Hunting Lore in the Library

Mid-day on another summer's day, with a clear, blue sky that's almost painful to look at. The light is only slightly muted by the long curtains in the windows, but the temperature is comparatively cool compared to the outside.

The usual array of library workers, students and arcanists wander, or have settled, in the library.

One of the study tables, located almost as far away from the door as possible, has been occupied by one person. A Goblin in silver and gold chain armor, with a silver pin of a raven holding a tilted hourglass. She has more than two dozen books open on the table, their scripts representing at least six languages, and bearing many arcane, celestial and demonic symbols. There are also stacks of ancient newsprint. Front and center, however, is one of her many notebooks, her pencil wiggling back and forth as Simony works.

There's an elegant half-sil at one of the shelves not far from Simony, examining tomes with a faintly furrowed brow. His expression is focused, thoughtful, strangely at odds with his ruffled white silk blouse, leather trousers, and elaborate, polished boots.

There's also the fact he's examining the third shelf up, and so there's a good foot of empty space under the soles of his boots. Definitely a magician of some sort.

Telamon's eyes light up, and he carefully slides a slender book from the shelf, opening it with care to examine the frontispiece. "Ah," he murmurs. "There we go..." Casually floating along, he drifts over to the table where Simony is seated, lofting into the chair opposite the goblin priestess. "Found the annotations. Want me to go through and cross-reference them?"

Alaric steps into the library from outside and takes a second to let his eyes adjust to the diminished light. No stranger to the various collections stored here, the grey-robed apprentice wanders over towards a section near the Goblin in chain mail and the floating half-sil. He's seen magicians using their control of such spells before - the utilitarian nature of magic actually mirrors his own approach to it. Fireballs are all good and useful in their way but not needing a step stool or to light candles to read are so much more applicable in one's day to day life.

Doing his best not to eavesdrop on the many books the goblin has open at her table, he can't help but spot one familiar text. "Excuse me," he asks with a polite tone, "...is that Elsmyr's Incantus on Runic Inscriptions or Proteus' Primary Polymorphy?" Title dropping? in a library? Yup, he's a bit of a bibliophile.

Simony gives a bit of a start at Tel's voice, so intently was she in writing out her notes and reading. "Oh, you startled me. Erm, certainly..." The Goblin replies in a low sounding, reverberating voice, in a language that sounds almost profane. She blinks and clears her throat. "Sorry. I was reading and translating from Abyssal. Our friend may... may... have been busy in a few of the old wars fought in Alexandros. Did he have a chain and collar?" She shrugs. "Or was he working on his own? If we answer that, we can perhaps better gauge what he may be up to."

She checks an ancient and weighty tome. "What sort sort of fiend was he, again?"

The albino blinks owlishly at Alaric as the wizard approaches and asks his question. "It is the Incantus on Runic Instriptions.", she says softly, her cheeks colouring a deep red. "The Primary Polymorphy was useful earlier, however, but I put it back on it's shelf for now."

Another entrant makes her way into the library, without haste yet deliberately. Behind Verna float a pair of small crates that contain, quite appropriately, a number of tomes and sheaves. All are neatly arranged with labels facing upwards. Her initial destination is the counter from whence Lady Octagona oversees all in order for Verna to converse with the oruch woman briefly.

Telamon actually flinches a bit. "Please, Simony, not in the library." He shudders a bit, theatrically, before offering her a nod. "I... don't recall any of the books saying such. Though a lot of the lore is conjecture; nobody wants to probe the workings of the Iron Hells -too- deeply. But these fiends are usually ...well, shock troopers, siege engines in a way. It's surprising to see one taking this route."

He makes a face, before his attention is drawn by Alaric's inquiry. Starry eyes examine the young man, before he nods with a welcoming smile. "Indeed. Simony, are we done with the Incantus? I think we've got everything we need from it." He rubs the back of his neck. "On to the next book..." He trails off, seeing Verna walking in. "Huh. Good to see her up and about again." He doesn't call out, but instead raises his hand when Verna's hooded head might turn in his direction.

