RP-Story - "Armageddon" - Part 1
„Oh dear!“, Alfred Alzheimer rubbed his glasses and fell into his armchair. „I think I am getting old!“ For about 45 years he had been researching and teaching arcane arts in his college deep in the mountains of Malas. He looked out of the stained glass windows and contemplated the white summits. Fall had come and this other-wordly retreat was already covered with snow.
„It must have been in these rooms somewhere“, he mumbled. For the last 20 years he had concentrated on one single research object: the Armageddon Spell. He remembered when the avatar came to Britain, in those dark years. In his mind, cloudy pictures appeared: the whisps, his old friend Rudyom from Cove, the Guardian... And trough all these years, the Armageddon Spell was considered as being lost. For the sake of all living beings. Now, close to the end of a long academic life, he could see many things much more clearly: „I must have digged too deep. Always sticking your nose into forbidden knowlege...“ He breathed deeply and opened a little brown book which was lying on his desk - „Brief History of Britannian Magical Arts“ was imprinted in golden letters. He started to read:
„The spell Armageddon is truly devastating. Once it is cast, it destroys all life on the world, with the exception of the spellcaster, leaving only a barren wasteland behind, devoid of any life. Only the biggest fool, full of madness, would dare to cast this spell, as it literally results in the end of the world.
Over 700,000 years ago, the Xorinite Wisp gave it to a mage named Zog. Zog was foolish enough to cast it, and all life was destroyed. The spell re-appeared in Britannia, thousands of years later, where the Wisps gave it to the Avatar as a gift. Later it was kept by the archmage Rudyom in Cove. And in the end, the Avatar had to cast it to defeat the Guardian, sacrificing his own life. Since then, the spell is considered as lost.“
Yes, that was the story all colleagues knew. It was by no means a secret. However, there was a secret, only he knew: The spell was not lost. It still existed and he, Alfred Alzheimer, had found it, studied it and came to the conclusion, that it should never be found again. Hence, he developed a system of safeguarding through all the years up here. And he was sure, that his measures would guarantee, that this spell would kept secret for another 700.000 years.
But now, he lost the key to the hidden knowledge he himself had masked so masterfully. „Alas“, he moaned, looking at his fellow raven Nicodemus, who was sitting by his desk, picking some nuts: „Look, what age has done to me. I cannot even remember where my own diary is.“ His left hand lovingly touched Nicodemus´ plumage: „If I could just find this stupid book, I might be able to remember where to begin...“ Somewhere in this dusty mess it must be. I know I wrote it down there, the first hint...