RP:Sveltran - The Frozen Library

From HollowWiki

Please note, the below RP is relatively unedited. Please forgive my typos!

Sveltran ‘s eyes stung in the icy chill of the wind that buffeted his body during the long climb up the mountain. A sea of snow stretched out before him as tiny shards of ice whipped past his face. Being a vampire, the cold itself wouldn’t ordinarily bother him, however in extended durations, having no internal heat source meant his limbs could freeze faster than those of the living. Where his initial ascent had begun at a run, the frigid air continued to seep into his bones dragging his pace to a slow and painful crawl. If he didn’t find shelter soon, even his magic wouldn’t be able to keep him mobile. Focusing his mana inside of himself, he channeled the element of fire, slowly trying to warm his body without creating too swift a temperature change. If he warmed himself too fast, not only would he burn through his mana, but the fast expansion of the fluids in his body could cause his blood vessels to burst. Pacing himself he climbed higher and higher across the unforgiving landscape. His lips chapped and his joints ached as the piercing gale threatened to halt his progress altogether. Clenching his jaw he struggled to keep moving, pushing more and more of his depleting magic into his body. He needed respite. He needed to feed.

Sveltrans legs finally buckled beneath him, his body falling limply into the snow. Was this really how he was going to die? Marooned on a mountain top and frozen for all eternity? The snow swirled around him, a thin layer accumulating over his body. Of all of the things battles he had survived, all the people he had killed, and the knowledge he had obtained….this was how it was going to end? The warmth from his magic all but dissipated as he lay dying….and then it went out.

A scuffling broke through the sound of the whipping wind. Something or someone was shifting in the snow. A shallow grin tugged at the corner of Sveltrans lips as a lone white wolf shuffled into the radius of his keen perception. The wolf paced in a five foot arc around his still form, studying his body for signs of life or danger. Cautiously it put one furry paw in front of the other, drawing closer and closer to its would-be free meal. Coming within inches of Sveltran it leaned down, sniffing at the air only inches from sveltrans face. At the last moment the wolf reared back with a yelp, having been upwind of the vampire before had kept it from realizing the folly of its actions. The body its had found was a creature of death, and the scent of the grave had rushed through its nostrils sending a chill colder than the snowy tundra itself through the beasts spine. It was too late. With his last morsel of strength, the dying vampires hand burst from beneath the snow, grabbing the large wolf by the scruff of its neck. Panicked, the wolf bit hard into his arm, its teeth easily sinking into the vampires long dead flesh. Shaking its head back and forth the wolf tore at his limb, trying for all it was worth to break free so it could flee the reapers grasp. Numb from cold, and starving for the hot blood in its veins, the vampires slowly dragged the beast into the dunes of snow. A red stain in the otherwise bleached landscape was the only sign of his passing. The wolfs hot blood in his veins had sparked his magic slowly back to life as the essence of his kill was absorbed throughout his body. He continued walking, once again dedicating a slow drain of his mana to maintaining the warmth within him. Finally he spotted it, a crack in the mountain that was only just passable. Perhaps he could shelter there, and wait for the snowstorm to weaken. Pressing his way between the rocks his found himself standing in an ancient tunnel. While the cold still gnawed at his body, the wind could not penetrate deeply into the tunnel. Working his way further in, he took in his surroundings. The cavern in which he now stood appeared not to have been accessed for many years. A Few ancient and crumbling supplies were strewn about the entrance to the tunnel suggesting someone had explored here long ago and perhaps made camp here. Could this be from the mages that Jacob had mentioned in the library? Looking further into the tunnel, Sveltran notice a dim light shimmering at the end of the chamber. He cautiously paced down the tunnel, watching for potential dangers. The light was like a beacon, drawing him deeper and deeper into the ancient pathway, growing brighter the further he got from the mouth of the cave. Finally he saw it, a lantern dangled from the ceiling of the cave, anchored by rusted iron chains over a staircase leading up into an unknown structure. He ascended the stairs slowly, checking for traps as he went until he reached the pinnacle. A thick hempen rope hung down from the ceiling at the top of the steps, leading up to a small wooden trap door that was rotten with age. Who knew how long it must have been since someone last entered this place. Pushing the door open, he hoisted himself into the chamber above.

