Entares slumped into his chair, put a hand under his shirt and scratched distractedly at a spot under his left arm trying to quell an inexplicable itch that had bothering him. It had been a long day and Entares had intended to do more reading than he had. After returning from the morning house call, which turned out to be nothing more than an inflamed spider bite, Entares had been able to finish his research on the spell he’d been working on. Entares had been excited to start the ritual involved in the spell’s actual creation, and had wanted to do that today, but unfortunately he had been called upon again before getting the chance.
The last 6 hours had been with Talib, listening to strategy, planning, and hearing reports of weekly endeavours, including those of Hathroc and Fletcher. These had been very tiring. Entares gave a half thought about how he wanted to change his contract with Talib so that he wouldn’t have to do this again, and then dismissed it resolving to think about that some time before the next report.
Entares was worried about Fletcher. The man was intelligent, that was obvious, but Entares couldn’t quite see the logic of the man’s actions. For a man who had spent so much of his life in disciplined training and self reflection, he sure jumped into situations with an almost reckless regard for his own safety. It occurred to Entares that perhaps there was something in the man’s training that made him secure in those actions. It wasn’t inconceivable that Fletcher had enough of an understanding of his own body to know the spider wasn’t a real risk. After all, the makeup of Fletcher’s body was all chemistry and magic, things that could be studied and understood. Entares thought about that concept for a moment and realized the same understanding could likely be used to create spells which might work to repair Fletcher… or any person whose makeup was understood well enough.
These thoughts reinvigorated Entares. Pushing himself up from the wooden chair which sat in the entry way of the house Entares had claimed within the town of Peterborough, Entares moved into his study. There he grabbed a few pieces of paper, an inkpot and a quill and began to scribble down the ideas that were now flooding his mind.
It was about 3 am when Entares had finally exhausted his mind on the topic of Fletcher, magical stiches, phantasmal bandages and conjured scalpels. With that, Entares’ body was feeling equally exhausted. Entares tapped Aduin on the back, waking him up. Aduin lazily drifted off of Entares shoulders and over to Entares pack, coiling himself up on Entares’ long unused adventuring supplies.
Entares changed into small clothes, cast a few spells to ward his desk and door, then lay down to let sleep take him.
Entares hunched his back and stooped down, trying to make himself as small as possible. He wished he could make everything stop, wished he could make the mountains settle down into the horizon and most of all wished he could silence their noise. Instead new noises began to join the raucous.
A new mountain presented itself in the distant ranges, this one held a huge grey fortress, with tall stern towers that looked disapprovingly over everything in the valley. The noise coming from this mountain was like nothing Entares had heard before. It was a noise of nothing, without characteristics or intention, but instead of discontented observance. The noise stung in Entares head, as if it threatened to bore into his skull. Entares slapped his hands over his ears and tried to yell out in an effort to create a noise that might cancel the sound of void. Nothing came from Entares, as he fell to his knees.
Entares thought that for sure this entropic din would be the last of him, until on the other side of the valley raised another mountain. This mountain shot up with a reckless purpose, violating the rock that it destroyed to make itself a prominent figure with the scene. Once the mountain reached its full stature, its sides released a thunderous crack that echoed off of everything and then out of those sides grew two massive crystal protrusions that emitted a purple light which bathed the mountain in a glow of arcane energy. Entares could feel the arrogance of this mountain, its need to be unique and stand in opposition to every grain of sand, every pebble or rock. Entares could no longer endure looking upon this mountain and averted his eyes to look about the rest of the valley. It was only when Entares looked away from this new mountain that he heard the low mumble of hundreds of voices chanting. Without looking back Entares knew that the voices and the purple light were the same and that together and as one they sought to bath the entire world in their violet hum.