02-18-2014, 04:08 AM
A monkey. A goddamn monkey held the key to the God of the universe he’d found himself in and the thing couldn’t even speak a word of English.
Magus gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes while quietly taking a deep breath. He knew not to be frustrated by the situation; there was nothing for it.
Today was a bad day.
“I was told you would be the only person who could assist me with this. I have spoken to Thrall who sent me your way,” Magus added. It was true, technically.
The Librarian studied him for a while, and then leapt up onto the top of one of the endless rows of shelves and bounded off.
Today was a really bad day.
Magus growled, low, at first, but it grew in volume and his hardly-contained rage seemed to seethe out of him like sweat beading from a cold glass on a hot summer’s day.
As the intensity of his guttural fury grew, so did the arcane energies within him. Raw, dark power crackled around him, angrily fizzing and popping.
Before he could do something rash, like send wave after concentric wave of oblivion through the library, the Librarian swept down from overhead, a brown piece of parchment in one hand and a quill and inkwell grasped in the other.
With a grunt, the orangutan slapped the paper onto the nearby table and set the inkwell down next to it, dipping the quill before hastily scrawling a message.
I can indeed help find what you seek, magister. In exchange, you need to respond to the emergency.
Magus glared down at the messy writing. For some reason, he’d expected finely crafted prose, or at least something approaching legibility.
“What emergency?” Magus inquired, already feeling the nag of annoyance crawling up inside of him. He was getting very, very tired of these constant interruptions sprouting between him and his goal.
Camelot is being besieged by a Rathalos. It is like a dragon, but not self-aware like dragons are. They are still extremely dangerous and cunning. Help Camelot and I should be obliged to help you, though I strongly suggest against trying to ‘confront’ Omni; we know nothing about him and you’ll likely not come back.
“All of you revere Omni. Have any of you met him since the first time you got here? Somehow I doubt the man behind the curtain is as grand as he wants us to believe,” Magus retorted. “I am, however, in a difficult predicament. I need to see Omni immediately, and you are going to help me.”
Not until Camelot’s predicament is dealt with.
Magus snarled and stepped less than an inch away from the Librarian’s face, stiffly towering over the slouched orangutan. “What’s to stop me from finding the information on my own?”
Nothing. Except that you would need two references from citizens of Dalaran who can attest as to your character. Good luck.
Magus breathed a deep sigh. It wouldn’t do to get confrontational, not after having gotten away with attempted murder not more than two hours ago. Although part of him felt that coercing people to vouch for his character seemed like a more direct solution.
“I’m going to find my compatriot, then head outside. I’ll solve your issue for you, since, apparently, all of Camelot can’t do it on its own,” he said, a hard edge in his voice. “And when I get back, you will give me the information I’m looking for, or I’ll burn your library and everyone in it to cinders.”
The Librarian didn’t bother writing anything. Instead, he gathered his things, and leapt up on top of the shelves and out of sight. Magus flicked his cape behind his shoulders and stalked down the aisle.
- - - - -
The Fiendlord stepped outside the cavernous library alone. There was no reason to bring Link; better to have one of them keep looking for the information in case things with the dragon became too interesting.
Magus traced his steps back to his own, inferior, Omnilium dragon-copy, and leapt onto his perch at the nape of its neck. Supplied with only Magus’ will to spur it on, the creature catapulted into the air above the magic city. They sailed up, and without knowing where to go, he guided the dragon high up into the air where he spotted a wing of armed Pegasi-riders racing through the air distantly below.
The dragon’s glassy black scales glittered brightly in the day’s pale light as it plummeted through the air to aggressively draw aside with the sky-cavalry.
“Are you after the Rathalos?” Magus inquired before any of the visibly-irate riders could voice their agitation.
“Are you friend or enemy?” an officer among them demanded, forgoing the usual protocol. It didn’t cover dragon-riding Primes falling out of the sky.
“Neither. I’m after the Rathalos, thus my question, ‘are you after the Rathalos?’”
The leader, the one who’d spoken to him, bristled at the impetuous dragon-rider’s tone but masked his displeasure well.
A not-so-distant roar bellowed through the air.
