The seneschal unlocks the library chambers, and to your surprise a warm-colored light floods down the hall. Ushering you within, a rather well-decorated room stands before you, long walls lined with abounding tomes with large windows letting in what seems to be natural light, though as you study it you realize that it cannot be, for all it carries no heat upon contact. The seneschal seems in a hurry to depart - several other state servants had approached you with varied papers, memos, and requests for his urgent attention, temporarily shunned to guide you two here, though a small crowd waits for his return beyond the brooding presence of the armed guard behind and above you, along the way you came.
The chamber is long, though somewhat narrow. Not pictured here, various chairs and sedans litter the area, and every other sconce from which pours light is matched on the opposing wall by a door leading further into the mountain's flank, towards more lit rooms. A quiet bustle permeates the room, though as of now there appear to be no other scholars in sight.
"Bioluminescence." the seneschal explains, "Our scholars are mostly accustomed to working underground, but the arts of the mind require inspiration, after a fashion - something to light the way through the darkness. I would attend you further, but many other pressing matters call for me. There is a reference book here that outlines the different sections - ancient Lore lies along the third wall segment, that direction, and general mysteries and curses along the sixth, beyond the third. There are a few librarians about - call for them and they will attend you as best they can, though they too have been at this research for some months now - they tell me that they have discovered nothing beyond common knowledge in curse-lore to date... Do you have any further questions for me at this time?" The seneschal makes ready to depart, but seems eager to please and support your endeavors.
When you are ready to begin, roll an investigation check with an eye towards what information you wish to find.
Vhalens can only marvel at the collection before him. He knows there are larger libraries other places in the world. He has heard stories of the wide world and its wonders, and this library was never mentioned as one of them. But it's still dozens and dozens of times the books he's ever seen in one place. Absent-mindedly, he begins composing the opening verses of a story of the Seanchai who to the Oaken Library came, but then forces it out of his mind. He can do that tonight, right now he has to focus.
To the first librarian he comes across he says courteously, bowing to the librarian in a respectful, though less supplicant manner than he had for the prince "Good day, and thank you for allowing my friend and I into your beautiful library. I am Vhalens of the Muintir na Fianna, and this is Frenevir Celebhathel."
As much as it pains him to spend his first hours in the library reading such dry material, he asks the librarian about inventory records from the past year, since a few months before the king's first episode. He expects that the castle's scribes have already done much of the work of tracing the inconsistencies, so it probably won't take him TOO long. But there may be some common denominator in the records. A name that recurs frequently whenever the irregularities occur. A quartermaster, a butler, a smith, something...
He tells Frenevir "I can handle all of this. You might have more luck with the curse-lore than I would. I don't know much about curses. In all the stories I've ever heard, they're very vague. They just go 'And then Jarar the Faceless cursed the City of Avaad..." Vhalens goes quiet for a moment. Then he says "Frenevir, just on a hunch... When you're doing your search, keep an eye open for Jarar the Faceless. The name could have morphed a bit. Jarran, Jared, Yared, Yareth... Just a hunch, but let me know if anything comes up."
So Vhalens begins the mind-numbing work of reading through inventory records, checking them with the actual inventories taken more recently since the discrepancies were discovered.
Investigation: 8
((Oh! I forgot about being a bard for a second. I'd like to give Frenevir bardic inspiration for his investigation check. Say giving him the name Jarrar the Faceless is the point of inspiration perhaps?))
Frenevir walks behind the seneschal admiring the royal library. It is so different from the one at Tar Calimos with its open galleries and gardens, but still the smeel of the books and its ever present presence gives a sense of familiarity.
After complementing the seneschal for it and thanking him for guide them, and assuring him that they will be alright so he can return to his more pressing duties, Frenevir lets Vhalens to lead the way and listen to his indications.
"Jarar the Faceless you got it" he assures the bard. "I will be at some intermediate point between the third and sixth segments, probably buried under a pile of old books, but happy nonetheless. So much knowledge waiting to be uncovered. I wish you good luck in your hunting Vhalens. Remember that only the most patient hunter used to bring back a prize. "
He then heads towards the sections, and start to pile books in a table between the two sections.
