Chapter 1: Interesting Times

[The Fuzz]

Davore





Davore smiles a little deeper, with a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth.


"Arachnid Ascendant in gold and brass, it truly sounds to be a difficult task you set for yourself. Admittedly, there are many things inside the library which do not properly exist outside its walls. Our Hulbrad cousins will be among the first to acknowledge that their home is not the most reasonable in that regard."


He looks to both Hrune and the other attendant.


"Hrune, do you know if any among the guard would be interested in wearing an extremely temporary replica of an Eotran tattoo?"

 

[Silvertongued]

• Fortesque
• Cecilia and Cled
• Davore and Andran

• 
  
  
  Before you can finish your odd, spiraling jaunt, you hear a cry. Not the wail of a ghost, but a human shriek, a short bark of fear and surprise. It is almost instantly followed by a scream, long and drawn out, overflowing with pain and horror.
  
  
  It's echoing through the rows, but you can tell its source was the little area you had just left.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Since the pair of you had come to the Black Rose, the halls had been often punctuated by the cries of departed Hulbrad. Though disturbing at first, you found that for the most part, the spirits were merely mischievous, playing pranks on the Unascended to ease the boredom of eternity. Some proved to be more malevolent, but you were guarded from their evils by the rules of safety handed down to you, as long and convoluted as they were.
  
  
  This sound was something new. This is a sound born of living lungs, not the echoing screech of draughts and ectoplasm. There are two, a first, short and shocked, followed by a longer cry, of hurt and terror.
  
  
  It seems to be coming from where the odd Hulbrad had emerged...
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  The servant blinks once, eyelashes akin to the merest of butterfly wings.
  
  
  "I know not my lord, but I could venture forth and inquire if you so-"
  
  
  Before the young woman could finish, she was interrupted by a short cry from across the rows, a shriek of surprise, followed by another, drawn out yowl of pain and despair.
  
  
  

 

[The Fuzz]

Davore





"Oh dear."


Davore pats his doctor's bag, and nods to the others in the row of shelves.


"This one is drawn by duty to attend those who are in pain. If my absence from this conversation will be understood therefore as a necessity...."


That said, he strides briskly in the direction of the scream, eyes wide open to see what the hell is going on.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Yrva Andran


Immediatly she rises back up onto her legs, scuttling a fair distance up the nearest shelf. She blinks rapidly, eyes switching through visions until she found the rather rare sight that passed through walls and solid objects. She could see the strange shapes inside of Davore as he ran. Lybar never were simple on the inside.


She sits, waiting for another wail but as time passes and nothing happens, Andran lowers herself down the shelf and starts off in the direction of Davore.

 

[ZombieKitty]

Cecilia Arrington


Cecilia stops in her tracks at the scream, turning in the direction it had come from, despite the many shelves and books very much in the way. Her eyes are wide in surprise, glancing to Cled nervously before turning back to the Hulbrad. "Excuse my interruption of our walk, kind host, but I would guess that that is not a usual sound heard in the library, is it? Would it be best to check to make sure nobody is in trouble or pain of any kind?" She asked Fortesque.

 

[Grey]

Hulbrad Fortesque


Library


Q nods. "With haste and care, continue walking forward six paces and you will reach your destination. I must investigate this peculiarity."


And with that, he turns to walk towards the sound.

 

[ZombieKitty]

Cecilia Arrington





The young woman hesitates, six paces from her destination, from finding knowledge that might lead her onto her path. But that scream has her worried. She gives a glance to her bodyguard before sighing to herself. The books would still be there, someone sounded like they were in trouble. She turns to follow the Hulbrad instead.

 

[PixelWitch]

Cled


The Orc's hand instinctively jumps to his pistol as the wail rings in his large pointed ears, "That normal?" he says more to himself than anyone who would be inclined to listen. I. don't. like. this. place.


He steps right up behind Cecilia, if in need of being a meat shield, "Please stay close, Little Miss," A meaty palm strays to her shoulder in reassurance.


Probably not the best idea to draw a weapon in such a place, so he does not. His grip however doesn't loosen.


The exchange between the Hulbrad and herself reached deaf - or rather oblivious - ears, but they were heading towards the sound, so he'd be going too.


In front of the Little Miss of course.

 

[Silvertongued]

Hulbrad, Lybar, Yrva, Mage, and Orc, they all converge on the small spot between the rows, each followed by servants. A small, hardwood table is between the two towering bookcase walls, pushed aside, its surface cluttered with trinkets splayed wide in a moment of panic. Beside it, an older Indentured stumbles, stiffly, brokenly, glancing up in despair to the oncoming procession.


His extremities are as marbled granite, creeping up his limbs like some sickening hoarfrost, accompanied by a procession of minute, grinding cracks. The man moves jerkily, his movements growing slower as he lurches over to Fortesque.


"Vedomost-" he rasps, hand outstretched, a hollow, open book clutched by stony digits. "Vedomosti!"


