Make your own free website on

The Journal of the Alchemist Volpone

6 Ianurario

For all my life I have studied the occult and the supernatural. As a boy I walked in the wood and saw the elves hiding from my keen eyes. As a man, I talked with one once, a beautiful young ylph named Milellia. I saw her again when I was seventy, and she still looked the same. And now, a decade later, I fear that the elves are gone. I no longer see them peering through the glades, or hear their voices singing from their hidden halls.

Tomorrow, I will seek out Milellia again.

7 Ianurario

My eyes saw their hall today -- Elfhame, I believe they call it. A beautifully complex structure, half hidden in the trees, half hidden under the water of a large lake. After several hours of searching, I found a door. But the halls were empty and lifeless. Not a single ylph was to be seen or heard. Swords and spears lay on the floors of many a room, but there was not a drop of blood anywhere.

Somehow, I know that the elves have left us.

9 Ianurario

Horror! It is time for an old man to die. Today, while working the alchemical experiments I have worked for years, the magical formula I have used for decades refused to work. None of my formulas work! What kind of debacle has happened?

Vale tells me a lot of things. I met him in college. He came to my room one day and saw how I had scribbled hundreds of poems on my wall. He spent hours reading the poems, and asked where I had learned to do that. I told him that it was just something that I did. He told me that a long time ago, there were ancient people that scrawled millions of poems on the walls of their cities. Every wall, he said, was covered with a hundred different poems, some new, some centuries old. When I asked him who these people were, he just smiled and said he'd tell me some other time.

A few days later he did tell me who they were. They were the ssazanthi -- the dark elves. He told me that he was one of them, and so was I. I didn't know whether to believe him, but then he showed me how he could make lights dim, and make shadows on the wall move on their own. He said that I could do it, and I could. Both of us could. Both of us were dark elves.

That was several years ago. Now, I know more about my people than their poems. I know their culture, I know a few words of their ancient language, and I know that there are not many of us left. Vale told me that our race had been dead for almost two millennia. But through some powerful group known as the Incubans, we have been reborn. There are others that do not know who they really are. We must find them and tell them, just as I am telling you now.

Blades in the black night, crystal orbs who summon, intrigue, hallowed hope, geniuses buried in our minds like traps. are you ssazanth? do you want us to Find You? if you are truly ssazanthi then we shall never find you. Isn't that crazy?

The shadow of the struggling Kaelan on the wall. The shadow moves independently of Kaelan's body, grabs the shadow of one of his captors by both hands, and hurls him towards the large bay window.
The captor's body hits the window hard as it SHATTERS. He plummets, screaming, to the concrete below. Kaelan frees himself and leaps back away from the men and towards the window.
Kill him!
Locke's rifle FIRES. Kaelan leap to the floor. The shadow next to him removes itself from the floor -- it's Xaviar. He stares upwards at the overhead light, which flickers and dies out. Darkness. SHOUTS of confusion are heard. Another rifle FIRES. Both Xaviar and Kaelan's green, night-seeing, eyes are seen in the dark.
We gotta get the hell out of here!
We have to get Kella!
A flashlight illuminates the room. Another beam follows.
We've got to go!
Locke gropes for another light switch. He finds it. The lights come on in the room again. He sees Xaviar and Kaelan by the window.
Shoot them!
Xaviar grabs Kaelan's arm as the two leap through the shattered bay window.
Xaviar and Kaelan are plummeting ten stories straight down. Xaviar glances at the wall behind him and grimaces. His head touches the wall. He fades into it, becomes a mere shadow on the wall. Kaelan sees this and does the same. The two shadows slide down the wall and into the ground. As soon as their shadows hit the ground, they become corporeal again. Kaelan rolls several yards, and leaps to his feet, the adrenaline still rushing through his body. Xaviar tumbles further, but stumbles when he tries to get onto his feet, and slams headfirst into a parked car. Kaelan rushes over and helps him up, and the two limp off into the shadows.
Locke staring out the window. The Spectacled Man stands beside him.
LOCKE (to himself)
They couldn't have survived that. Even elves can't fly.