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Your life began in the gnome town of Svenhus, larger than most gnome settlements of its kind, prosperous as it is due to its proximity to the human city of Dorlyn.
Your family are wealthy land-owning nobles, unusual for gnomes, but not unheard-of. They have used their social status to the best of their abilities, becoming active in the human politics of the region in an attempt to alleviate the presence of halfling slavery.
The current year is 1397 P.R., and you are 35 years old. You have lived a comfortable, protected life inside the natural hedge walls of Svenhus, with all of your basic needs provided by your parents. You have received basic tutoring on the subjects of language, etiquette and the like. Having taken on an interest in magic from an early age, your parents have told you about a school of magic learning in Dorlyn, which lies just a day's march north-east from town.
Your dreams of becoming a practiced magician, however, have always been daunted by the constant warnings of your elders to never leave the natural borders of the town until you are old enough. They never will say why, only that you must heed their command, especially at night. There is a strict curfew, and everyone must be indoors or leave the town until the next morning.
This seems especially strange to you, but young and carefree as you are, it never seems to be at the forefront of your mind. When you try to think of it, a vague, dark memory comes to your mind, but just as you are about to grasp it, something distracts you and the thought lies dormant.
In recent events, a neighboring family has taken a young halfling girl of about 12 years old into their care. She is an orphan, her parents having been killed by their slave masters in a fit of rage, or so you have heard. The girl seems quiet and troubled, and has not spoken to you in the couple of months since she arrived.
A couple of days ago, the legitimate son of the same neighboring family disappeared. This has caused a deep sense of trouble for the community, and folk speak of it only in hushed whispers. Just last evening, you spotted the halfling girl sneaking into the window of her home early in the morning, as if she had been out at night. You have not yet said anything of this to anyone, fearing for the girl's safety.
Your adventure begins on a late summer night. As you are lying in your bed and dozing off to sleep to the thoughts of magic and the amazing feats you will accomplish when someday you can attend the academy, you hear a faint disturbance at the window -- something is scratching from the outside. You are rudely jolted awake by this sound as it grows more aggressive.
Lifting my nightcap, I climb down out of bed, my human night shirt almost touching my ankles. Cautiously I approach the window, peering out into the night.
I open the door as quietly as I can,
and whisper in Gnome, "Wilmus! Come inside an' hurry!"
I lean out, trying to help the boy into my bedroom.
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As you reach down towards the frightened boy, his hand rises to meet yours, but is quickly swatted away by a tiny clawed green hand. A shadow overcomes the boy and his erupting scream is cut off and muffled. In the murky darkness you hear the sound of many tiny feet scurrying off in unison towards the edge of town.
Slack-jawed, I stare into the night for a moment, trying to see what happened to Wilmus.
Nerve struck for a moment, I look about my room for anything that might aid me, before climbing down the window and scurrying after Wilmus and his captors.
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As you climb out of your window, the utter darkness of your surroundings strikes you again, and looking up, you realize that the dead moon Nexus is but a silver ring in the clouds. A disc of jet black is at its center. The living moon Xenus is nowhere to be found in the sky. The night is unusually chill, and a sharp breeze cuts through your nightclothes, coming from beyond the trees surrounding the town.
Away in the distance, you hear hissing, cackling laughter, followed by the renewed screams of Wilmus. It seems to be coming from somewhere near the hedgerow.
Shivering, I scamper off after the sounds of terror.
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Searching your memory, you realize that you are standing beneath a lunar eclipse, a rare celestial phenomenon. You remember something your parents told you long ago, a dangerous secret about such an occurrance, if only you could think of what it was...
You run through the loosely cobbled streets of town, which seem alien and discomforting in the night. You realize this is the first time you have ever been outside this late at night, and under such dire conditions.
After a couple of minutes you reach the edge of town, and the hedge rises a few feet above your head, an impenetrable wall of dark green. Against the rough tangle of roots and brush at the bottom, you spot a jagged portal cut through it, and hear the sound of struggle accompanied by raspy, sputtering voices from inside.