That's all Mal manages to say. In seconds, the affliction accelerates, freezing the older man in a rictus of his last movements and leaving him naught but a petrous effigy. He still stands as if in fealty to his master Hulbrad, arm outstretched with hollowed booklet, clutching painfully at his now stilled chest.

 

[The Fuzz]

Davore





Davore completely ignores the book, and instead proceeds to, within the span of three steps, cover his hands in supremely thin lambskin gloves, produce needle and mirror, and begin to check the man, from the core outwards.


Breathing?


Pulse?


Temperature?


Any sign of movement or remaining animation?


Any nervous system activity, pain response, reflex?


If, as he suspects, the old man is completely turned to stone, well. He tried.


If, on the other hand, there are any signs of life, then Davore will immediately get to work. If there's any sign that his lungs remain organic as opposed to having been turned to stone, then Davore will instantly pull off his tunic and spawn an external breather beast, to cling to the man's chest, stick a proboscis down his windpipe, and keep lungs working.


Regardless, as he begins his examination, he will turn to the others. Whoever looks like they are the furthest away from losing their shit, he will look directly at, point and say "You, you specifically, seek a librarian and tell them there has been a mishap. Check the aisle numbers, tell them exactly where we are, please." Without stopping to see whether his instructions have been followed, he will continue his examination.


I suspect that therefore, he will have just given said instructions to Fortesque, the vaguely unflappable Hulbrad.

 

[Grey]

Hulbrad Fortesque


Library


Fortesque tries to reach out and touch Mal's mind, to see if anything remains. He leaves his Lybar cousin to the physical, and draws his eye-emblazoned tome. If he cannot reach Mal's mind, nor find meaning in Vedomosti (perhaps Mal had the misfortune to trip an ancient trap laid by that paranoid ancestor), he will focus his inner eye to see what magic is at work here.

 

[Silvertongued]

• Davore
• Fortesque

• 
  
  
  There is nothing. The man is, pardon the pun, stone dead, or something so close there may as well not be a difference.
  
  
  That said, your examination is not fruitless. You find traces of an incredibly fine powder, the majority across the statue's face and neck, but trace amounts on his hands. The needle you use to check for stimuli crackles on contact, splintering slightly, but does not seem to have the speed of effect it had upon the servant to begin with.
  
  
  Your command is obeyed by the burly servant who had been following the Yrvan. His face may as well been carved from stone as well, and he inclines his head with expressionless respect, disappearing back into the stacks.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Mal's mind is but a whisper as you probe it, a rapidly shrinking ball of terror, wrapped around a core of enraptured disbelief. Fear near drowns out everything else, but the word Vedomosti echoes through his thoughts, propelled up by an ironshod sense of duty. There is one final twinge of regret, and the mind winks out like a snuffed candle, leaving only silence, and the aftertaste of fear.
  
  
  The Inner Eye works, but it works with difficulty. The Library is saturated with the forces of the etheric, and it clouds the Sight as would a thick, swirling mist to the mundane. But even then, you can see it, a deep resonant grey, a shadow you have come to associate with the Hulbrad, it glows around Mal, concentrated on the face. The activity is abuzz, but you can feel it swiftly dissipating.
  
  
  By gazing as you do, you also sense something within the book, though the small tome itself seems to retard the Sight about it. Were the tome closed, you gather whatever was inside would remain hidden with little effort.
  
  
  

 

[The Fuzz]

Davore





Davore glances around, sees that his instruction has been disregarded by his first choice, but followed by a close second. Good enough.


He steps back, delicately puts his damaged needle into a sterile glass vial, and scrapes a sample of the powder into another such vial.


That done, he looks to the Hulbrad.


"Dead, sir. This humble servitor of your House has ceased his service. I suggest an initial diagnosis of sudden and massive petrification, and will submit a report with my findings to your physicians. I make no further recommendations."

 

[Grey]

Hulbrad Fortesque


Library


Fortesque nods. "You have my gratitude and that of my House, efficacious cousin." He says, and reaches out to carefully prise the book from Mal's dead grasp. "This curious tome would seem to be the culprit. I shall contain it post-haste."


He reaches under a stack, extracts a heavy marble box, and shuts the book inside.


"It can be studied soon; first this most excellent servitor's sacrifice must be honoured."

 

[PixelWitch]

Cled


He stiffens at the sight, feeling his ears grow cold and his heart skip, almost as if in sympathy for the poor soul.


His first, and almost immediate thoughts jump to mind. Assassin?


For a moment he considers clambering over and up onto the bookshelves, but these stuffy sorts would probably be adverse to that...


Instead, though loathed to leave Little Miss's side, he jogs to either end of the bookselves, necking to see the remaining trails of anyone hastily leaving the scene.

Spoiler

Intuition (4) and Investigation (3) = 4 dice > 8.

[dice]3546[/dice]


[dice]3547[/dice]

 

[ZombieKitty]

Cecilia Arrington





Cecilia's hands covered her mouth as she looked at newly formed statue, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. How horrible! The poor man...