“Aye. We’re close. Ride with us and you’ll have your fill of the Rathalos.”
Magus gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes while quietly taking a deep breath. He knew not to be frustrated by the situation; there was nothing for it.
Today was a bad day.
“I was told you would be the only person who could assist me with this. I have spoken to Thrall who sent me your way,” Magus added. It was true, technically.
The Librarian studied him for a while, and then leapt up onto the top of one of the endless rows of shelves and bounded off.
Today was a really bad day.
Magus growled, low, at first, but it grew in volume and his hardly-contained rage seemed to seethe out of him like sweat beading from a cold glass on a hot summer’s day.
As the intensity of his guttural fury grew, so did the arcane energies within him. Raw, dark power crackled around him, angrily fizzing and popping.
Before he could do something rash, like send wave after concentric wave of oblivion through the library, the Librarian swept down from overhead, a brown piece of parchment in one hand and a quill and inkwell grasped in the other.
With a grunt, the orangutan slapped the paper onto the nearby table and set the inkwell down next to it, dipping the quill before hastily scrawling a message.
I can indeed help find what you seek, magister. In exchange, you need to respond to the emergency.
Magus glared down at the messy writing. For some reason, he’d expected finely crafted prose, or at least something approaching legibility.
“What emergency?” Magus inquired, already feeling the nag of annoyance crawling up inside of him. He was getting very, very tired of these constant interruptions sprouting between him and his goal.
Camelot is being besieged by a Rathalos. It is like a dragon, but not self-aware like dragons are. They are still extremely dangerous and cunning. Help Camelot and I should be obliged to help you, though I strongly suggest against trying to ‘confront’ Omni; we know nothing about him and you’ll likely not come back.
“All of you revere Omni. Have any of you met him since the first time you got here? Somehow I doubt the man behind the curtain is as grand as he wants us to believe,” Magus retorted. “I am, however, in a difficult predicament. I need to see Omni immediately, and you are going to help me.”
Not until Camelot’s predicament is dealt with.
Magus snarled and stepped less than an inch away from the Librarian’s face, stiffly towering over the slouched orangutan. “What’s to stop me from finding the information on my own?”
Nothing. Except that you would need two references from citizens of Dalaran who can attest as to your character. Good luck.
Magus breathed a deep sigh. It wouldn’t do to get confrontational, not after having gotten away with attempted murder not more than two hours ago. Although part of him felt that coercing people to vouch for his character seemed like a more direct solution.
“I’m going to find my compatriot, then head outside. I’ll solve your issue for you, since, apparently, all of Camelot can’t do it on its own,” he said, a hard edge in his voice. “And when I get back, you will give me the information I’m looking for, or I’ll burn your library and everyone in it to cinders.”
The Librarian didn’t bother writing anything. Instead, he gathered his things, and leapt up on top of the shelves and out of sight. Magus flicked his cape behind his shoulders and stalked down the aisle.
- - - - -
The Fiendlord stepped outside the cavernous library alone. There was no reason to bring Link; better to have one of them keep looking for the information in case things with the dragon became too interesting.
Magus traced his steps back to his own, inferior, Omnilium dragon-copy, and leapt onto his perch at the nape of its neck. Supplied with only Magus’ will to spur it on, the creature catapulted into the air above the magic city. They sailed up, and without knowing where to go, he guided the dragon high up into the air where he spotted a wing of armed Pegasi-riders racing through the air distantly below.
The dragon’s glassy black scales glittered brightly in the day’s pale light as it plummeted through the air to aggressively draw aside with the sky-cavalry.
“Are you after the Rathalos?” Magus inquired before any of the visibly-irate riders could voice their agitation.
“Are you friend or enemy?” an officer among them demanded, forgoing the usual protocol. It didn’t cover dragon-riding Primes falling out of the sky.
“Neither. I’m after the Rathalos, thus my question, ‘are you after the Rathalos?’”
The leader, the one who’d spoken to him, bristled at the impetuous dragon-rider’s tone but masked his displeasure well.
A not-so-distant roar bellowed through the air.
“Aye. We’re close. Ride with us and you’ll have your fill of the Rathalos.”
![[Image: Magus.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/Magus.jpg)