Knowledge is Power
Tenebrae - Wednesday, March 16, 2016, 7:31 AM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A14: Quill's Repose, City Library *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
A large hallway, circular in design, is what lies beyond the large doors that let visitors in to the public library. Two guards stand in these doors at all times, employees of the city Watch, hired by the library for protection and to prevent theft of books. The head librarian is more of the same--a retired Watch member, herself: Lady Octagna is a great oruch whose lined face bears with it, as well, the scars of old battle. These days, she battles over books and the impudence of Society, Engineering, and Temple students alike, who spend long hours toiling within the Library's walls and basement.
A sign above proclaims the loan of books to be illegal, and that books may not travel further than the doors. Loud noises are hushed by the Lady Octagna, whose grand stature is said to be second to none. Her movements are rarely heard, though they are often seen, marking her quite agile in her elderly age. Rumors, too, place her as a curmudgeon'd ally of Madame Gelfure, the two of them going back years, with a tradition of lunches or the occasional breakfast.
The hall has marble floors, and two staircases lead upwards, one to the left and another to the right. Bright blue carpets cover the steps to lend to the quiet atmosphere of the great library. Straight ahead of the entryway, a tall archway leads into the main library, with study tables between rows and rows of books. The upper levels contain the city records to the left, and the right is a closed off area for library staff.
The symbols of Navos, the Scribe, may be seen in the markings of columns, in the relief of marble. Marble is the prevalent building material, giving the rooms a regal, official and solemn feeling. A few benches line the walls of the circular hall, and a desk sits to the right of the entrance, a secretary always attending it to help guests, even late into the night. The occasional Seer or Temperance may also be seen, offering advisement and wisdom within the great halls.
Aldean and Diemma are in the arcane stacks in the library, Aldean's cloak and a scroll case claiming his chair at a table nearby while he searches. Diemma's just set down two rather large and weapon-like tomes on said table -- 'A Comparative Biology of Ea'.
As the sound of books hitting the table, Aldean finally turns from his search of the stacks to spot the elderly woman, and turns entirely to face her. "Are you all right, mistress?" he asks, the baritone deliberately kept low, although it's well-produced and if he isn't really careful is likely to be louder and more carrying than he intends.
Diemma nods, and smiles at the bard. "Of course," she says. "Not often do I hurry like that." The Althean nun looks about her. "My, this is quite the place. I have never ventured into the arcane sections of the library before. You can almost feel the power coming from the shelves, can't you?" She leans upon her stick.
Mikilos might have something to do with that. The magus wanders the shelves, his path twisting, but deliberate, seeking out a range of books, and settign them upon the pile behind him. A pile that wobbles and bobs, but floats obediantly behind the elf, like a hopeful puppy. His stack collected, Mikilos heads for the reading tables, stopping short as he finds them already occupied. "Oh, hello."
A quiet baritone chuckle answers the words, Aldean's easy smile not wavering. "Spells themselves ain't kept here, mistress," he tells her, "jes' the lore. Else ye'd have young lads tryin' their hand at fireballs in the streets." When Mikilos enters, his grin broadens. "An' there be yer power, mistress. Fair winds, Mikilos."
The elderly woman pulls out one of the comfortable upholstered reading chairs, and stoops carefully to sit. She leans the metal walking stick to one side of the chair. "Power indeed, Mikilos. Aldean has paid you a fine compliment. I wonder, Aldean, whether you would agree with the sentiment that 'knowledge is power'?" Not that she knew, of course, that the books on the shelves were not spellbooks. Why would a nun need to know?
Mikilos chuckles, nodding politely to each. "Good day to you both, sir and miss. Knowledge is power, to be sure, but it's the ability to put that knowledge to use that tends to matter most. Still, the knowledge alone has it's own value. What quest of knowledge brings you here today?" The elf gestures, his stack of books setteling onto the table, as he shrugs off his haversack and takes a seat.
"Ye'll not find me arguin' wit' that point, mistress." If anything, Aldean's grin grows wider, laughter dancing in dark eyes. "But 'tis as Mikilos here says. Say rather it be the difference between the knowledge o' how a potion might work an' the formula t'make it."