As I rattle my brain, I bend down and crawl towards the opening in the hedgewall.
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As you prepare to cross the natural border of Svenhus, suddenly the voice of your mother echoes in the back of your mind.
"A lunar eclipse is a very bad thing, dear," she once said. "The last one happened a long time ago, when you were very young. It was terrible. A lot of unfortunate things happen on the night of an eclipse. It weakens our little town... makes it easier for dark things to come in. The hedge protects us, but the dark of the moon is powerful. That is why you must never go out at night, and why you must never ever leave town. Don't question it further. I hope you will never have to understand what I mean."
On your hands and knees, you peer into the hole cut into the hedge. You are suddenly startled by many pairs of pale yellow eyes which shine in the inky blackness. They all blink out almost instantly and you hear the creatures they belong to scamper off further inside the tunnel, dragging something along.
"Help me!" you hear Wilmus cry, whimpering.
I whisper, "Forgive me mum." As I crawl into the tunnel after Wilmus and the golden-orbed assailants.
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You cling to the damp ground and feel the bitter chill curl up around you. Though you cannot see anything, not even your hands as they stretch out before you grasping the earth, you feel the tunnel bear down and close in on you. Your breathing becomes sharp and short, and panic threatens to overcome your spirit, when at last your eyes adjust and you realize you have crawled a few feet beyond the hedge. Looking around you, you realize you are in a dense forest, with trees that stand immeasurably tall above you.
A rough path is worn on the ground here, and winds off further into the wood. You can hear the echoes of many shrill voices piping in the distance, accompanied by the jeering laughter you've been following.
It also now appears as if a dull green glow has begun seeping up from the ground itself, as you find your eyesight lightening considerably.
Standing up and dusting myself off, I peer around, and decide to follow the path quietly after the laughter, hoping to find Wilmus before something terrible happens.
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Following the path, it's not hard to track your query, for as you begin to catch up to them, you catch on to a foul smell, like fermenting berries, that becomes stronger as you go.
The light around you has grown to illuminate the whole forest, and you can now see far ahead of you. The light is pale and green, almost azure, like creek water.
You are stricken with confusion as you advance, for between the trees large crystal formations have sprung up, ranging in size from toadstools to some that almost reach the forest canopy.
After a few more twists in the path, leading you suddenly uphill, the crystals eventually all but replace the trees themselves, and in some places you can see the translucent formations phasing through the bark of a tree.
Finally, as you crest the hill, you see them: small figures, about six in number, approximately three feet high. They have pallid yellow skin which clings close to their wiry bodies, and they are clad in materials found in nature: wood, leaves, vines, and the like. Their heads sprout few, jet black hairs. Their faces are frightening, with overlarge, wild yellow eyes with piercing black pupils and gaping mouths filled with needle-like teeth. In their midst you see Wilmus, though he is apparently unconscious and lying completely silent.
Stopping short, my breath caught silently in my chest, I gape at the creatures as tall as I am, and wrack my brain for any bedtime stories of these beasts.
While I think I try to steady myself, my head swimming with the bizarre sights and noxious smells bombarding me.
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Through the maddening flood of thoughts in your mind, you grasp onto one in particular about foul, impish things that live in the woods and prey on small children. Goblins they are called, if memory serves you.
The detestable things do not seem to have noticed your arrival, their attention fixed on the gnome child before them.
"I wants to eats him now!" says one in a gravelly, high voice. To your astonishment, they are speaking in your people's tongue.
"No! We saves him for the other one. Then we eat two!" says another.
"We eats none! We let them both play with Big Shadow, and then they dance like us! See?" says one other, and the figure launches into a dizzying display of thrashing about, its bones popping and moist flesh smacking the ground. Saliva and other bodily fluids are released and whipped into a sickening foam covering the horrid being's flesh as it moves. The other creatures begin biting and swiping at it in excitement. It cackles between spasms of the so-called "dance" and then collapses onto the ground.
