes regarding my predecessor’s departure.

There are so many intricate runes and incantations that already it appears hopeless to accomplish the arduous task set before me in my lonesome. With my reputation declining as rapidly as the rate of my health, enlisting aid will prove harder than it already would have been even were I fit to wander about. The archivists at my disposal grow increasingly wary of the documents I have them deliver to my estate – The eldest one, Mister Dawnwhisper, by now surely knows I’ve touched the demonic. My wards failed me for the briefest of moments – Gods dammit I should have gone through third parties.

The calculations, magical aptitude required of this affair… Even something as simple as deciphering the Twilight’s Hammer codes prove trying upon me. It feels as if I accomplish more in dreams than I do in the waking hours. Malathane assures me quietly that the physician is ascertaining the moonwell waters and that I need hold on but a few days longer. Doubts encircle me and the weakness of faith grips at my heart; thoughts that I deserve this fate, that the Gods themselves desire I suffer in this degrading manner, that I should suffer for sins so callously committed.

 Despite these inklings I have no time to give the deities above – No prayers to be spared. I just need some bloody time to figure out these infuriating circles! I don’t care if I sacrifice the entire population to garner it either!

“The runes you’ve shown me are necromatice in nature… not at all unlike those used by the Orcish legions of the Shadow Council dating back to the Second War, these ritual circles here look to be modified versions of the very same designs once used to give birth to the Death Knights of old.. Curious.” The arcanist pressed his index finger to the parchment and ran it along the maddeningly intricate lines. “Though there are of course a great many additional runes and outter circles I cannot discern.” Anetho nodded. “Would it be possible to replicate this ritual circle?” Felorian glanced over the top of the paper and sighed.

 

“To be honest, I doubt even someone as astute as the Grand Magister or the Sunreaver’s finest could reporduce whatever this was meant to be… We don’t even know what reagents would be required nor the magical capacity needed just to empower and maintain it; You said you’ve seen this before however, so I’d imagine the question answers itself.” Anetho bit his lower lip thoughtfully and shook his head. “T’was so long ago that I scarcely remember everything. As those whom forged the circle initially are sadly deceased I’ve sought you out.” Felorian set the paper down and removed his glasses, a smile taking to his lips. 

 

“I’d like a little time to study this… If you have no objection, Magister?” Anetho waved his hand impassively at the man as if shooing him away. “By all means, t’is not as if I’m getting anywhere…”

Asleon’s legacy, the twilight circles… It’s all there in front of me and yet I lack the means to clearly see it! This is not how I intend to perish! Not like some whimpering sickly pup in the cold. You can’t just put me out to pasture like this! I’ve cheated demons! I’ve subjugated the darkest of magicks! This is some celestial joke, to have it all come crashing down around me like this!

I’m Anetho Fucking Dawnpride!

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~ by anethodawnpride on January 1, 2014.

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