《The Trickster of Crouwlit》 Prologue: The Ups and Downs of Desire ~Betwixt two islands of nigh unfathomable scope, lie the Caverns of Crouwlit: An extensive labyrinth of underground tunnels; sheltered, guarded, and restrained by the Siren Seas. Although seemingly impossible to reach due to the unpassable depths and unconquerable roils that plague the water¡¯s surface, there are other means of accessibility. This page is for the purpose of listing these methods: ¡­.~ Unfortunately for Alan, the words ended there. The space where the scrap of paper should have continued, instead held an absence of the expected high quality papyrus. Black, flaking burn marks crowded across the jagged edge of the journal entry, rendering the aforementioned information all but useless. In fact, it was almost comical that the flames that so hungrily devoured the near priceless object ate away only the valuable parts, leaving the rest for a poor soul to find and lament upon. ¡®I finally found the way to my destination, and it¡¯s ruined. Figures. 6 years of searching? Down the drain.¡¯ Although Alan was currently eyeing the piece of scrap with a calm and indifferent look, he could not restrain the seething frustration from creeping out. The air around him shook, and his hair briefly flickered from a Chestnut brown, to a darker gray. The quick moment of change passed by, completely unnoticeable unless closely inspected. Alan once again looked at the object in front of him, before taking a deep breath and calming his restless mind. His type of magic required a clear, concise image along with a disciplined and calm attitude. He could not slip into the habit of instability, even if it was outside of battle. ¡®If it was 30 years ago, I wouldn¡¯t lose my cool. It¡¯s getting worse.¡¯ He slowly drew his fingers inwards towards his palm, bending the paper towards itself and lessening it¡¯s already dwindling sturdiness. A crackling sound emanated from the papyrus. Alan let out an exasperated sigh, ceasing all movements enacted upon the scrap of paper and stopping himself before he ruined it. No need to desecrate such beautiful writing. Although one wouldn¡¯t guess, he certainly had an eye for the arts. Folding the paper back into a neat square, ensuring the charred edges were bent in a way that protected them; he slowly stood and strode out the open door of the library. ~~~ Iceare is one of two islands bordering the Siren Seas. Although called an island, Iceare¡¯s width easily surpassed that of the sea¡¯s. The terrain is so vast and expansive, that over half the population calls it a continent. And on this massive body of earth, in a small kingdom that commands a harbor on the seas, lives an ordinary faced young man. Chestnut Hair, chestnut eyes, medium build and height, and nothing standout-ish on his face. His skin is lightly colored, indicating decent, but not excessive exposure to the sun. His looks suggest he is in his mid twenties, but his calm disposition hints at an older age. The man, seated at a small table in the middle of a large glorified room, was reading a leather bound book. He always liked books. Just as others, he used them to escape reality. Unfortunately, unlike others, each book he read brought him closer to the end. ¡®Just as I near the end of the book, so too does my conscience wea-¡¯ *Knock Knock* The sound of knuckles on wood reverberated through the room, interrupting his ¡°profound¡± thoughts. The young man lifted his head from the book, startled from the noise. Slowly setting it down, he prepared himself for his visitor, before pausing. ¡®Did I just¡­ Lose my concentration over such a trivial sound?¡¯ To most, this would be no problem. Normal people at his age should react almost instinctively to the sound of someone knocking on the door. The young man was not normal though. To him, reacting in this manner was proof enough that he was in deep trouble. *Knock Knock Knock* ¡°Yes, yes! It¡¯s open! Come in!