I stand transfixed for a moment, bordering upon terror and disgust, yet curious that these goblin-imps speak my tongue. I look around trying to see a way to rescue Wilmus before the so-called Big Shadow arrives... if the gyrations of the "dancing" creature are any implication, something bad is about to happen. Also I worry about the talk of eating and other ones.
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At a loss for what to do, you fret for a moment trying to formulate a plan when an intense pressure makes your ears drum and your eyes ache. The ambient light flares brightly and then fades away entirely... leaving only the crystalline formations as shining beacons of light in the dark.
You are instantly aware of a change in the environment. It seems natural, as a forest would be, and yet there is something very unnatural about it now. The six goblins suddenly begin screeching and scurrying on their hands and feet, close to the ground, like scared rats, and two perfectly round orbs of light float down from the darkness above.
A massive shadow, as tall as the trees is suddenly materializing on the hill. Two twisting horns and a wild mane of hair shoot up around the orbs of light, forming the haunting visage of a head with eyes. The body, crouching low to the ground, would be much taller if standing upright. It looms threateningly above everything in the immediate area.
The goblins begin shouting "Big Shadow! Big Shadow! but the shadow appears not to notice. Instead, the head floats down to stare directly where you are standing, and the ambient hum of the area is cut in half by a voice so deep and flat that is is almost like the complete absence of any sound at all:
"Welcome little ones, to my Unseelie Court."
Frozen in place I look up at the massive shadowy form, knowing that running is not an option.
I blink several times, before remembering why I came.
"Pl.. please, big shadow. I am here for my friend. He needs me ta help him. The... the goblins took him past the hedges. I have ta take him back home."
Weakly I bend down, trying to manage a polite bow.
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The shadow stares at you with its blazing white orbs for a long, still moment.
"Little one, your friend now belongs in my court. Soon he will remember who he truly is, and become like his kin." A wide column of shadow bends beneath the figure, implying a perfectly muscled arm, ending in an extended finger with a wickedly long nail. It points to the goblins.
"I would send them to retrieve you in time, of course. Always am I in need of more servants, but how stubborn you little folk are, hiding in your dell. But the ward was broken and slowly have I come to reclaim your kin. A pity my realm only intersects yours under these conditions, otherwise I should have been finished by now."
The shadow floats back, rising to its previous height. Below it, Wilmus is beginning to stir from his slumber, and the goblins begin nipping and clawing at him.
"But here I have a perplexing one. You defied your clan and came into my domain? This shows promise. If one was willing, I could give him a special gift. I could make you something marvelous, little one, of that I am sure.
"You are in my court, and at my mercy. Accept my offer, or anger me and become my thrall."
The shrieks and jitters of a thousand more goblins now echo through the trees, as they approach from every conceivable direction.
Glancing at Wilmus, the goblins, and then back up to the shadow, my courage returning. "I crawled through the hedge ta save my friend. Spare him, an' I will accept your offer. If what Mum says is true, you won't get a chance like this for a while."
Chilled to the bone through my bedclothes, I stand up fully facing the horned shadow, trying not to show the fear I am feeling.
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The shadow stares unblinking, straight through you. The sour odor of fermentation grows as the goblins stir and close in about the hilltop.
"So be it. Your kin are defiant to a fault, so they are. But still mortal. I will have eternity here in my court to toil, and when our worlds' paths next cross, you will have grown older and weaker, whereas I will have remained unchanged. That you should serve me now, to save you from such an empty existence, will be my final favor. Bring him to me, children!"
The goblins launch into an orgy of claws and gnashing teeth, pouring over the hill like ants. You feel the warm, moist bite of a goblin behind you barely miss your shirt sleeve. You are about to be overwhelmed when a small shadow, swift and hard, passes before you.
