Wolf Rawrrr
Wolf-Knight
Herondale looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. Instead he just watched as everyone else got up and left the office.
A fair walk brought Dina, Violet, Meric and Silverlane back to the warehouse. The place hadn't changed. It was still a mess of overturned and unturned barrels, broken and unbroken crates, and of course various debris covering most of the floor, consisting mainly of wood, metal and cloth. Needless to say, it still reeked of dirt and alcohol.
But it was their crime scene, and they finally had it all to themselves.
Meric paused at the broken threshold and stared down at the really dark puddle of blood that was the only reminder of what happened here just two hours ago. He cast a glance at Dina, the girl he thought he was saving. But now it seemed he had made a mistake. There was no danger. He just killed a drakkar for no reason, and an important lead at that. The elf looked down in dismay.
Meanwhile, in the woods southwest of Ridge, or more precisely under them...
... The scholar abrubtly takes the direct approach. The elven professor next to him is shocked, but not because of what happened as much as what didn't happen. Admittedly, there was a hint of heat at first, just prior to contact with the wall. But the sensation of fire and scorching did not come from Henvei's hand, as he thought at first. It felt like it was coming from his mind instead, or more precisely from somewhere else entirely, but processed by his mind, not his outer senses.
Aside from the smooth, warm stone under his palm, the sensation of fire came as a word, not literal flames. Combined with the growing feeling of approval, Henvei could understand what happened. He just remembered he once read of something similar.
The magical mechanism was a sort of a power lock. It only responded kindly to power. That explained why previous attempts ended badly. It took a powerful wizard, or at least an individual with high magical potential to even access the mechanism - let alone get through it. And he yet had to do that.
As Henvei stood there with his hand still in the handprint in the center of the wall, professor Dain finally came to his own senses.
"Amazing. Simply amazing..." he said. "But look! Now that the markings are lit... By the Maker. These are not simple markings. They are runes, and old ones at that. Ancient. I can guess that because in my entire long life I had never seen anything like them. Or have I? Perhaps something remotely similar..."
The elf was right. The original markings were only half of what was really inscribed on the wall. Now that the lock was activated the other half of the red runes was visible, however still illegible. Or was it?
The sharp, elongated curves of the script resembled something that Henvei had encountered before - the runes of the Varden. Henvei met a few members of this ancient race of men before. Only natural since their kingdom was relatively close to the Frigid Wastes, and Henvei's home. He saw the script they used, and could tell that the red runes on the wall before him were somewhat similar to those, though sadly he could read neither.
A fair walk brought Dina, Violet, Meric and Silverlane back to the warehouse. The place hadn't changed. It was still a mess of overturned and unturned barrels, broken and unbroken crates, and of course various debris covering most of the floor, consisting mainly of wood, metal and cloth. Needless to say, it still reeked of dirt and alcohol.
But it was their crime scene, and they finally had it all to themselves.
Meric paused at the broken threshold and stared down at the really dark puddle of blood that was the only reminder of what happened here just two hours ago. He cast a glance at Dina, the girl he thought he was saving. But now it seemed he had made a mistake. There was no danger. He just killed a drakkar for no reason, and an important lead at that. The elf looked down in dismay.
*** *** ***
Meanwhile, in the woods southwest of Ridge, or more precisely under them...
... The scholar abrubtly takes the direct approach. The elven professor next to him is shocked, but not because of what happened as much as what didn't happen. Admittedly, there was a hint of heat at first, just prior to contact with the wall. But the sensation of fire and scorching did not come from Henvei's hand, as he thought at first. It felt like it was coming from his mind instead, or more precisely from somewhere else entirely, but processed by his mind, not his outer senses.
Aside from the smooth, warm stone under his palm, the sensation of fire came as a word, not literal flames. Combined with the growing feeling of approval, Henvei could understand what happened. He just remembered he once read of something similar.
The magical mechanism was a sort of a power lock. It only responded kindly to power. That explained why previous attempts ended badly. It took a powerful wizard, or at least an individual with high magical potential to even access the mechanism - let alone get through it. And he yet had to do that.
As Henvei stood there with his hand still in the handprint in the center of the wall, professor Dain finally came to his own senses.
"Amazing. Simply amazing..." he said. "But look! Now that the markings are lit... By the Maker. These are not simple markings. They are runes, and old ones at that. Ancient. I can guess that because in my entire long life I had never seen anything like them. Or have I? Perhaps something remotely similar..."
The elf was right. The original markings were only half of what was really inscribed on the wall. Now that the lock was activated the other half of the red runes was visible, however still illegible. Or was it?
The sharp, elongated curves of the script resembled something that Henvei had encountered before - the runes of the Varden. Henvei met a few members of this ancient race of men before. Only natural since their kingdom was relatively close to the Frigid Wastes, and Henvei's home. He saw the script they used, and could tell that the red runes on the wall before him were somewhat similar to those, though sadly he could read neither.
