[Location] Vortex City Library

[Kalinda]

The Vortex City Library was a long one story building with large dusty windows that illuminated little of the building’s inside. The library’s walls were made of rough stone and covered with a sickly looking ochre paint. A picture of an open book with a quill hovering over it was painted on the large double doors that served as an entrance to the library. A pair of brass rings made it easier for the public to enter.

It was rumored that there was something hidden within the libraries numerous vaults, basements and alcoves: a collection of black tomes and grimoires, the legacy of the days when Vortex had been the center of the necromantic community. They had somehow escaped the purge of the city by Imperial authorities. Many saw this as nothing more than a fairytale to scare the young and feeble minded, but even so those who were wise did not tread its dusty and dim corridors without their wits about them.

The atmosphere of the library’s interior seemed to back up these claims. The air was unnaturally cool , and the light was not as bright as it should have been. The library was sparsely furnished. A few grim looking pictures hung on the walls, and a half dead plant sat in a corner. An old, sturdy looking staircase led down into the gloom of the building’s basement. Sitting behind a small desk was one of the library’s custodians, a sour looking dwarf who greeted everybody with a scowl only to return to his business, cataloguing a huge pile of leather bound books.

This dwarf at one point had been a chief commander of some brigade in a fearsome army. He used to be called Brimstone Pebble Masher, for his weapon of choice was a war-hammer. Unfortunately his career ended when he grabbed a greenhorn whom was overwhelmed into a stupefied state at the sight of an oncoming barrage of flying arrows. Mr Pebble Masher tossed him to the side and then hit the ground the lucky bastard’s had made it out alive, however he loathed this. As the price for his heroic deed costed him his leg, and most of the function of his right arm. He hobbled about, and carried a cane these days. If people asked him what books they should look at he always pointed them to his favorite section of the upper portion of the library, it was the one that had all the articles about modern warfare and tactics.

Now the funny thing about this place and its necromanic heritage, where the levels despite this being a public library not many people ventured past the third or fourth floor. There were after all rumors of ghosts, and other such evil things lurking in those lower chasms. And sometimes a person whom decided to venture into that section of the library usually came back shaken or trembling scared out of there minds from a ghost or specter that popped out of the walls.

But on the other less dangerous levels, there were books on just about everything, books on cooking, warfare, there were even articles about the makeup of old vortex before it changed in these new times. Some of those books on the makeup of old vortex actually offered the knowledge and secrets of hidden passageways into older buildings that were still standing.

Overall the library itself was a nice harmonious place to pick up a book of your choosing, but it was also a placed locked in mystery as its past was nearly erased thus there was always the possibility of hidden dangers on the lowest of the low chambers.


=============================================
Note:

Additional OOC information can be passed IC to your PC studying documents.

Reading and Writing abilities are at the players discretion for common language. Unless you don't feel that you PC can read or write, you will be able to read all 'publications' in this library.

By studying Books, Journals, Manuscripts or Scrolls your PC will obtain KNOWLEDGE of said area of study. This does not mean that the PC is now Skilled in that area of study. Knowledge does not constitute Skill! You can take the knowledge that you receive here and use it during empirical application, which might give your PC a greater chance for success (GM discretion), and given a certain amount of empirical application (moderated practice) your PC can then be considered Skilled in the area of study (again GM discretion), but you can't say that you are skilled just from reading a book! Also, Modern day OOC knowledge may not be accessible or appropriate in IC Alleria time and will be at the discretion of the individual GM.
==============================================

Description by Jynx.

[Querslis Vuerslin]

Querslis walked into the Library, not knowing what to expect, but she knew one thing. She would need to read, and so would her servants. She wanted to make sure that her servants were educated, and not mindless drones. She had a thought that if they were properly educated, then they could educated more slaves. The grey clothed trio, along with baby Hannah, made their way through the front doors, and started to search about for different items.

1. Religion
2. Politics
3. General History
4. Geography

She walked around, and found each of the sections, then took a History book to one of the nearest table, and sat down with Bran, Laura, and Hannah. The book that she had picked up was "Historia", by Odin Khrias. Books 1-4 . She opened it, and started to read it quietly, but loud enough so that her servants could hear her...

