Post by Ely on Jun 16, 2012 16:29:21 GMT -5
Ely was dusty, tired, and starving. She had spent the better part of the day going through Wistvale’s motley collection of shops to no avail. There were several books printed in a language she had never seen before in the house that she had acquired. For months she had done nothing more than sort them based on their condition or lack thereof. After that, she went back through the ones in good, if not excellent shape, to separate fact from fiction.
In the midst of this she had come across a few volumes whose the text was utterly foreign. Ely had an excellent grasp of language. There was no word written that Ely could not read, or figure out even if said study was terribly laborious at times. She had not known what to make of it. A personal code perhaps; by the previous owner of the home, the books were all of similar design. But, as for the text inside she was stumped. She hated that. Puzzles drove her absolutely bonkers. Why produce a book just to make it unreadable?
Of course, there had been ancient languages by people long since fallen into dust. Ely had even seen some of their stone tablets kept within the huge brick and mortar library of Brindisi. But surely a book; a thing of parchment and leather, would have never lasted long enough to be such.
With all of this in mind she had left her home to see if maybe someone or anyone could identify the book maker’s style. A long shot, but she was hanging from the last inch of sanity’s rope. At first she had been only mildly annoyed at the lack of intelligence in the merchants. But, as the day worn on with exactly nothing for information her temper was climbing toward explosive.
Oh.
In case you are unaware?
Explosions are very bad things around a fire mage.
In the midst of this she had come across a few volumes whose the text was utterly foreign. Ely had an excellent grasp of language. There was no word written that Ely could not read, or figure out even if said study was terribly laborious at times. She had not known what to make of it. A personal code perhaps; by the previous owner of the home, the books were all of similar design. But, as for the text inside she was stumped. She hated that. Puzzles drove her absolutely bonkers. Why produce a book just to make it unreadable?
Of course, there had been ancient languages by people long since fallen into dust. Ely had even seen some of their stone tablets kept within the huge brick and mortar library of Brindisi. But surely a book; a thing of parchment and leather, would have never lasted long enough to be such.
With all of this in mind she had left her home to see if maybe someone or anyone could identify the book maker’s style. A long shot, but she was hanging from the last inch of sanity’s rope. At first she had been only mildly annoyed at the lack of intelligence in the merchants. But, as the day worn on with exactly nothing for information her temper was climbing toward explosive.
Oh.
In case you are unaware?
Explosions are very bad things around a fire mage.