Post by Leif on Aug 25, 2010 0:42:00 GMT -8
Orsend walked aimlessly through the darkness. He was in a forest, he knew, but it was unlike any he had ever been in. The trees surrounding him were gargantuan, their proportions grossly exaggerated. It had taken him over a minute to walk around one; he had not even realized they were trees until he had sent a probe far above him and sensed the canopy of leaves, each with a stem larger than he.
He felt alone in this place, alone in a way he had never felt before, to a depth he wasn’t previously aware he could be. There were no animals making noises, the leaves of the trees did not rustle. Nothing seemed to exist besides him and the trees. The only light shone faintly from the spell of illumination he had cast, and it fought desperately with the darkness surrounding, waxing and waning in a grave battle for its existence. The sounds of his footfalls were swallowed by the darkness, as was the ground he trod upon.
Orsend continued on, unable to tell where he was going. He saw nothing at all unless his orb of light shone on one of the massive trees. He traveled directionless for what seemed like hours, until his body grew weary, and then he rested.
Against a tree, its bark so magnified that it was featureless to him, Orsend sat down and inspected himself. His robes were torn and covered in grime, the once fine fabric ruined. He examined his body and it seemed to be bruised everywhere, and now that he had stopped moving his legs ached. He decided that he needed to recover, and lay down. As he drifted off to sleep, he pondered the circumstances that had left him lost in the spirit world.
Lady Pendrink had seemed a nice enough woman, possessing the arrogance of nobility but otherwise alright, and when she contacted him to contract his services as a family healer, Orsend readily agreed, for such jobs were easy, and paid handsomely. Everything had seemed fine until he signed the paper. He had looked over it carefully, inspecting every bit of fine print for loopholes, and had determined it to be sound legally. He had probed it with magic, and it had not been tampered. And so when the lady handed him a pen, he signed eagerly.
Unfortunately, it was not the paper that was the problem, it was the pen. An ingenious spell, he thought, though he had been to angry to admire it at the time, one that compelled the user to fulfill any agreements he signed with said pen. And so Orsend was magically bound to help heal the members of the Pendrink family in any way possible, and the first task was to deal with the youngest child. Lady Pendrink explained that her son had gone mad, and that she would not absolve the contract until he was made sane once more.
Orsend attempted all manner of treatments on the child, but to no avail. He brought in specialists from all over the world, but none could help. He spent months trying to cure the youngest Pendrink, but nothing he did made any difference. But the spell compelled him, and he was unable to give up, and so resorted to increasingly unconventional means.
He felt alone in this place, alone in a way he had never felt before, to a depth he wasn’t previously aware he could be. There were no animals making noises, the leaves of the trees did not rustle. Nothing seemed to exist besides him and the trees. The only light shone faintly from the spell of illumination he had cast, and it fought desperately with the darkness surrounding, waxing and waning in a grave battle for its existence. The sounds of his footfalls were swallowed by the darkness, as was the ground he trod upon.
Orsend continued on, unable to tell where he was going. He saw nothing at all unless his orb of light shone on one of the massive trees. He traveled directionless for what seemed like hours, until his body grew weary, and then he rested.
Against a tree, its bark so magnified that it was featureless to him, Orsend sat down and inspected himself. His robes were torn and covered in grime, the once fine fabric ruined. He examined his body and it seemed to be bruised everywhere, and now that he had stopped moving his legs ached. He decided that he needed to recover, and lay down. As he drifted off to sleep, he pondered the circumstances that had left him lost in the spirit world.
Lady Pendrink had seemed a nice enough woman, possessing the arrogance of nobility but otherwise alright, and when she contacted him to contract his services as a family healer, Orsend readily agreed, for such jobs were easy, and paid handsomely. Everything had seemed fine until he signed the paper. He had looked over it carefully, inspecting every bit of fine print for loopholes, and had determined it to be sound legally. He had probed it with magic, and it had not been tampered. And so when the lady handed him a pen, he signed eagerly.
Unfortunately, it was not the paper that was the problem, it was the pen. An ingenious spell, he thought, though he had been to angry to admire it at the time, one that compelled the user to fulfill any agreements he signed with said pen. And so Orsend was magically bound to help heal the members of the Pendrink family in any way possible, and the first task was to deal with the youngest child. Lady Pendrink explained that her son had gone mad, and that she would not absolve the contract until he was made sane once more.
Orsend attempted all manner of treatments on the child, but to no avail. He brought in specialists from all over the world, but none could help. He spent months trying to cure the youngest Pendrink, but nothing he did made any difference. But the spell compelled him, and he was unable to give up, and so resorted to increasingly unconventional means.