In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
Shattered Grimoires is the work of the mind(s) of Ardere & Shattered Grimoire's staff. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. Black Clover is owned by Yuki Tabata and published by Viz Shonen Jump. All images belong to their original owners. The theme you are currently viewing was made by Eliza of ElizaCodes exclusively for Shattered Grimoires.
[break] She gazed upon the past they lay behind her, the wind whispering in the ears of the weary but also in those of the living. Those who have yet to find themselves in life. Those who have yet to experience the riches and abundances that life has to offer, and those who have yet to encounter the worst life has to offer. Looking far out into the distance, one see’s the desolate lands filled with nothing but toppled buildings, stagnant and dying farmlands, bones and numerous magical beasts, feeding and scavenging off of whatever pieces of flesh and bone remained within the ashes. Ohh the ashes. They were everywhere. Piles upon piles. Why were they here? What could they have been? One is wary to ask. For within the truth of such ignorance may lie a greater evil.
Below the mountain range lay this desolate village, empty and sparse, without any food or resources to be found within five miles of its location. A large manor lay in the centre of it. For what its purpose may have been, no one can really say. For who knows how long it has been abandoned. Perhaps as the times have gotten worse, the building may have had temporary visitors, or stragglers per se, who have used its strong interior to keep warm over the seasons, or maybe even utilized it as a simple smuggling shop or hideaway. Even so, as of this moment, what remains the most important fact, is that it is empty now, and as to whom it may concern, it is now free for the taking, whether it be to make it a new home or to simply hide away from the darkness of fate.
The trees burnt, the houses toppled. It seems that this small village had been raided a few months prior, and like many others villages of this smallish size, the raiders often took everything. The children, the food, the woman, with no intention of sparing the kind or the weak. Leaving it empty and to bare no children or fruit for the future. It was all gone. Yet, although empty and nearly useless, it would make the perfect place for runaways to hide, and for thieves to cower, but with this opportunity for haven, came certain unknown dangers and threats may arise...
Life wasn’t easy, this he knew, but just how hard things could be, he was learning. Tumultuous turns of events had grappled him into being a sympathiser, a man that was above the cut of ordinary civilians. A distant and jovially incomplete man, lucid only for mere moments, deigning to imagine the world around him rather than actively participating in believing it’s corporeality. The leaves broke down to dust at his touch, ashes and cinders conceivably from a fire that wasn’t too long ago. The wind hadn’t scattered the vestigial landmarks, Connor could only believe with a quiet solace that life here hadn’t been too difficult for a time. But as things did; with time, they resolved differently. The evidence was more than ample to conclude the people here didn’t live here anymore. The dark cloak that surrounded the white haired man was probably the most expensive thing he owned, his Grimoire was golden gilded and quasi-sized; big enough to fit into his palm. Like a coin, he rifled it through his fingers, absentmindedly searching for some greater purpose to being here than just scavenging. He knocked on a door that hung from its hinges by a hairpin, lock-picking wasn’t necessary, the inhabitants didn’t mind his passing or at least they didn’t voice their opinions otherwise. Fate hadn’t been kind to this place, Connor left everything in its place, scorch marks and every piece of mould where it was when he found it. His sense for mana was impeccable, a signature was dimly illuminated in the waves of fortunate circumstances; that there were no others was an understatement, it orbitally flashed in the forefront of his mind. Like a cricket chirping in his ear, tinnitus tones of varying wavelengths tuned his ears, silence had a timbre that equaled depth in the chiaroscuro of a dark night. Connor was only dimly aware that someone else was within an unspecific distance from him, but it hardly warranted a closer look as he skulked through the ruins of this misfortunate area.
There were bones. Human ivories were littered in the ebony lustre of soot, they were fractured by an unknown weight. Kindling for a strange emotion that grasped him, splinters of remorse ascertained to predict his footsteps and haunt his demeanour. Grim omens in the kingdom of Clover, he picked his next steps wisely and coursed his way back into the courtyard, searching for someone that, may or may not, be dangerous. If they were dangerous he wouldn’t feign that he weren’t wild himself, but a simpler procedure would be all the better if they were civil. Words were easier to impart some measure of introspection, untamed beasts however simply leapt at an opportunity for breakfast and ran away with an arm. Civility was a currency that was rare in the far reaches of the forsaken region, being guilty of lacking it was not a bear’s fault, nor would it sate a wolf, but it did sort the chickens and put them in a row. Even if it was unwise to do so. He idled and waited with his hands solemnly at his side, ready to make friends with any form of being that should happen to challenge him; a mere mortal, probably. Feigning that he wasn’t a renowned criminal lieutenant that was too infamous to freely travel the noble region without a disguise, for fear of being lynched by the magic knights or the worse.