Rising to his feet, he took in the sights of the chamber around him. Shadowy figures of darkness and swirling spirits of light wound together above him in a vortex of opposing energies above him. The energy in this room was electric as the collision of the two opposing forces flooded the room with errant flows of mana. Unusual runes littered the walls and floor all around him, none of which he could immediately recognize. The amount of power shifting through this room…the souls contained therein…it was astonishing. After watching the shifting patterns of the dead above him, he couldn’t help but think. “What power would a man have if he could harness this energy…..what changes could he affect on the world…” Coming back to himself, his eyes drifted to the southern hall where lights dances along the corridor. Entering the southern hall, he realized the light was emanating from magical sconces set into the wall, apparently alight with an ever burning flame that hadn’t so much as even blackened the fixtures after all these years. Fascinated, he continued forward, the wonders of this place seeming to never cease. Then he saw it, at first it was just a bookshelf at the end of the hall, but as he grew closer and closer to the opening, he could see that the solitary shelf extended out into a vast array of books, lining the walls of the frozen library from end to end. Pacing into the room he noted the piles of snow coating the floors, that had fallen from a large hole in the vaulted ceilings. Calling the elements to his side, he lifted his hands into the air. A grumbling, crunching noise permeated the library as the snow rolled back away from the shelves, forming itself into a large central mass in the middle of the chamber. He began weaving his hands back and forth, left to right and then in small concentric circles before whipping his them straight up in the air. Once again the snow moved, crushing into itself. The loose stone formed into icy feet, rising up to strong calves and then the rest of the body of a man…however the man was leaned forwards with his pants set just below his bum to moon anyone who may try an enter from the hallway. Assuming that the mages guild might eventually come to ensure he hadn’t just burned the library to the ground, they would get a fun surprise upon arrival. He grinned to himself imagining the Librarians face if he found this statue. Ah if he could only watch him sputter his frustrations. For now though, he needed to stay a step ahead so he could learn more about that confounded door. He set to work, finding a small table in the corner he started scanning through the shelves, finding any book with a title that might be interesting or related to his research. Having amounted a small mountain on the table, he began. Flipping through book after book, page after page yielded nothing yet again. What could he be missing? Between the more modern texts in the mages library and the ancient texts found here there must be something…..then his eyes happened upon a small leatherbound book….perhaps a journal sitting on a shelf in the far corner. His avid curiosity getting the better of him, he rose from his studies and made his way over to the shelf, plucking it away gently. The book was plain and unlabeled, the leathers used having retained their natural color. Peeling the book open, he began to read aloud to himself. "To the one who has found this book, let it be known as the complete guide, to the Razurath, everything from their biology to their cultures, customs, tribes and traditions. I Ameno, documented this, now that it is found, this book is to be given to but one man, and his name is Lionel O'Connor Champion of the Warrior's Guild, and perhaps my only friend. To him I leave this. And to him alone." Sveltran laughed. The poor bastard meant to receive this book was probably hundreds of years dead. Since the previous owner was no longer around, he deemed himself the best possible keeper of the journal.

After reading just a few pages, he cocked his head to the side as he considered the word…”Razurath”. This book seemed to comprise a vast trove of data on this race…but he had never once heard mention of them. How could he, in all of his years never run into one of these creatures? Then he found it…the same symbol that he had seen prominently displayed on the massive door in the caverns. He bit his lip in excitement, the smallest drop of black blood welling up from his lip and dripping to the floor. If this race still existed, he would find them. Leaving the ancient temple he began his descent from the mountain. First he would go to Cenril and pay a visit to his inlaws. They would certainly have a lab that he could utilize given that Deavanor was their father. All he would need to do is convince them to let him use it after bad mouthing the man in no uncertain terms in a public tavern….to his niece.