With the threat gone, Kwesi lays back on the water's surface, taking a few moments to regain her breath after the shocks she'd received and the effort she'd put into her last surge of energy. From her languid movements, it's clear the water's as comfortable as a featherbed to her, even with the chop of the waves rushing past to break against the ruined university. Finally, with the worst of the fight's exertions past, she hauls herself back up into the boat. Busily she begins the process of preparing to enter the buildings - but it's not hard to see her movements have slowed slightly, and water leaps from beside the boat as if reaching up to caress her.
Anyone know much about those light things? she asks quizzically, gazing at the broken balcony as she works to moor the boat. I don't remember ever seeing them before - and if they're a sign of worse to come inside, we need to be on our guard. Hells, we need to be on our guard anyway. Carefully, she goes over her knots one last time. Well, nothing for it. Let's head in. With a deep breath, she takes a moment to call upon her shapeshifting and bring her gills back into higher prominence; on the open ocean speed could have proven necessary, but in cramped quarters it wasn't likely to make much difference.
Shaking out his hands and checking to make sure that he has not left anything in the boat. Looking over at Kwesi with a grin, "They shock the hell out of you when they touch you. I know at least that."
Leaning on his ransur and yawning, "I do not like that one got away nor that it was such a pain in the a$$ to hit."
"We all ready to go?"
Shearwater rubs his chin. "Hmm, let me think... I don't think they were ghosts or elemental spirits. Looked more like a jellyfish to me, without all the lights. And, you know, flying rather than swimming. That's... not quite right, is it? Other than that, no idea."
The priest offers a quick prayer as the group prepares for the climb, thanking his patron and soothing the electrical burns suffered during the attack.
After he deems everyone sufficiently healthy to continue, Shearwater nods at Kwesi and Mal. "Ready to go when you are."
Shearwater’s waves of healing energy radiate out, carrying with them a light, warm breeze and the faint sound of seabirds’ song. Eryssala hefts herself up onto Shearwater’s boat. For a moment, it seems she will struggle with her large fishtail, but as she swings her lower body around a pair of humanoid legs emerge from the water. They might pass for human appendages if not for the pale green scales that cover them. Standing uncertainly, she grasps Shearwater’s shoulders for balance and laughs in excitement. ”It is rare that I should walk, it is! Everything feels so, so heavy above the water. Makes me dizzy.”
With a nod, she climbs up onto the balcony and steps closer to the brine-coated windows of the library and the large stone doors. Grasping the rusted handle, she gives a great tug…
...but the door doesn’t budge.
"I will need help," she says, casting a glance toward Dima and Mal.
Schist emerges from the waves like some malevolent eidolon summoned by the nightmares of some thalassophobic dreamer. Water streams from his clothing and plasters his few gray hairs over his bald, gleaming pate, a fair amount coursing down from his nostrils and pried open mouth as his lungs empty of the sea.
Shearwater's blessings cause him to release a sigh of relief, bubbles forming on his thick lips, and he bows to his feathered friend, a stiff, formal gesture of gratitude.
His footsteps are sodden and heavy on the marble landing, and as Mal passes him by he reaches out - hesitates - then claps the larger man on the upper arm.
"Impressive fighting," he says, voice thick from the water that yet empties through his throat. "Very impressive."
That said, he steps back and gazes around the entirety of the edifice, clearly expecting more trouble, and then draws forth an alabaster wand of delightful crafstmanship; twin streamers of gold spiral down its length and terminate in an angelic visage limned in silver; in the gloom the wand seems to glow with a nacreous light all of its own.
"Following our last encounter with the skum, I thought it best to prevent falling to such mind-controlling magics," he says, not sure if anyone is listening. "This spell is simple but effective. It shall safeguard our minds and prevent summoned entities from attacking us unless we attack them first. If possible, I shall use it just before we enter battle."
Smiling at the healing, "My thanks Shearwater. That was.." Anything else he intended to add is lost as Eryssala pulls herself out of the water. Hmm, I did not expect that.
Smiling at Eryssala, "Would you be able to do the reverse on someone else?"
Not paying attention and visibly jumping when Schist claps him on the shoulder. Whirling around, ready to strike. Chuckling at his own jumpiness, "Sorry and thank you Schist."
"By all means use it then."
Mal and Dima cross the balcony to stand near Eryssala.
"Would you be able to do the reverse on someone else?"
Eryssala grins, but shakes her head. "No, Malorrem Dovar, this magic is belonging only to me and my kin. I have never seen with my eyes a landwalker to grow fins and tail!"
Each man grabs the large, ancient door handle and tugs with all their might.
A great gasp sighs from the stonework door as it separates itself from its frame, sliding slowly outward until there is sufficient space to pass through.
