[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/7ed60a5b-c81e-4b36-b999-6fbd57fe519a.png[/img][h2][color=olive][u]~Ernald Joyce~[/u][/color][/h2][/center]
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[i][sub]Early Spring, 315 P.F.[/sub][/i]
[b][sub]Paterdomus[/sub][/b]
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Ernald paced to an fro about the cramped little room, quill and woodblock in hand, upon which was hooked a small sheaf of coarse parchment. Pausing, he scribbled down a handful of details. Descriptions, notes on the local fauna and customs, and finally a paragraph on his time in the Maw. It was within this paragraph that he wove the brunt of Tarr'kash's work, making sure it was subtle enough not to be easily found by those who wished to destroy it, but blatant enough to hook the unaware man. A few additions later and he found himself at a natural stopping point, which left the conclusion and foreword as the last things that needed to be written. Setting the block and quill on the small table to his right, Ernald leaned forward to stare out the window and into the sunlit world beyond, the slightest of breezes gently caressing the sides of his face. Exhaling, he turned away, shifting his attention over to the closet at the back of his room in the process. Striding towards it, he pulled the worn and splintered doors wide open, before bending down to retrieve the limp yet surprisingly pristine corpse of a rat he'd stuffed in there a day or so prior.

Dragging it out into the center of the room, he swiftly checked that the door was locked, as it wouldn't do for someone to just waltz in while he was in the middle of a [i]very[/i] heretical ritual. Seeing that it was and that he would not be disturbed, Joyce returned to the rat, knife pulled from his pocket firmly in hand. The scholar dropped to his knees, ancient words spilling from his lips even as they rose to the forefront of his mind, placing the tip of the blade against the top of the rodents ribcage as he did so. Applying a bit of pressure, he slowly began to cut, the flesh parting with a quiet [i]*pop!*[/i] and [i]*scrrrtch!*[/i] when the blade moved from bone to stomach to intestine, before halting as it met bone once again. With the rat's insides freed, Ernald set the knife aside. Cracking his knuckles he pressed his hands into the cold and slimy space, carefully taking out the organs and arraying them in a crude circle around the corpse itself. Taking his knife up once more, he began to carve, began to cut. Bloody work it was, but also delicate, for the wards had to be perfect else the magic sputter and fail. It took him the better part of an hour, but at last it was done. Leaving the organs sprawled out as they were, Ernald let another accursed litany tumble from his lips, which caused the runes to glow and the room to tremble.

Following this, there was nothing but silence.

Everything was still.

Nothing moved.

Not even the slightest mote or speck of dust...

[i]Then the rat twitched.[/i]