Page 28 ; #685
Finding the Link
It was a few days after Vincent's defense of the Hunting Village from a horde of goblins. Elvira is some swordsman. If it wasn't for her, that village might not still be standing. Now... as for the location of the ritual. I wonder where I can find a place where dark magic concentrates. The Silent Cemetery was a good candidate, but it's not strong enough. Hm... the wizard thought as he walked towards the Eastern Forest near Magnolia Town. Some citizen had been walking through the forest and noticed a suspicious robed figure walking in and out of a shabby hut. For some reason, the anonymous citizen thought that a guild mage should take the time out of their day to make sure that the robed figure wasn't dangerous. Vincent, usually, wouldn't have bothered with such a mundane task, but thought that the robes were interesting. To Vincent, robes signified one's allegiance to some school of magic per a tradition he was taught. Thus, he decided to investigate in the hopes that the robed figure would hail from the same place as him.
Additionally, Vincent wanted an excuse to visit the forest. Forests were full of admittedly common, but still powerful reagents that, in the right hands, could be made into powerful potions. Now, the wizard walked along the shade cast by the tall trees. The wind blew through the forest, carrying with it a scent of... fresh bread? Suppose the baker must be hard at work in Magnolia Town. Wish I could smell the trees, though he thought as he went deeper and deeper into the forest. Eventually, Vincent made it to the shabby hut in question and was surprised to see its state of disrepair. Odd. A trained wizard would know better than to let their work space fall into such a sorry state. I wonder if he's okay... Vincent thought, beginning to worry about the man he hoped was from his own homeland.
The first thing that caught Vincent's eye after noticing the damaged state of the hut was the surrounding plant life. There was a red flower that caught his eye and caused him to fondly remember his time learning about alchemy.
"Alright Vincent, I want you to pay attention because this next plant is rare and thus quite expensive. I can't have you wasting them all by making ineffective potions. This flower is called the wiping bud. Why? Because it's the key reagent needed to make potions which wipe out the memory of whomever drinks it." the old wizard said, handing the flower over to a young Vincent. "Why would someone ever want to wipe out someone else's memory?" he asked, unable to imagine such a situation. "Well, Vincent, I know it might seem like an odd potion to develop now, but as you grow older and more experienced you'll realize that sometimes the pain of misfortune outweighs the wisdom it grants." the old wizard replied solemnly, thinking on his own painful memories which he undoubtedly considered erasing.
"Remember Vincent, magic must be respected. It is not an easy solution to all of one's problems, but rather a natural force. It has a boundless beauty which nothing else can compare, but in equal measure it is dangerous. I want you to remember how to make this potion, but I want to strongly advise you against drinking it yourself or allowing for others to drink it. It's not stable and the potential side effects are.... Well, let's just say for now that no memories are painful enough to justify risking the side effects." "Okay master, I promise I won't use the potion." Vincent replied enthusiastically. His master nodded happily and proceeded to show him how to create the potion.
A few tears of joy ran down the wizard's face remembering his old master and the lessons he taught. After Vincent was done reminiscing, he picked up the wiping bud as well as other flowers that were used to make the potion more stable. All of the reagents swiftly found themselves inside Vincent's black drawstring bag which he carried around specifically for collecting magical ingredients. Wiping buds are not natural to this part of Fiore. The robed figure that lives here must have intentionally planted these here. Was he trying to make a memory wipe potion? For himself or for another? How knowledgeable is he about the potion he is presumably trying to make? So many questions. he thought before walking to the front door of the hut.
Vincent knocked twice and called out, "Hello? Is anybody in there? I've been asked to see if a robed figure lives here." No response. The knocks had caused the door to squeak open a bit. "I'm coming in then." he called out once more. Once again, no response. With a sigh, he opened the door the rest of the way and made a cursory examination of the inside of the hut. A bookshelf, a bed, and a desk with no chairs. I don't even see the proper workstations that one would need to extract the proper substances from the plants outside. Either the supposed wizard is inexperienced and only knows about the plant through reputation, or he does his alchemizing elsewhere were his first thoughts upon noticing the absence of flasks on the desk.