With a sickening pluck, the sharpened end of a tree limb blooms from the forehead of a goblin beside you. Your eyes reeling, finally you realize you are staring at the young halfling girl from Svenhus. Her clothing is dirty and ragged, and her face is tired and grim. She loosens her grip on the spear and lets the goblin slump to the ground.
She looks at you with desperate eyes and shouts, "Run!"
I spare one long glance towards where Wilmus was before the goblin masses started pouring forth, hoping he will be alright, before taking off back towards the tunnel, reaching to grab the halfling's hand and pull her with me.
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Taking the girl's hand in yours, you feel a sharp tug of resistance. Looking back, she is planted firmly to the ground, and vainly reaching with one hand towards Wilmus, who is completely lost amidst the chaos.
When the shadow loses form and begins expanding to fill the night, the two white orbs of its eyes linger in place for a moment longer, and though they have no pupils you feel them boring into your very core.
The halfling girl turns away, tears welling in her eyes, and begins to run.
Between short breaths as we run I try to calm her, "We... will... come back... as soon... as we... can!"
Hand in hand I run through the crystal forest and hope the path hasn't changed as we make our way back towards the tunnel in the hedge.
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Your pace is almost matched by the goblins as you fly through the forest. Your vision grows darker as the crystal formations gradually dissipate, and the underbrush nicks your bare legs with thorns and twigs.
Nearly exhausted and almost blind in the dark, at last the great black wall of the hedge looms in front of you. As you prepare to crawl under the hedge, the horde of goblins bares down on you. Your heart threatens to burst from your chest in fear, when suddenly you are jerked forward and out of your body, and everything goes black...
You awake with a start in your bed. In the bright sunlight of the morning, your eyes are dazzled, but you soon realize where you are. You're in the dormitory of the Dorlyn Academy of Magical Learning, and you are 45 years old. You still have nightmares from your experiences when you were younger, which is what lead you here to begin with, but perhaps you will relive those memories yet again in further dreams.
Today is your first day, and your first lesson is scheduled to begin at noontide. From the position of the sun, you'd estimate the time to be about nine of the clock.
As I try to shake the memory from my mind, I speak the phrase in Gnomish as I wave my hand over my person. "Sö," and in doing so cast prestidigitation to clean myself.
I dress, and try to overcome my nervousness as I prepare to embark upon my arcane journey.
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Your room is small, about ten by ten feet, but it suits you well, being cozy and warm. On the eastern wall, the spring sun invites itself in through a pair of tall windows, which are currently ajar. The sound of birds and a slight breeze comes sweetly to your ears.
In one corner squats a meager wooden desk and a chair, above which is a shelf mounted to the wall holding a myriad of empty bottles. Next to the desk is a tall bookshelf, which contains very few actual books, and a variety of loose leaves of paper, ink, and quills. At the foot of your bed is a wooden trunk with a lock, to which you hold the key, that contains your personal effects. Finally, in the corner opposite the desk is a cast-iron cauldron, perhaps the size of a pumpkin, filled with various cups and ladles and strainers.
On the western wall is a wooden door which leads to the hallway. When you are finished with your morning routine, it is nearly ten of the clock, and your stomach rumbles as you realize you have not eaten breakfast!
"Like a badger's growl." I pat my belly, give my room a once over, and head into the hallway making my way for whatever the Academy offers in ways of cafeteria or mess hall.
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As you exit your room into the hallway, you are greeted with a rather majestic view of the outlying land through the endless row of arched windows stretching the west wall of the corridor. Hillocks stretch far beyond the eye can see, each topped with a jagged crown of fir trees. An arm of Dorlyn's urban area reaches slightly around the nearest of the hills, and their rooftops and smoking chimneys can just be seen above the emerald grass. The sky hangs milky blue like a painted backdrop at a bard's theatre.