( Hope that background feature of researcher comes handy right now... and certainly the bardic inspiration will do! let's roll some dice... see what happens.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Vhalens is somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and quality of writing - songs made physical in this plane of existence - present and available, and nearly loses track of their mission. Frenevir, however, is a practiced hand in such places - to his old eyes, the shelves show signs of disrepair - scrolls improperly stored, rough skins with ugly scrawlings - nothing of the fine texts and engravings available in his distant homeland, where fine silver serves the author and engraver alike in creating art unparalleled. Swiftly locating a reference book, his eyes as if by magnetism immediately pick out the desired sections of the indicated shelves, and in short order he creates a tall pile of books within which lies a vast trove of lore.
In the silence of sage knowledge, you both sit and begin to read, Frenevir occasionally slipping into a brief trance-like state as his eyes ceaselessly prowl page after page, tome after tome. As broad as his knowledge is, even his wide expertise is limited, for many of these texts are written in old and odd tongues of dwarvish and the languages of men, before the advent of the common tongue.
Vhalens, I fear your luck is somewhat less excellent. Try as you might, it is difficult to focus - the words, so many and varied, once filled with life on the lips of those now long departed, lie there interned on interminable pages and scrolls.
After 7 hours of ceaseless searching, during which time most of the other occupants of the library have departed for home, you encounter two matters of interest. The first, an accident, the second, a mystery.
The accident is a fortunate one: an unsuspecting bookmark, wedged in slightly crinkled disarray within a text on the Myriad Curses of Dragons in the Eighth Age of Abandon (a historical term that, unfortunately, means nothing to you, nor perhaps to anyone yet living,) the familiar sigils and signs of spellcraft. It is a scroll of summoning across planes of existence - it appears to be too complicated for your current level of spellcraft, Frenevir, though perhaps with time...
The second, a mystery, is an unhappy one. You stumble across a mold-bitten text in ancient dwarvish, detailing an almost scientific level detail regarding the effects of an ancient curse. It mentions the Elder Evils - naming them to be siblings, a word you've seen used elsewhere to describe such horrors - and the fall of ancient civilizations to the wanton magics of older days. You can't quite be certain, but the author, one Wrinm of the Goblin Tower, seems to be building up towards descriptions of Greater Curses, those magics of which only Gods and the highest of Wizards comprehend. This in and of itself is far from remarkable - you've read at least three other ponderous tomes like it, all equally useless in the sense that the magics therein described are long dead, either being sustained by dead gods or long forgotten Poleis, or simply the results of fantasy and fiction. This Wrinm, however, makes mention of a familiar name: Runavald. Furthermore, the author hints that, later in the book, he describes precisely how he earned the name "the Deep," and how his story is woven together with a Greater Curse most foul.
The back two thirds of the book, however, are missing. Lost, it seems, amongst interminable stacks, though as your keen eyes patrol over the final page for a third time, weighing the words of this long-dead scholar, you notice the telltale signs of the missing pages having been intentionally hewn from the rest of the book - small marks of a hard, sharp object pattern the back spine. Whatever knowledge this Wrinm once gathered together for his opus, a great deal of it has been misplaced - and not, it seems, unintentionally.
Vhalens shuts this last book in utter frustration. He had been a fool to think he'd be able to make any headway here. To catch something professional scribes with infinitely more expertise had missed.
Every story he knew or knew of resided either in his own head, in the head of someone he knew, or in the few dozen books scattered around the various bands of the Muintir. He understood exactly how to access any of it. Either remember it up himself, ask whoever knew the story to tell it to him, or ask whoever kept the book to let him borrow it. He had never considered the feat of organization that was required to maintain even a small library. The duplication of effort, the logs of logs of indexes of appendices. He knew himself to be an intelligent man, but the process sapped his attention and wrecked his enthusiasm. He found himself losing track of his place on the page, reading full paragraphs without retaining a word of what he read and having to start all over again, wishing they had just gone with Argentus and Finn to the prison. What a waste of a day. What a failure he felt himself to be. Why had Mossen sent HIM to Runia? How could he expect to find "the well" when he couldn't even navigate a library?
