Marcus knowing of one location in all Sosaria that might help him, set out for moonglow. He stole a horse from the stable and quite clumsily but with much haste set off for the nearest moongate. Darkness set as he rode but still on he went, time was not on his side. He rode on, low branches slapping at him like monstrous hands. He batted them aside and wove last minute about trees and rocks. He rode straight into the illuminating glow of the gate. Here the horse reared and threw him from his saddle. He landed with a thud and a groan as the beast skittered then bolted away.
"They obviously don't like the gates. . . . smart bastards."
Marcus muttered to himself and then dashed through onto Verity Isle. The island was rather beautiful this time of year, when winters chill had left the wood and springs blooms burst forth. He had little time to enjoy the spectacle as he paced towards the Lyceaum. Numerous faces greeted him, some even remembered his name. They called to him and he waved. He grabbed a passersby and obtained the location of the Head Master.
"Head Master, How are you this day?"Marcus asked as he entered the man's offices. The man greeted him warmly, he remembered every student of his. He smiled to Marcus with his wrinkled face, that shock of hair on his head standing straight up. . . no doubt a Moonglow High Fashion. They chatted briefly and then Marcus turned it towards more pressing matters.
"I need into your personal Archives.""Why I apologize but those are secret. . . " Said the Head Master.
Marcus took a menacing step forward and gripped the man by his collar.
"Friends of mine are, DYING. You had best open those archives to me, now."He spoke in the gravest of tones, one that told the old man exactly what might happen, yet the man persisted. Old age and all his arcane knowledge had prepared him well for death, he would not be moved by such a threat.
Marcus threw him into a bookcase cursing the old mans name and damning the Lyceaum and all its teachings.
"Wytch festering, maggot hole! Be damned!"Marcus stormed out of his offices and had stomped halfway into town when he suddenly noticed a scribe on the road ahead. He jumped into the bushes and waited. . . As the woman approached he realized this was infact the Archives Keeper. He bound out of the bushes and gripping her arm forcefully dragged her into the wood. . .
______________________________________________________________*A Report is lain on Morana's desk and sealed "Eyes Only, Official Business Only" It appears to have some red smears, possibly jam. . . or could it be blood.*
Sir,
I have obtained information regarding a possible remedy. I was required to press an informant, regretfully they did not survive questioning. I'll not go into detail the techniques I employed but I have the name of a place. Upon my entry to the archives I scoured the shelves for hours. Only to find in a glass case the book I required. I smashed the case and quickly turned through the book. The name of this place is known only as "Sanctuary." It is apparently a band of outcast elves who refuse to return to the world so it seems. They are said to posses a rare form of wytchcraft, or naturecraft. . . . these elves insist it is no wytchcraft. The Lyceaum has classified this wytchery as "The Weave."
I shall seek out this information and then procure a specialist or the means to use this technique. Once I have more to report, I shall.
My best wishes from the road,
*Signed and sealed*
Marcus Kobra, Company Medic.
P.S.: Your informant, Mischief claims to have a lead on who done this. She said she would work that lead. Is she not also that known murderess? Right now I'll alley with anyone I have to in order to complete this task.
Author