As you walk, you soon become aware of two presences that have just moved up beside you. Glancing to the left, you see a human boy, perhaps in his mid-teens, with shoulder-length brown hair and the beginnings of a beard. He is sporting a sappy grin on his face, and struggling to carry a leather bag full of jangling objects. Glancing to your right, you see a rather stern-faced elven girl with lengthy blond hair. She doesn't seem to notice you. After walking a few paces, it becomes apparent you are all going towards the same destination: the dining hall.
"Well met, hungry ones! I am Jackobean! Are you both new students, or do you have a few classes under your feet already?" I greet them warmly, smiling and walking briskly to match their longer pace.
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The fidgeting human boy throws up a gloved hand in a wave of acknowledgment, which results in his leather bag crashing to the floor. The sound of breaking glass and clanging metal is loud in the hallway. "Whoops..." he says sheepishly, stopping to laboriously heft the bag onto his shoulder. His broad grin returns soon enough, as he says with in the sheax language, "Hi there! My name's Guili, and yes, today's my first day. It's yours too, isn't that right, Ingjrd?" He peers over your head at the elven girl, who is still staring coolly ahead.
Ingjrd glances sidelong at Guili, her face never changing expression. "Sure." she says.
Guili laughs nervously and turns his attention back to you. "Anyways, we met a couple days ago, when we were getting settled in for the semester. But we haven't seen you around, so you must be new here too?"
"Yes I am. I am very excited to see what is in store. Guili, Ingjrd, it is nice to meet you." Leaning closer to Guili and saying in a lowered tone, "Can either of you do any magic yet?"
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"Magic? Oh, not me... I don't know anything about magic actually, heh heh! I'm here to carry on my family's tradition and learn alchemy. You know about alchemy, don't you? It's a sort of magic, I suppose. It's way more practical than normal magic, because it's something called a "science", or so my pa says.
"But Ingjrd here, I think she's used magic before, though not on purpose. She said it's in her blood, so she can't help but use it, isn't that what you said, Ingjrd?"
Ingjrd brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and stops to open the heavy antique door to the dining hall. "I did. Eat and be quiet." she says.
"Hey, you should come sit with us!" offers Guili, struggling to fit his luggage through the door.
"I will gladly sit with you. No gnome worth his nose is ignorant of alchemy, though I have not practiced anything other than helping me da stir the kettle a time or two."
I try to help Guili fit through the door and make my way into the dining hall.
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The dining hall is a vast room with stone walls and a high, vaulted ceiling. The majority of the hall is dominated by five rows of heavy wooden tables, with matching benches for seating. On the opposite end of the room is a wide pulpit, presumably used by the faculty to address students and doubling the use of the room as a lecture hall.
You and your two companions find an empty bench and are served by the kitchen staff, who bring you plates of food stacked with rolls of almond bread, fruit pastries, and smoked sausage. Goblets of chilled fruit juice are poured to drink. You sit and enjoy the conversation of your fellow students, listening to the commotion of the few dozen others who are seated in the hall.
Before what seems like hardly any time at all, a clanging bell from somewhere outside announces the time is eleven of the clock. Two doors, one on either side of the pulpit, are opened and a strange sight greets your eyes as a series of wooden crates float through them and up onto the podium, seemingly by their own volition, suspended upon discs of glowing white energy. A moment later, a man and a woman wearing elegant blue robes enter with their hands held aloft in an arcane gesture, their faces concentrating on the floating crates.
The wooden double doors through which you entered the hall are pulled open, and in strides a man wearing exquisite robes of blue with a filigreed mantle resting on his shoulders and a circlet of woven, sparkling silver on his head. His neck is ornamented with a variety of pendants, and his right hand that is grasping a staff of exceptional quality is adorned with many sparkling rings. The staff is worked of polished wood, capped on each end with gold, and on the top rests a jagged, natural-cut point of some opaque crystal. He has long black hair, graying in some places, and his face sports a short, neatly-trimmed beard.
