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Avanthyr hold lays quiet, its inhabitants for the most part in their beds, many of which being the makeshift palettes made up to deal with the large number of refugees flooding the halls.
The only sound other than the quiet voices of the guards on duty is the gentle swishing of a crimson-robed orange-haired Elf's robes as he paces the hallways. With him he carries two bulging pouches, one of silver powder, the other a finely ground crystalline substance.
Every now and then the Elf stops, looks about consideringly before sprinkling some of the powder in a careful pattern, using a brush to make sure not even a little falls out of place.
He smiles, if distractedly, to the guards when passing, though he receives only stiff nods in return. After the Elf has gone, they speculate amongst themselves on what kind of magics the Elf might be weaving, one of them unconsciously fiddling with a lucky charm hanging about his neck.
Once the Elf has paced the full length of the Hold, sketching the diagrams at each interval he moves to stand in the centre of the conformation and as quietly as possible intones the words of a spell. The powder diagrams glow briefly before disappearing, leaving no trace.
He nods in satisfaction and heads towards the exit. Before leaving the keep however, he pauses a while in the foyer. Opening the second pouch, again he intones the words of a spell, the crystal powder melting down into a glowing blue liquid. He hastily dips one finger in, and using the thick liquid begins to inscribe a small symbol on the nearest wall.
This symbol is far more complex, his earlier work almost child's play in comparison, and he has to use every ounce of his skill to complete the rune perfectly. Unlike the other marks, this one does not fade, though the glow does dissipate, leaving something resembling an ordinary ink mark on the wall.
The Elf stares at it for a long moment, ensuring that it is flawless, then with a smile he heads back to the Menacing Mariner just as the sky begins to lighten.
The only sound other than the quiet voices of the guards on duty is the gentle swishing of a crimson-robed orange-haired Elf's robes as he paces the hallways. With him he carries two bulging pouches, one of silver powder, the other a finely ground crystalline substance.
Every now and then the Elf stops, looks about consideringly before sprinkling some of the powder in a careful pattern, using a brush to make sure not even a little falls out of place.
He smiles, if distractedly, to the guards when passing, though he receives only stiff nods in return. After the Elf has gone, they speculate amongst themselves on what kind of magics the Elf might be weaving, one of them unconsciously fiddling with a lucky charm hanging about his neck.
Once the Elf has paced the full length of the Hold, sketching the diagrams at each interval he moves to stand in the centre of the conformation and as quietly as possible intones the words of a spell. The powder diagrams glow briefly before disappearing, leaving no trace.
He nods in satisfaction and heads towards the exit. Before leaving the keep however, he pauses a while in the foyer. Opening the second pouch, again he intones the words of a spell, the crystal powder melting down into a glowing blue liquid. He hastily dips one finger in, and using the thick liquid begins to inscribe a small symbol on the nearest wall.
This symbol is far more complex, his earlier work almost child's play in comparison, and he has to use every ounce of his skill to complete the rune perfectly. Unlike the other marks, this one does not fade, though the glow does dissipate, leaving something resembling an ordinary ink mark on the wall.
The Elf stares at it for a long moment, ensuring that it is flawless, then with a smile he heads back to the Menacing Mariner just as the sky begins to lighten.