Alaric all but flinches at the use of that language. Though unfamiliar to his mind, his ears do not like it one bit - like nails on a black board. "It sounds like you're doing more with the text than I would so if you need it..." he offers taking a step back from the table so as not to intrude upon their research but obviously curious. "I would offer my own limited assistance but I think you're delving into topics I'm completely unfamiliar with. My masters would have beat my knuckles red if they caught me reading such things..." He offers with a faint, if satirical grin remembering the last time his curiosity got him trouble. "...Iron Hells you say?"

Turning his eyes up to the floating arcanist he can't help but notice the sildanyari features about the well-groomed man and offers a brief, but formal greeting, "Magus..." rather like a junior soldier meeting their senior and offering their rank as a brief means of introduction.

Verna may, in fact, be less recognizable to those who only know her in passing as she lacks both hooded cloak and cowled robes. Her conversation with Lady Octagona does distract her from gestures for a moment, however. The crates then lift to be at counter height to aid the oruch (who has far more musculature than Verna) to intake the crates. Afterwards, the force formerly supporting the crates is dismissed with a gesture. She then spies Telamon and company, gesture yet ongoing or no. She then begins making her way towards. "Good day to you all."

She lets out a little laugh, shaking her head. "My apologies, but as I said, I was translating from that language to trade, so my mind was thinking in abyssal and it just came out."

Nodding, she grins. "Yes, it may be conjecture. But we need to investigate anyways. Myths and legends have some basis in fact after all, it is a matter of ascertaining the truth." The Incantus tome is reverently closed, and Simony offers up the book to Alaric. "Oh no, please, take it. I can always come back to it later. I was comparing the information in there to the magical circle I found inside a man's skull."

The albino grins at Alaric's formalness in greeting Telamon, and shrugs her shoulders. "Well... we are researching a rather uhm dangerous subject. Not in the actual searching, mind you, but in what we plan to do with said information. One's help may be good in searching for the information we seek. Just.. we will probably go where angels fear to tread."

The Goblin belatedly looks and sees Verna at the edge of the table. A moment later, she is hugging at the white-hair'd woman's waist, a sniffle heard.

"There is no knowledge that is not power," Telamon quotes the well-known Navosian aphorism. "And when you hunt dangerous game, you need all the knowledge you can collect." He strokes his cheek absently. "Indeed, it can make the difference between success and... well, retreat. Or worse."

He arches his brows at Alaric's rather formal greeting. "Please, let's not stand on etiquette here." His boots drift down and land on the tile of the library floor. "I don't believe we've met. I am called Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, with a number of titles that I am less than interested in bothering with..." Tel pauses as Verna approaches, only to be hugged by Simony. "And we are searching for information on a specific fiend, a daemon."

The young, grey-robed apprentice starts to reach forward to take the offered book from the goblin woman and pauses mid-grasp, "Did you say.../inside/ a man's skull?" His head tilts to the side as though the weight of such a visual were literally dragging his mind down tot he table he's quick to snap out of it once she is hugging the newly arrived woman. Verna's arrival seems to be something akin to a bit of good news so he's respectful enough to take a step back, clutching the incantus in his palm and lets the two have their moment.

"Well," he interjects, "...you've just given me something that will keep me up at night wondering about. I mean, I could very well imagine why such a circle would be marked or tattooed on the /outside/ of a man's skull but yeah...that's going to take me a while to process." He smiles a bit and adds, "Who needs sleep, right?" Turning to the half-sil magus, who literally brought himself down to the lad's level for introductions, he bows his head in recognition. "Well met, Sir. I am called Alaric - recently just graduated from the Academy."

Verna blinks once and looks down (though not very far as she is barely a head taller) at the Temperance. "It is good to see you again, as well, Simony." A bare hand gives the gobber a pat on the shoulder. She then concurs with Telamon, adding, "Knowledge is power, indeed. Yet one should also consider the allegation that 'power corrupts.' Have either of you discovered anything new of note? I hold some information that is tangentially relevant, and hold a potential avenue for further details of that one in particular."