Such a mess. The more I see the less I can believe that the man I'm searching for is a trained wizard. Such a shame... Vincent thought, his hopes of finding someone who cares about magic in the same way he does fading quickly. Still, he had a job to do and the wiping buds along were sufficient payment, let alone the reward promised by the citizen who sent him on this goose chase. Vincent wasted no time in searching the desk for anything of value. Now that he felt as though he wasn't dealing with a wizard who respected magic, but rather some amateur who thought he could use magic as an easy solution to his problems Vincent had no reservations about rummaging through the already messy hut. Most of the papers on the desk were unreadable and those that were able to be read only had a word or two on them. Eventually, though, the Crystal Swan mage came across a pink piece of paper with something terribly obscene written on the front.
Upon closer inspection, Vincent realized that this pink piece of paper was letting the someone, presumably the suspicious robed man, know that he was terminated due to downsizing. Per the language used in the note, Vincent assumed that he worked for some company in Fiore but was laid off due to budgetary pressures. How unfortunate. He must not be magically inclined if he worked for some company. Then again, the life of a career mage is dangerous, so perhaps he didn't want to risk his life day in day out he thought, attempting to paint a better picture about the kind of man who lived here and who was frightening the locals. He put the note back onto the desk and walked over to the bookcase full of heavily damaged books. All of this knowledge gone to waste. The least he could have done was donated these poor books to someone who would've made sure that the knowledge contained in them could be used to teach others for years to come Vincent thought as he took book after book off of the bookshelf and gave them a quick glance through to see if there was anything that could be salvaged.
Unfortunately, there was nothing in the books that gave any indication of the type of knowledge contained within them. Well, nothing in them except for one. The book in question was of relatively good quality. Beginner's... Dark Arts were the only words he could make out on the cover. Vincent was actually familiar with this book, as it was a more elementary version of a spell tome that he carried around with him to this day. I wonder if whoever lives here will notice of I take it.... Well, he certainly doesn't take care of his books, so I doubt he'll notice. Vincent rationalized as he book the spell tome into his drawstring bag. I guess all that leaves is the bed. The wizard got down on all fours and looked underneath the bed for anything that could aid him in his quest to piece together the life of this robed figure. So he's learning dark magic, he's robed, he was recently fired from his job, he's trying to use magic as an easy solution to his problems, and he lives in a structurally questionable hut in the woods. I think I'm getting a good picture of the poor man who lives here he thought before crawling forward. His right knee rested on something hard, sturdy. Oh? I wouldn't have even noticed an actual sturdy piece of the ground had I not been able to juxtapose it with the feeling of the relatively rotten wood surrounding it. Lucky me.
Vincent stood and brushed the dirt off of his pants and clapped his hands together to dust them off. Once he was as clean as he could possibly be standing in this awfully dirty environment, he squatted down to about the level of the floor to inspect the sturdier part a bit more. To his surprise, there was a latch and two small handles on the sturdy square of floor. He unhooked the latch and pulled up on the two handles, revealing a hidden compartment beneath the floor. And he was hiding something? Now this is getting interesting he thought as he took the key from the hidden box. Vincent also noticed that there was a piece of paper with something written on both the front and the back. He picked it up and ready the poem in his head. Yeck. You don't need to be a poet to know a bad poem when you read one. He must've written this to express his pain, though. Must have been hard to cope with being hated and scorned and unable to find any place to belong. Wait... there's something about this poem, the paper it's written on. It's no ordinary paper. Vincent knew that this paper was special - it was magically linked to a location. It could be any location, but he suspected the location was nearby.
Vincent knew that sometimes, individual mages would write certain phrases on innocuous pieces of paper so as to not arouse any suspicion. He had seen grocery items, alchemical ingredients, addresses, but he'd never seen a poem used before. Maybe I'm not giving whoever lived here the credit they deserve. Using a poem as a key is pretty clever. No one would ever want to read this awkwardly written poetry aloud the Crystal Swan wizard thought with a smile on his face before he read the poem aloud. Nothing happened. I guess whatever this poem unlocks isn't inside the house. Vincent stood up and exited the hut before reading the poem again. This time, something happened. The rocks which made up the well began to glow. There were seven differently colored stones all in a line. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Vincent walked over to the colorful stones and carefully touched one.
The second his finger made contact with the cold red stone, a pitch sounded. He touched the orange one, a higher pitch sounded. He touched the rest and he could easily hear a pattern in then notes. Each of the pitches differed from the others by some number of whole steps. I suppose I should look at whatever is written on the back of this note he thought, turning it over to reveal a tune. Good thing I know how to read these black dots he thought happily before solving the simple puzzle he was presented. He pressed each of the colored rocks corresponding to the notes in rather melancholic melody written on the back of the poem. I wish I could help this poor man.... The poem accompanied by this melody - he was no artist, but his feelings came across none the less. After pressing the rock that corresponded to the final note, the well drained and a rope began to move similar to a pulley.