¡± He shouted, caught in a storm of thought, his face noticeably paler than before. In this brief moment of panic, he ignored the guest as he entered. The visitor looked around the room in awe. It seemed to be something straight out of the royal palace. Velvety purple, the color of royalty, weaved with golden thread coating the floor in the form of an enormous carpet. An overwhelming amount of precious metals, from Enchanted Aurum to magic infused Silver, swirled in delicate patterns across the room¡¯s faces, tantalizing in nature. Light gleamed off of the decorations, flooding the room with just the right amount of light: Not too bright as to be overdone, but enough to display the room and be practical. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Mesmerizing. Overwhelming. After gaping at the sight he beheld, the visitor straightened himself out. He now resembled a proper messenger of the Royal Palace. And that, he was. Straightening his back, he displayed his impressive height. Dirty blonde hair parted to reveal a charming face, a canvas to his shining blue eyes. ¡°Alan Carinus, I presume?¡± He spoke, still baffled by the grandeur of the residence. The young man broke away from his thoughts, and met eyes with his guest. ¡°That would be me. But it¡¯s a little rude to enter someone¡¯s house without an introduction.¡± ¡°I apologize for my behaviour. I am Jackson Aebutus, messenger of the Royal Palace. I come bearing a message for you addressed by the magician of the court, Kas Morrigan Sheria.¡± The young visitor spoke, bowing his head in apology. After mentioning the sender¡¯s name, his eyes briefly revealed a look of reverence. ¡°... She¡¯s not retired yet?¡± Alan responded, half joking, half honest to goodness baffled, ¡°She¡¯s Ancient! Should step down before she croaks.¡± ¡°With all due respect to Kas Sheria, her age seems to hinder her little when it comes to magic. And although she is older than even I know, she retains her youthful looks -- Much like you.¡± Alan narrowed his eyes, showing displeasure, ¡°...You either have a good eye, or more knowledge than you should... Scratch that, if you have a good eye you already know too much.¡± ¡°Forgive me for being rude once again, but I took the liberty of looking through your information. I find it best to know who I am confronting.¡± A slight smile started to form on the messenger¡¯s lips. ¡°You make it sound like I¡¯m an enemy. Also, good try, but the specifics of my age is classified. the only way to access my personal information is to look through the royal archives.¡± Alan¡¯s eyes narrowed even further, pressuring the other man with his intensity. ¡®It would seem he is not all he appears to be¡¯ He thought. Jackson¡¯s grin cramped, but he kept in control. ¡°I have a-a key.¡± ¡°You most certainly do. The only way to enter is with a key. Of course you have one. The real question is, do you have permission to hold that key? I¡¯m sure only high ranking officials have the authority.¡± ¡®I wonder how he attained one? ¡­ Well, some mysteries are better off unknown, right?¡¯ Jackson hesitated, and the seconds in between Alan¡¯s query and his unavoidable response seemed to stretch. After an uncomfortable staring contest, his shoulders drooped and he bent into a full bow. ¡°I must sincerely apologize. I overstepped my boundaries.¡± ¡°Yes, yes you did. However, I¡¯m willing to look past this incident in exchange for some...Favors.¡± ¡°Of course. Anything you need.¡± Jackson stated, wiping the sweat from his palms and attempting to fix his posture once more. Infiltrating the Royal Archives was considered an act of High Treason. Such overflowing amounts of raw information could be enough to take down the whole country if in the hands of someone very clever. The punishment was never delivered before, because the security was extremely tight. Either that, or no one was caught. ¡®This man is really not all that he seems.¡¯ Alan affirmed in his head again. ¡°So¡­ what does the hag want with me?¡± He resumed the previous conversation. ¡°Kas Morrigan Sheria wishes for your audience. She has acquired information on Crouwlit.¡± Jackson recited, his aura returning to that of a dignified professional. Alan¡¯s ears twitched, and a grin began to spread across his face. ¡®Maybe this day will yield results after all.