Palaeomacrometer logbooks
The palaeomacrometer is a large, cumbersome but delicate device conceived and constructed by Professor Liben Corrington, founder of the Corrington Sorcerer Academy of the College of Letters, to further his researches. The device took some 18 years to complete, and is said to have over 1 million working components.
At its heart, the palaeomacrometer uses crystal eigenesis (with sulphur banoxide as a microaggressant) to hyper-experience points in space and time. The observer starts from a known point in space and time, and then experiences (through movement in space and/or time, at a vastly accelerated rate) an adjacent point in space and/or time. Depending on the skill of the observer, observation rates of 1,000 to 1 million have been recorded. This means that 1 second of observation can slip through 240 hours (10 days) of time, or 500 km of distance. The observer can stop the spatio-temporal movement at any point, and carefully study the surroundings. This allows for hyper-sensoral input - smell, taste, feeling, etc. of the object being observed, as well as for the time to make notes and drawings of what is observed.
Continued observation with the palaeomacrometer is physically and mentally draining, and not totally without risk. Since there is only one such device, and it has been used by perhaps only two people, safe constraints are not known, and the side-effects or damage potential is likewise unknown.
During the first few years of the palaeomacrometer's operation it was heavily used. None of Prof. Corrington's observations, however, were published. After about a decade of use, the professor stopped using it, for unknown reasons, and the device was essentially abandoned.
Several years later, during a congress, one of the dosents at the College of Letters, Archmage Alfred Gouranis, heard about the palaeomacrometer. He convinced Prof. Corrington to give it a good cleaning and to teach him how to use it.
In short order, A. Gouranis was taking regular observations. Several of his sessions have been published, and are reproduced here. Note that because of concerns about salangrity (temporal calibration of the device) the virtual dates of these recordings are not given, but only the dates on which the observations were made. Further research is needed to determine the former.
Observing logs of Archmage Alfred Gouranis, with the Corrington Palaeomacrometer, CoL.
- Extract 1. The Archmage of Nubanon.
- Extract 2. Following the path of the Moon
- Extract 3. The Lord's Mark
- Extract 4. Gaunt's watch
- Extract 5. A time in Malanthea
- Extract 6. Death in the Swamp
Extract 1, The Archmage of Nubanon. From notes recorded 4688 June 03
The Red Wizard paced energetically up and down the cold rank-smelling corridor, his flowing robe rustling across the well-worn stone. The loud irritable clicks of his metallic boots were instantly reduced to short, sharp sounds, dampened by the invisible energies that flowed from the room he was barred from entering.
He paused outside the great door, and the silence settled over him like a damp mouldy cloak. He shrugged his shoulders, bowed his head and concentrated, and for a moment could hear the sound of ancient dust settling in the corridor. A feeble amber glow sprang from his hands, growing brighter as he clasped them together. For an instant, his featureless face and hollow eye sockets were bathed in light the colour of the dying sun, and then the darkness returned.
Unseen to normal human eyes, a coruscating light flowed around him. Abruptly, he turned to face the door and it swung open slowly. Girding himself, he stepped through the portal and into the vault-like chamber beyond.
The Red Wizard paused. He stood absolutely still, even his breathing was arrested, as he strained to see into the dark. The icy cold lightless room was vast, extending into the black with no discernible ending. Gradually he became aware of a sound, distant and repeating. It was like the dripping of melting snow, tap-tapping from the eaves of a roof at the end of winter.
The memory jolted him and he gasped, instinctively, the cold air searing his lungs. With a gesture he banished the chilling thoughts and allowed himself the briefest of smiles as he strode towards the source of the sound. His footfalls echoed loudly as he approached.
“I have come,” he said, his voice sounding more frail than he intended, yet infinitely loud in the oppressive blackness.
‘Archmage’, came the reply, more a statement than a greeting, and one not heard but instead remembered.
“Is it done?”
‘Yes.’
“So we can begin?”
‘Yes.’
“And the others?”
Silence.
The Red Wizard waited. And then he was suddenly aware that he was alone in the room. Slipping a hand into a concealed pocket of his robe, he turned abruptly and, in the dark, confidently retraced his steps, pausing in front of the great iron-clad door. He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
The cramped room was as cluttered and untidy as he remembered, a shambles of broken crates, discarded potion vials and dusty sacks. Even the sunlight beaming in from the small high-set window was dusty. His inborn dislike of untidiness instantly asserted itself and he muttered a brief ancient incantation to remind himself to have it aired out and properly cleaned.
Things need to be in their proper place, he thought, as he stepped into the corridor, locked the old door behind him, and walked purposefully down the short passageway. His sightless eyes blinked in the bright sunlight of the archway ahead, and then the warmth of the late-morning Sun welcomed him again.
Behind him, the crumbled ruins of the old kirk stood dark and lifeless, its stones bleached by centuries of sun, fossilized remains of yet another failed god. The Archmage of Nubanon smiled to himself knowingly. It was good to be alive.