[Querslis Vuerslin]

Querslis put down the book, and mentally digested the information. Bran and Laura just sat there, and did the same. It turned out that it had taken a couple of hours to read it, but it was worth educating her servants and herself. She opened a second book, and read the title. "Historia", by Odin Khrias. Books 5-8. was the title of this book, and the second in the series of three. She started to read, and found herself more and more enjoying it, although she was truely neutral in spirit. Laura and Bran were enjoying that fact that their Mistress was reading to them, although they didn't outwardly show it for fear of stopping, and leaving this place...

[Querslis Vuerslin]

Querslis finished the book, and looked at Laura and Bran, they were intensely listening to her read the book, and taking it all in. She was glad that they were enjoying it, because they would be learning a lot in the comming brightenings. She picked up the final book in the set, "Historia", by Odin Khrias. Books 9-10 . She started to read...

[Stephen Lighthelm]

OOC: Is it safe to assume that everything that's in the Compendium can be read IC by my character? If not let me know and I will edit.

IC:

In walked a man with a relaxed pace. On his brown head was a dark brown fedora. His blue eyes reflected what little light their was, and made the most of the dim library. the lighting was most appropriate, for the subject matter he was about to study was most dark indeed.

He eventually found his way to the section of the library about peoples and cultures, and saw on the shelves several tomes about Vysstichi. He had seen a few since he came to this town, and indeed has already begun to learn their language, but he did not know much about them, except from what Amerilia had told him. There were a few he recognized, the Primer to Vysstichi Language, which he had read, and the four-volume Vysstichi Vocabulary, which he had begun to study at home.

But what he ended up unshelving was a little book entitled An Insight Into Vysstichi Culture. He removed the webbed, dusty old thing from the shelf, blowing off the accrued dust and placing it on a nearby table, beside his hat, and started reading.

It took him a whole candlemark to go through it, raising his eyebrows in intrigue and surprise at certain point. "Haya's Kiss" was defeinitely interesting, but in the end that is not how he himself would wish to go. The dark elves can keep that custom as far as he was concerned. He was not surprised to read everything about Vysstichi relationships is backwards when compared to humans. It the male who takes the female's name, is given jewelry and declared property. At first it seemed like gender-bending, but soon he understood that the females were just bigger, smarter, and more ruthless than the males, deserving their dominance, even if they do abuse it. He finished and put the book back on the shelf, being a bit more enlightened about the ways of the dark elves. He pur on his hat and left the library, planning to return again soon.

[Querslis Vuerslin]

Querslis closed the book, and decided that it was late. She put the three books back, and motioned for the four of them to exit, and retire for the night.

"Would you two like to come back tomorrow? I was thinking that tomorrow, we would start with the first volume of the Vysse language. I was thinking that you would like to be able to speak to me in my language. What do you think?" Querslis said with a grin.

"Yes ma'am, we would love to learn your language. Thank you for the opportunity, and for reading to us..." Bran and Laura said then stopped, knowing when it was time for them to be silent. And so they left, and went back to their room.

-------------------
Then next day and the rest of that week

Querslis brought Laura and Bran back to the Library, and read to them the volumes of Vysse language, stopping to explain things that they didn't understand. Each day she got one of the following books out, untill they were done.

Language - Vysstichi Vocabulary (A-E)
Language - Vysstichi Vocabulary (F-L)
Language - Vysstichi Vocabulary (M-R)
Language - Vysstichi Vocabulary (S-Z)

Bran and Laura started to get the language, but they would have to practice the language extensively to be able to become fluent. They decided then and there to only talk to their Mistress in her language, so that they could become better at it....

[Stephen Lighthelm]

A few days later the same man with the leathered crown of the color of earth returned to the nearly empty library. It was the start of evening, and the sky outside was beginning to take rest in the celestial burst of fire before the cool heavenly starlit night will take watch over Telath. But the suns would not take their daily holiday yet, there was still plenty of light, though inside the library not all of that light spilled into the room from the windows facing west, stenciling the floor and the bookshelves with the shape of the windowsills.

