Chapter 1: Interesting Times

Yrva Andran


"Much thanks-mine-gratitude," Andran snatches the needle between two of her legs. Carefully she drops it onto a pile of the dust, monitoring the effect.
 
The needle plinks surprisingly loudly onto the collected dust upon the former servant's petrified flesh. Despite being heavily observed, nothing seems to happen.


It's about this time that the departed servant returns, a older Hulbradim in tow.


The Hulbrad is tall and thin, with skin like alabaster, and clad in a lengthy, brocade frock coat. A thick mane of swept back silver braids cascade down his back, a long, plaited goatee snakes down his chest. Strangest of all, you can't help but notice that his hands, completely covered in white velvet gloves, have no wrists connecting them to his arms. They simply hang solidly outside the reach of his broad, dark sleeves.

Hulbrad Kalphas is the Floor Head of Etheric Magic and Artifacts, and has been for the past ten years. He had previously been a Chronicler himself, researching the unusual nature of Shaydensea, as well as its effects on magic and various forms of life. His research came to an abrupt halt when he came on the wrong side of the natives, resulting in the rather violent loss of his hands. They've since been restored with Hellforged replacements, but Kalphas never returned to Shaydensea, and eventually worked to become a Librarian.


Personally, he's cold, callous, grandstanding and greedy. He's never treated you with anything other than something resembling mild disdain or envy, you could never tell which. He's also had several legendary blowouts with your father, over accusations of bribes and diverging research, and the two have not been on speaking terms for some years now. They still occasionally write angry letters, but their last meeting devolved into a fist fight, and that was at least five years ago.


He gives the group a look of mild disdain as if accusing them of something, and peers at the statue.


"Would anyone mind explaining this?" he proffers with a scowl and gesture.
 
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Davore





Davore turns, hands clasped at the small of his back (gloves removed and tucked away).


"It is the sad duty of this physician to report the death of your servitor. A more complete answer shall be furnished in time, but for the moment, he appears to be the subject of a sorcerous petrification. I note the presence of an anomalous dust on his face and neck, and upon initial contact, a remnant weathering or dessicant effect. The victim screamed twice, once in apparent surprise, once in pain. He was alive upon our arrival at the scene, but expired within seconds."


Davore clears his throat.


"For details other than the physical, this one shall defer to the account of my fellow scholar and cousin, above us."
 
Hulbrad Fortesque


Q descends with a very proper bow, standing straight as his feet touch the floor.


"Our much respected cousin is correct. It would appear this incident is the result of careless or ill-timed expressions of Hulbrad divinity - prepared by our revered founding ancestor Vedomosti." He glances sidewise at the other witnesses and carefully chooses his next words. "The vector in question remains only on the body of this unfortunate minion; otherwise the apparent trap is quite exhausted."


The marble box has been carefully placed back out of sight, under the stack.
 
Cecilia Arrington


Cecilia had noted down what Davore had told her of his examination and paused when the second Hulbrad approached. This wasn't really her place to speak, this was a matter for the Hulbrad given it was their library and she just a guest. Still, she continued to make note of what was being said, also the fact that the needle the spider-limbed lady dropped into the dust had not turned to stone. Perhaps it only affected flesh?


She listened carefully, continuing to write in short-hand in her notebook. She could understand the manner of the new Hulbrad but it made her uncomfortable all the same. She paused in her writing when Fortesque didn't mention the book to the Librarian and frowned a little. Surely it would be better to speak of it and warn him of other books possibly having the same effect on people?


"I thought he was holding something... was I mistaken?" She asked carefully, flicking back through her notes.
 
Davore





Davore very carefully does not glance sideways at Fortesque. In a very controlled fashion, he is not eyeballing the man at all.


In all things, do your duty.


What is your duty? To heal the patient. Can't do that, he's dead.


What is your duty? To prevent contagion. It seems more like a trap than a disease, but I will investigate nonetheless.


What is your duty? To issue a true report on the circumstances of his death.


To issue a true report on the circumstances of his death.


Shit.





Davore pauses, and looks to the human lady.