The smile fades somewhat at Mikilos' question. "Be seekin' knowledge o' magus points, mate. How ye might go about cleansin' one as has been corrupted."
Diemma looks from Aldean to Mikilos and back again. Although her knowledge of the arcane is dwarfed by that of the divine, she takes an interest in what is being said, particularly as it includes the word 'corrupted'. She sits back in contemplative mood.
Mikilos nods to Aldean, agreeing with his first statment, but frowning seriously at the second. "I'd say I know more than most on Magus Points, but not near so much as I might like. I assume you refer to Versis?"
"Aye, that be the one," Aldean agrees, leaning against the nearest massive bookshelf and hooking his thumbs in his belt. "How much ye know o' what happened there, mate?" He takes a brief glance over at the elderly woman, but doesn't seem to mind her presence, instead focusing on the wizard.
Mikilos sighs, his features darkening, remembering. "Again, more than most, but not near so much as I'd like. I was one of the teams who first went into the town, before we had any idea what had happened. Once the demons still lingering were wiped out, I helped map the leylines that had been twisted and warped. Beyond that... we still don't really know what happened. Not to the point of really understanding it, I mean."
Diemma's brow wrinkles in thought, attempting to bring to mind something that long hence had been committed to memory. "Versis..." she murmurs. "Yes, I recall. Terrible casualties. I cannot recall if any of those injured were brought to our order, but word creeps through from other temples." She lowers her head.
"Goes a bit like this." Aldean straightens up and walks over to the table, dropping himself into his claimed chair with easy movements. The scroll case gets evicted summarily to the floor besides the chair with a quick movement, and he leans forward, elbows on the table, looking up at the pair; the movement is a tacit invitation to have a seat, this is a story.
"Few of us took ourselves up there t'see what we could learn o' Asumit an' why he wanted the place anyroad. I ain't know there were a magus point up there, mind. Ain't find a damned thing in the records, so me an' Lady Sandiel's woman tried a spell. Legend Lore, if ye'd like to be exact."
Here, he pauses and laughs easily. "Muse took the chance an' showed us how that place came t'be. End o' the Demon Wars, it were a focus o' fighting, though not the main one. After the High King were slain, the procession came through the tent city that had formed -- with the Holy Sword of Ea atop the coffin. Demons attacked the city while it were there ... an' they was winnin'. Looked bad. That sword rose up, on its own. In one burst, wiped every demon there out an' left the survivors untouched. Ain't none wielding it."
Diemma nods, thinking carefully, and reflecting on the words. "This is an old story, Aldean. Where is this place /Versis/?"
You say, "Sendor. It was a major point before the seige upon the city. Though I'd not heard of the city's orgin." He considers a few moments. "If the Holy Sword is wrapped up in the tale, might be even bigger than we'd thought. And we thought this was pretty big already."
"Aye, an' I ain't finished, neither." Aldean nods to Mikilos for the identification. "The Sword unleashed enough magic t'tear a rift between Ea an' the celestial planes, mate. It bleeds celestial energy to this day ... an' that rift lies beneath th'Cathedral. That celestial energy were enough to change some o' the children born there ... make 'em celestial sorcerers. Best guess be Asumit be one o' these."
He pauses a moment. "Anyroad ... all the fighti' in Versis, with the demons? Demon blood dripped through the ground, enough to corrupt the rift beneath. It be walled off now, but we found where it lay. I be seekin' the means o' reversing it ... it be a tear as Asumit might be able to use. Ain't think he is, there weren't no evidence o' that ... but I'd sooner take 'is toys from 'im, aye?"
Mikilos nods thoughtfully. "Hard to guess his next move. Versis is near perfect for his efforts, assuming we know his true goals. But, it's known and heavily watched and defended. Such astral rifts are rare, but he might have the power to just make his own. Somewhere we aren't there to stop him."
"Aye, but if it be o' Gods o' Light, he'll not touch it if it be demons he'd rule." Aldean scratches at the ever-present stubble along his jawline, considering. "Still be seekin' word o' that last Kulthian Court ... be thinkin' I know where it lies but ain't rightly sure. Best we can do is chase 'im into a corner."