Hiding something in the well? I should've known Vincent chastised himself before carefully sitting on the rocks with his legs in the well. Once he was positioned firmly, he grabbed the rope which was moving in a cycle and held on as it took him to the bottom. Vincent released the rope when he got to the bottom and noticed that the well drained into a doorway with a grate to redirect the water elsewhere. The well had a false bottom that was pushed by some kind of piston which was activated by inputting the correct notes in sequence. Quite a handy man, I'll give him that. I don't think that I could have constructed such a system. Well, not quickly at least. Now, Vincent was excited to see what he could find and thus wasted no time in walking down the underground hallway which was underneath the hut. He opened the door at the end of the hallway with no difficulty to find himself in a dimly lit room.
Once his eyes adjusted, Vincent saw that there was a black robe with what appeared to be many red eyes patterned over it draped over something. Vincent was now certain that the robe in question was nothing like the traditional ones he had learned about. Still, he quite liked the design and decided to try it on himself given that he didn't feel any kind of significant magical energy emanating from it. The robes fit him quite well considering they didn't belong to him, though he had an odd feeling as if there was some presence which could now see him. He didn't like this feeling and so he took off the robes, carefully folding them and putting them into his drawstring bag. I'll have to investigate those robes later. That was no coincidence that I felt that there was something which could see me when I put the robes on.
Underneath the robes was a chest which was locked. Instinctively, Vincent pulled the key from his bag and tried to fit it into the lock. The lock accepted this action and allowed for the key to turn. That could've been bad... he thought, thinking on his own skills. He had no idea how to pick locks, nor did he have the tools necessary for such a task. Thus, he felt as though he lucked out in this situation. Vincent removed the lock from the chest and opened it to find two books and a key. Once again, he took the key first before inspecting the other contents. Vincent picked up the two book and put one of them into his bag. He opened the other one to the front page and was surprised to find that it was perfectly legible. Furthermore, the page was written by hand and had a date written at the top right. The book was dated about a month ago. Vincent began to read.
WC: 2547
Total WC: 2547
Finding the Link
It was a few days after Vincent's defense of the Hunting Village from a horde of goblins. Elvira is some swordsman. If it wasn't for her, that village might not still be standing. Now... as for the location of the ritual. I wonder where I can find a place where dark magic concentrates. The Silent Cemetery was a good candidate, but it's not strong enough. Hm... the wizard thought as he walked towards the Eastern Forest near Magnolia Town. Some citizen had been walking through the forest and noticed a suspicious robed figure walking in and out of a shabby hut. For some reason, the anonymous citizen thought that a guild mage should take the time out of their day to make sure that the robed figure wasn't dangerous. Vincent, usually, wouldn't have bothered with such a mundane task, but thought that the robes were interesting. To Vincent, robes signified one's allegiance to some school of magic per a tradition he was taught. Thus, he decided to investigate in the hopes that the robed figure would hail from the same place as him.
Additionally, Vincent wanted an excuse to visit the forest. Forests were full of admittedly common, but still powerful reagents that, in the right hands, could be made into powerful potions. Now, the wizard walked along the shade cast by the tall trees. The wind blew through the forest, carrying with it a scent of... fresh bread? Suppose the baker must be hard at work in Magnolia Town. Wish I could smell the trees, though he thought as he went deeper and deeper into the forest. Eventually, Vincent made it to the shabby hut in question and was surprised to see its state of disrepair. Odd. A trained wizard would know better than to let their work space fall into such a sorry state. I wonder if he's okay... Vincent thought, beginning to worry about the man he hoped was from his own homeland.
The first thing that caught Vincent's eye after noticing the damaged state of the hut was the surrounding plant life. There was a red flower that caught his eye and caused him to fondly remember his time learning about alchemy.
"Alright Vincent, I want you to pay attention because this next plant is rare and thus quite expensive. I can't have you wasting them all by making ineffective potions. This flower is called the wiping bud. Why? Because it's the key reagent needed to make potions which wipe out the memory of whomever drinks it." the old wizard said, handing the flower over to a young Vincent. "Why would someone ever want to wipe out someone else's memory?" he asked, unable to imagine such a situation. "Well, Vincent, I know it might seem like an odd potion to develop now, but as you grow older and more experienced you'll realize that sometimes the pain of misfortune outweighs the wisdom it grants." the old wizard replied solemnly, thinking on his own painful memories which he undoubtedly considered erasing.