Floor-to-ceiling windows fill most of this room’s walls, while star charts cover the rest of the wall space. Esoteric tomes line the shelves throughout the room, what appear to be the University’s treatises on geometry, astronomy, and the planes. Bronze pillars stand just within the entryway's door, each column engraved with geometric sigils. On the far end of the room, in the eastern corner, there is a spiral staircase whose entry is also surrounded by a pair of identical pillars.
Schist slips through the doors, feeling the effects of his haste spell leave him as he does, and into the faded grandeur of the room. Something old and avaricious awakens within him as he enters, a hunger and curiosity that is part of the weft and weave of being a dwarf, and a shiver of delight and anticipation passes through him as half-realized dreams of plunder and gold filter into his mind.
Almost reflexively he casts Detect Magic, and then he drifts over to the shelves, losing himself for a moment as he reads the spines, searching for something intelligible, reaching out with a glistening finger to almost trace the covers but drawing back at the very last.
"What wonders..." he sighs, moving deeper into the stacks.
Shrugging and trying to sound a less disheartened than he is, "That is a shame. Always thought I would look rather fetching with fins."
Stepping in to the room and looking around with wide eyes. Ruins and abandoned places are always so fascinating. The things people leave behind shape the future after all. But looking around will have to wait until the whole place is explored.
Walking through the pillars and circling the stairs before peering up them.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Eryssala grins, but shakes her head. "I have never seen with my eyes a landwalker to grow fins and tail!"
Shearwater chuckles. "Oh, is that so? I have a trick I could show you. Remind me later..."
The priest stays to the back of the group, keeping an eye on their surroundings with his bow at the ready.
"Ech...musty books even mustier in this soggy old place...maybe we should go back to that pirate graveyard!" Dima clearly thinks the first proper room of the old library is clearly a waste of their time, but focuses instead on going back along the balcony and helping Magne up and over the railing.
It's tough going, with Dima carrying on with his alligator companion that he'll "turn 'em to stone and pluck him if he doesn't move about" as some sort of muttered threat, to which Magne clearly doesn't voice a reply other than angry hisses. Somehow though, man and beast are able to work in enough concert to haul him over, the scaled reptilian the size of a full-grown man trundling off to one corner in clear irritation.
Dima slaps his chest and muscled arms and invokes Kurgess to grant him hardened skin against their enemies, and then does the same to the irked Magne after him with a touch of his hand. He also invokes the speed of The Strong Man to aid the gator in his movement, just in case it's needed further on in the dim reaches of the library.
With that, Dima once again draws forth his illuminated polished trident and keeps it at the ready, putting his other hand to his eyes to peer around on the balcony for any returning signs of the nasty orb that accosted them earlier.
Kwesi follows behind into the grand entry way, her gaze darting back and forth between the door behind and the collection of books ahead. Though she's clearly not much of an academic, the sight is awe-inspiring just the same. I've never seen so many books in my life...where do we even start? As Schist migrates to the west shelves, Kwesi heads for the southern collection, staring as she tries to make out the subject matter. Do we just look for hags? What kind of other books would be around what we need - books about magic, or about beasts? I don't know, story books?
Schist is immediately alert to the presence of magical auras within the library. The books themselves all radiate a dull but discernable arcane thrum . Against the far eastern wall he also detects several strong conjuration auras. The bronze pillars surrounding the doorway and the downstair stairs also radiate abjuration.
Perusing the shelves, you also locate a couple of neatly rolled scrolls, tucked in at the end of the stacks.
scroll of path of glory (CL 3)
scroll of twilight haze (CL 3)
Schist frowns, gazing at the bronze pillars as if seeing them for the first time, then calls out sternly, "Don't get close to the steps!"
Tucking the two scrolls under his arm for later perusal, he marches across the library floor to where Mal stands. "Strong abjuration magic has been soaked into these pillars, and seems to have lasted all these many years. A ward of some sort? Let's see."
Even as he studies the pillars, he points to the eastern wall. "There's more magic over there - conjuration effects of some kind. Do not approach until I can scrutinize it as well."
Schist's continued scrutiny of the pillars only reveals the existence of the abjuration aura, without illuminating its cause.
The dwarf shrugs and admits defeat. "This magic is beyond my ken. I don't know what the pillars do. We shall have to find out by passing through them, or find another way into the building. Perhaps we could swim down the outside and find a window to pass through, or down to the original front doors?"
Shearwater moves closer to Schist, eyeing the books as he walks past the shelves. "So there isn't anything in here about hags? Should we take a gander before we leave, just in case?"
A resounding thud echoes off of the library's walls as the enormous tome strikes the floor, pulled unceremoniously from its perch by Dima. The writing on the cover of this book, like the others, is vaguely familiar in its form, but utterly incomprehensible to all but those who read Osiriani. Even then, this is clearly a distinct dialect of that ancient language, and so would require a deal of time and effort to translate.
