Jorde winced at the voice that filled his head. Ah yes. [i]him.[/i] The World Eater. [i]"Are world's really that delicious to eat? I mean, don't they just taste like rocks and stuff?"[/i] Jorde thought to his companion as he dutifully waddled off in search of a good ol' fashoined grimoire. There really was nothing better then curling up with a good book from the forbidden section, he had to agree with Icathul on that one.

Jorde himself was a tall fellow, all lanky limbs and not much meat on him. He kind of had that teenagerish look to him - you know, the look of sheer fear and lack of understanding of what was happening to his body at all times. Except in this case, it applied to both his mind and the world at large. His brunette hair was once quite short - but let's be honest, he hadn't bothered to cut it in so long it was now mid-length, a little birdnesty, and sentient enough it refused to obey the touch of it's mortal enemy, the brush. Black circles surrounded his eyes, telling stories of many sleepless nights staying up late in the library - and oh, many sleepless nights being harassed by the voices in his head.

He couldn't deny they were useful, though. Even Icathul looked out for him, in his own special "I don't want this mortal vessel to die just yet" kind of way. They helped him do difficult things.

A perfect example being the [b]Door[/b] to the forbidden section that now stood before him. Christopherius had long since forbidden him from organising the Forbidden section, since the last time Icathul had politedly demanded he go in here. It was Forbidden after all.

[center][h3][b][i]Oh no![/i] thought Jorde to his brain companion, [i]What do we do?[/i][/b][/h3][/center]