Vhalens sighed and picked up his books to carry over to the librarian on duty. He thanked her graciously and returned to his table to gather up his cloak and sword and drum. With his things together, he went to find Frenevir, to ask if he'd like to call it a night and go get dinner back at the inn. Where had the man gotten off to? Vhalens hadn't seen him in hours!
When Vhalens found the elf he finds him concentrated in a rather weird, or at least unexpected task.
Instead of reading any of the old tomes or scrolls that are plied on his table he is looking to the edge of one book, passing his fingertip across its surface and looking at it very very closely.
"Ah!" he exclaims when Vhalens makes himself known to the focused elf. " Vhalens my friend come come, look here " he shows him the scars that the ripping of the pages had produced in the book. "Someone had taken away the pages of this book, which talks about Runavald above all. Of Runalvad and the Great Curses but it is like that someone wanted to take with them the pages and the information contained on them. To make use of it, or to prevent anyone to learn of it, it's yet to be determined."
He gives the book to Vhalens for him to inspect it, while taking a scroll from the pile with him.
"I was about to go to the librarian on duty to see if they have any records of who could have taken this book before us. I do not think that we could learn more here, at least not today and I think we are way over the deadline of time that we were meant to join the others. Shall we?" he asks his companion "Did you learn something useful?" he asks as they walk to the librarian.
Once they found him Frenevir asks about the last persons that took that book and if they can take it with them along with the scroll.
((Finn and Argentus aren't gonna be back in town until tomorrow they decided, since it's half a day's journey to the prison. Sorry, you might have missed that memo.))
Vhalens takes the book and begins examining it. As he looks it over, he tells Frenevir, "I learned to appreciate the remarkable degree of patience and expertise it must take to operate a library, but aside from that, nothing of any use to our investigation. It looks like you had much better luck than I."
Vhalens begins to read back from the last pages still intact within the volume. After scanning through to the point at which Runavald is first mentioned he says "Well this is interesting... You remember how I told you that my teacher told Argentus and I a story? Well, during it, she mentioned that she too knew the story of how Runavald got his title, but that it was a story for another time... Right before she disappeared... Two sources of the same legend miles and miles apart, both gone... That can't be a coincidence."
He ponders the book for a bit longer, rereading those final pages. He then says "But it doesn't get us any closer to figuring out what's going on with those coins... I was so sure the court records would contain SOME clue. Oh well... Hopefully Finn and Argentus are having more luck. We'll find out tomorrow. I agree, it would be a good idea to ask the librarian on duty if they have any records of who's taken this book out. After that, perhaps we ought to scout out one of those taverns the seneschal mentioned on our own, so we have something more to report when the others return tomorrow. Not to mention, I'm damn hungry."
Vhalens hands the book back to Frenevir and follows him to the desk of the librarian on duty.
The attending clerk is not particularly helpful, as mystified as you as to why part of the document is missing.
"Sometimes the items we collect are not in excellent condition upon purchase - it is a long road to Runia, after all. Perhaps the text in question was simply damaged along the road?" He asks, turning as he does towards a ledger wherein all records of entry or loan lie kept. He scans the list quickly, but soon shakes his head.
"No, I'm afraid that the last individual to check out that particular volume was one of the apprentices to the Wizard Albethon of Dalben, who sadly passed away over seventy years ago. This particular text, it seems, has not seen the light of day for all that time - now, naturally, we don't keep close records of every individual who happens to pull a book off the shelf! Still, the damage you indicate seems more extensive - and more recent - than our records might imply. I'm... sorry to say that I don't know if I can be of great help to you in this matter. Or, well... no, couldn't be that, could it?" He frowns, contemplating a rogue thought before dismissing it.
"Bah, it's nothing. Were you two looking for dining recommendations? Oldhall is yet coming out of Winter, and with the soldiers I'm afraid most places are pretty tightly rationed, but there's nook I know where scholars can get a warm meal on the cheap - not far from here. Used to go to writing club there - ah, happy times. Was there anything else I could assist you with"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Vhalens hears the hesitation in the librarian’s voice as he dismisses his one idea and says “Please, if you have an idea as to who might have damaged this book, share it with us. It could be of tremendous significance.”