Mikilos mmms. "Perhaps. Best would be to stumble across him and get a lucky shot in when he's not prepared. But the chances of that are rather low. Eliminating his places to hide is the more practical path."
"Aye, ye've the right o' that. Take 'is toys an' reduce his options till he gets angry enough an' shows hisself, I be thinkin'." Aldean's grin returns at this.
The old nun has little to add to the discussion of the tactics of demon-chasing; still, Diemma feels it appropriate to offer a little wisdom from her childhood martial training, now a dim and distant memory. "Backing a dangerous opponent into a corner can be an exceptionally dangerous tactic. When the badger has nowhere to go, his claws become sharper. I will assume that this demon already has sharp claws, metaphorically. If you were to ask for my opinion, I would suggest leaving a path free, and cover that surreptitiously." She folds her hands together
Aldean's actually quiet for a few moments, considering that. "Mayhaps, mistress," he allows. "The rat likes to chase different bits an' spread us thin tryin' to catch him ... an' be where we ain't. Do we narrow his options, he ain't so bad."
Mikilos consideres and nods. "An open path would be suspicious. And too often we've though him cornered, only to have him escape."
"You should mind, too, the advice of old nuns," Diemma advises, smiling slightly. "For many of us have forgotten how the heat of battle is supposed to flow." Her face darkens again, more serious. "I would think that, when you begin to reduce his options, you increase his watchfulness. Perhaps then you may meet him or his emissaries at the next path you wish to cut off. So, each path must be considered to be a final confrontation. Do not approach a dangerous hidden enemy with any kind of levity."
"Depends on how cocky he be ... or whether he be doin' jes' as he means fer us t'do," Aldean points out. "But aye, ain't plannin' on being naught but careful, mistress." Glib, isn't he?
Mikilos nods. "Too often have been attacked in unlikely places to not be cautious." He frowns, and gestures. "Little over a year ago, a demon appeared in these stacks, trying to burn the books. Thankfully those of us present were able to stop it before serious damage was done. Still, I make sure to always have a few spells ready, just in case."
"Take a Hearthguard, too." Diemma's advice comes with a warm smile. "My sisters and brothers can provide excellent support, both upon the field of battle and thereafter. Whilst my own---and indeed our own, when one speaks of the order---knowledge of the arcane arts is naught, our knowledge of those arts of healing are unparalleled amongst the deities. Many, too, can lend other kinds of divine support."
"Ai't no plans made yet to go anywhere or do anything, mistress." Aldean's easy grin has faded. "Be a damned lot more people as'll be makin' the plans, an' it ain't fer me to decide. Ain't doubt yer Church'll be among 'em, but 'tis the Highfather as'll decide." He leans back in his chair. "I be jes' lookin' fer information, no more. I ain't decide nothin'." Some of the easy grin returns, suggesting that he isn't sorry for that.
Mikilos smiles. "All resepct to the Hearthguards, but all else being equal, I'd favor Brightblade Svarshan with me. I know of none better for the battle of demonic forces than the Demon Chomper."
Diemma nods to both men, furrowing her brow. "Of course," she says, simply. "I meant not to reprimand or scold. Old women like me do not seek to make points. There is no point." She smiles at the mention of the paladin. "Indeed, a wise one is Svarshan."
At that, Aldean chuckles. "Naw, mistress. Yer advice be well-taken, but it ain't aimed at the people as lead the fight. If ye be thinkin' Svarshan'll listen t'me when it comes to demons, ye'd best think again." He laces his fingers together and puts his hands behind his head. "I be fortunate he listens t'me tales."
Mikilos nods. "The Demon Chomper is more for action than words. But what words he does speak are carefully chosen. But for now, I really should get to my reading. Not quite so pressing as a madman wanting to become a god, but also with a little firmer timeline."
"Fair winds to ye, Mikilos," Aldean adds with a laugh. "Send word when them gloves been done, aye?" he adds beffore turning back to Diemma. "I'd best get to m'readin' as well, mistress. I be Aldean, by the by."