Holding up his hands and backing up for the surly Dwarf, "Gotcha, no touchy."
Backing up to the middle of the room and leaning on his ransur. Looking about but keeping his place with a frown. Chuckling as the thud and turning to Schist, "Oh come on, we are already here. Lets just go!"
Finally abandoning his safe place and walking towards the stairs, "Shearwater we can read later. There are hags to slay and people to save. I have a magic bag you can fill up with books to read later if you really want." Mal stops just short of walking though the pillars.
Shearwater crouches next to the fallen book and flips open the first few pages, trying to get a feel for the language. Quite suprisingly, though he does not remember ever laying eyes on this particular dialect of Osiriani, it seems immediately more familiar than the bits of the tongue he has picked up from Garundi sailors. He runs a taloned finger along the glyphs—somewhere between the hieroglyphs of Ancient Osirion and modern scripts—mouthing words and phrases that seem the most recognisable.
"Yeah... sure," he mutters to Mal, somewhat absently. "I would leave the books where they are, though. Since they're enchanted, I'm not sure it's safe to snatch 'em without permission. This is a library, after all..."
The priest gets up and places the book back in its shelf, smiling crookedly at the others. "You haven't seen the librarian anywhere, have you?"
Dima yawns loudly as if to convey what he thinks of the prospects of standing around and reading books. He jaunts over to just where Mal stands, giving Magne commands to follow along just a few paces behind.
Peering intently at the two columns for a moment, Dima abruptly gives Mal a quick shove to his shoulder as if to push him through the columns, though Malorrem's balance and strength is enough to keep him upright and steady where he is. "Careful now Mal! No tellin' what could happen if you're stumbling about like that!"
Tensing up to keep his footing and narrowing his eyes at Dima, "I only seem to stumble around with you or rum my friend." Not yet but soon my friend.
Rolling her eyes, Kwesi reaches into the bag at her side and withdraws a slender metal rod as long as her forearm. Carefully she strikes it against the floor, and the room brightens as its tip flares into a burst of light. Here - we'll throw this through. Whatever spell is on those pillars, if it just reacts to something passing through, then this'll set it off and we'll know. Even if it doesn't set off the spell, at least it'll send some light down that way, and it might flush out whatever nasties might've taken up residence. And if whatever we flush out comes this way...well, then we get to see what the spell does to living things. A sassy smirk lifts the corner of her mouth.
Kwesi tosses her sunrod past the pillars and it tumbles down the staircase, bathing the bottom of the staircase in light. You can see two more massive pillars guarding the bottom of the stairs, as well as the edges of more bookcases. You hold you breath and wait...
Nothing stirs. The engraved pillars remain quiet as before.
Shearwater mutters something indistinct, scrunching his face in concentration. This causes a halfling-sized cloud of shimmering mist to materialise nearby, its shape the vague approximation of a seabird. He has a brief exchange with the entity, communing with it in a soft-spoken, breathy language. It then moves through the pillars into the stairway.
The others watch on as Shearwater's air elemental breathes itself into existence. Eryssala actually takes in a breath when it forms a bird. The servant bows its head in acknowledgement to the cleric, then floats easily through the pillars without incident. It returns and collects one of the smaller tomes in its ethereal claws, what looks to be text on geometry, and once again floats toward the pillars.
This time, as it attempts to pass between the pillars, the geometric patterns at their base ignite with a vivid xanthic luminescence that quickly cascades upward. Instantly, each pillar emits a beam of pale yellow light that strikes the elemental directly. Curiously, the creature appears unphased, and continues on to the other side. It turns and looks to Shearwater.
Schist hisses as the pale yellow light strikes the elemental, but then frowns as the entity flies on. Rubbing at his chin, clearly confused, he steps a little closer, eyes narrowed as he tries to divine the truth of what's going on.
Shearwater scratches his chin, glancing confusedly at Schist. "Beats me. Were those scrolls marked with magic, like the books? You might wanna consider leaving them 'ere until we round back..."
With the time he has left, Shearwater asks the air spirit what it felt as it passed through the pillars.
Crossing his arms and glancing over at Dima, "Seems a bit extreme for moving a book."
Calling out to the rest, "So if we leave the books there is no issue right? Cause this place is not happy with thieves. I am not an air bird and I know lighting hurts so not taking the books. But they will be here when we are done."
Dima absently nods at Mal in agreement, then shrugs his shoulders and resolutely walks through the two pillars to the stairwell on the other side, his trident held before him.
Depending on what happens once he crosses through, he'll utter a few syllables in Aquan to Magne to call him to his side if it's safe.
Kwesi watches as Dima marches forward through the pillars and down the stairwell, moisture from the air coalescing around her hand as she stands ready to defend against whatever might emerge. Cocky bastard, but he's got some nerve, I'll give him that...