She then addresses those she does not know and offers her own introduction, "Some call me Verna Lupecyll-Atlon. A pleasure."

The Goblin dabs at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Verna. And it is good to see you up and about."

She reseats herself a few moments later. Her grin returns and she nods to Telamon. "Hmm, have you been reading Navosian doctrine?" A wink, and she looks away, to Alaric. "I am called Simony Smithsdottir. I am a Temperance, a priestess of Navos. I am a capable surgeon as well. The particular daemon we are researching is able to inscribe their magics inside people's skulls. I am uncertain how this is done, or how such bargains are even made... but yes, inside a man's skull. I will spare you the gory details, and suffice it to say I performed surgery in less than ideal conditions to remove the circle, freeing the man of his 'bargain'.

Telamon's expression is dour. "Indeed. I've pondered how it could even be done, but... I decided against too much investigation into that angle. I don't like the idea of losing sleep." He straightens. "But, as Simony and Verna have noted, we're hunting for insights into this fiend. How he's literally getting inside people's heads, sometimes without even their knowledge."

His expression softens. "If you don't want to get caught up in this, I wouldn't blame you. And I would not even ask." He casually points at Alaric's robes. "Because if you hadn't told me I would've guessed anyways that you were newly graduated."

The bit of Navosian doctrine that the Magus tossed into the conversation grabs Alaric by the mind and gives him pause to think of it for a moment. After a second's consideration he seems to approve of the thought and is probably making a mental note to add it to his notebook later. "Pleased to meet you Servant of Navos, Surgeon of skill and daughter of Smith," he triest to remember what someone taught him about meeting goblins but he's probaby forgotten most if not all of the important parts.

Alaric's eyes flick up and over towards Telamon and then to Verna before adding, "I wish you well on your literary search for such a creature if only so that I don't have to wonder everytime my scalp itches." The young lad tries to smile his way out of such an odd admission but then takes a moment to continue his thought. "I do like that - what you said about knowledge and power. Forgive my ignorance but my father's a smith so I was raised half in a forge - not in a library. Navosian philosophy is somenthing I've only recently started to read."

Verna takes a few small steps to claim an open chair and lower herself slowly into it. "There is no cause for apologies, Simony," she notes quietly before addressing those she does not know. "What brings you to Alexandria, if I may inquire?" For the moment, she does not mention daemons, skull-markings or the like. She does not know how recently nor how long research was undertaken, so perhaps there is need of a respite.

The Goblin smiles at Alaric, "Oh, just Simony will do, though if you wish to be formal, I would accept Temperance." She grins at Telamon, and gestures with a hand. "Telamon is perhaps too humble. He is an archmage, and a lord of the city. Lord of the Castle on the Edge of Waking, and one of Eluna's own. Verna, too, is on the same level, though I am unsure if she is titled, but she deserves the respect of such. Worry not in the here and now, for anything that dared raise a ruckus inside these walls would rue their actions."

Her gaze goes to Verna. "I offer it nonetheless. I cannot help feel some responsibility for your current condition. And also, some sympathy and contrition that I cannot fix what has been done."

Simony lets out a low breath. "Do either of you have any new information?", she wonders of Verna and Telamon. "I'm trying to keep notes on everything we have."

Her gaze returns to Alaric. "My father, as my last name may indicate, is a smith. I was kept indoors for much of my childhood, due to my condition. Bit I learned how to smith a weapon. Had I not decided to leave home, I might be forging weapons of exquisite strength, like my father."

Telamon, for his part, just looks at the ceiling patiently as Simony starts reeling off accolades. When she's done, Telamon just gives Simony an exasperated smile. "You're never going to let me play at being somewhat anonymous, are you?" Tel looks to Alaric. "But yes. I won't say 'do not fear' since there's always fears out there. But suffice to say there won't be any nonsense in this place. Mistress Octagna wouldn't permit it -- nor would I."

