Post by Rory the Turbulent on Nov 1, 2006 19:42:29 GMT -5
Demiel sunk deep into the red fabric of the heavily cushioned chair, and opened the heavy tome in front of him. Outside a snow began to fall but the Majin was toasty inside of his library. All around him were the manuscripts of the greatest writers of the netherworld. Countless books and scrolls seemed to rocket towards the ceiling. The effect was dizzying.
Demiel pushed his spectacles up on his nose and began to scan the page, but his mind wandered. He wanted to help his old friend Paricci, but there were simply too many books and not enough clues. The book he wanted may not even be in his father's library, and that thought was a little depressing. He reached over to the table on his right and lifted a black rook and moved it along its path to take a knight on the other end of the board. Other than the sounds of the ivory piece against the table was the logs popping in the fire. The stronghold was as empty as the day he found it.
Demiel set the book down and fixed himself a drink. He thumbed the gold signet ring around his finger as he drank. "Why do I fight?" He thought sullenly. "Do I really wish to change the Netherworld for the better or do I do it for you father?" He removed the ring and inspected the seal engraved upon it with such skill and care. He tossed it into the air and catching it in his right hand he squeezed tightly then reeled back to hurl it into the fire, but there was a noise in the hall. Footsteps...
"It would seem that I have a visitor." Demiel mused as he lifted his sword from its mount on the wall.
Demiel pushed his spectacles up on his nose and began to scan the page, but his mind wandered. He wanted to help his old friend Paricci, but there were simply too many books and not enough clues. The book he wanted may not even be in his father's library, and that thought was a little depressing. He reached over to the table on his right and lifted a black rook and moved it along its path to take a knight on the other end of the board. Other than the sounds of the ivory piece against the table was the logs popping in the fire. The stronghold was as empty as the day he found it.
Demiel set the book down and fixed himself a drink. He thumbed the gold signet ring around his finger as he drank. "Why do I fight?" He thought sullenly. "Do I really wish to change the Netherworld for the better or do I do it for you father?" He removed the ring and inspected the seal engraved upon it with such skill and care. He tossed it into the air and catching it in his right hand he squeezed tightly then reeled back to hurl it into the fire, but there was a noise in the hall. Footsteps...
"It would seem that I have a visitor." Demiel mused as he lifted his sword from its mount on the wall.