Dima steps through the pillars effortlessly, without triggering the yellow beams.
Magne waddles quickly through, also safe.
Quickly following after Dima, "Lets get this over with."
Muttering to himself, "Scared of freaking pillars, all time low,"
Mal makes it through unscathed.
Eryssala approaches the pillars cautiously, sticking only her arm through at first, then slowly inching her way around the pillar onto the stair landing. She turns and smiles.
Only Schist, Shearwater, and Kwesi remain.
Beaming a wide grin at Malorrem as he mutters so, Dima utters another quick call in Aquan and descends down the spiral staircase, with Magne now in tow at his heel. His illuminated polished steel trident is before him as he descends below the level of the top floor, though it is clear he is in no hurry to move off the stairs while the others make their way to it.
C'mon - they're headed down below. We're no good up here. Tension in her shoulders and trepidation in her eyes, she continues forward, the heavy, humid air coalescing around her as she goes through.
Only Shearwater and Schist remain.
You begin the descent down the staircase, peeking ahead into the lower chamber.
Rows of bookshelves fill this room, labeled according to the methods of fortune-telling described in the books they hold. Two wingback chairs with night-blue upholstery flank a wooden table with a green felt top. The glass walls offer an aquarium-like view of the night-darkened water beneath the storm-churned waves.
Standing amid the stacks in this room are three four-armed, human-sized clockwork constructs that balance on three legs rising into a central body. They sit motionless.
Shearwater slinks in after the others, bow at the ready.
Schist casts one last longing look at the wonders of the room, that follows behind.
As Schist steps between the pillars, they again emit their pale yellow beams, each striking the dwarf. Schist's teeth rattle in his skull, but he seems to survive the assault with no ill effects.
Kwesi can't help but sigh slightly in awe at the strangeness of the submerged library. Well, one things for sure...they did a heck of a job building this place. Those windows - But her words are interrupted by the jolt from the top of the staircase, and she jerks in alarm to look back up and see the beams dissipating from around Schist. Are you ok? she shouts nervously, assessing from afar to make sure the dwarf isn't too badly hurt. And why would it have activated for you and not us? Were you carrying one of the books?
He is the only dwarf among us...but no, that can't be it, why would they have rigged it against dwarves? His magic, maybe? It got that water elemental, and that's sure as hell magic - but I've got power over the water, too, and it didn't object to me coming through, or Shearwater...
Shearwater jumps as Schist is zapped by the pillars, but relaxes as soon as it becomes apparent that his friend is unharmed. He wags a taloned finger at the dwarf, worriedly furrowing his brow.
"I warned you 'bout the scrolls, didn't I?" he says in a scolding tone. "Happily enough, the trap seems to be of a non-lethal variety..."
As he finally makes his way down to the others, the priest makes an effort to examine the clockwork constructs—from a respectful distance, of course.
Dima strides down the stairs with confidence and his usual bravado, as mere tomes and scrolls are not going to become his master! Yet he tries to avoid the pillars and skirt aside them to make his way towards one of the rows of bookshelves, clicking to Magne to follow closely behind him.
Shearwater isn't able to recall any helpful information about the constructs, other than what's obvious from their appearance.
Knowing little of libraries, constructs, or really anything involved in this place's current state, Kwesi goes forward into the room, examining the shelves without touching the books and eyeing the strange metal sculptures warily. Shearwater, come here - you're better with languages than I am. What do these say? Anything that might have word on the hags?
Kwesi reluctantly exits the stairs, passing between the pillars and glancing across the packed bookshelves. They contain anthologies marked with with many intricate symbols, some clearly astronomical in design but others much more esoteric. There are also odd scrolls tucked neatly between books.
The mechanized creatures do not stir.
Dima grunts approvingly at Kwesi moving directly towards the main part of the library room. He himself heads along one edge of the wall and skirts the shelves to where another of the metal statues stands in the corner.
"You think these statue-things would make for better tribute than these musty old books? I mean they're hags right, and more fond of potions and trinkets than reading stacks of tomes for years on end." Dima inspects the far statue closely and taps it twice with his trident to make sure it's really real. "After all, they could sort out how to use these things to carry their cauldrons 'round or build more cages and the like..."
You aren't half wrong - we'll have to grab one of them when we leave. In the meantime, let's look at all the titles, see if there's anything that would help us. If not, let's move on, go deeper. Kwesi follows her own advice, continuing her perusal of the shelves and searching for anything that might suggest itself as a source of information on hags.
Shearwater aids Kwesi in her search, helping her identify important-looking titles.
Walking over and circling the strange metal statue, "Dima if that is the case I would rather not take one to them honestly. We can find some trinket and gift it to the hags like normal but being that helpful seems foolish to me."
Moving from the statue in the open to the shelves near the one opposite of Dima. Looking over books halfheartedly while always keeping an eye on the strange statue.