This time he walked to a different section: magic. There were many books on nearly every sphere, even some spellbooks, but there were none for necromancy. He figured those precious tomes would be buried down in the lower levels where ghosts and spirits take vigil over the written congregation of secrets for that kind of power over death, and the very souls of the living and the dead, something that should never be tampered or toyed with, but which every brightening and darkening. But luckily for him it was not necromancy he was looking for; no, that art was too evil for him to even consider going near. To be a necromancer has not even entered his darkest dreams, and every passing day that it stays that way will be a sign of righteous faith, of a heart of good...as far as he is concerned, at least, for himself. But there are soiled hearts in this world that do not wish to learn necromancy.

No, there are some who choose to master a different kind of magic, the one he would be reading about: Ikos, "art of the runes," or so the Juive'len had described it. In fact he had to admit he did not actually have a clear understanding of it, only that it enabled an Ikomancer to make a "wish" and steer the forces of Fate to help him in his endeavors. How exactly that worked, he would soon find out.

One book stood out, the only one he needed to read on the subject: An In-Depth Look At Ikos by the Archmage Dierdre Lorelei, the founder of the art. He slowly and humbly removed the grimoire from its resting place, treating it as gently as a newborn babe, blowing off the aged dust and setting it down on the table.

A librarian was making rounds to light the many candles placed around the building to provide sufficient illumination to read affter nightfall, or if the suns were hindered. He turned the pages and read.

It took him awhile, over a candlemark to read and examine. So that is how it happens he thought. Apparently there were various symbols with simple characterized meanings that our subcionscious can recognize. An Ikomancer draws a sigil, a collection of runes- illustrations of those feelings- and makes a wish from it, placing it into some unknown realm via his own subcoscious. What skill that would require, what concentration to let oneself go like that.

On he read, becoming more and more fascinated with every page he turned. His interest was peaked. Here now was an art that was not flashy, directly harmful or energetic. Here was an art that was more easygoing, subtle. It was the subtlety that drew him in at first, and then the power it possessed. Adalandar was right about it, it truly is a wonderful art to master. A power like that would come in very useful. He looked and studied long and hard at all the various runes, since he might be placing them forever in his subconscious soon. He might, after all, as kthe Juive'len to train him in the art of Ikos. It granted the evil wishes of soiled and greedy hearts, but it could also enrich and enliven the lives of the good, can provide good fortune for raising a fine family in the warm countryside, far from this damned blackened place!

It was past nightfall when he finished, closing the book as gently as he had opened it and putting it back in its place, before taking a deep breath and placing his hat upon his head, and left the library, off home, well-versed in the art of Ikos, just not possessing it at present.

[Stephen Lighthelm]

In yet again strode the familiar human. This time he took the dwarf's advice and decided to look over the section of Warfare and weapons and arms. Who knows, he might find something interesting. Glancing over the various titles, he found a style of combat that seems very interesting: The Art of Aetherium Sword. Intrigued, he read on with great interest. What a righteous art to learn! It seemed right up his alley.

He read the entire thing, and it took well into the night to finish the passages describing a most holy art. He was then heartened, and light entered his soul again for the first time in this grey city. His identity once again revealed to him: Lighthelm, not the false name of old, Darkhelm, that he has taken for his stay in Vortex. That was not to say he would not continue to do so, far from it, but in the long run he would not dare to hide who he is; he would only have to wait until he was gone from this place. Once again a desire to learn what lay in front of his eyes over came him for a moment. He would feel blessed and gifted if he indeed possessed enough merit as to be allowed to learn the secrets of the aetherium Sword, an art that seems to be reserved for gods, or at least those blessed by them.

The only setback he found in the actual learning process was that one must be an Elementalist. Stephen was saddened by this, as he already had intentions to become an Ikomancer. But that choice was still yet before him. He would just have to wait and see how things would unfold. Who knows what will happen in the eras to come? Perhaps he would look into Hedge-magery, enabling one to possess two spheres of magic. What power that must be!

He quickly looked over the Arcane section, but alas, could find no information on Hedge-magery. Saddened, he put the books away and left the library. There was much knowledge entering into his head these days, what with the language lessons and his recent visits to the town library. Knowledge was power, and the more you know, the more you are worth.

[Raevenn Lathorin]

Timestamp: First Brightening of the First Cycle of Summer, Era XI.

