Mithral·Dragon
First Post
"Junior, err - Nevron Junior..." The Dean stated in a subdued voice.
PPA: The Case of the Stoned Dude
"Junior, err - Nevron Junior..." The Dean stated in a subdued voice.
OnlytheStrong
Explorer
Posh laughed, "I speak several languages. Possibly more than anyone in this area. I still am confident I can decipher what remains, although I do not think we have the time or resources needed." Posh hopped off the bed, "I believe that it was he who summoned, and he who did not know precautions for doing so. To make these marks would take time... and he likely would have encountered them before they were finished."
"What books have you in this school on arts such as this?" Posh's sudden seriousness was echoed by his familiar, Rascal.
"What books have you in this school on arts such as this?" Posh's sudden seriousness was echoed by his familiar, Rascal.
Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
Madness, chaos, the places beyond. These are the realms that Gerard had studied so gratly. When Lady Helena looked to him for the moment, he ran through his memory of what he knew:
Knowledge: the plaines
BBCode 1d20+13=33
then his mind turned to the actual language of the symbols:
Linguistics:
BBCode 1d20+9=27
Knowledge: the plaines
BBCode 1d20+13=33
|
then his mind turned to the actual language of the symbols:
Linguistics:
BBCode 1d20+9=27
|
Last edited:
grufflehead
First Post
'Nevron', mused Helena, 'that name seems vaguely familiar...'
[sblock="OOC"]Would either a Knowledge:Nobility or Knowledge:Local tell us any more about the family, or their reputation in town?
I probs should have KS:Nobility but don't, so this isn't going to be much of a roll
1d20=19
Wow, that's about as good as I could hope for. If that's not yielding any info...[/sblock]
'Has anybody else come across it before?'
[sblock="OOC"]Would either a Knowledge:Nobility or Knowledge:Local tell us any more about the family, or their reputation in town?
I probs should have KS:Nobility but don't, so this isn't going to be much of a roll
1d20=19
Wow, that's about as good as I could hope for. If that's not yielding any info...[/sblock]
'Has anybody else come across it before?'
Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
"Hmmmm. An enochian summoning circle without any enochian wards. That seems like an idea only half baked. Dean, you said it has been a few days since any one had last seen the boy, right? (if the dean answers in the affimative) I don't know if this is signifficant, but if I had used my sight to observe the occurence at the inception, the sight would have been overwhelming. I would have to say it was of some of the strongest enchantment I know of."
OnlytheStrong
Explorer
Posh nods, "Far too strong for a student. In a language too difficult for most. Yet a student managed to make a summoning circle. Such is my reasoning for why he had help, be it a book or someone who knows the black arts far better than I." Posh changes into the form of a human, so he can look the dean in the eyes. "I need to know if there are any books on arts such as this on the campus? Do any of your professors teach the darker arts?"
Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
"A student making an Enochian circle ..." Gwerard moves to where he knows of a symbol on the floor.
How old does the marking seem to be? is it inked? Is it carved? filled with silver or something?
How old does the marking seem to be? is it inked? Is it carved? filled with silver or something?
Maidhc O Casain
Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
After making his observations about the writings and the tracks, Airard stands aside quietly to let those more schooled in the ways of magic have their turn . . .
Mithral·Dragon
First Post
Nevron, the name belonged to one of the most potent wizards of the age. A Tharch of Thay, he bore the robes of the infamous Red Wizards. He was more than that, too. Known among his own as the Zulkir of Conjuration, he had obvious enemies across Faerun. His son apparently shared in the delights of summoning. This was no mere Bard, having somehow completed the mighty workings of magic within the room.
The flowing Enochian script was scrutinized and picked at with great care. Close examination revealed the various sigils were created by a variant of the Arcane Mark cantrip. Whatever had been conjured forth had obliterated the magic within the once invisible markings, leaving them indelibly visible. The whole of the markings surrounding the room were as alien and chaotic as those on the pages. Though comparisons yielded a commonality at one point, these were immediately dashed only moments later. It was as though the meaning of the writings were concealed within a cryptogram of sorts.