[break] Yeera had just escaped from her own kind of hell and had no intention of returning to it. She needed to run, and where else could she go but here, in this desolate place called a village. Well, could one really call it so? Such a place that seemed to be torn apart by the seams and ravaged so deeply that one could barely call this place a village. To be honest it was more like an abandoned gravesite. Either way, these were just random thoughts in her little head as she passed through. The truth was. She did not really care much for the lives that may have once been here, but what she did care for was the life of the animals and nature that may have fallen prey to such horrible circumstances. After all. The fault lies in humans and the wars they raged, which bore fruit to the sorrows that ravaged the world. [break] Looking down at her feet, she could see the ashes and even managed to catch some between her small toes, “Damn it” she cursed while wondering where all these piles of ash came from, some piles even managing to rise above her knees, how bizarre. [break] She continued down the path that lead her down the main road, brushing off whatever ashes she could, as she was in desperate need of a place to hide she began trotting down the path ever so eagerly, but what she did not realize was that in the path below, lied a sunken whole, or trap of some sort and upon taking a step forward she would fall down into it. [break] The fall was quite steep as she would feel herself rolling downwards for quite some time, a few seconds to be exact, but unexpectedly her landing was cushioned by something rather squishy and hard in some places. Immediately after coming to a still, she would begin to smell a rather grotesque and rotting scent picking away at the hairs on her nose. It was in sudden shock, that she had noticed that below her, lie the body of a woman. Her skin was pale and her eyes grey. Clothes stripped and body rid of anything you would call material treasures. It was easy for Yeera to understand that this woman’s breath had long left her, “This woman is dead.” She would say calmly, and without much shaking in her voice. In the past Yeera had come face to face with many dead, alongside her in the cages, those who did not wish to endure the experiments would often hang themselves on their own chains, or bite their tongs. Grunting, she would try to push herself up when suddenly out in the distance a low rattle could be heard dragging closer to the whole she was in. [break] It was them. They had finally caught up to her. At that moment, dread had filled Yeera’s soul, as she realized that soon she would end up just like the women that lay dead below her. Stripped, beaten, who knows what else. At the time what was most important to her was nevertheless the fact that after they were done with her, she would be dead. Quickly without wasting a moment's worth of time, she began to cover herself in the dirt and muck, the corpse, she would put on top of herself in order to make it seem as though she were one too. As she did this, the rotting smell began to seep ever so deeper into her nose, causing her throat to burn with a vomiting sensation, but she would force the acids down, as she swallowed repeatedly. "Better this, than to die am I right?" she thought.
Connor looked down, “Someone has dug a pit.” He ambled over towards the hole, a blemish on an otherwise completely ragged road, looked it over and listened. “And whoever dug it is still digging.” The sound of scrabbling around alerted Connor to the presence he could sense. It was a person of no real repute or significant mana signature, a sharp odour arose from the pit. Consisting of a decomposition and decay, it turned his stomach as he internally chewed on the prospect of what; if anything, would arise from this pitfall unprovoked. He ventured to sate his curiosity, whistling towards the ground he upon, he wanted to see if the Diamond Kingdom still had fangs. Sitting liberally at the mouth of a gaping chasm always had its charms, the aroma left little to be desired if a question could be proffered. When? “Not long.” He waited. “Not long now…” He thought critically about the sort of person who would be rolling around in this sort of place. Complacently, he sighed and called down to the person scrambling to potentially hide, “Hello… Down there, I mean!” Connor’s keen senses waxed on the crescent of the mole, blind to the enigma beyond perhaps his footsteps, he foreshadowed his entrance with a crashing thump as he launched himself downwards. Crunching footsteps leading up to the suspected victim of a highway robbery would alert whoever to his arrival, it seemed awfully uncivil for such a lovely corpse to not be out in the sunshine. Being buried down here would not be pleasant. He ventured a question, ”Are you friendly?” His expedition in the provinces of another kingdom had become perennial, everytime there was too much heat in the kingdom, he would venture into the unknown to let it die down. When he was a memory, he returned to working the pockets of the nobles of Clover. It was simple enough and had been efficient thus far.
[break] It was to be understood, that the young lad did not hear the voices and footsteps of the scoundrels coming her way. Their horses lined side by side with two slender figures leading them. They wore dark robes, that hid their faces, and a presence like icy mist, invisible, but precise and probably deadly, followed them in their wakes. Coming to take her life, and now possibly his. Was this boy to think her a fool, as if she wouldn’t notice him sneaking up upon her, and now suddenly the man steps down into her hiding spot so foolishly, and again. Who was he to ask Yeera to respond and give way to her location? Truly foolish indeed.
Nevertheless, she didn’t want this older boy to die at the hands of unreasonable action, or fate we shall call it. For it wasn't in her character to abandon the helpless, but the foolish, it was no doubt that she had second thoughts. Although whatever this dark fate may be. Whether these two would be able to avoid the oncoming darkness would be completely down to the decisions they made. Would Yeera abandon the boy, or would she try to aid him?