The shadowy steps of the library felt Raevenn's quiet strides as he approached the odd building of knowledge. It was no secret that rumors still ran in the city that this location held secrets of Necromancers from the forgotten past; it is said that the structure had many hidden passages, rooms, and tomes that only those gifted in the dark arts could access without being cursed or even killed.

But, of course, the Initiate cared little about these unimportant secrets. He loved Jalat, his god, his life and whatever secrets lay within would be worthless if he did not study and understand Necromancy first.

Watching the dwarf scowl at the library's recipiants, Rae studied the stout creature before handing him a list of 'areas' he wanted to get books on.

"Religion an' Arcana, ay?", the dwarf mused with a hint of sarcasm. "Not da first 'un I'll tell ye that. Jus' run over to that isle over there, with the foul-look woman and you'll find yer religion an' arcana books includin'..." He hesitated, deciding whether he should say the foul words before him. "Necromancy. Over there now, go go."

Nodding, Raevenn took the oppurtunity to hiss a curse as he left but ensured that he remembered the dwarf for future...enterprises. Enemy or not, the bastard annoyed him...and that was reason enough to kill him when the right time came.

OoC: Books borrowed:
- Spells of Necromancy
- A Primer to Arcana (2nd Edition)
- Index of Arcana Reagents and Magical Components
- A Staff of Arcana
- Allerian Pantheon of Gods

[Magrand Black]

Midday on Solaria, first brightening in the first cycle of Cyraxatum, Summer of Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening

Rumours.

They had slipped through to the dracolord’s ears, having spent as much time on the filthy streets of Vortex searching for scraps of days long since past—a golden age of prosperity in what had since become a filth-ridden heap. And yet it endured still, a haven for those treading the darker path in life, and wide births for those with power, though it may be but a shadow of what it once was. There was great power in this city, if one knew where to look. Unfortunately, the dark city kept its secrets well over the long eras since the invasion of self-righteous fools, and countless symbols of its former power may yet lie within its ashes. The great faiths still remained, scattered and weak where they could again be made whole.

And yet he found nothing but scattered ash amongst a sea of discord. True, he had taken the necromantic arts into his own breast, and true he had connections even after the fall of the Collegium. There was his previous master in the dark arts, Aribeal—and potentially Toherro himself as well, though he lingered unknowing in the depths of some infernal pit. No, he was not alone in this task even if he was alone then, chasing yet another rumour in hope of revealing a glimmer of truth—if it still remained for observation. While another, perhaps even another necromancer with greater experience and prowess than himself would undoubtedly be useful when attempting this rather curious inquiry, yet that would involve issues in distributing the rewards, and the chosen of Jalat was not exactly willing to jeopardize one of his alliances over such matters, and the only alternate choice his personal forces were rather lacking in Arcanic exploits and were rather awkward to sneak through the library doorway properly armed, as they much preferred to be. No, he walked through the doorway alone, and though he sported neither the telltale clink of chainmail nor the glimmer of steel, he was obviously tense and ready for conflict with a force of some alien nature.

And yet he presented himself much more cordially than one could expect from a Jalatine necromancer. Unlike many of his brethren, Magrand knew that he wouldn’t achieve change through outward aggression, intolerance or feigned ignorance of his own emotions and desires. The stunty’s scowl was returned with a carefully composed smile, almost as if he was simply some ignorant Dianite who would have felt great pity at the dwarf’s discomfort. In truth, the dracon felt slightly peeved by his presence, but showing that would offer him no edge so he kept his thoughts to himself, and began to replay what rumours he had heard previously inside his mind.

He had heard the stories of patrons frightened out of the deeper levels of the library by ghosts or spectres of some sort, on top of those concerning old tomes and grimoires containing secrets of the necromantic arts passed down from the old days. These two subjects seemed to be related at some level, and it would be quite the odd coincidence for the two to coexist in the same place without some grain of truth to either. Or at least, so he hoped.

