Reviving the Hunt

Sunlight filtered through the east facing windows of the Nujel'm palace's library as it hearkened the beginning of a new day. Meravyel lifted her eyes only a fraction of a second, to acknowledge the time. One of the palace scribes was sitting propped in a corner, snoring blissfully. He'd wanted to stay in the library while the guest was using the facilities, but he hadn't counted on the elf not needing to rest.

Stacks of parchment sat next to haphazardly piled books, and at least one empty ink well lay on its side, pushed out of the way in some fevered bout of searching. Her fingers were stained black with ink, and the quill she used to scratch her words onto the parchment before her was quickly growing ragged. The runes she wrote would have meant nothing to most, but to her, they were an equation. She was very close to unlocking -something-. The key she needed to find the last of the Unbound. It unsettled her that two had already reappeared. More disturbing was the knowledge that she'd lost track of Sythe on another plane altogether. It would be even harder to find traces of him here, if they still existed at all.

The scent of undead came in with the early morning breeze and Meravyel frowned, shaking her head. It seemed, perhaps, the vampires still hunted the streets of Nujel'm. It was no matter to her. The undead, while something she despised, were tools enough. Simple constructs, she'd learned. With most forms, the spirit that was once the living was not even required to bind to the flesh. At least, that is the path she pursued. Her own magical skills animated the shells of the dead. The only flaw in that was the durability of such creations. Her concentration was not solely focused upon the animated dead, so they decayed after a short time, as the magic sustaining them drained away.

Meravyel blinked, looking at the parcment in front of her. There it was! So simple! How could she have missed it! With one stroke, Meravyel finalized the rune that could set her back on the trail of those she hunted.

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> Sunlight filtered through the east facing windows of the Nujel'm palace's library as it hearkened the beginning of a new day. Meravyel lifted her eyes only a fraction of a second, to acknowledge the time. One of the palace scribes was sitting propped in a corner, snoring blissfully. He'd wanted to stay in the library while the guest was using the facilities, but he hadn't counted on the elf not needing to rest. > Stacks of parchment sat next to haphazardly piled books, and at least one empty ink well lay on its side, pushed out of the way in some fevered bout of searching. Her fingers were stained black with ink, and the quill she used to scratch her words onto the parchment before her was quickly growing ragged. The runes she wrote would have meant nothing to most, but to her, they were an equation. She was very close to unlocking -something-. The key she needed to find the last of the Unbound. It unsettled her that two had already reappeared. More disturbing was the knowledge that she'd lost track of Sythe on another plane altogether. It would be even harder to find traces of him here, if they still existed at all. > The scent of undead came in with the early morning breeze and Meravyel frowned, shaking her head. It seemed, perhaps, the vampires still hunted the streets of Nujel'm. It was no matter to her. The undead, while something she despised, were tools enough. Simple constructs, she'd learned. With most forms, the spirit that was once the living was not even required to bind to the flesh. At least, that is the path she pursued. Her own magical skills animated the shells of the dead. The only flaw in that was the durability of such creations. Her concentration was not solely focused upon the animated dead, so they decayed after a short time, as the magic sustaining them drained away. > Meravyel blinked, looking at the parcment in front of her. There it was! So simple! How could she have missed it! With one stroke, Meravyel finalized the rune that could set her back on the trail of those she hunted.
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