Post by Mury 6.0 on Dec 1, 2010 19:23:27 GMT -5
Both gloves were on snug and tightly secured to his sleeves. A mental check of his nearby wards, in lieu of simply looking around, showed that no unwelcome visitors were around. Though, in the dead of night, the Justiciar was usually the only one patrolling the halls and grounds. He threw on a pack of supplies - food, drink, sickles and galleons, stationery - and adjusted the straps for comfort; though he wouldn't feel any pain or chafing against the scar tissue that served as skin, cramps were best avoided. Over all this, he donned bulky traveling robes and a cloak. He seemed nothing more than a deathly pale face floating in the darkness, adorned only with the badge of the Firefox Justiciar. This he tapped with a gloved finger, and it became a solid, matte black.
It had been simple for the man to sneak through the school, and even escaping the Hospital Wing wasn't an issue; once his condition had stabilized, Muryllis no longer had Rezna or Leseur watching him day and night. When the nurse on duty fell asleep, he rose from his bed, slipped into the robes that had been left for him, and cast his mind out for the satchel that held the remains of his burnt clothing. Sifting through ashen scraps, he fished out what he was looking for and snuck out into the hallways.
Weakness due to atrophy came as a surprise for him, but his schedule was simple enough to allow for frequent stops to catch his breath and massage sore muscles. Paying no heed to school ghosts, the man made his way to his sleeping quarters, which were set apart from the rest of the staff rooms - a mutually accepted arrangement, for he cared for others as little as they loved him. The room, with its Spartan furnishings, contained all of what he would need and little of what he could be bothered with taking - notes and scrolls and books and magical artifacts were left alone, but the simple contents of his pack were scraped together in no hurry.
Then he composed the note. It was simple and to the point, as was his style of late. This he left before the Headmaster's door (with the usual enchantments to keep away prying eyes, of course) before climbing up to the tower.
He sat down and waited patiently for the howling December wind to abate before reaching an arm out into the void. The ruins of the tower were of no concern to him; rubble and wreckage was observed and noted, and the only comment to be made was regarding the simple access to the sky - with no ceiling or walls, the narrow windows would not trouble him. Pointing his arm in the general direction of the nearby forest, he mentally incanted an Accio charm, searching for the arcane marker he had left with his stash of supplies back in his Shadow days. Aah, there it is. He pulled. Minutes later, a dark object came hurtling towards him, stopping in midair a hair from his face. He reached for it before opening his eyes. Yes. Excellent.
Mounting the old broom - an Italian-made traveling broom given to him as a parting gift by his old flight instructor at Nostri Magi - he dropped the sentry wards he had checked moments before. The wind had picked up again. He slipped a hand under his outer robe, seeking out the small pouch he had tied to his belt and making sure it was properly secured. Its contents, the shards of his old phylactery, made small sounds as they tapped against one another that managed to be heard over the howling wind. He secured his hood and jumped into the abyss, pulling out of a nosedive soon after and screaming off into the north.
Headmaster;
I must overstep my authority and allow myself a leave of absence lasting an indefinite amount of time.
My apologies,
- Muryllis Antonius, Justiciar
It had been simple for the man to sneak through the school, and even escaping the Hospital Wing wasn't an issue; once his condition had stabilized, Muryllis no longer had Rezna or Leseur watching him day and night. When the nurse on duty fell asleep, he rose from his bed, slipped into the robes that had been left for him, and cast his mind out for the satchel that held the remains of his burnt clothing. Sifting through ashen scraps, he fished out what he was looking for and snuck out into the hallways.
Weakness due to atrophy came as a surprise for him, but his schedule was simple enough to allow for frequent stops to catch his breath and massage sore muscles. Paying no heed to school ghosts, the man made his way to his sleeping quarters, which were set apart from the rest of the staff rooms - a mutually accepted arrangement, for he cared for others as little as they loved him. The room, with its Spartan furnishings, contained all of what he would need and little of what he could be bothered with taking - notes and scrolls and books and magical artifacts were left alone, but the simple contents of his pack were scraped together in no hurry.
Then he composed the note. It was simple and to the point, as was his style of late. This he left before the Headmaster's door (with the usual enchantments to keep away prying eyes, of course) before climbing up to the tower.
He sat down and waited patiently for the howling December wind to abate before reaching an arm out into the void. The ruins of the tower were of no concern to him; rubble and wreckage was observed and noted, and the only comment to be made was regarding the simple access to the sky - with no ceiling or walls, the narrow windows would not trouble him. Pointing his arm in the general direction of the nearby forest, he mentally incanted an Accio charm, searching for the arcane marker he had left with his stash of supplies back in his Shadow days. Aah, there it is. He pulled. Minutes later, a dark object came hurtling towards him, stopping in midair a hair from his face. He reached for it before opening his eyes. Yes. Excellent.
Mounting the old broom - an Italian-made traveling broom given to him as a parting gift by his old flight instructor at Nostri Magi - he dropped the sentry wards he had checked moments before. The wind had picked up again. He slipped a hand under his outer robe, seeking out the small pouch he had tied to his belt and making sure it was properly secured. Its contents, the shards of his old phylactery, made small sounds as they tapped against one another that managed to be heard over the howling wind. He secured his hood and jumped into the abyss, pulling out of a nosedive soon after and screaming off into the north.
Headmaster;
I must overstep my authority and allow myself a leave of absence lasting an indefinite amount of time.
My apologies,
- Muryllis Antonius, Justiciar