And so he headed straight down the stairwell to the second level… then to the third… it was time to test to see if these rumours were, in fact, true. Nonetheless, he was no fool, and if there were spirits in the depths of this place he had to be ready. As an apprentice, this wasn’t exactly a difficult situation—the dracon merely slipped into the depths of clara, revealing him to the world of the dark arts and everything it employed. The driving energies of the spirits of both the living and the dead would glow and shimmer radiantly from a radius around himself… in front, behind, above and below. If he saw anything he thought to be undead and threatening, he could simply dismiss it to the realm of his Lord Jalat and restoring the balance. He may not be a master just yet, but he was still, at the very least, competent…

[Johan Riketz]

No librarian stood in plain sight on an abandoned third level as the one known as Magrand made his way through, his greeting an unsettling thin mist. Dust covered tomes sporting spider webbing shifted, the air around seeming to shift, thickened, if only by the molding stone. Century-old upturned rugs seemed to pick at his feet, nauseus fumes clouding the senses of the Draconlord. The walls closed in at four corners, not easily discernable in the thick mist that was the air.

A figure was seen to pass behind one of the many rows of books out of the corner of Magrand's eye from right to left, only twenty or so feet away, well out of reach of the detection of a well learned apprentice. View was obscured, even as the figure dissapeared, only a shadow passing fluidly, a blink would have missed it. Books lie cluttered there in the walk-way, obviously stationed in the floor, unattended for an indescernable amount of time. A shuffle of feet could be heard further down the corridor in the silence, a forboding clutter, then a clashing of steel. the sound only rang faintly as if it were, barely there, caught simultaneously between this plane and the next.

The shelves shook ravenously, the world about the dracon ocillating, taking a vibrance of swirling colors, then slowing until the objects shook, vibrating until they came to a standstill in temporary stasis. Some force was at work and though the rest of the library shook violently, the path the figure had slinked across took a tumultuous flow, no sound evidently and no chips or crumbs falling, seemingly the safest path to follow. The mist stood stagnant as well, thick air replaced by an intoxicating breeze that cooled the sweat of Magrand's brow. It seemed almost as if someone......or something was trying to show him something, taking his main focus to the row of steadily rising books off to his right.


OOC: To be considerate, i have chosen to discontinue at this thread, placing the new thread here

[Maes]

The Month of Cryxatum in the Season of Summer,
of Era II of the Celestine Mandate,
Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening,
the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad.

Maes entered the building, his normally stern frown replaced by a cheerful grin that befitted a fifteen year old. A library! Out of all the things he had yet seen in Vortex, this building was the most wonderful. Only one of the villagers in his home town had any books. And the old codger had guarded those books closely. In the end, Maes only got to read one of them, because the old man had told his mother he would teach the boy how to read, and he used the one book to do so. But this...a library this large, open to the public! Maes walked eagerly forward, past the dwarf and his pile of leather-bound tomes. Brimstone Pebble Masher eyed the human boy darkly. Children were known for causing a ruckus, and that was not at all welcome in a building dedicated to reading. The Dwarf might have supsected he would have to throw Maes out on his ear, but when the dark-haired boy pulled out a book and began reading intently, the ex-soldier eventually turned his attention back to his own books.

Maes had moved to the section of books on Arcana, after a brief search through the first level of the library. The first book he pulled out was Professional Arcane Societies. He thought it might say something about necromancy, about which he anxiously wished to learn something about. He was a little disappointed as he read the information on the pages however. The book spoke of the Mages' Guild located in Alleria Prime, utterly out of his reach due to it's high membership fees and taxing membership requirements. Maes doubted as he scanned the next entry, that such a society would cater to necromancers anyway. 'This laughing-stock of a guild claims to be internationally organized, but let there be no mistake—the Magicians’ Guild is a collection of petty amateurs, magical rejects, and silly spellcasters...' Maes didn't even finish the first sentence of the Magicians' Guild's description before he passed over it entirely. That certainly wasn't what he was looking for.

The next entry, a description of the Society of the Hooded Cloak was the only entry to speak of necromancers, and Maes scanned it carefully. 'An illusive and secret organization, the Society of the Hooded Cloak operates in complete darkness and privacy. Little is known about this reclusive group of mages, but it is believed that their intentions are malevolent and aggressive and that they plot many misfortunes for Alleria and the entire Multiverse. One outcast member revealed that the Society had sought to release the Spirit of Jorel upon the countryside and thus their alignment with Necromancy is suggested.' The description made Maes shake his head, and the remaining traces of a grin left his face. These were the kinds of people whom he wanted to join...he didn't like it, but it seemed like his only course of action.