The man smiles warmly at the students as he makes his way to the pulpit, where he approaches a podium and holds aloft a wand-like apparatus. He speaks, and you are surprised to find that his voice is amplified many times over normal human volume, echoing loud and clear in the hall:
"Welcome, my students, to the Dorlyn Academy of Magical Learning! I am the headmaster of this institution, and my name is Armes Megestus. Some of you I already know, and some I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, but nonetheless by the end of this semester I will make it my duty to become not only your mentor, but your friend, companion and trusted confidant. I see many bright, young faces this year, and it fills my heart with warmth to know that the flame of magical knowledge will be carried by you, the newest generation as bearers of the mystical torch. In the coming months, you will learn more, much more, than the principals of magic. You will learn to abide the responsibilities of your talents. You will learn to use your knowledge for the betterment of the world and yourself. You will learn what it truly means to be a magician.
But alas, there is plenty of time for such hard lessons. For now, be merry, eat, drink, become friends with one another, and be hopeful! For today a new turn you will take in your path to knowledge, leading us ever onwards to a brighter future! I will dine here with you, and when you all are ready, please come forward so that you may receive your new spellbooks! I bid you all a happy breakfast!"
The man then steps down from the podium and is seated at a table on the pulpit, where several other blue-robed individuals are now sitting, eating and talking amongst themselves.
I watch the floating crates with an unbridled eagerness, and am stunned by the elegance of Headmaster Megestus. I glance to Guili and Ingjrd to gauge their reactions, as I try to eat quickly, but not quick enough to give myself the hiccups, so I can approach the pulpit and be granted my first official spellbook. Turning to my comrades, my words bounce between Sheax and Gnome in my excitment.
"Wasn't that amazing? The way he just
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Guili's eyes flit befuddled around the room. "So this is what real magic can do! It is quite exciting, isn't it? Do you think you'll be able to learn to cast spells like that, Jackobean?"
Ingjrd looks up idly from her meal and listens to the headmaster's speech, then silently resumes eating without another glance.
The rest of the students eagerly gulp down their remaining food and rush to the left side of the pulpit, where the blue-robed mages are removing the lids of the crates. They begin taking books of varying sizes, shapes, and colors from the crates and handing them to the students in line. The headmaster returns to the podium with a few more words to say.
"These books have been donated to us by some very generous patrons. Each one is unique, and the pages are completely blank. Within their covers you will not only record the fundamentals of magic, but your own thoughts, studies, and discoveries. Please accept these as a token of our desire to teach and your desire to learn! Like an old friend, the secrets we share with these books will be with us for the rest of your lives, so treat them well. And don't forget to introduce yourselves to our esteemed professors, who will be assisting in the handing out of your books!"
The headmaster then takes his place on the pulpit with an armload of books and warmly greets students who approach.
I muster a quick "Mmmm-hmmm!" to Guili with a mouth full of food as I quickly jump up and rush to the line with the other anxious students.
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You arrive at the procession of scholars, and see many of your peers up close for the first time. People of many races, male and female, old and young alike, with their clothing and demeanor equally as varied. It is a bit jarring, sheltered as you were from the outside world in your home town, but your gnomish curiosity allows no room for fear or prejudice.
When at last your time to take a spellbook arrives, a blue-robed woman with beautifully braided brown hair and a youthful face beckons you over. "Good day to you! You've been waiting patiently, so allow me to give you this... she says, reaching into the bottom of an opened crate. She produces a rather old, hefty tome, that is practically leaking dust. The hand-tooled leather covers are dried and cracked with age, and the brass clasp which holds it closed is severely tarnished. "My apologies for the condition, some people just don't have any respect for books... but I'm sure it was quite beautiful when it was new. It just needs a friend to take care of it, I would say. My name is Krinia, and I'm the professor of divination magic. If you have any questions, I would probably be the best to ask. I have a way of knowing about things, you see!" she says with a grin. "What's your name, young one, and what schools of magic will you be studying? I could point you towards the professors you'll need to become acquainted with, if you'd like."