"Hark to the notes you have written. Do they accurately convey the scene?"


Davore is now nailing her with a glare.


Understand? There's something very.....Hulbrad going on here. I'll back you up and I'll get you out of this if I can.





If I can get myself out. This scholar owes us, at the least, answers, if he would make us conspirators.
 
Cled


Harrumphing through the flat of his nose at the lack of a sign of anything, he turns heel and pads back to the group, his presence only given away by the soft clink of his armour and weapons, of which a steady palm has still not left, "Can't see anythin,"


He returns to Cecilia's side, unsure - or rather not really caring - if anyone else was listening, they were too busy jabbering away in that foreign tongue that grated against his ears. It was such a harsh, throaty, and sharp syntax. It hurt to listen to.


"If it was someone who meant them harm they either ain't here or left in so much of a hurry my fast little friends wouldn't keep up," this comment punctuated with a tap of the bullet laden gun at his hip, and a reassuring pat on Little Miss's shoulder.


He takes barely an upward glance at the new Hulbrad that arrives. Another one. Wonderful.
 
Cecilia Arrington





That glare from the doctor gentleman made her frown a little back, but then glanced between the Hulbrad who had guided her towards the books she had sought and the Librarian. Hulbrad. Secrets, information was their forte. One was hiding something from the other. Oh, bullfrogs...


Her face paled a little, glancing up as Cled returned and feeling a little reassured. "Thank you, Cled." She murmured, looking rather anxious. Glancing back to the Hulbrad, both of them, she looked back at her notes. "I partially smudged my writing in my haste...but I think the event is catching up to me, I feel a little faint." She said, putting a hand to her head.


"Cled, I'm feeling a little unwell, can we move from here?" She adds to her bodyguard, swaying a little on her feet.
 
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Yrva Andran


"It didn't work-try-succeed" Andran looks up, almost dissapointedly at the small assembly. A new Hulbrad had arrived, Andran quickly memorizing his appearance. If there was a supposed hidden tension in the new Hulbrads demeanor, he wasn't accomplishing it. Andran could almost feel the disdain. Probably interrupted him from some sort of stupidly important project.


For now, Andran continues to Chitter this way and that, curious to discover any more additional clues and maybe dispense a few of her spiders~
 
The Librarian sends a chill glare at the mage, buts says nothing. He straightens to look back at Fortesque, his neck emitting an ugly crack as his skull jerked into position.


"Vedomosti? For what possible reason would this one have for believing the hallowed founder would be responsible for such a random, pointless act?" he asks, dark eyes narrowing, turning to peer over the body of the servant.
 
Cled


His raises a thick brow at the young Mage, but ever mindful, he nods, "Okay, a seat for you then,"


He picks up Cecilia before she can voice a protest, carrying her princess style, her weight barely registering on his massive frame, akin to a father picking up their small child when they need to go to bed now.


A few paces and he plunks her - very gently, but with little ceremony - into a thick leather reading armchair next to a desk.


"Better?"
 
Hulbrad Fortesque


"Would one of his puissance not cast a shadow longer than our capacity to comprehend? There is surely method to the madness." Q allows himself a smirk. "Surely an elder of such revered stature can recognize machinations of impressive scope in activity?"
 



  • Davore





    Right. Needling one of the Librarians is clearly going to great places. Time for me to leave. That said....





    Davore turns to the Hulbrad who has concealed the book and sketches a quick bow.


    "With the arrival of one who claims superior authority in the eyes of his House, I judge it time to depart this scene and leave it in hands more qualified. However, I may wish to consult with my fellow examiner for the purpose of faithfully issuing my report on this man's death. If you could visit my clinic any time today, that we may compare notes on his condition as we found him, that would be most convenient."


    Davore produces slight cards from the side pocket of his doctor's case and offers one each to the Librarian just arrived, Fortesque, and Andran, and steps across to pass two in the direction of Cecilia and Cled.


    That done, he smiles and offers a bow to Andran, another to the lady, and a final bow to the Librarian before backing out of the row of books. He's going to go find Hrune, assure her that everything is fine, and that what he would like is to make a request for a model to draw upon, preferably someone physically fit, martial in inclination, and male.