"Oh, I suppose - you see the pattern of marks here, along the spine? I can't say I've seen its exact like before, as it looks like some kind of small tool for cutting, but it's not an efficient one. Note the many groupings of irregular marks. A pair of shears would have done the job far more efficiently. No, to me it looks like... teeth. I hesitate to share - it's the sort of thing that would lead to me getting transferred out of here if I mentioned it to the seneschal, but sometimes, on late evenings, I... hear noises. Little footsteps, scampering, squeaking - that sort of thing. Thought I saw a few rats around here over the winter, but when we called in the ratcatchers, they found nothing - not even droppings. The doors and airways are protected as well, this library being such a trove of knowledge after all. I'd hate to have to leave it, but... well, this looks like another bit of phantom evidence for pests that simply could not be in this place. "
"Thank you for your assistance" replies Frenevir, ready to leave when Vhanlens talks to the clerk and he speaks more. He ponders his words.
"And this rats happens to destroy one of the clues we were searching for? Too much coincidence if you ask me. But perhaps someone could have use said animals to help their goals. Your help is noted. We would like to take this damaged tome with us, along with this other scroll. It is pertinent to our investigations and we will return it once we have finished. "
Vhalens tacks onto the end of Fremevir's request "And don't worry, we won't mention what you told us to the Seneschal. If we see him, we'll simply tell him you provided us exceptional service. What was your name again, my friend?"
"Of course, of course - anything for the Seat. Baylean, my lord, if you would mention it. Thank you for your time."
With other similarly friendly babblings, the librarian walks you to the door with a friendly demeanor, the others on staff having long since departed.
"Come again soon, please do - there is so much here that no one has even read in the last decade, it's such a shame to see such knowledge simply sitting there, unused and unappreciated. I will just close things up here first - oughtn't to leave with wicks burning all night, you know. Creates unnecessary pollution, furthering the decay of the older tomes like that one there. Say... where did you find that particular scroll in the first place? I don't recall the markings there in the upper corner - some form of notation, is it? Your own handiwork?"
"Well, can't say for sure, but it looks a bit like the sort of thing one of our old wizards used to use as a signature - a sort of shorthand among their number I'm told. If you would like..." He picks up a pad and hastily sketches a rough image. "I can be on the watch for similar things around here, and let you know if I notice anything. Perhaps it might help in your research?"
"That would be a great help, Master Balean of the Oaken Library. If you would, let us know as well if you discover anything new regarding these book pests. If anything comes up, send a runner to Duttersby's Pint. We've taken rooms there."
Vhalens bows in a genteel sort of way, taking a cue from the title of "lord" Balean had used for them. He could be a noble if it served his mission. "I am Vhalens, Seanchai of the Muintir na Fianna, at your service. We share sister callings, I think, Master Librarian. We both wish to preserve the knowledge of our peoples, and of this world. Send for me and I'll do all that is in my power to protect this wonderful library."
Heading into town for a light supper (after long hours of study, the rollicking freedom of a common tavern seems like an enjoyable experience!) you both eventually track down the location of the first tavern in question, a fairly open establishment by the name of the Wild Groobey, a local avian delicacy, apparently, that seemingly remodeled itself in recent memory after purchasing the neighboring two shop fronts, creating ample room to service up to half a company of battlefield regulars all at once. The ale is plentiful, of moderate price, good reputation, and despite the constant flow of soldiers there is easy, if crowded, room for passersby at a clean table with hot food, friendly waitresses, and the somewhat over-friendly comradery of soldiers after a long winter's rest.
In the back corner of the west-facing add-on, a group of dwarves eagerly play cards over a small mound of gold, though a quick check easily reveals that no coins of that particular reddish hue are to be seen. They seem friendly enough, should you want to play a hand, though a little distrustful of outsiders.
(5 cp for an ale, served in a pleasantly large mug and brimming with aromatic foam - a local variety, 2 sp for a meal, and judging by the smells emanating from the kitchen, it is two silver well spent).