She watches the others either run off for help or start to examine the man, feeling a touch more anxious as Cled jogged off to take a look for possible suspects. What was going on here?! She listens to the Hulbrad and the other gentleman discuss what had occured and chewed on her bottom lip. There was little she could think of to help, she'd never seen anything like this before...


And if the book caused it, well, she was beginning to reconsider going back to looking in the books here at the moment until the culprit or cause was found.


"Is there anything I can do?" She asked quietly, knowing it really a bit of a useless question but she felt she should offer at the very least.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Yrva Andran


Creeping down the wall, her motions now silent and guarded, Andran inches closer and closer to the statue. While the Lybar pokes and prods for life and the Hulbrad searched the ether for signs of something greater, the conniving spider Yrvakim searches for items of value. Most importantly, that fine powder that ruined his tool.


Her mind races as she tries to think of a way to transport the material, cautious not to get too close though. She chitters and clicks before turning to the Hulbrad with the book.


Her eyes alight with want of knowledge and a lust for wanting to be in the know.


"Cousin Hulbrad, Sleeper of Great power. Might this one tempt you to see what the gateway-book-information holds-hides-hoards?"

 

[The Fuzz]

Davore





The doctor looks over his shoulder.


Lady. Human. Looks worried. Fine clothes. Scholar? Irrelevant right now.





He offers a calm smile.


"This one offers medical advice for a long, healthy life, and such advice right now is not to touch anything until we know what caused this. Otherwise, if you possess paper and a stylus, consider taking immediate notes. What perceptions are sharp now will fade with remarkable swiftness, as is the aftermath of all sudden and shocking experiences. On that topic, should you feel faint or short of breath, please do not hesitate to tell me."

 

[ZombieKitty]

Cecilia Arrington


"Thank you for your concern but I believe my health is fine, sir. I'm sure the focus on noting events should help at any rate." She adds with a nervous laugh, quickly removing her notebook from her bag at her side along with a pencil and quickly beginning to note down what she had witnessed, who had converged on the scene, what the two gentleman before her had mentioned in their conversation and trying to pen down as many details as possible. "What was it he said before turning to stone? 'Vedomosti'?"


Her eyes linger over the spider-limbed lady, catching herself and tearing her eyes away. Staring was rude. She hoped Cled returned shortly, his presence greatly helped in keeping her calm.

 

[Grey]

Hulbrad Fortesque


Library


"Under the proper auspices this will be so," Q replies to the Yrvanim. "I humbly ask of your profound patience, cousin-architect-guest."


He rests one elbow in his hand and strokes his chin, rising slowly into the air until his eyes are above the stacks. Expecting nothing, he rotates, scanning the surrounds.


"Honoured ancestor Vedomosti did us the grand service of founding the Library. It would seem he has further gifts for us." He calls down to the lady.

 

[Silvertongued]

• Cled
• Fortesque

• 
  
  
  Nothing is past the rows that you can see, though that doesn't help much. Despite the odd, flameless torches at every interval, the light is strangled softly by the murk, and even your eyes have a hard time making out anything in the distance.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Phillip, the broad backed and broad chinned servant, sent out by the Lybar, he is already on his way back to your location, bringing Hulbrad Kalphas, the Floor Head, in tow with him. They should be here shortly...
  
  
  

 

[ZombieKitty]

Cecilia Arrington


"Gift or traps, I wonder." Cecilia mutters to herself in Spirespeak, frowning as she continues to take note, especially of this being a Library founder's 'Gift' and that there might be more. She approaches Davore and the petrified man. "May I ask if there was anything you took note of during your examination? Anything we should make sure to keep in mind?"

 

[The Fuzz]

Davore





"The effect appeared to proceed from his extremities towards his core. Upon examination, the body showed no breath, no movement, absolutely no sign of life. Powder upon his face and neck, perhaps sign of some kind of trap triggered by opening a book or container. When the fragile skin of his mortal vessel was tested, the detrimental effect showed itself, in lesser form, upon the needle."


He looks up towards Fortesque.


"Devoid of ambitions towards intrigue or personal aggrandisement, this student of the mortal form shall render all samples garnered to the investigative agency of your House. Cousin."

 

[Teh Frixz]

Yrva Andran


"I'm looking but not touching...I wonder what device-trap-chemical might have been. Powder shows signs of continuous volatility, look not touch-grab-own, possible Infernal Orign. Possible Southern Origin. Archaic?" Unable to confirm or deny any suspiscion, Andran looks closer. Her eyes scanning over any trace amount of the substance.


"Might I have another object of no value, must test-confirm-infect" She sounds almost gleeful, nothing in her studies included anything with these properties. Somehow she had to take a sample of it. Stone vial? Risky but could work. She lowers herself to the floor, a mechanical leg rummaging through her satchel while she continued to investigate.

 

[The Fuzz]

Davore





Almost absent mindedly, Davore passes Andran a needle from his bag.


Yes, he knows he's not getting it back.