Rough Research in the Library

Log Info

• Title: Rough Research in the Library
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Braelnoir, Cryosanthia, Merek, Ezil
• Place: A14: Quill's Repose, City Library
• Time: Monday, March 16, 2020, 9:28 PM
• Summary: Braelnoir is attempting to research the Corpse Wagon she saw in Merkabah, finding obstacles at every turn, so she takes her frustration out on a young librarian. Cryosanthia arrives, intervenes, and tries to uncover what is going on. The white-scale sith-makar is having her own issues, but they are more settled. Braelnoir recounts the battle with the Corpse Armour in Merkabah, and reveals how deeply disturbed she is by the idea of being imprisionned in undeath and forced to work for the enemy. She would wish her own death, which the Corpse Armour begged her for. Merek and Ezil arrive, and agree to assist. Merek's casual attitude towards the books anges Lady Octagna when she believes he intends to take them. Instead, he pledges to stay late. Braelnoir, Cryosanthia and Ezil put back the books they've taken down.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A14: Quill's Repose, City Library *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

A large hallway, circular in design, is what lies beyond the large doors that let visitors in to the public library. Two guards stand in these doors at all times, employees of the city Watch, hired by the library for protection and to prevent theft of books. The head librarian is more of the same--a retired Watch member, herself: Lady Octagna is a great oruch whose lined face bears with it, as well, the scars of old battle. These days, she battles over books and the impudence of Society, Engineering, and Temple students alike, who spend long hours toiling within the Library's walls and basement.

A sign above proclaims the loan of books to be illegal, and that books may not travel further than the doors. Loud noises are hushed by the Lady Octagna, whose grand stature is said to be second to none. Her movements are rarely heard, though they are often seen, marking her quite agile in her elderly age. Rumors, too, place her as a curmudgeon'd ally of Madame Gelfure, the two of them going back years, with a tradition of lunches or the occasional breakfast.

The hall has marble floors, and two staircases lead upwards, one to the left and another to the right. Bright blue carpets cover the steps to lend to the quiet atmosphere of the great library. Straight ahead of the entryway, a tall archway leads into the main library, with study tables between rows and rows of books. The upper levels contain the city records to the left, and the right is a closed off area for library staff.

The symbols of Navos, the Scribe, may be seen in the markings of columns, in the relief of marble. Marble is the prevalent building material, giving the rooms a regal, official and solemn feeling. A few benches line the walls of the circular hall, and a desk sits to the right of the entrance, a secretary always attending it to help guests, even late into the night. The occasional Seer or Temperance may also be seen, offering advisement and wisdom within the great halls.

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-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=
Braelnoir    5'11"    146 Lb     Human             Female    A rough and tumble brunette wielding a scythe and a feral grin.
Cryosanthia  6'7"     245 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Ezil         5'11"    175 Lb     Human             Male      An armored man with dark skin, and grey-blonde hair.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--

The library is... less serene than usual. One of the tables has several books on artifice in general and merkaban tech in particular interpersed with old adventurer's journals and military annals from the time of the Sorceress Wars. A somewhat meek fellow in the aisles near their section of origin is trying to affirm, "Now, the Corpse Wagons are a story-!"

"THE HELL THEY ARE! I'VE SEEN THE FUCKIN' THING!" comes a voice familiar in timbre, though not in intent, Brae's roar is much like the one she uses to invite Kor to her religious devotions, but this is lacking her battle-joy leaving in it's place something that almost sounds like rage.

Cryosanthia, crossing the threshold into the library in a somewhat distracted mental state, still recognizes that voice. The white-scale sith-makar bounds in the direction of it, her claws clicking on the marble floor. She slides sideways around one of the book stacks to look at the pair, the silvery chimera and the meek assistant.

"Braelnoir! Peace on your Nest. Be careful, the head librarian..." She waits, expecting an interruption. There is none. Her voice still drops low, that rage is real, "What's wrong?"

Merek makes his way into the library with his hair nicely pulled back into a spiky ponytail which shifts about, while he looks to Cryosanthia and to Braelnoir from his longcoat which he wears about his attire, adjusting that a bit with a nod.