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The seneschal unlocks the library chambers, and to your surprise a warm-colored light floods down the hall. Ushering you within, a rather well-decorated room stands before you, long walls lined with abounding tomes with large windows letting in what seems to be natural light, though as you study it you realize that it cannot be, for all it carries no heat upon contact. The seneschal seems in a hurry to depart - several other state servants had approached you with varied papers, memos, and requests for his urgent attention, temporarily shunned to guide you two here, though a small crowd waits for his return beyond the brooding presence of the armed guard behind and above you, along the way you came.
The chamber is long, though somewhat narrow. Not pictured here, various chairs and sedans litter the area, and every other sconce from which pours light is matched on the opposing wall by a door leading further into the mountain's flank, towards more lit rooms. A quiet bustle permeates the room, though as of now there appear to be no other scholars in sight.
"Bioluminescence." the seneschal explains, "Our scholars are mostly accustomed to working underground, but the arts of the mind require inspiration, after a fashion - something to light the way through the darkness. I would attend you further, but many other pressing matters call for me. There is a reference book here that outlines the different sections - ancient Lore lies along the third wall segment, that direction, and general mysteries and curses along the sixth, beyond the third. There are a few librarians about - call for them and they will attend you as best they can, though they too have been at this research for some months now - they tell me that they have discovered nothing beyond common knowledge in curse-lore to date... Do you have any further questions for me at this time?" The seneschal makes ready to depart, but seems eager to please and support your endeavors.
When you are ready to begin, roll an investigation check with an eye towards what information you wish to find.
Vhalens can only marvel at the collection before him. He knows there are larger libraries other places in the world. He has heard stories of the wide world and its wonders, and this library was never mentioned as one of them. But it's still dozens and dozens of times the books he's ever seen in one place. Absent-mindedly, he begins composing the opening verses of a story of the Seanchai who to the Oaken Library came, but then forces it out of his mind. He can do that tonight, right now he has to focus.
To the first librarian he comes across he says courteously, bowing to the librarian in a respectful, though less supplicant manner than he had for the prince "Good day, and thank you for allowing my friend and I into your beautiful library. I am Vhalens of the Muintir na Fianna, and this is Frenevir Celebhathel."
As much as it pains him to spend his first hours in the library reading such dry material, he asks the librarian about inventory records from the past year, since a few months before the king's first episode. He expects that the castle's scribes have already done much of the work of tracing the inconsistencies, so it probably won't take him TOO long. But there may be some common denominator in the records. A name that recurs frequently whenever the irregularities occur. A quartermaster, a butler, a smith, something...
He tells Frenevir "I can handle all of this. You might have more luck with the curse-lore than I would. I don't know much about curses. In all the stories I've ever heard, they're very vague. They just go 'And then Jarar the Faceless cursed the City of Avaad..." Vhalens goes quiet for a moment. Then he says "Frenevir, just on a hunch... When you're doing your search, keep an eye open for Jarar the Faceless. The name could have morphed a bit. Jarran, Jared, Yared, Yareth... Just a hunch, but let me know if anything comes up."
So Vhalens begins the mind-numbing work of reading through inventory records, checking them with the actual inventories taken more recently since the discrepancies were discovered.
Investigation: 8
((Oh! I forgot about being a bard for a second. I'd like to give Frenevir bardic inspiration for his investigation check. Say giving him the name Jarrar the Faceless is the point of inspiration perhaps?))
(Sorry for the delay! )
Frenevir walks behind the seneschal admiring the royal library. It is so different from the one at Tar Calimos with its open galleries and gardens, but still the smeel of the books and its ever present presence gives a sense of familiarity.
After complementing the seneschal for it and thanking him for guide them, and assuring him that they will be alright so he can return to his more pressing duties, Frenevir lets Vhalens to lead the way and listen to his indications.
"Jarar the Faceless you got it" he assures the bard. "I will be at some intermediate point between the third and sixth segments, probably buried under a pile of old books, but happy nonetheless. So much knowledge waiting to be uncovered. I wish you good luck in your hunting Vhalens. Remember that only the most patient hunter used to bring back a prize. "
He then heads towards the sections, and start to pile books in a table between the two sections.
( Hope that background feature of researcher comes handy right now... and certainly the bardic inspiration will do! let's roll some dice... see what happens.