"Remember Vincent, magic must be respected. It is not an easy solution to all of one's problems, but rather a natural force. It has a boundless beauty which nothing else can compare, but in equal measure it is dangerous. I want you to remember how to make this potion, but I want to strongly advise you against drinking it yourself or allowing for others to drink it. It's not stable and the potential side effects are.... Well, let's just say for now that no memories are painful enough to justify risking the side effects." "Okay master, I promise I won't use the potion." Vincent replied enthusiastically. His master nodded happily and proceeded to show him how to create the potion.
A few tears of joy ran down the wizard's face remembering his old master and the lessons he taught. After Vincent was done reminiscing, he picked up the wiping bud as well as other flowers that were used to make the potion more stable. All of the reagents swiftly found themselves inside Vincent's black drawstring bag which he carried around specifically for collecting magical ingredients. Wiping buds are not natural to this part of Fiore. The robed figure that lives here must have intentionally planted these here. Was he trying to make a memory wipe potion? For himself or for another? How knowledgeable is he about the potion he is presumably trying to make? So many questions. he thought before walking to the front door of the hut.
Vincent knocked twice and called out, "Hello? Is anybody in there? I've been asked to see if a robed figure lives here." No response. The knocks had caused the door to squeak open a bit. "I'm coming in then." he called out once more. Once again, no response. With a sigh, he opened the door the rest of the way and made a cursory examination of the inside of the hut. A bookshelf, a bed, and a desk with no chairs. I don't even see the proper workstations that one would need to extract the proper substances from the plants outside. Either the supposed wizard is inexperienced and only knows about the plant through reputation, or he does his alchemizing elsewhere were his first thoughts upon noticing the absence of flasks on the desk.
Such a mess. The more I see the less I can believe that the man I'm searching for is a trained wizard. Such a shame... Vincent thought, his hopes of finding someone who cares about magic in the same way he does fading quickly. Still, he had a job to do and the wiping buds along were sufficient payment, let alone the reward promised by the citizen who sent him on this goose chase. Vincent wasted no time in searching the desk for anything of value. Now that he felt as though he wasn't dealing with a wizard who respected magic, but rather some amateur who thought he could use magic as an easy solution to his problems Vincent had no reservations about rummaging through the already messy hut. Most of the papers on the desk were unreadable and those that were able to be read only had a word or two on them. Eventually, though, the Crystal Swan mage came across a pink piece of paper with something terribly obscene written on the front.
Upon closer inspection, Vincent realized that this pink piece of paper was letting the someone, presumably the suspicious robed man, know that he was terminated due to downsizing. Per the language used in the note, Vincent assumed that he worked for some company in Fiore but was laid off due to budgetary pressures. How unfortunate. He must not be magically inclined if he worked for some company. Then again, the life of a career mage is dangerous, so perhaps he didn't want to risk his life day in day out he thought, attempting to paint a better picture about the kind of man who lived here and who was frightening the locals. He put the note back onto the desk and walked over to the bookcase full of heavily damaged books. All of this knowledge gone to waste. The least he could have done was donated these poor books to someone who would've made sure that the knowledge contained in them could be used to teach others for years to come Vincent thought as he took book after book off of the bookshelf and gave them a quick glance through to see if there was anything that could be salvaged.
Unfortunately, there was nothing in the books that gave any indication of the type of knowledge contained within them. Well, nothing in them except for one. The book in question was of relatively good quality. Beginner's... Dark Arts were the only words he could make out on the cover. Vincent was actually familiar with this book, as it was a more elementary version of a spell tome that he carried around with him to this day. I wonder if whoever lives here will notice of I take it.... Well, he certainly doesn't take care of his books, so I doubt he'll notice. Vincent rationalized as he book the spell tome into his drawstring bag. I guess all that leaves is the bed. The wizard got down on all fours and looked underneath the bed for anything that could aid him in his quest to piece together the life of this robed figure. So he's learning dark magic, he's robed, he was recently fired from his job, he's trying to use magic as an easy solution to his problems, and he lives in a structurally questionable hut in the woods. I think I'm getting a good picture of the poor man who lives here he thought before crawling forward. His right knee rested on something hard, sturdy. Oh? I wouldn't have even noticed an actual sturdy piece of the ground had I not been able to juxtapose it with the feeling of the relatively rotten wood surrounding it. Lucky me.