¡¯ --------------------------------------------------------------- Hello there. I hope you enjoyed the prologue. I am a very busy person, with many health problems. That means, when I release, I release slow. In fact, I''m not sure if people even will enjoy what I write. So, I guess I''ll release a few chapters and see if anybody cares. Also, I''m perpetually tired, so I make mistakes. Many of them. Some notes: Kas - A way to show respect to a senior magician. Kind of like Ma''am or Sir. "" speaking '' '' thinking Insanity Behind a Sarcastic Facade Hello, Author here. I''m really tired, and it''s nighttime. This probably has errors, and may be complete trash. I will probably edit it more in the morning or something. Also, should the chapters be longer? P.S. - This is a fiction with a morally questionable main character. Don''t take anything as what I truly think, as I will never state whether I believe in his decisions or not. Characters should never be the same as an author or the exact opposite in my opinion, and as such he will make decisions I both condone, and not. Another thing to keep in mind is, he is old and grumpy. He has his fair share of problems, and can say rude or insensitive things. Please don''t hate me ;-;
¡°Don¡¯t you know it¡¯s insulting to use illusions in front of others so casually, Alan?¡± The white haired, blue eyed woman said; looking down on her visitor with a displeased expression. Her body was well proportioned, belying her true age. Tall, with perfect pale skin, and a natural beauty that required no enhancement. She was adorned with golden robes and glowing blue runes, accentuating her figure. However, Alan could only look at her in disgust. ¡°I¡¯ll stop using illusions when you revert your looks to your true age, Morrigan.¡± He responded, equally displeased. ¡°Like you¡¯re one to talk, old man. And stop bringing up a lady¡¯s age.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll bring it up as much as possible. In fact, here you go: The only place you could get money for your body is at the antique shop. Hag.¡± ¡°You have poor tastes in jokes. At least with age I gained maturity. And power.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t a joke. And you mean just power, right?¡± ¡°No no, as you can see, I¡¯m restraining from beating up the 90 year old man. When I was 50, I would have ground you into a paste. See? Improvement.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve lived enough years for 5 whole lifetimes, yet you¡¯re barely able to hold back. I guess you aren¡¯t just old. You¡¯re also a slow learner.¡± ¡°I said stop bringing up my age! And once again, you¡¯re one to talk!¡± ¡°I¡¯m only this way to slow learning, out of date hags.¡± The conversation continued to go downhill from there. ~~~ Jackson Aebutus, the young Palace Messenger, was having a hard time handling this development. He was a busy man, and had many things on his plate. It goes without saying that he did not schedule time to watch the pair throw insults across the room. Of course, he also had no intentions of interrupting their special moment. One was the most powerful magician in the kingdom, and the other was someone whose information is almost impossible to access. Therefore, who knows his full capabilities? ¡®I suppose I better start thinking of excuses for being late.¡¯ Jackson thought; sighing as the bickering showed no signs of stopping. Firstly, there was Alan, whose maturity level dropped like a stone from an educated and clever noble, to a bar vulture. Secondly, there was Morrigan, who had never shown such a side before. It is safe to say, Jackson¡¯s respect for the Royal Magician took a hit. ¡°Could we please get on with it? I have an appointment in around 10 minutes, and I have received no approval of my dismissal.¡± Jackson decided to go for it. Maybe jumping into the fray could yield some results? ¡°Ahhh.. right. You can leave¡­ As soon as the old man apologizes for insulting me.¡± ¡°Why do I have to apologize? You call me all the way over here, and end up yelling my ear off¡­¡± ¡°You should apologize for being rude to your benefactor. And for keeping Jackson here waiting.¡± ¡°Benefactor? What are you doing for me? I mean, aside from the migraine. And also, he¡¯s your aide.¡± ¡°Apologize, or you don¡¯t get the information about Crouwlit!¡± ¡°....¡± Alan paused for a few seconds, a nasty scowl plastered across his face, before drooping his shoulders. ¡°... Fine... So ¡°sorry¡± Morrigan.¡± Alan mustered all the sarcasm his voice could convey. ¡°That attitude isn¡¯t helping you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the best you¡¯re going to get. Now dismiss the kid before he gets too impatient.