 
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  • The Librarian sends Philip further on, to fetch further servants trained in dealing with the more harmful results of the random acts of the Library. He accepts the card of the Lybar with little ceremony, gazing at it some seconds before the thin card vanished up one heavy sleeve as if by magic.


    At Fortesque's statement, Kalphas shakes his head, his sneer of distaste turning to one of disgust.


    "Should we should attribute all random acts to Vedomosti without evidence or reason, then perhaps the workings between those of weak mind would go simpler. After all, it is so much easier with an ever present reason to blame for any circumstance, good or ill," he responded icily, running his goatee between velveted thumb and forefinger. "You state the servant was killed by trap, but I see none. You state that Vedomosti is responsible, but I see no relic of the hallowed founder. You tell me to believe in the First, but I see no reason why you would blame him so,"


    The Hulbrad stared at Fortesque, tilting his head, eliciting another bony click, his face twisted with an ugly pity. "All in all, before me I see..."


    "Nothing," he finished softly, letting the word hang pointedly in the air as he stared at the Chronicler.


 
Hulbrad Fortesque


Fortesque raises a brow.


"That much is obvious." He replies, mildly. He turns to Andran and the Magus. "Would our guests care to join me for coffee?" The word sounds strange so heavily accented with Urd.
 
Yrva Andran


A possible outing with social activities as the sole purpose? Possibly not the only reason but definitively the primary. She hadn't been to one in so long though. Her manners would probably offend, but so would saying no! It was too frustrating.


She grabs her hood, pulling it down over her face and digs her fingers into the fabric, trying to think.


"I'd have to say...I'd be honored-ecstatic-wanting to join you. If you'll have me that is. This event has put a pause on my work for now. What is coffee?"
 
Ceclia Arrington





"Yes, thank you." The Mage nods to her bodyguard. "I should be fine in a moment." She sighs as she sits back in the chair, closing over her notebook. From here she continues to observe the others, inclining her head to the doctor as he made to leave the area.


Cecilia looks between Fortesque and Andran at the offer of coffee. She then dips her head politely towards the Hulbrad. "That would be most welcome after all the excitement and shock of that. Something to steady my nerves would be wonderful before I return to my research." She doesn't immediately rise from the chair Cled placed her into, making sure he's keeping close by.
 
Kalphas snorts in irritation as Phillip returns, another group of servants in tow.


Even as the regular servants seem to be implacable, these seem to be made of even sterner materials, all strict expressions and furrowed brows. They're clad entirely in black, strange implements at hand. Everything about them seems curt and clipped, an economy of movement that was almost mechanical. Behind one of them drifts a Diracian Seafish, undulating sluggishly on immaterial currents, its white face patterned like a radiating sunburst in the night sky.


The crew begin to pore over everything at hand nearby, the bookcases, the table, chairs, and a pair start to work over Mal's form.


Each of you in turn feels a brief, unpleasant sensation in your head, a sharp, cold, pain that runs over the inside of your skull, akin to nails being roughly dragged across your bare scalp, albeit deeper.


One of the servants whispers something to Kalphas, and he nods, turning his gaze from the group.


"Check everything," he replies, stalking away. "Do not hinder me with knowledge of its root if it stems from the unremarkable. Simply clean."
 
Cled


Having not the faintest idea what everyone has been talking about, the Orc simply stares grumpily as everyone converses around him. He almost thought he heard the word "Coffee" mangled in there somewhere, but chose to ignore it. Then more show up. Strange fellows in black... along.. with a jellyfish...?


Oh here we go.


He knew jellyfish. He used to hunt them off the coast. They went nice with sauces but had little substance. Like flavoured water. But like everything he seemed to come across here it was a perversion of anything natural. Like anything the Scion's took for their own and just-


OW.


He suppresses the urge to snarl, hand finding his pistol grip again, as the feeling of having his brain itched roved over him, "I don't like that, whatever is doing it can stop now,"


He looks to Little Miss mindfully, seeing if she was as uncomfortable as he was.
 