Braelnoir isn't flushed as Cryo slides into line with the aisle, but she definately has a fistful of robe with which she has a half-elf scribe against the stack of books on his tiptoes. Her eyes glitter at the corners, betraying more emotions than her tone convey, though her hand, wrapped in spiked steel, is balled into a trembling fist. The outburst seems to slap her out of... whatever this is.. The Chimera's hand opens as though the scribe suddenly burst into flames and she recoiles bodily from him against the far side of the aisle.

"On me, stay on me." Cryo moves between Braelnoir and the scribe, putting her hands on her upper arms and staring with fixed gaze. There's something wrong with her too, it's not immediately obvious. Her clothes are dirty, her mouth clenched, her shoulders hunched, her pupils a little wider than she should be. She is blunt, almost begging, "if you want to have a go, go at me. I'll be fine."

Her hands squeeze the chimera's arms. The sith-makar is not the warmest being, though there's still some to her touch. "What is it? This one is here. This one will help."

Merek nods between the two, blinking a bit at the interesting exchange, then he offers a little supplication of calming, while he smiles to nod a bit to the two.

Braelnoir's attention is barely aware of the sith at first, her eyes holding to the scribe as he makes sure she didn't crush anything on his person , the grip on the arms grabbing hers is trembling and her expression melts into aghast shame with a weak, "Kor... f'give me...!" Her eyes find Cryo's dominating her personal space, Merek back behind her a bit and her grip tightens, "...Cryo.... I... I s-saw...." Did she just sniff? "I saw it... it's real... it's real..."

"This one needs to know. Sit. Tell me." Cryo doesn't look away, keeps both her hands on Braelnoir, and moves her sideways to a chair. No look in Merek's direction, at best her tail flicks and curls back, beckoning to him. She sinks, guiding her down, keeping close with her body, her face right in the chimera's. "What is real?"

Merek makes his way to the two, while he shifts his longcoat from his frame to pull it about Brae, while he nods a bit. He offers a light hand to her back while he shifts divine energy to offer a comforting presence. He lets the two talk while he offers support, nodding to Cryo.

Braelnoir is actually trembling as she is led away from the scribe, her tail dragging limply behind her, head hung, "...bastards... th'ss-sons a bitches...." sniff, "....they built them... !" The touch from Merek, infused with his divine calm cuts through a lot of the tempest, leaving the Korite ashamed, unsettled to her core and frustrated beyond words, but calmer. "I-we.... we ran int' a... a Corpse Wagon.... Fuckin' Merkaban's.... they built the fuckin' Corpse Wagons...."

"A Corpse Wagon? For collecting the dead?" Cryo asks, confusion rampant in her voice. Why is this undoing her friend? "Those are everywhere, the temple of Vardama has them..."

Her voice trails off, a simple cart couldn't be causing this. "What did Merkabah build? What do you mean by a Corpse Wagon? Merek?" She doesn't look away, she keeps a soft touch on Braelnoir, watching her face closely.

GAME: Merek rolls knowledge/arcana: (18)+12: 30

A Corpse Wagon is a battlefield reanimation machine. It picks up the dead, brings them back to some sort of life - they're not undead, and sends them back out to fight. It's relatively quick working. The reanimated have their memories, to a degree. It's a 'theoretical' device. Somewhere in the City Library was a picture of one and a rough description of how it might work. Scholars know, it doesn't exist. Merek nods a bit, "It's a machine to bring people back to life, though not fully as themselves, not undead either," he says, looking between the two.

Braelnoir covers her face with her hands and smoothes back her hair, though the gesture doesn't quite draw her eyes open as it would if she was still wearing her original skin, "...bastard... th'poor sonovabitch's still in there... beggin' t'die..." She shrinks into herself, her tail curling tightly about her feet, tip practicaly vibrating, and she shivers, "... he's... enslaved t'the city.... They kept him from th'hall!" She closes her eyes fully again and shakes her head, takes a breath, and shakes it again, "... I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry...!"

Cryosanthia becomes still, her tail thumping to the floor. Her pupils widen, and her hands slide down to hold Braelnoir's elbows, then her wrists. Her words are monotone, "These feeling are true. It is a prison, a desecration, a horror. This one is here. Your emotions are strong, use that. No apologies."

The sith's breathing is heavy now, but she remains focused on the chimera, holding onto her, anchoring her to the library.