¡± ¡°Age really ruined your manners. You may leave now, Aebutus.¡± ~~ ¡®Let¡¯s see here¡­ Carinus¡­ Alan Carinus¡­ C¡­ C¡­ Ca¡­ Gotcha!¡¯ Although the form of the Royal Archives was a clear gemstone tablet, the information it displayed wouldn¡¯t magically appear as one wished it to. You had to go to the index, and find what you wanted. Only the most skillful of navigators could find the knowledge they wanted in less than a year. Jackson was special. He had a natural affinity to both books, and the archives; not to mention outrageous bursts of luck. Pulling up the information on the man named Alan, he frowned. There wasn¡¯t even a full page of text. For someone well acquainted with the most powerful royal magician in the kingdom, not having pages upon pages of knowledge and countless scribed secrets appeared seemingly impossible. Alan ___ Carinus* (Middle name not known) *May not be true name Aliases: Samson Calidorus, Carsel Parnus, Alrof Fulminaus, Alicia Chorus Titles/Nicknames: The Wise Owl, The Priest of Deceit, The Trickster, Samson the Great, Alicia the Slayer, Carsel the Heaven¡¯s Wrath, Old Man (Morrigan), Geezer (Morrigan), Mind Creep (Morrigan), Alrof the Stone King Age: Mid 90s (Exact Age Unknown) Background: Unknown Appearance: Unknown/Constantly Changes Powers/Magics: Basic Arcane Magics, Basic Elemental Magics, Unknown Illusions, Unknown Mind Magics Blessings: None Traits/Abilities/Curses: Perfect Memory General Information: Knowledge given by Kas Morrigan Sheria indicates substantial power, and is supported by past aliases. Subject admits to have used Samson Calidorus, Carsel Parnus, and Alicia Chorus as disguises, yet claims to not hold corresponding unique magics and abilities. True strength, powers, and full information on traits have not been revealed by the subject, despite thorough investigation and scrying. Whether he could be a threat to the kingdom is unseen, but has not been taken into much consideration due to Subject¡¯s relative passiveness. ¡®That¡¯s¡­ it?¡¯ Jackson could only quip. His eyelids fell into a squint, and the right corner of his lips pulled down, forming an expression that could only be described as unamused. He sighed, thinking maybe the Kingdom¡¯s Spy unit was getting rusty. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Pulling himself up from his sitting position, with practiced motion he swiftly reset the Archives to the index page, and began to walk towards the exit. He didn¡¯t have to worry about security scrying into the room and finding him, because use of spy-like magic was forbidden. One could easily catch glimpses of harmful information like that. ¡®I may have found very little, but what I did see is quite juicy. Who knew he is the living form of three different heroes? I¡¯ll have fun prying out every bit of his mystery!¡¯ ~~ ¡°The Crypt of Wrath? I certainly hope you are not talking about that horrid dungeon.¡± Alan spoke, speaking slowly to buy enough time for his mind to comprehend completely. ¡°The one and only¡± Kas Morrigan Sheria, the Royal Magician responded. Normally, she would enjoy seeing Alan squirm uncomfortably, but even she was thoroughly disturbed by the cursed name she uttered. ¡°The one that is said to hold a Sigil of Sin, one of seven magical instruments built to end the world? Guarded by one of the most notorious and powerful dungeons known to man? 500+ floors of pure torturous madness?¡± ¡°Yes. Exactly that one. No need to worry though, my source says a fully intact copy of that scrap paper you have resides there, and you only have to go up to floor 70. Plus, aren¡¯t you going to the Caverns of Crouwlit? That dungeon is many times more challenging than The Crypt of Wrath, this I am positive of.¡± The belief that all dungeons are underground or cover a large surface area is a myth. The Crypt, while having a dark name, shoots straight from the ground, a massive grey spire that reaches above the clouds, it¡¯s twisting curving shape eventually disappearing from sight. A heaven piercing structure, completely unaffected by any attempts to destroy it. Alan grimaced. He wasn¡¯t specialized with dungeon clearing. In fact, it was a tedious, time consuming, and dangerous act to solo floors for him. This would normally be the time a person would search for teammates. Unfortunately for Alan, he was even less specialized with people. ¡°I would recommend you to take some comrades. I will lend you 5 elites from the Royal Palace!