“Don’t come any closer! I'm hiding,” she says abruptly, hoping to stop his advancements.
"Listen, I can’t fight too well, so if your someone weak they will quickly take your life, and then mine right after yours. So you better do me a favor and leave me be.” Her voice and tone were harsh and brutal. Cold as she was always meant to be. With this, she attempted to push away the presence of the older boy. Truly, she didn’t want someone who would make her efforts to survive completely meaningless, if she were to be caught now, what would have been the point of trying to hide in this trash hole filled with decay and the stench of death in the first place?
Yes, you could say she was indeed one to be rather extravagant. Whether you call it crazy, or simply foolish, she was still what you'd call, unique, in a way. Yet, even so, you still cannot deny the fact that her so-called craziness allowed her to come up with the strangest and maybe even quickest of survival tactics. Still, one would have to point out, that she could have run... but for how long? Yes, she could’ve hidden somewhere else... but how much time would that take? Time is unforgiving, and so is the improper choice. So Yeera did what she did in the few moments she was given and did what she had to do to survive. No real thought, just instinct, and action. Although it still doesn't change the fact that she didn’t expect someone would sneak up to her location without her even being able to notice their presence. It was truly vexing.
Horses. Thumping along the ground; carrion circling around a grave, thought Connor in his brief spout of lucidity. He was solely focused on the person in front of him, unaware of the vagabond mercenaries that probably set this trap. Not the first time, he had been in this situation before when walking into a prison. Things seldom went easily, Connor pondered his reply to the remarks of those so foolishly hiding. What could a fox say when a bolt hole was not empty? Dive right in thought Connor; to himself, Clover military were dissimilar but a foreign kingdom’s soldiers constituents might not be so lenient upon seeing the clover on his Grimoire. A brief silver glow, a murmur of a word that sounded vaguely like, ”Meet us.” and Midus; the spherical titan of a golem, suddenly thrummed into existence. The silver sphere levitated slowly towards the entrance to the den, Midas protruded from the ground in only a rudimentary manner before springing up and smashing through the dirt. Perhaps catching a rider by surprise, it seemed like the assailants were less contentious after the golem menacingly proffered an opportunity for alternative differentials. Connor’s eyes closed as he directed the golem expertly, following the horse’s steps above him and the chortled reprisal that they offered. Obviously they were offended.
His attention dwelt between balancing a conversation with this woman and pestilently assailing those scavengers that would seek to proffer them harm. He was capable of speaking with dirt in his mouth, grittily chewing on each word as it sounded, wishing he could retrieve each thing he said after saying it; to reiterate a potentially more informative and concise manner in which to convey what he desired to be said. But instead he tiptoed around the situation soberly and with great remorse, quite eloquently, ”You are not doing a good job.” A short pause, he continued, ”Of hiding, that is.” Wanting to err on the side of caution, he threw in a dignitary; just on the off chance she was royalty, “My lady.”
Midas was rolling around the surface, collecting a grotesque amount of moss; and Connor full well meant to ascertain the logic necessary to explain the red pools of what once may have conceivably been people at one time or another, should he have to. The body parts would be self explanatory, he hoped. But as it was a bridge they had yet to cross, Connor naively dimmed his otherwise nonchalant self pre-occupation, and gave her his entire devotion in the regard that any one man may incline himself to be leniently aware of another’s presence. Blinking a few times, he waited before acknowledging that they had been indeed followed, ”They have been dealt with.” He spoke like a crow who couldn’t possibly eat all of one meal himself, modestly; and frankly, unperturbed by having company. Disparaging the woman’s hiding place further might be unwise, so, he waited for the woman to unhide herself, and for the thumping above them to stop. With his arms crossed he waited patiently, wondering if any more people were pillaging the land like highway men, as he was.
Name of Spell: Midas Spell Element: Precious Metals Spell Rank: Intermediate Mana Cost: 20 Initial | 10 Sustain Type of Golem: Balanced Applicable Perks: Puppet Master Description: Connor opens his Grimoire and brushes dust from its pages, it shimmers and melds together to form a radiant sphere that is silver in colour. The sphere’s name is Midas; which Connor calls out as he summons it, it shines brightly due to Connor’s mana. Midas levitates and moves at 12 m/s, is roughly 6 meters in circumference, has intermediate health and has a range of 60 meters. The golems can deal intermediate damage. Per the Golem rules, additional Golems can be created when using this spell based on Connor’s Control Stat to the maximum based on the rank of the spell, 4 being the maximum at Intermediate. Each Golem can serve as transportation if necessary, but is limited to 2 passengers each and can only move at 10 m/s while serving as such.
Type Power Durability Sensory Range Speed Health Balanced 35(+5) 35(+5) 35(+5) 60 meters 12m/s Intermediate
Mana Used: 20 Current Mana: 40/60 Mana Regeneration: 20 Current Mana: 60/60
