Dagomar, Oliver, and even the Gorgon eyed the ancient skrit of the tome from a safe distance. It rested unceremoniously, open, upon the muddy wheel of a black coach, illuminated in soft violet in the night only by the glowing orb in Oliver’s hand. Even Rollo and Zeigfried stood nearby, curious about their captive’s most treasured book.
“Nehek?” questioned Dagomar. The others nodded. The writing of the first humans was easily recognizable but prone to traps. Not in the sense of being attacked by the book itself, but more the insidious nature of its ideas. A glance at Greghor’s decrepit form was evidence of that.
“It is,” answered Oliver immediately, “Nothing else could be responsible for the change we witnessed. I almost pity him.”
Dagomar snorted, “Why do you think I cut out his tongue?”
“You didn’t see me objecting,” Oliver responded, “Nothing coherent was forthcoming from him any longer. We will need to capture what remains of his Ab before it disperses.”
“And hope Blackroot doesn’t eat it first.”
The Grimoire Necronium just watched them.
“THE PATH TO MADNESS.” The Gorgon’s gravelly, booming input startled everyone, as it usually did, given its rarity. Oliver lifted his chin to meet the Gorgon’s unyielding stare,
“I am well familiar with that path, I can assure you. We all are. It is a precipice, the art of magic is, and we are all in danger of slipping from it. Let Greghor be our reminder. Nevertheless,” he turned and stepped slowly forward, returning the gaze (for his witchsight indeed revealed the book’s elevated nature) of the Grimoire until he stood before it. The coach’s large wheel allowed it to rest at eye level, “It promises an untapped power.”
Rollo, leaning against a tree with his arms folded, piped in, “Did it promise Greghor the same power?”
Oliver smiled darkly, “Without a doubt.”
“Look what it got him.”
“We can conclude then I must succeed where he failed.”
“You’d better,” said the Templar, “Because the first time I see you with some weird shit grafted onto your body, I’ll do to you what we did to him.” Nearby, the Gorgon nodded in agreement.
Oliver rubbed his chin, his smile faltering slightly, “Duly noted.”