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<blockquote data-quote="Mithral·Dragon" data-source="post: 5060512" data-attributes="member: 57696">Nevron, the name belonged to one of the most potent wizards of the age.&nbsp; A Tharch of Thay, he bore the robes of the infamous Red Wizards.&nbsp; He was more than that, too.&nbsp; Known among his own as the Zulkir of Conjuration, he had obvious enemies across Faerun.&nbsp; His son apparently shared in the delights of summoning.&nbsp; This was no mere Bard, having somehow completed the mighty workings of magic within the room.&nbsp; The flowing Enochian script was scrutinized and picked at with great care.&nbsp; Close examination revealed the various sigils were created by a variant of the Arcane Mark cantrip.&nbsp; Whatever had been conjured forth had obliterated the magic within the once invisible markings, leaving them indelibly visible.&nbsp; The whole of the markings surrounding the room were as alien and chaotic as those on the pages.&nbsp; Though comparisons yielded a commonality at one point, these were immediately dashed only moments later.&nbsp; It was as though the meaning of the writings were concealed within a cryptogram of sorts. &nbsp;The Dean was taken aback by the sudden movement of Posh.&nbsp; Visibly withdrawing a measured step from the man, Dean Lawrence cleared his throat noisily.&nbsp; &quot;We do not condone such activities here.&quot;&nbsp; His finger jut out suddenly to stab his point into the air.&nbsp; &quot;We are a Bardic Institution dedicated to music.&quot;&nbsp; He proclaimed nobly, his digit wavering triumpantly.&nbsp; Though there had been no attack, the Dean was obviously shaken by the findings of the initial investigation. &quot;Err...&quot; He muttered, his finger wilting.&nbsp; &quot;Right, the Loremaestro.&nbsp; Heh...&quot; He looked sheepish for a moment.&nbsp; &quot;We should see about him right away.&nbsp; He's the only one I could imagine would have any insight.&quot;&nbsp; The Dean turned to close the door to the chambers, nothing else having turned up in the past few minutes.&nbsp; The grounds of New Olamn were manicured and exquisite in design.&nbsp; Topiaries of all shapes and sizes dotted the grassy lawn, with a winding path studded by benches.&nbsp; The nearby cliffs had a similar path, awash with the ruddy glow of dangling lanterns.&nbsp; The trek across the parklike commons of the bardic college to the Professor's apartments was short.&nbsp; Dean Lawrence rapped a knuckle on the door and waited with the investigators in tow.&nbsp; This failed to produce any response from within.&nbsp; Again, the Dean knocked at the door.&nbsp; This time, each knock-knock-knock resounded within as a boom-Boom-BOOM!&nbsp; Wide eyed, the Dean looked to his fist for a moment, before another loud crash was heard within the rooms beyond the door.&nbsp; A cry of terror pierced the night just then. &quot;By the gods!&nbsp; HELP!!&quot;&nbsp; The muffled words came from within, the Dean looking on in a helpless state of shock.&nbsp; &quot;What-what?!&quot;&nbsp; He clamored confusedly.&nbsp; OOC: Initiatives perhaps?</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Mithral·Dragon, post: 5060512, member: 57696"] 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. [B]"We do not condone such activities here."[/B] His finger jut out suddenly to stab his point into the air. [B]"We are a Bardic Institution dedicated to music."[/B] 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. [B] "Err..." [/B] He muttered, his finger wilting. [B]"Right, the Loremaestro. Heh..." [/B] He looked sheepish for a moment. [B]"We should see about him right away. He's the only one I could imagine would have any insight."[/B] 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. [B][I] "By the gods! HELP!!" [/I][/B]The muffled words came from within, the Dean looking on in a helpless state of shock. [B]"What-what?!"[/B] He clamored confusedly. [B]OOC:[/B] Initiatives perhaps? [/QUOTE]

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