Merek nods a bit between the two, keeping a little bit quite while he just offers a calm while he seems to consider it all.

A long sigh and her fingers curl against Cryosanthia's scales. Brae shakes her head some more and, "... I ain't... Someone's... someone's gotta set th'poor bastard free...."

Cryo holds on, gently around Braelnoir's wrists. Her breathing is slow and regular, loud, as a subtle suggestion to get the chimera to match hers. Inhale. Exhale. Her nails click against silver scales, "That can be done."

She looks at Merek, "How can it be done?"

Her attention returns to Braelnoir, "This one understands, when a death is ... unresolved. He is enslaved? Trapped? Who, where is this? How can this one help?"

Ezil had been roaming the shelves the last few moments, having missed the small group he calls friends while he seeks several tomes for his research. It's only after he overhears them talking that his head appears leaning sideways from behind a shelf, peering at them with a raised brow. "Am I missing something?" he asks, smirking as he has run in to them in a peculiar place.

Merek looks to the two in thought while he nods a bit, "It can be managed," he says, "I will look into it, in any case, I will do what I can." He then blinks at Ezil's smirk and entrance, then offers a light wave while he shifts attention to the two to give a light hug.

Cryosanthia turns her head, her eyes focusing on Ezil. Cold and expressionless, they match her voice. "The kobolds were sent on. Braelnoir needs us."

She looks back to her friend, squeezing her hands. "We are here. We will help."

Braelnoir is seated, her tail curled tightly around her feet and a notable dischordance in her expression, despite, or because of Merek's magic. He's brought her down this much, and Cryo has been steering the chimera through the ebbing maelstrom, "... cables... the cables ... supposed t'make'm almost unstoppable. Breath some.. kinda greyish brown fog... an bleed brown.. stuff, mebbe acid. Burned through m'bolt when I shot it."

Ezil steps towards the group, setting the tomes he has collected aside as his expression changes. "I did not know. I..." falling silent as he seeks one of the furnished chairs, dragging it towards them so he can sit. "Was this too in Merkebah?" his concern there, but he doesn't try to talk much more, preferring to listen now that things seem to grow dire.

Merek looks between the three, and stands up, then he makes a way along the library, then he finds a book, which he brings to the three, "This should have what you need, it also has the diagrams, probably a workable way to reverse. I can assist in it."

"Something bad happened in Merkabah," Cryosanthia explains, stroking at Braelnoir's wrists rhythmically. Over and over, her nails quietly click along them. "She saw a Corpse Wagon. Merek says it brings people back, and Braelnoir saw one... talking? Did you talk with one?"

Her voice rises, full of questions and small horror. "His soul, is imprisonned, kept from the afterlife. And, those other details, Braelnoir just described."

The book is relatively slim, with a thick leather cover. This is fortunate as it seems to have been in a fire at some point, but the leather didn't catch and only the edges of the pages charred. To those with sensitive noses, it still has a faint scent of overcooked bacon. The front, has a brass plate with 'Artifices' stamped in it, that is riveted to the leather. Inside, are artifice blueprints. Flawed blueprints, detailed enough to suggest they were copied from actual plans, but with cruicial information missing. It's almost a catalogue, proving the offered items could be constructed, but lacking enough to allow anyone but the author to do so.

Braelnoir gives a long sniff, then nods, curling her hand up to pat at Merek's arm before he leaves, and Cryo's before she looks up with misty eyes toward Ezil, "Hey, Eezee..." she says softly, no less fondly. Her knuckles busy themselves with the moisture in her eyes, then, "Yeah... yeah ran into some bad mojo-tech in Merkabah... ain't slept right in days." Cryo's question twists her expression a little bit, but she nods, "Not'n words, no.... I was... Elleandra was under water tryin' to lure the thing into th'fishes, and I tried usin' merctalk t'warn her I was about t'start shootin' nearby.... It... answered me."

"This one would not want to speak to the dead." Cryo sits straight, her feet shifting under her chair. She keeps her hands in contact with Braelnoir, it should help. Hopefully it helps. Her head turns, she glances at Ezil, then Merek.

To Merek, she asks, "Can you find it?"

"You got out, yes? Elleandra, she's ok? What did it... what did it say?"