"There's nothing wrong with learning your father's trade. I followed in mine, after all -- granted, it was diplomacy, not smithing. But it's good to have a backup plan." His eyes flick to Simony. "Nothing tangible yet. I might try something this evening or the day after, see if I can dig out something. It bothers the hells out of me that this fiend is being so... well, subtle. I didn't think they could manage it."

Alaric turns to answer Verna's question, "Oh, I'm from right up the road in Blackbriar. Just a small village on the main road but far enough away since my parents didn't want to handle an abundance of city life." He smiles a bit and shifts the Incantus about runes from one hand to the other as he continues his thought, "...so of course their youngest, me, makes a bee-line towards an education and vocation that takes me right back to the city they left. Irony, right?"

At the Goblin's elaboration of Telamon's titles and ranks, Alaric can't help but let his eyes flick towards the half-sil across the table from him. Must. Not. Bow. You could almost hear the word pounding in his head as he does his best to stay relaxed not only in the presence of a noble but an archmage. And then to have it compounded by not just one...but Verna's one as well? "I..." he stammers for a moment, "...see." Dry swallow and he passes the book back and forth between his hands as he tries to take note of what the goblin said after his realization.

"The slow blade penetrates the shield..." he quotes in response to what the archmagus mentioned about the patience of the fiend. "Or...something to that effect. My masters at the academy were constantly throwing out such bits of wisdom that were hard to place - curious how that one just seems to fit though."

Verna's eyes pivot to glance at Telamon askew. "I doubt heavily that Simony's mention shall affect your anonymity moreso than the enamored crowds you draw within the Society grounds, Telamon." Alaric is next, with a slight shake of her head. "Your path and that of your family before you, only need share similarities by your choice. Just as there is no judgement to follow in the same steps, there is neither any to take a completely different course."

Lastly, she looks to Simony. "I did acquire some pertinent information, indeed. Some that may assuage some of your concerns," then a glance back to Telamon, "and might explain why such a being appears so surreptitious. Most concisely, I believe that it may well not be the daemon contributing the bulk of the effort we witnessed."

Simony's cheeks flush once more, and she giggles lightly at Telamon's exasperated smile. "You should always be honest when introducing yourself, Telamon. Also, I like that you're powerful, and think you should show off occasionally." Her feet sway back and forth under her chair.

She nods to Alaric, and she giggles again. "I know exactly how you feel, right this moment. Do not fret. You're a wizard. You will study. You will rise in personal power. If you are wise and careful, courteous but firm, you will become an archmage also. With enough time, you can become a lord too. Not every lord starts with a silver spoon in their mouths, with a claim to lands and titles."

At Verna's indication of having pertinent information, Simony leans forward, and her ears wiggle. "I am all ears."

The expression on Telamon's face just screams, 'You better NOT bow' to Alaric, but fortunately the young wizard resists the urge. Tel gives Verna a look. "Yes, I'm well aware that my university lectures are usually populated by eager ingenues. I just keep hoping some of them listen to what I tell them."

He rakes a hand back through his hair, taking a deep breath, before smirking at Simony. "You certainly are," he quips at her remark. He tilts his head at Verna's comment. "Are you suggesting we have more than one fiend playing a long game here? Ni'essa preserve us..."

The very idea that one day Alaric himself could become an archmage or even a lord almost brings a smile to the young lad's lips. The goblin woman might have very well said 'and you'll be flying to Rune in a week' for as lofty and out of touch such thoughts would be for him. He turns to Telamon after he spoke to Verna and asks, "Excuse me sir but you lecture at the Academy, yes? I think I had Ethics with a different master but I -think- your name was mentioned as well if I'm not mistaken."