My eyes widen as she hands me the book, feeling its weight in my hands. "It's perfect, mum. Name is Jacobean van Rijn, Miss Krinia, an' I'm leaning towards magics of raw force an' power. If you could help point me in the right direction it'd be much appreciated!" I smile hefting the weathered azure tome, running my thumb along the aged clasp.
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Krinia takes your hand and leads you across the pulpit to where a very short, elderly man is standing with his back to you, conversing with a group of students in a thick accent: "And then I grabbed him by the ears, put my fingers right into the holes, and scrambled his brains like a big, rotten egg! The other giants just laughed until they wet themselves! Aye, shocking grasp, fine spell. Take my class and you'll learn that and a hundred more uses for it!" he shouts, apparently concluding a rather exciting tale.
Krinia chuckles softly and chimes in: "Froud, I have someone who would like to speak with you."
The group of students dissipate as the old man turns toward you. The first thing you notice is the stark white beard covering most of his upper body, which is tucked into a wide leather belt on his waist. Hooking over the top of the beard is a long nose that resembles a hawk's beak, and two deep-set eyes glimmering brightly under a pair of bushy white eyebrows. The blue robe he wears is sleeveless, revealing two grizzled, hairy arms with stout muscles. It is then you realize that this man must be a dwarf, who you know are like cousins to your people, but are rarely seen above-ground.
"Hello, young lady. And who are you?" he asks, peering at you with his twinkling eyes.
Trying to stifle a chuckle, "Jackobean van Rijn, Professor. I am told that you will be teaching me what I need to know about forceful magics... an' I'm a boy."
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"Ah? So you are. Sorry lad, my eyesight isn't what it used to be... too many restoration spells, I think." says the old dwarf, rubbing his eyes with stubby fingers that resemble pieces of leather that have been chewed on by dogs.
"Well young one, force magic is a very demanding discipline. The force of your magic is equal only to the force of your will. You must be prepared to master yourself first. Those as young as you rarely pass my class. But perhaps you will surprise me... aye, it has been many turns of the wheel since one your age graduated under me. We shall see!" he says, thrusting a gnarled finger towards the sky. "Class will begin shortly. Assemble outside, on the eastern lawn. Don't be late!"
I smile, determined to make the professor proud. "Yes sir!"
With my book tucked under my arm, I make my way through the crowd to find either Guili or Ingrjd. "I've Evocation soon! I hope that you both will have fun in your classes an' we'll have to meet up later. Dinner?"
After flagging either of them down, I will quickly make my way towards the eastern lawn.
As I head to the lawn I take my book from under my arm and run a thumb along its spine and pages, examining my tome.
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You find Ingjrd idly fingering through a pouch on her belt as she feigns awareness of Guili, who is eagerly expressing his interest in alchemy class. "Oh, and Professor Morvelo says that my calcinator is of an exceptional kind, so I may be able to assist the apothecary in making powders for extra credit! It was a gift from my grandfather, and he never did spare any expense..." he says, continuing to rave long after he and Ingjrd agree to meet you for dinner.
Examining your new spellbook, it appears to be anything except new. The leather cover was perhaps once a rich brown, but is now the color of dried clay and is cracked and peeling in several places in addition to wearing a thick coat of dust. The clasp jams momentarily as the oxidization causes the brass to stick, but comes open with a solid jerk. Inside, the pages are so old and yellowed they crackle like dried leaves, but seem to be oddly resilient and do not tear or crumble at your touch. It appears to be completely blank, without so much as a maker's mark or owner's signature to be found.
Thumbing through the pages, I inhale deeply, catching a whiff of something unusual besides the comforting aroma of lignin.
"Did ya say somethin'?" Glancing up I realize there aren't any students near me. "I guess not."
I continue to look over my book, admiring the wear and wondering what story each mark of age has to tell. Eagerly I look about, awaiting my first lessons in the magics of evocation.