Ezil winces, listening as he spares a glance between Cryosanthia and Braelnoir. "I can not imagine. Speaking to a ghost was hard enough." Ezil recalls, looking to Merek with a nod, wanting too to hear what it said. "I am sorry, Brae. That's rough. I had encountered nothing like that in my travels there."

Merek nods a bit between the three, "I can probably manage to reverse it with a little bit of work, the issue is recovering the device to work on it, as well as the people," he says.

"What I'd say." Brae replies, "Kill me." The chimera sighs a shakes her head, "I fought th'dead before... an' before that, I assumed e's just like th'others, just rotten meat, dancin' on someone's strings." another shake, "then he answered me..." She looks to Cryo and nods, "Elly got out fine, w'didn't lose anyone. I just..."

Cryo embraces Braelnoir and hugs her. Holding, just holding tight. "You did nothing wrong. You are here, you are safe. You can give his soul rest. Soon. We just, need to plan."

She breathes slowly, stares at the stacks, breathing steadily.

Ezil nods his head, raising a hand to pat Braelnoir's shoulder as she speaks of it. "Nothing wrong at all. It just seems there is a lot of hardship in your journey, but you all survived." he offers much the same as Cryosanthia. As to the book Merek looked through, Ezil tosses a glance. "I will help if I can, but I know little of the situation... and for that I'm sorry."

Merek looks to the book, while he nods, "I will look into it tonight, and do a bit of research," he says, while he takes a moment to neatly tuck the book away, then he's lifting a little scroll which he writes on.

Braelnoir returns the hug and sighs, "Thanks, luvs... I's.... yeah." She looks to Ezil and says, "I did some wrong... I shouldn'ta lost m'cool with that bookie." Ahem, "... W'found some little fish, too, they... flash, I guess when they move, an' they're drawn t'magic. They... did somethin' t'my transformation an'... I feel like I sorta... know where those darts're stuck on me. They're movin', but..." A shrug, "It's... it's a wierd feelin'." She turns her attention to Merek and, "W'need t'study how t'release them, I ain't sure we wanna risk bringing a Wagon back an' lettin' the wrong person get t'studyin' it."

"A wagon?" Ezil notes, having missed the first part of this tale, but he is taking some mental notes. "Glowing fish, and now undead making wagons... what else is hidden down there in Merkebah?" he wonders, letting his hand fall from her shoulder as he shifts in his seat. "The more I see and hear...the more I feel the entire city needs to be purged with fire." half-joking, but half-not.

A shadow looms over the group at the table.

The head librarian has arrived. Lady Octagna, a great oruch, a retired Watch Seargent with a face lined by age, and the scars of old battle.

Merek finds himself dangling, lifted out of his seat as the old woman pulls him up with one hand, and reaches into where he tucked the book with her other and removes it. The book is set on the table, the human is moved in the air to point him at the Library exit. Her voice is husky, full of gravel, and sounds as if she enjoys a smoke. "The City Library rules are clearly posted. Books, are, NOT to be removed. No Exceptions, Merek. How you scholars read all day and miss these buggar me."

"I don't need to take it from the library, I can research in here," Merek says, while he's dangling by the hand of the woman. He blinks a bit, then he wiggles back into a place.

"See that it stays in the library." Lady Octagna sets the man down back into his seat, glares at everyone else, then goes back on combat patrol in the stacks.

"It's a... well, our time there wasn't great." Cryosanthia admits, after she's sure the oruch has left. "How did the fish affect your transformation? I don't see anything different."

She slides back, slipping out of the embrace with Braelnoir, "It's okay, I've... not had a great few days. Cool gets lost."

Braelnoir looks up as the Sarge shows and, ahems, "'scuse me, Mum." she calls after the orc, carefully extricating herself and standing upright, "I got outta turn with one a'yer ac'lytes, an' I wanna'pologize t'm, If'm able." Granted, she's tired, but even straight, the merc's effected diction tends to border on 'war crime', "Twiggly little elfy kid, mousy hair an front teeth a li'l too big."

"Scared him some huh? Yeh I know'em. Mebbe it'll grow some steel. I'll send him by." The gruff oruch woman nods at Braelnoir, holding a seargent's gaze that says 'don't break my boys'. She breaks eye contact, turns and is quietly stalking a mouse-elf.