Investigation. 22
Inspiration: 4 )
PbP Character: A few ;)
Vhalens is somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and quality of writing - songs made physical in this plane of existence - present and available, and nearly loses track of their mission. Frenevir, however, is a practiced hand in such places - to his old eyes, the shelves show signs of disrepair - scrolls improperly stored, rough skins with ugly scrawlings - nothing of the fine texts and engravings available in his distant homeland, where fine silver serves the author and engraver alike in creating art unparalleled. Swiftly locating a reference book, his eyes as if by magnetism immediately pick out the desired sections of the indicated shelves, and in short order he creates a tall pile of books within which lies a vast trove of lore.
In the silence of sage knowledge, you both sit and begin to read, Frenevir occasionally slipping into a brief trance-like state as his eyes ceaselessly prowl page after page, tome after tome. As broad as his knowledge is, even his wide expertise is limited, for many of these texts are written in old and odd tongues of dwarvish and the languages of men, before the advent of the common tongue.
Vhalens, I fear your luck is somewhat less excellent. Try as you might, it is difficult to focus - the words, so many and varied, once filled with life on the lips of those now long departed, lie there interned on interminable pages and scrolls.
After 7 hours of ceaseless searching, during which time most of the other occupants of the library have departed for home, you encounter two matters of interest. The first, an accident, the second, a mystery.
The accident is a fortunate one: an unsuspecting bookmark, wedged in slightly crinkled disarray within a text on the Myriad Curses of Dragons in the Eighth Age of Abandon (a historical term that, unfortunately, means nothing to you, nor perhaps to anyone yet living,) the familiar sigils and signs of spellcraft. It is a scroll of summoning across planes of existence - it appears to be too complicated for your current level of spellcraft, Frenevir, though perhaps with time...
The second, a mystery, is an unhappy one. You stumble across a mold-bitten text in ancient dwarvish, detailing an almost scientific level detail regarding the effects of an ancient curse. It mentions the Elder Evils - naming them to be siblings, a word you've seen used elsewhere to describe such horrors - and the fall of ancient civilizations to the wanton magics of older days. You can't quite be certain, but the author, one Wrinm of the Goblin Tower, seems to be building up towards descriptions of Greater Curses, those magics of which only Gods and the highest of Wizards comprehend. This in and of itself is far from remarkable - you've read at least three other ponderous tomes like it, all equally useless in the sense that the magics therein described are long dead, either being sustained by dead gods or long forgotten Poleis, or simply the results of fantasy and fiction. This Wrinm, however, makes mention of a familiar name: Runavald. Furthermore, the author hints that, later in the book, he describes precisely how he earned the name "the Deep," and how his story is woven together with a Greater Curse most foul.
The back two thirds of the book, however, are missing. Lost, it seems, amongst interminable stacks, though as your keen eyes patrol over the final page for a third time, weighing the words of this long-dead scholar, you notice the telltale signs of the missing pages having been intentionally hewn from the rest of the book - small marks of a hard, sharp object pattern the back spine. Whatever knowledge this Wrinm once gathered together for his opus, a great deal of it has been misplaced - and not, it seems, unintentionally.
What shall you do?
Vhalens shuts this last book in utter frustration. He had been a fool to think he'd be able to make any headway here. To catch something professional scribes with infinitely more expertise had missed.
Every story he knew or knew of resided either in his own head, in the head of someone he knew, or in the few dozen books scattered around the various bands of the Muintir. He understood exactly how to access any of it. Either remember it up himself, ask whoever knew the story to tell it to him, or ask whoever kept the book to let him borrow it. He had never considered the feat of organization that was required to maintain even a small library. The duplication of effort, the logs of logs of indexes of appendices. He knew himself to be an intelligent man, but the process sapped his attention and wrecked his enthusiasm. He found himself losing track of his place on the page, reading full paragraphs without retaining a word of what he read and having to start all over again, wishing they had just gone with Argentus and Finn to the prison. What a waste of a day. What a failure he felt himself to be. Why had Mossen sent HIM to Runia? How could he expect to find "the well" when he couldn't even navigate a library?
Vhalens sighed and picked up his books to carry over to the librarian on duty. He thanked her graciously and returned to his table to gather up his cloak and sword and drum. With his things together, he went to find Frenevir, to ask if he'd like to call it a night and go get dinner back at the inn. Where had the man gotten off to? Vhalens hadn't seen him in hours!
