Post by Unknown on Jul 22, 2009 1:28:43 GMT -5
(OOC: First post to Unseen, please.)
The Crypt. It's true size and dimensions were unknown to a lot of people. Secret passageways were common among the wizarding world and its structures. Inside the crypt of Salazar Slytherin himself was one such passages. It was hidden behind a brick wall which only responded to the whistling of a certain special tune. Then the passage led down to a long tunnel carved underground by magic. The tunnel ended in a small cave with tiny holes, probably leading to air. The cave was simple to get to if you knew it existed, and had probably been carved by Slytherin's worshipers sometime during the Second Wizard War in Great Britain.
The cave, this day, was lit by several magical candles, forming a circle around a bubbling cauldron in the center of the cave. The cheesy look of the setting was not lost on the only occupant of the cave: the unnamed wizard who had received a brutal beating by a Vampire only an hour or so earlier. A bottle of blood replenishing potion held in his one good arm, his other arm laid out in front of him, and his broken wand laid next to it. The bleeding from the hole where the arm had been had stopped, for now, and some life (ha) was returning to the man's skin.
He washed himself before hand, using a simple water spell. He cleaned his clothes. He fixed his hair. He had used a wand that he stole ages ago and kept for emergencies just like this one. It was made of yew, and a little over thirteen inches long. It was as close to his own wand as he could find, which was made from Willow and a perfect thirteen inches.
The man knelt before the cauldron and swirled the wand around in the air, causing the bubbling liquid in the cauldron to swirl as well. Using the wand, he lifted the remains of his own wand and dropped it into the liquid. A cloud of purple smoke rose from the hissing liquid, and then disappeared. The dark wizard used the yew wand again and retrieved his own wand from the cauldron, which was rusting rapidly as the liquid curdled.
Depositing the yew wand into his suit's pocket, the man picked up his own wand, repaired. To test the mettle of the wand, he flicked it at the cauldron. With the sound of a rushing wind, the pot was gone. Satisfied, the man turned his attention to the severed arm which seemed to be frozen stiff in place, magically preserved. He tapped it with his own wand, and it loosened up, blood pooling on the severed end again.
He placed his wand in his mouth and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing the tear in his expensive shirt that resulted from the cut. He placed the severed arm, now naked, against the stump of his arm. He laid back, as this was a horribly awkward physical operation, so that his severed limb was laying lined up to the hole. Taking his wand from his mouth with his left hand, he tapped the clean cut.
What came from the dark wizards mouth sounded like a horrible, sick singing from a chorus of serpents. The tone was alternatingly deep and high, the hissing sounds gathering in number and intensity as if there were several mouths and many tongues.
He would be right as rain in only another moment.
The Crypt. It's true size and dimensions were unknown to a lot of people. Secret passageways were common among the wizarding world and its structures. Inside the crypt of Salazar Slytherin himself was one such passages. It was hidden behind a brick wall which only responded to the whistling of a certain special tune. Then the passage led down to a long tunnel carved underground by magic. The tunnel ended in a small cave with tiny holes, probably leading to air. The cave was simple to get to if you knew it existed, and had probably been carved by Slytherin's worshipers sometime during the Second Wizard War in Great Britain.
The cave, this day, was lit by several magical candles, forming a circle around a bubbling cauldron in the center of the cave. The cheesy look of the setting was not lost on the only occupant of the cave: the unnamed wizard who had received a brutal beating by a Vampire only an hour or so earlier. A bottle of blood replenishing potion held in his one good arm, his other arm laid out in front of him, and his broken wand laid next to it. The bleeding from the hole where the arm had been had stopped, for now, and some life (ha) was returning to the man's skin.
He washed himself before hand, using a simple water spell. He cleaned his clothes. He fixed his hair. He had used a wand that he stole ages ago and kept for emergencies just like this one. It was made of yew, and a little over thirteen inches long. It was as close to his own wand as he could find, which was made from Willow and a perfect thirteen inches.
The man knelt before the cauldron and swirled the wand around in the air, causing the bubbling liquid in the cauldron to swirl as well. Using the wand, he lifted the remains of his own wand and dropped it into the liquid. A cloud of purple smoke rose from the hissing liquid, and then disappeared. The dark wizard used the yew wand again and retrieved his own wand from the cauldron, which was rusting rapidly as the liquid curdled.
Depositing the yew wand into his suit's pocket, the man picked up his own wand, repaired. To test the mettle of the wand, he flicked it at the cauldron. With the sound of a rushing wind, the pot was gone. Satisfied, the man turned his attention to the severed arm which seemed to be frozen stiff in place, magically preserved. He tapped it with his own wand, and it loosened up, blood pooling on the severed end again.
He placed his wand in his mouth and shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing the tear in his expensive shirt that resulted from the cut. He placed the severed arm, now naked, against the stump of his arm. He laid back, as this was a horribly awkward physical operation, so that his severed limb was laying lined up to the hole. Taking his wand from his mouth with his left hand, he tapped the clean cut.
What came from the dark wizards mouth sounded like a horrible, sick singing from a chorus of serpents. The tone was alternatingly deep and high, the hissing sounds gathering in number and intensity as if there were several mouths and many tongues.
He would be right as rain in only another moment.