Vincent stood and brushed the dirt off of his pants and clapped his hands together to dust them off. Once he was as clean as he could possibly be standing in this awfully dirty environment, he squatted down to about the level of the floor to inspect the sturdier part a bit more. To his surprise, there was a latch and two small handles on the sturdy square of floor. He unhooked the latch and pulled up on the two handles, revealing a hidden compartment beneath the floor. And he was hiding something? Now this is getting interesting he thought as he took the key from the hidden box. Vincent also noticed that there was a piece of paper with something written on both the front and the back. He picked it up and ready the poem in his head. Yeck. You don't need to be a poet to know a bad poem when you read one. He must've written this to express his pain, though. Must have been hard to cope with being hated and scorned and unable to find any place to belong. Wait... there's something about this poem, the paper it's written on. It's no ordinary paper. Vincent knew that this paper was special - it was magically linked to a location. It could be any location, but he suspected the location was nearby.
Vincent knew that sometimes, individual mages would write certain phrases on innocuous pieces of paper so as to not arouse any suspicion. He had seen grocery items, alchemical ingredients, addresses, but he'd never seen a poem used before. Maybe I'm not giving whoever lived here the credit they deserve. Using a poem as a key is pretty clever. No one would ever want to read this awkwardly written poetry aloud the Crystal Swan wizard thought with a smile on his face before he read the poem aloud. Nothing happened. I guess whatever this poem unlocks isn't inside the house. Vincent stood up and exited the hut before reading the poem again. This time, something happened. The rocks which made up the well began to glow. There were seven differently colored stones all in a line. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Vincent walked over to the colorful stones and carefully touched one.
The second his finger made contact with the cold red stone, a pitch sounded. He touched the orange one, a higher pitch sounded. He touched the rest and he could easily hear a pattern in then notes. Each of the pitches differed from the others by some number of whole steps. I suppose I should look at whatever is written on the back of this note he thought, turning it over to reveal a tune. Good thing I know how to read these black dots he thought happily before solving the simple puzzle he was presented. He pressed each of the colored rocks corresponding to the notes in rather melancholic melody written on the back of the poem. I wish I could help this poor man.... The poem accompanied by this melody - he was no artist, but his feelings came across none the less. After pressing the rock that corresponded to the final note, the well drained and a rope began to move similar to a pulley.
Hiding something in the well? I should've known Vincent chastised himself before carefully sitting on the rocks with his legs in the well. Once he was positioned firmly, he grabbed the rope which was moving in a cycle and held on as it took him to the bottom. Vincent released the rope when he got to the bottom and noticed that the well drained into a doorway with a grate to redirect the water elsewhere. The well had a false bottom that was pushed by some kind of piston which was activated by inputting the correct notes in sequence. Quite a handy man, I'll give him that. I don't think that I could have constructed such a system. Well, not quickly at least. Now, Vincent was excited to see what he could find and thus wasted no time in walking down the underground hallway which was underneath the hut. He opened the door at the end of the hallway with no difficulty to find himself in a dimly lit room.
Once his eyes adjusted, Vincent saw that there was a black robe with what appeared to be many red eyes patterned over it draped over something. Vincent was now certain that the robe in question was nothing like the traditional ones he had learned about. Still, he quite liked the design and decided to try it on himself given that he didn't feel any kind of significant magical energy emanating from it. The robes fit him quite well considering they didn't belong to him, though he had an odd feeling as if there was some presence which could now see him. He didn't like this feeling and so he took off the robes, carefully folding them and putting them into his drawstring bag. I'll have to investigate those robes later. That was no coincidence that I felt that there was something which could see me when I put the robes on.
Underneath the robes was a chest which was locked. Instinctively, Vincent pulled the key from his bag and tried to fit it into the lock. The lock accepted this action and allowed for the key to turn. That could've been bad... he thought, thinking on his own skills. He had no idea how to pick locks, nor did he have the tools necessary for such a task. Thus, he felt as though he lucked out in this situation. Vincent removed the lock from the chest and opened it to find two books and a key. Once again, he took the key first before inspecting the other contents. Vincent picked up the two book and put one of them into his bag. He opened the other one to the front page and was surprised to find that it was perfectly legible. Furthermore, the page was written by hand and had a date written at the top right. The book was dated about a month ago. Vincent began to read.
WC: 2547
Total WC: 2547