When Vhalens found the elf he finds him concentrated in a rather weird, or at least unexpected task.
Instead of reading any of the old tomes or scrolls that are plied on his table he is looking to the edge of one book, passing his fingertip across its surface and looking at it very very closely.
"Ah!" he exclaims when Vhalens makes himself known to the focused elf. " Vhalens my friend come come, look here " he shows him the scars that the ripping of the pages had produced in the book. "Someone had taken away the pages of this book, which talks about Runavald above all. Of Runalvad and the Great Curses but it is like that someone wanted to take with them the pages and the information contained on them. To make use of it, or to prevent anyone to learn of it, it's yet to be determined."
He gives the book to Vhalens for him to inspect it, while taking a scroll from the pile with him.
"I was about to go to the librarian on duty to see if they have any records of who could have taken this book before us. I do not think that we could learn more here, at least not today and I think we are way over the deadline of time that we were meant to join the others. Shall we?" he asks his companion "Did you learn something useful?" he asks as they walk to the librarian.
Once they found him Frenevir asks about the last persons that took that book and if they can take it with them along with the scroll.
PbP Character: A few ;)
((Finn and Argentus aren't gonna be back in town until tomorrow they decided, since it's half a day's journey to the prison. Sorry, you might have missed that memo.))
Vhalens takes the book and begins examining it. As he looks it over, he tells Frenevir, "I learned to appreciate the remarkable degree of patience and expertise it must take to operate a library, but aside from that, nothing of any use to our investigation. It looks like you had much better luck than I."
Vhalens begins to read back from the last pages still intact within the volume. After scanning through to the point at which Runavald is first mentioned he says "Well this is interesting... You remember how I told you that my teacher told Argentus and I a story? Well, during it, she mentioned that she too knew the story of how Runavald got his title, but that it was a story for another time... Right before she disappeared... Two sources of the same legend miles and miles apart, both gone... That can't be a coincidence."
He ponders the book for a bit longer, rereading those final pages. He then says "But it doesn't get us any closer to figuring out what's going on with those coins... I was so sure the court records would contain SOME clue. Oh well... Hopefully Finn and Argentus are having more luck. We'll find out tomorrow. I agree, it would be a good idea to ask the librarian on duty if they have any records of who's taken this book out. After that, perhaps we ought to scout out one of those taverns the seneschal mentioned on our own, so we have something more to report when the others return tomorrow. Not to mention, I'm damn hungry."
Vhalens hands the book back to Frenevir and follows him to the desk of the librarian on duty.
The attending clerk is not particularly helpful, as mystified as you as to why part of the document is missing.
"Sometimes the items we collect are not in excellent condition upon purchase - it is a long road to Runia, after all. Perhaps the text in question was simply damaged along the road?" He asks, turning as he does towards a ledger wherein all records of entry or loan lie kept. He scans the list quickly, but soon shakes his head.
"No, I'm afraid that the last individual to check out that particular volume was one of the apprentices to the Wizard Albethon of Dalben, who sadly passed away over seventy years ago. This particular text, it seems, has not seen the light of day for all that time - now, naturally, we don't keep close records of every individual who happens to pull a book off the shelf! Still, the damage you indicate seems more extensive - and more recent - than our records might imply. I'm... sorry to say that I don't know if I can be of great help to you in this matter. Or, well... no, couldn't be that, could it?" He frowns, contemplating a rogue thought before dismissing it.
"Bah, it's nothing. Were you two looking for dining recommendations? Oldhall is yet coming out of Winter, and with the soldiers I'm afraid most places are pretty tightly rationed, but there's nook I know where scholars can get a warm meal on the cheap - not far from here. Used to go to writing club there - ah, happy times. Was there anything else I could assist you with"
Vhalens hears the hesitation in the librarian’s voice as he dismisses his one idea and says “Please, if you have an idea as to who might have damaged this book, share it with us. It could be of tremendous significance.”
Persuasion: 18
To such silken tones, who is he to resist?