Verna's lips curl upwards at the corners with Simony's statement (and the visual accompaniment). The mirth is brief, however, and her expression flattens nack to neutral before she answers. "A being of such magnitude would be akin to a general; the peak of a pyramid of trusted lieutenants and possibly lesser bulk forces. As well, their ability to consume and distill souls may well be delegated. If their oal is to amass a great collection, it would be far more expedient. In the current circumstance, it would allow for more discretion; even polymorphed, such a being would be likely to be detected. As well, why would being such as that, crafting machinations on a scale of nations and milennia, make the effort to wander around the city to attack a handful of individuals? No, I believe this power was delegated to one or more minions."

She takes a breath before continuing. "While numbers may be concerning, I believe this grants us an avenue. These distilled 'gems' of souls, not part of the daemon, itself, become vulnerable; recoverable. Doing so may well allowed any affected to be returned or rejuvenated. There are establish spells that function similarly in trapping a soul. In the case of direct consumption by a daemon, however, I fear that any such soul would be forever lost."

To Alaric's comment, she simply notes, "Telamon is exceptionally popular."

The Goblin cackles at Telamon, "Hahaha, my friend, so are you. Your curiosity is just less obvious than mine. But we both want this thing death. Removed. No longer a current affair. To make it kick the bucket." She pauses, and lowers her voice as it was starting to get the notice of the infamously cranky Oruch librarian.

"See, perhaps my suggestion of our mark having a master, a collar and lead may not be far wrong."

After hearing Verna's news, her expression drops a little. "Ooor not only could he have a master, he is just one of m... many." There's a distinct swallowing sound. "I feel once again that I am not up to this task. I should note that this ... minion was able to corrupt my spiritual summons, and attempted to kill me. It is only that I may summon a mote of the divine strength of Navos that I survived. We need to find the method used to corrupt people, so that we may counter it properly. This is.. terrible."

But, she manages a shy smile. "Indeed, Telamon is quite a popular lecturer. He even has a fanclub."

"It just seems oddly... involved. Convoluted even, for a fiend of this nature. A force of destruction, that's just... camping out in Alexandria, being a colossal pain in the arse? I don't mean to minimize the harm he's done, but on a grand scale... he's barely scratching the surface compared to, oh, Marsward Seraquoix."

Tel smirks at the commentary about having fans, but instead continues, "We are definitely missing some pieces here. And I worry that if we choose to take the fight to him, that will cost us." At Alaric's inquiry, Telamon nods. "I took over for Professor Wedgvin a little while back. I find I enjoy the work... and there's something to be said for trying to encourage young neophytes to think about what they do, so that adventurers don't have to chase them down in twenty or thirty years."

Alaric hrms, "Sounds like you need a live victim or subject to examine." He offers in general thought to the conversation around him. "Perhaps examining the person, their actions and history would give you such insight - but then you'd have to be able to identify the target potentially without them even knowing they are one."

He can't help but scratch at his head for a moment and then lowers his hand with a shake of his head. "The moment of contact could be clouded from their memory but I doubt a secret could be kept from a Navosi for long." he smiles down to the goblin and folds his arms over his chest, the purple-bound incantus held against his robes.

"But...I need to get back to the dormatory. I've heard that they aren't exactly lax when it comes to locking the doors at night."

Verna gestures to Telamon and nods. "Indeed. I believe what we know represents only the edges of its plans and the acts of its subordinate lessers; acts stumbled upon by happenstance, rumors followed with a morsel of truth, and/or tangential deals made by Charneth with grand plans. Consider the time when we knew nothing of Marsward and only knew of a few vague nightmares."

She pauses as Alaric excuses himself. "Certainly. Do not be tardy, lest you have coin for an inn or the means to teleport. Rules and strictures serve a valued purpose. It is my hope that the current conversation does not discourage, but it is better to be informed than ignorant. Travel well in your return."

She then rises, slowly and with aid of her arms. "I expect that I have dallied and doured long enough, as well. Should I take overlong to return home, I may cause undue worry and find myself in receipt of a concerned rescue." Verna looks to Telamon and Simony. "Please feel invited, as always, to visit. Should all else fail, there is one more avenue for information. Presuming my wife allows it. Until then, I bid you all a good day."