He scanned the rest of the book's contents, but none of the descriptions on the Society of Wizards, The Circle, or The Sylrosyan Council made any mention of necromancy. Maes closed the book and replaced it, searching the arcana section for any books that were specifically about necromancy. This dark practice was taboo in the surrounding countryside, but if Vortex was a city with as many ties to necromancy as it was rumored, there was a possibility that this library might have at least one book...but it didn't. At least not on this floor. Maes hadn't heard any of the rumors of the lower floors of this library, or that the Imperial authorities had attempted to purge such books from public record. He made a mental note to ask the dour-looking Dwarf he had seen earlier if he had any such books.

Another search on the opposite side of the library produced the Allerian Pantheon of Gods. Maes paused, opening this book and flipping the pages. In the Prelude of the book, the boy only found two things that interested him. Although there was no mention of necromancers, the book made note of the ones who worshipped the Aeternians: 'A particularly distasteful breed have also begun to pray to the gods of malevolence, feeling that in destruction there shall be power and glory to be gained. Maes didn't fit that description, but he had the unsettling feeling that many necromancers did. At the very end of the preface he read about the Planetars, about which he knew nothing: 'An Ancient Allerian adage, "when you make a wish, a god is born," is believed to refer to the fact that there are innumerable planetars whose power vary from the insignificant and forgotten, to the overwhelming and near god-like. Maes was interested about such beings, and wondered why he had never heard of them before. "When you make a wish, a god is born..."

For the most part, he skimmed over the part of Diana and Ioannes. He was raised to revere them, and his mother had told him stories about them several times growing up. He stopped and read about Jorel, once the Arch Archon whom Ioannes banished. He read about Meephos and Haya, wishing he had never done so. Jalat's description was the one of most interest to him: 'The God of Death, Jalat selects those to die at a prescribed time. While all the dead are judged at the Sun Throne of Ioannes, Jalat is said to inspire murder hoping that the population of those damned will increase and is the patron-god of criminals, murderers and traitors. He holds sentinel over an eternal sea of plasma at the periphery of Aeternia called the umblat. When depicted, he is always aboard the Barge of Death ferrying souls to be forever condemned, cloaked in a long, hooded silver-grey robe, hiding all features of his face. That description explained the carvings he had seen on the doors of Jalat's Temple. "So that was the Underworld... Maes muttered, eyes darting over the page. He finished the book and put it back. He would have continued, but he had been in the library for a quite a while and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he had to eat at intervals.

Maes left the library, thinking about what he had learned. The next time he came back, he planned to ask if the library had any books on necromancy. Finally, a place where he could read as many books as he desired...

[Maes]

The Month of Cryxatum in the Season of Summer,
of Era II of the Celestine Mandate,
Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening,
the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad.

Maes returned to the library several days later, anxious to read the books that the Vortex library held on it's shelves. The boy had been denied such a luxury throughout his short life, and though he found little pleasure in other activites, reading was something the raven-haired youth would never tire of. The boy walked past the dwarven librarian, paying him no heed. He walked straight to the books in the History section of the library, picking out Historia, Book I: The Pre-Allerian World. Opening it immediately, the young human began to read, his eyes darting back and forth over the page with an intensity unbefitting of one so young.

In an hour, he had read about the western humans and the Archaxetanians. He was surprised to note that most humans were thought to have orignated from these Archaxetanians. It was something he had never heard before. His schooling was sparse, which was one of the main reasons he was reading as much as he could now. It was also the reason that most of what he read was new to him. As he moved onto the founding of Medonia and Daltina, Maes was reminded how ignorant he actually was: "When Daltina was founded in 8329, the first druid temples were built within the city gates, and a strictly ecclesiastic state had been born. The King or Queen was both the head of the kingdom and the head of the faith, uniting the people behind the superior belief that they were divinely attuned to nature itself." How interesting. It seemed to the boy that the druids, with their close ties to nature and life, were the rivals of necromancers, with their close ties to death.

The Kalyran Incident was also wholly-new to him, and he continued reading with great interest into the passage that dealt with the Principality of Arakmat and the different races of Telath, such as the Dorins. The boy had heard of their conflict with the Cat-People, or Katta, from the people in his village. He didn't know that the Dog-People had founded their own cities in 8314 and 8396. The youth knew that he would forever remember the dates, and the names of the cities: Zenith and Nadir. Perhaps if his training and time allowed, he would be able to visit those cities one day.

