The Guild City

Journal 2 - Vindis Florel

The Dulldrums of Pursuit

Research. Such a trifling thing, sometimes.

Vindis sighed softly, looking down to the book in his cross-legged lap, a finger absently flipping to a fresh page before looking in front of him into the dirt, a complex (and very theoretical) series of magical formulae meticulously detailed in a visual form… Err, a magic circle, in layman’s terms. Looking to the thing, he bit at his lower lip, the muddied dead wood in his hand rhythmically tapping against the makeshift workspace.

“… It’s all wrong.”

The words relented, emerging in a soft tired sigh. Working in such conditions was trying, but, perhaps the tedium of this particular ‘theorem’ seemed to do naught but bring him closer to a proverbial madness. He slowly wrenched his head back to his sleeping circumstantial ‘companions’, his eye falling particularly on the sleeping Genasi before he brought his hands to his temples, fingers gently kneading at the creeping veil of numbness.

Well, perhaps not madness, but it certainly wasn’t doing anything for this headache.

These last few days had certainly given him quite a tenacious one; A dull throbbing, a trite thing to be sure, but unique in that it always seemed to sink just beneath the conscious level, maintaining the countenance of a textbook written by a crotchety man with skill in the written word comparable to an agrarian Shou: intensely painful, but at the same time so… dull that you immediately forget its existence not three pages in.

He paused for a moment and squinted his eyes.

That metaphor broke down somewhere in the middle. He shook his head. This was becoming all too common a theme.

“Regardless.” He murmured, “I will break you.”

Raising a hand next to the little stick, he pondered for a moment; his watch would certainly be ending soon. He might as well try this theory before they moved on.

Exhaling softly, he jerked his left hand in a variety of motions, going through the motions of something far too needlessly obtuse for practical application, murmuring lines of near meaningless vitriol before casting the spell.

There was a fizzle.

Then a spark.

His eyes widened.


His smirk coloured his face in a delectable shadow.

”Well then.”


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