"Oh, I suppose - you see the pattern of marks here, along the spine? I can't say I've seen its exact like before, as it looks like some kind of small tool for cutting, but it's not an efficient one. Note the many groupings of irregular marks. A pair of shears would have done the job far more efficiently. No, to me it looks like... teeth. I hesitate to share - it's the sort of thing that would lead to me getting transferred out of here if I mentioned it to the seneschal, but sometimes, on late evenings, I... hear noises. Little footsteps, scampering, squeaking - that sort of thing. Thought I saw a few rats around here over the winter, but when we called in the ratcatchers, they found nothing - not even droppings. The doors and airways are protected as well, this library being such a trove of knowledge after all. I'd hate to have to leave it, but... well, this looks like another bit of phantom evidence for pests that simply could not be in this place. "
"Thank you for your assistance" replies Frenevir, ready to leave when Vhanlens talks to the clerk and he speaks more. He ponders his words.
"And this rats happens to destroy one of the clues we were searching for? Too much coincidence if you ask me. But perhaps someone could have use said animals to help their goals. Your help is noted. We would like to take this damaged tome with us, along with this other scroll. It is pertinent to our investigations and we will return it once we have finished. "
PbP Character: A few ;)
Vhalens tacks onto the end of Fremevir's request "And don't worry, we won't mention what you told us to the Seneschal. If we see him, we'll simply tell him you provided us exceptional service. What was your name again, my friend?"
"Of course, of course - anything for the Seat. Baylean, my lord, if you would mention it. Thank you for your time."
With other similarly friendly babblings, the librarian walks you to the door with a friendly demeanor, the others on staff having long since departed.
"Come again soon, please do - there is so much here that no one has even read in the last decade, it's such a shame to see such knowledge simply sitting there, unused and unappreciated. I will just close things up here first - oughtn't to leave with wicks burning all night, you know. Creates unnecessary pollution, furthering the decay of the older tomes like that one there. Say... where did you find that particular scroll in the first place? I don't recall the markings there in the upper corner - some form of notation, is it? Your own handiwork?"
"No those aren't my notations. Do you recognize them?" ask Freenevir
PbP Character: A few ;)
"Well, can't say for sure, but it looks a bit like the sort of thing one of our old wizards used to use as a signature - a sort of shorthand among their number I'm told. If you would like..." He picks up a pad and hastily sketches a rough image. "I can be on the watch for similar things around here, and let you know if I notice anything. Perhaps it might help in your research?"
"That would be a great help, Master Balean of the Oaken Library. If you would, let us know as well if you discover anything new regarding these book pests. If anything comes up, send a runner to Duttersby's Pint. We've taken rooms there."
Vhalens bows in a genteel sort of way, taking a cue from the title of "lord" Balean had used for them. He could be a noble if it served his mission. "I am Vhalens, Seanchai of the Muintir na Fianna, at your service. We share sister callings, I think, Master Librarian. We both wish to preserve the knowledge of our peoples, and of this world. Send for me and I'll do all that is in my power to protect this wonderful library."
(Excellent! Where to next?)
(To one of the taverns where the prisoner used to hang out to observe I suppose!)
( That sounds like a plan!)
PbP Character: A few ;)
Heading into town for a light supper (after long hours of study, the rollicking freedom of a common tavern seems like an enjoyable experience!) you both eventually track down the location of the first tavern in question, a fairly open establishment by the name of the Wild Groobey, a local avian delicacy, apparently, that seemingly remodeled itself in recent memory after purchasing the neighboring two shop fronts, creating ample room to service up to half a company of battlefield regulars all at once. The ale is plentiful, of moderate price, good reputation, and despite the constant flow of soldiers there is easy, if crowded, room for passersby at a clean table with hot food, friendly waitresses, and the somewhat over-friendly comradery of soldiers after a long winter's rest.
In the back corner of the west-facing add-on, a group of dwarves eagerly play cards over a small mound of gold, though a quick check easily reveals that no coins of that particular reddish hue are to be seen. They seem friendly enough, should you want to play a hand, though a little distrustful of outsiders.
(5 cp for an ale, served in a pleasantly large mug and brimming with aromatic foam - a local variety, 2 sp for a meal, and judging by the smells emanating from the kitchen, it is two silver well spent).