Hulbrad Fortesque


Calmly, Q picks up the marble box, and turns on the nearest servant. He stares at the man with cold intensity until he and any others halt and attempt to meet Q's gaze.


"With forbearance, I ask; did I moments ago feel the cold touch of an unconsenting mind-taste?"


Little tendrils of shadow roil menacingly across his long, pale hands.
 
The servant bows hastily as the other pause to look. He glances behind Q, at the others who were touched, his eyes flickering back to Q's face.


"My greatest apologies Hallowed Ascended," he replies carefully, flicking his tongue over his lips. "We were merely ensuring that there was no mental abnormalities or contagions that may have led to the situation at hand. We emphasize our apologies for the momentary discomfort, and reassure that the Seafish is specially trained to ensure that nones privacy was breached,"
 
Hulbrad Fortesque


Fortesque looms over the servant, leaning closer.


"It is to your credit that this was the act of a trained animal and not at the behest of one present. These are guests - were the propriety of our House to be compromised by offending them so..." He lets the threat hang, glances at the guests, and makes a polite gesture to follow as he stalks out of the library to his personal study.
 
Cecilia Arrington





She inhaled sharply, putting her fingers to her temples at the uncomfortable sensation. That hurt! Biting her lip as it faded, she glanced up at Cled when he spoke. "That was unpleasant..." She agreed quietly.


Her eyes lifted to the two Hulbrad, listening to the conversation and relaying what they said to Cled. Trying to keep her bodyguard informed was likely the best option to everyone keeping calm and avoiding misunderstanding.


"Fortesque was inviting us for coffee, it is likely best to follow." She added, after explaining it had been the weird jelly-fish creature who had caused the unusual headache. She rose to her feet. "But stick close. I'll keep translating for you. I'm more ill at ease around this place after all that." She sighed heavily, painted lips forming a pout. "I haven't even gotten to look at those books yet..."
 
Yrva Andran


ACK! MINE MINE MY THOUGHTS MINE NOT YOURS MINE! TCHK TCHK TCHK!





As soon as the sensation of the mind scraping began, Andran pulled down on her hood and curled her limbs around herself. Her mandibles open and close in the very image of unbearable pain. To lose something as personal and as private as her thoughts was just torture to the normally good natured Yrva. Her eyes switch rapidly between forms of vision until the obtrusive feeling abates.


Poking her head up and peeking out from under her hood, Andran collects herself. Trying to focus on the very center of her self and breathing in and out. That thing. That fish. She would end it someday, somehow. For now though, she had a very important social event to attend.


Standing tall, she dusts herself off and moves with the group, saddling up next to the Orc and his companion. They were speaking in a tongue she understood but hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy in some time. A wary eye cast back on the fish, she dredges up the memory of a less infernal language, coughing out the words with a metallic lilt.


"And I haven't gotten to find all the parts I require either. But don't turn down a Hulbrad invitation ever."


Andran moves in close, legs lifting her to eye level with the Orc, investigating his features and memorizing his appearance.


"You don't speak Urd. Why are you hereinthisplace? It is not ALWAYS A GOOD PLACE TO BE EVEN WHEN YOU FOLLOW RULES-NOT STEAL-NOT TAKE THOUGHTS!" She switches tongues as she passes by the assembled black wearing workers, anger flowing off her like an Olimak in the heat of battle. As soon as she breaks off the death glare, Andran smiles back at her human and Orc companion.


"Sorry. They hurt me. Howare you two?"
 
Cecilia is surprised when the arachnid-like woman speaks in Tradestounge and smiles, glad Cled will have someone else who speaks something he understands. She dips her head politely to her.


"I wasn't intending on turning it down. Just makes me so eager to get back to them but it would be rude to refuse one of our hosts." She smiles, watching as the woman rears up on her mechanical limbs and taking a half-step back when she does.


"Yes, that sensation was very unpleasant. I think we're alright. I'm a little shaken from all that happened but Cled here is sturdy as a rock when it comes to things like this. He's my bodyguard." She explained in a pleasant manner as they followed the Hulbrad to his study.
 
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