Ezil stares oddly at the strange exchange from where he sits. "Seems scary in her own right." he tries to muse of Octagna, but sighs. "She once yelled at me and Malik." he admits, looking about the library, and back to Brae. "I guess I am still not understanding a lot, but I will offer help all the same. I just hope we can find some closure, and we can help you let this go right." speaking with a soft tone as he looks back to Merek. "Magic things like this are often beyond me... so I leave it to others."

Merek looks between the three in thought, while he nods a bit, "I will spend all day and night here to work on it," he says. Then he's adjusting his shirt while he smooths back his spiky ponytail.

"He's probably better at it than we are," Cryo says, looking at Merek while keeping a careful touch on Braelnoir's arm. "Do you want to leave him to it, get some food? Go hit something? I could do with either. It doesn't matter what I came to look up, it will keep." "She chased me and Poc out, when we were trying to return some of Seldan's books we didn't know where to reshelve them." The white-scale sith-makar adds a moment later, looking at Ezil.

Braelnoir smiles weakly, but, "Na'just yet, luv. I'm... tired, but can't sleep, just yet." She looks between her companions and, "What w're ya lookin' for, Cryo, somethin' about kobolds?" She pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, "Yeah... I gotta bunch a books out I should put back...."

"Yes... just... to see what's written about them." Cryosanthia says, her tail scraping on the floor. She ends up tapping the table, and without really thinking about it casts her Arcane Mark on the surface of it.

The twiggy elf acolyte librarian peers around the corner at the collected group. Hesitant to come closer.

"I can put some of them back, and you two can go ahead and find someplace more quiet to rest." Ezil offers, looking then to Merek who's hard at work doing his research. "I can meet up with you two in a bit, but... I was here looking for." pausing as his glance goes to Cryosanthia. "You and I need to have a talk someday. Seldan seems to think so anyways." eyes finally finding the small librarian with a raised brow. "You mean there actually was a twiggy elven acolyte?" laughing a bit to himself. "Goodness, it's been a day huh?"

"It has been. I am tired. It was a bleak walk to Mictlan and back, and cold." Cryo says. The day itself was bright, sunny and rather warm. She blinks at Ezil, shaking her head, "We talk all the time, what does he mean? I don't understand."

Braelnoir glances down at the sad little tail and a sympathetic, 'Oh, honey...!' look takes to the Chimera's eyes, a hand settling on her shoulder as she realizes that her sister may well have baggage of her own to sort. The movement at the corner draws her attention and, with a glance between the boys, "B'right back, m'luvs." She takes a few tenative clops closer to the bookworm, hands spread and empty, "Easy, luvvie I's.... outta sorts b'fore an..." She squirms, "I... oughtn'ta done ya that way an... I'm... I wanna...." Ahem.

The elfin acolyte looks up at Braelnoir. She's not that much taller, but it seems that way to him. He stammers, "You're not gonna grab me again? I... I... I don't know what's in all the books. I wasn't saying you were wrr..wrong."

Ezil stands to help with the books, letting Braelnoir and Cryosanthia tend this matter. He does spare the Sith-Makar a subtle shrug, looking her way with some soft words. "I don't know what he meant, but the sword seemed to think we should speak too." moving to the table to gather everything they had together, taking his time to see what was researched, and where it would go. "Did Braelnoir ever find what she was looking for?"

Cryosanthia pulls her tail up and holds it in her lap, letting her fingernails click over the scales there as she watches the chimera and the elf. Cryo shakes her head, "I haven't seen any pictures. Merek is handling it, he said."

Merek looks between all of them, then he nods a bit, "You be well," to Brae, then he hugs the woman, "I will do what I can as well."

Braelnoir sighs and holds up her hands slowly, "I'm... sorry, luv. I.. I am. It weren't personal... I... yeah.. " She turns from the acolyte, then, turns to return Merek's hug with a good squeeze, then, "I'ma put these back an'... stagger back t'my room, now... Cry, 'come see me ya still need to talk."

Cryosanthia rises, "Those all sound good. I'll help with the books." She makes a rough, tired bow to the others, "Gentlemen." She follows after the chimera.