The Dean was taken aback by the sudden movement of Posh. Visibly withdrawing a measured step from the man, Dean Lawrence cleared his throat noisily. "We do not condone such activities here." His finger jut out suddenly to stab his point into the air. "We are a Bardic Institution dedicated to music." He proclaimed nobly, his digit wavering triumpantly.
Though there had been no attack, the Dean was obviously shaken by the findings of the initial investigation. "Err..." He muttered, his finger wilting. "Right, the Loremaestro. Heh..." He looked sheepish for a moment. "We should see about him right away. He's the only one I could imagine would have any insight." The Dean turned to close the door to the chambers, nothing else having turned up in the past few minutes.
The grounds of New Olamn were manicured and exquisite in design. Topiaries of all shapes and sizes dotted the grassy lawn, with a winding path studded by benches. The nearby cliffs had a similar path, awash with the ruddy glow of dangling lanterns. The trek across the parklike commons of the bardic college to the Professor's apartments was short.
Dean Lawrence rapped a knuckle on the door and waited with the investigators in tow. This failed to produce any response from within. Again, the Dean knocked at the door. This time, each knock-knock-knock resounded within as a boom-Boom-BOOM! Wide eyed, the Dean looked to his fist for a moment, before another loud crash was heard within the rooms beyond the door. A cry of terror pierced the night just then. "By the gods! HELP!!" The muffled words came from within, the Dean looking on in a helpless state of shock. "What-what?!" He clamored confusedly.
OOC: Initiatives perhaps?
The flowing Enochian script was scrutinized and picked at with great care. Close examination revealed the various sigils were created by a variant of the Arcane Mark cantrip. Whatever had been conjured forth had obliterated the magic within the once invisible markings, leaving them indelibly visible. The whole of the markings surrounding the room were as alien and chaotic as those on the pages. Though comparisons yielded a commonality at one point, these were immediately dashed only moments later. It was as though the meaning of the writings were concealed within a cryptogram of sorts.
The Dean was taken aback by the sudden movement of Posh. Visibly withdrawing a measured step from the man, Dean Lawrence cleared his throat noisily. "We do not condone such activities here." His finger jut out suddenly to stab his point into the air. "We are a Bardic Institution dedicated to music." He proclaimed nobly, his digit wavering triumpantly.
Though there had been no attack, the Dean was obviously shaken by the findings of the initial investigation. "Err..." He muttered, his finger wilting. "Right, the Loremaestro. Heh..." He looked sheepish for a moment. "We should see about him right away. He's the only one I could imagine would have any insight." The Dean turned to close the door to the chambers, nothing else having turned up in the past few minutes.
The grounds of New Olamn were manicured and exquisite in design. Topiaries of all shapes and sizes dotted the grassy lawn, with a winding path studded by benches. The nearby cliffs had a similar path, awash with the ruddy glow of dangling lanterns. The trek across the parklike commons of the bardic college to the Professor's apartments was short.
Dean Lawrence rapped a knuckle on the door and waited with the investigators in tow. This failed to produce any response from within. Again, the Dean knocked at the door. This time, each knock-knock-knock resounded within as a boom-Boom-BOOM! Wide eyed, the Dean looked to his fist for a moment, before another loud crash was heard within the rooms beyond the door. A cry of terror pierced the night just then. "By the gods! HELP!!" The muffled words came from within, the Dean looking on in a helpless state of shock. "What-what?!" He clamored confusedly.
OOC: Initiatives perhaps?
Maidhc O Casain
Na Bith Mo Riocht Tá!
Airard drops the spiked chain from his belt to one hand as he tries the door with the other. If the door opens he slips inside and moves toward the noise. If not, he'll shoulder the door in an attempt to force it.
[sblock=Actions/Rolls]Initiative: 1d20+6=23
STR Check: 1d20+1=14 (For the door if needed)[/sblock]
[sblock=Actions/Rolls]Initiative: 1d20+6=23
STR Check: 1d20+1=14 (For the door if needed)[/sblock]
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