¡± Morrigan exclaimed, unfortunately already knowing the answer. ¡°Denied¡± Shot down mercilessly. ¡°Fine¡­ 4!... 3?... only 1! That¡¯s all!¡± The woman called out numbers, desperately watching for any change in the man¡¯s facial expression. Alas, it was futile, as Alan maintained a perfect look of disinterest and mild disgust. ¡°Please Alan! This isn¡¯t a normal old dungeon! I know you hate it, but I don¡¯t want another person I know to keel over because of me! At least take someone with you, and give my mind a rest!¡± She begged him, tears building up in her eyes. For the first time during the conversation, she wasn¡¯t the one holding the cards. At this remark, the grey haired, grey eyed man¡¯s scowl wavered, before relaxing with a sigh. ¡°Fine. Just one. I¡¯ll come tomorrow morning to pick up him or her. I would prefer a swordsmen capable of taking some hits. I¡¯m not exactly the strongest when it comes to defense.¡± Alan relented under his longtime ¡°friend¡¯s¡± assault. ¡°Promise you won¡¯t just go off on your own?¡± She looked at him with starry eyes and a wide (yet shaky) smile. ¡°Yes yes. Understood.¡± ¡°Really now, I see. Then you wouldn¡¯t mind signing this blood pact to ensure so, right?¡± Her innocent expression swiftly twisting into a malefic grin. ¡°...¡± ¡°Ah! One more thing! Be careful. The small city nearest to the dungeon has been experiencing some¡­ interesting murders. It seems to be the work of someone strong, and only occurs during the night. From what the priests say, the very souls of the victims disappeared from their bodies, as if wrenched out. Forcefully. As you know, there is no chance of the afterlife if that happens to you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. I would be going to hell if I died anyways. Soul destruction is the way I¡¯ll choose to go in the end.¡± The man¡¯s eyes darkened, a somber mood exuded from them, a perfect fit to the grim smile plastered on his lips. ~~ Alan strode out of the palace, paying no heed to the guards surrounding the grand building. Each step was taken confidently, but with a hint of exhaustion. His eyes seemed to blur over, and emit a feeling of detachment. Maybe even agony. Looking closely, one would see him biting his lip in restraint. Turning the corner, and heading onwards into an alleyway, he leaned against the wall, before crumpling into a heap. The young looking man clutched his head, holding it between his knees. Fingers reached through gray hair, fingernails drawing a little blood. He suppressed a scream, but only on the outside. A voice representing the pure, unstoppable pain his head was feeling echoed through his mind, curdling the liquid in his veins. Tremors assaulted his curled up body, making him tremble as if on the verge of mental breakdown. And that, he was. A shaking, almost uncontrollable hand clumsily reached into his pocket, before taking out a small box. The box snapped itself open, revealing a multitude of white pills. Still shivering, Alan poured the entire contents of the box into his mouth, swallowing what he could and chewing what he couldn¡¯t. Instant relief showered down onto his chaotic brain. Memories of happy times flooded through his consciousness. A mother and father playing with their son. Learning his first magic spell. His first love His first kiss His first time A new family A child. His child Memories. And just as suddenly as the sensation appeared, it was gone. Nothingness filled his mind. The visions he eagerly took in seemed distant. Better to think of the good ones distant, than the bad ones near, he always rationalized. Sure enough, the terrors that plagued his psyche fled from his head: a temporary retreat. He stood up, albeit slowly. Staring up at the stars with tears clouding his vision, Alan lamented upon what he had become. One single word rung among the many conflicting, converging pathways in his mind. One that brought him pain, and a queasy and uncomfortable feeling to his stomach. One that stung, because it was true. ¡®Addict¡¯ He left the empty alley with an empty box, and an empty spirit.