The University of Scara Brae was, if nothing else, progressive: It actually had a Wizard on staff, despite heavy opposition from the well-connected twists over at the Ordo Malleus. The Provost, a hard-nosed ex-knight who still kept his axe for grinding, had a nasty habit of telling them where to shove their libraries of arcane knowledge if they didn't want someone thoroughly trained in the safe handling and maintenance of it on staff at all times.Out of Character:
Sortasolo. Sortanot. You'll see.
The Wizard in question was one of only a handful of such practitioners on the entire island. The only ones actually sanctioned by the Crown to operate out in the open. Scara Brae had a certain problem with amateurs and outright criminals, particularly with the wyrmfolk brood-covens and the lethal magi sometimes employed by the Scourge. That was where the Ordo came in. But the Ordo, much like its Salvic inspirations, had a nasty habit of getting out pitchforks and torches and letting the Thaynes sort the ashes. Those who operated with sanction didn't sleep much. And the University's Wizard, who spent his spare time researching what lurked in the shadows beneath Scara Brae, slept even less than the rest of them.
His name was Judd Eisenmas, though the plate on his study's door only listed it in Sideways Diamonic and most of his students, if you could call them that, knew him by his Sorcerous Name of Redwind. He was a man with a pasty Salvic complexion, brown hair and eyes that looked red in the proper lighting. He had a stubble-beard on his chin and a permanent case of five-o'-clock shadow everywhere else. His hair was a badly trimmed mess and he was rail thin from not eating nearly enough. He actually looked right for the type of practitioners the Malleus was so hellbent on burning at the stake. One of the core reasons they didn't was the fact that Judd had spent several years working in the City Guard as the founding member of its forensic alchemy squad. He still had personal connections to Left-Handed Durris. Still went out for drinks with some of his old Guard buddies, when they could haul him off University grounds.
And he still spent long nights poring over information about something the rest of the city had seemingly forgotten: the Catacombs of Scara Brae.
Two years ago, the Catacombs were discovered by accident when a low-level Scourge decoy fell down an empty well in the Temple district. Durris had managed to convince the Queen to authorize expeditions into the Catacombs, but only a few parties ventured in and...something strange happened.
They never came out, except for when they never went in.
Judd spent the better part of two months trying to figure it out. A number of adventurers went into the Catacombs -- he knew all of their names and had several of their wills as a precaution -- but they didn't seem to have ever gone in at all. One, Teric Bloodrose, had apparently left Scara Brae more than a month before he set foot in the Catacombs. Rumor had it that this was the same man who helped to kill Saint Denebriel. Another, Xen Dasen, didn't even seem to exist at all. Judd had hair samples of him, had tried tracking spells, and still couldn't prove the man had ever existed. Another still actually sent Judd a letter once -- an Aeraul Smythe -- commenting that he had memories of going in but none of coming out.
Judd almost discounted him when the man added that he could remember taking part in some odd tournament. But too many of the descriptions he gave seemed to match obscure bits of lore that kept turning up in Judd's studies of the University archives.
Research was slow going. Judd was retired from forensics, but the Guard still called him in as a consultant from time to time. He had to contend with class after class of rookie witch-hunters looking to pick him apart; to study him as if he was their enemy, rather than someone trying to teach them about the enemy. And he taught some of the amateurs too, just enough to keep them from killing themselves. His personal library was never the same room for more than a week at a time either. It didn't move, didn't change; the books rotated. It was a concession to the Ordo. Every week, Malleus inquisitors came calling, ransacked the joint, then threw everything back in no real order. Judd had to spend days just trying to find where everything was, and then they'd wreck it again.
This week was, fortunately, less hellish than others. Judd sat alone at his desk, clad in his red bedroom robe with his Hat standing off to the side. He heard the steady patter of rain, was bathed in the flickering glow of lamplight from several directions at once, and had the security of two concentric layers of hexagrammatical wards built into the room. It wasn't enough to keep him from having nightmares whenever he dozed off, but Judd was a Wizard. He would take what he could get.
And tonight, he had gotten a phrase.
"Rises the Amethyst Sun," he read, translating from a variant of Diamonic that was so old most of the very concepts it relied on were barely understood anymore. The Althanas of today didn't have anything close to kébraffle, for instance, nor could it even be approximated in most modern languages. Judd had to translate it through several less ancient forms of Diamonic, then into Raiaeran, then into common. It was a patch job at best.
And Judd knew it was probably close to being right, since his speaking the words was immediately followed by an uncharacteristic crack of thunder and lightning outside. The storm was too soft for that. Should have been too soft for that.
Thunder again. Judd held up his hand and summoned his rod from the shelf. It was a metallic club covered in runes and oddly placed lines; a ferrourge's weapon of choice.
Judd waited patiently, not looking up from his notes.
There was no thunder this time. Just a hard rap at the door.
It was well past two in the morning. It was raining and thundering outside. Judd was tampering with forces he did not -- could not -- fully understand. And now he had a visitor.
"What could possibly be wrong about that," he wondered, taking aim on general principle.