Maes continued reading in silence, going over more human tribes, as well as the dwarves and elves of Telath. He also read about the alliances of darker races, including gnolls, dark elves, and orcs before he finished the lengthy account.

[Drake Stormbringer]

Timestamp: Month: Ioannes, 2nd brightening of the first cycle, midday.

OOC: Self modded, please prod me if anything's fishy.

IC:
Finishing his shift at the general store Drake's mind wandered over to his life with his tribe at the Great Mountains. As was usually the case in his shifts all he did was to mindlessly clean and organize the place, a slow and endless task that alongside with being boring as watching dwarven women grow their beards it offered the Giant plenty of time to think and recall memories. This brightening his thoughts wandered over the mountains to a large collection of ruins that stood in the west northern part of the mountain. The place, although not one frequently visited by the Highwinds tribe, was one that carved itself in Drake's mind as a place of former glory and power.

Wandering through the town towards his home, not really in the mood to enter Clara and teleport directly to his house, he decided to take a nice walk in the city. As he made his way through the crowds of the city, leaving a wide wake behind him, one that was quickly closed as he went on his way, the Giant was confronted with a sign that disrupted his progress. Trying to get around the sign the Giant realized that he was standing at the libraries opening. Not really knowing why he was suddenly so interested in the piece of the past that was the ruins, Drake only knew that now was a good time as any to find out as much as he could about the place, and that he would probably not find out ever if he didn't now.

Taking a good look at the building h sighed as he was forced to acknowledge the fact that this structure was too small for him to enter, as most places in Vortex were. Knocking gently on the double doors Drake lowered his body slowly, locating himself on the side of the road, trying to cause as little mess as was possible. Hearing a noise of someone approaching slowly the Giant readied himself to ask his question. When the doors were finally opened the Giant was surprised a bit when he was faced with one of the tiny races, for he was expecting an elf or the like. "Serale, would you make yourself useful and fetch me the librarian?" he asked with contempt dripping off his voice.

"I am the librarian, sir. Why did you have to bring me all the way over here if I may ask? I have more important things to do than to walk around all day ya know" the dwarf said, looking Drake in the eye, disregarding the height difference. Looking down at the limping man the Giant thought for a second before he continued his contempt less obvious this time around. "Well than, I am here to query about the ruins that are located in the west northern ridges of the mountains. As you can no doubly see, I cannot enter the library myself, and even if I could it would prove a very tedious task for me to read in the books that contain the information in such small writings".

The dwarf blinked at the Giant, noticing the change in Drake's voice with a smile. "So? What does this have anything to do with me if you can't enter and learn about the Chesley ruins?" he asked, returning Drake's earlier rudeness back at his two fold. Swallowing both his saliva and his pride Drake let that rudeness pass unanswered for he was not here to fight with the dwarf, in fact he needed the dwarf to like him. "Well, it has much to do with you sir dwarf" he said, having slight difficulty to attach the last two words together. "I was hoping that you could tell me a little about the ruins, if it is not too much trouble".

Looking as if he is really considering the offer Brimstone stood for a moment, leaning on his cane. "Well, usually I would've turned you down, but not this time. I will enlighten you on the place once called Aslangrad, in one condition; after I'm done you will use your stature and reach to sweep snow and other foliage off the roof, agreed?" Now it was Drake's turn to think, to weigh his curiosity against the work he would be needed to do in the end. "You got a deal dwarf" the Giant said and then listened to the stream of information that came from the dwarf's mouth. From the founding of the city to it's ending by the imperial forces Brimstone seemed happy to talk about it, discussing the strategic moves and steps that lead to the war itself.

Still on the staircase, but two candlemarks later the two were still there, questions and answers being forwarded from side to side until finally the Giant was content with the knowledge he had received from the stocky librarian. Slowly standing up and flexing his muscles he looked down at the dwarf. "Thank you, I best be fulfilling my end of the deal now so I can go home eh?" he asked rhetorically. Extending his hand over the rooftop he swooped the roof as best he could, dumping whatever trash that lay there down to the alleys near the library. When he was done he went back to the street, just in time to see the dwarf limp inside the building again.