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“I have no love of puns,” announces a peeved Kreighton
Shaine, the Master of Scrolls in the Grand Lodge, “Yet it cannot
go unremarked that the Overflow Archives have begun living
up to their name.” The pale elf gestures across the library’s
stone lobby toward a pair of shut double doors from beneath
which water steadily seeps. He is only one of the midnight
visitors bearing witness to this disaster. Next to
Shaine, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen stands with folded arms, glaring at an initiate whose hair and clothes are utterly drenched. All three
speak at once, but Shaine’s shrill voice rises above the
din. “Magical shenanigans in the archives are prohibited,
especially this soon before the Grand Convocation!”
“Let us prioritize,” Dralneen suggests. “Are the artifacts
within the vaults in danger?” “How should I know?” Shaine
barks back. “This delinquent initiate— what was the name? Wormell?”
“Virml, sir,” replies the sodden Pathfinder.
“Virml says he sneaked into the archives on a dare,”
summarizes Shaine, painfully emphasizing the initiate’s name
with scolding disdain. “Presumably, he thought the holdings
would be harmless. Instead, in his naivete, Virml triggered
some dormant curse or other. So, yes, thanks to Virml here, the
archives and the vaults below continue to flood, threatening all
the books therein.”
Miserably, Virml holds up an armload of soggy manuscripts.
“I salvaged a few, sir.”
Sighing, Shaine leads Virml towards the stairs. “Take them
up to the scriptorium. Start making dry copies.” Then, turning to
survey the rest of the room, he continues issuing orders. “The
remainder of you should wade in there and plumb the origins
of this deluge. Stop it, if you can. I must report this debacle to
my colleagues and begin organizing the cleanup.” Abruptly, he
seems to notice the paracountess for the first time. “What are
you doing here, Dralneen?”
Zarta smirks and shrugs. “Unlike you, Shaine, I love a
good pun.”
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The half-elf pathfinder seems to be already prepared for swimming. Sleek armor and everything organized for minimum drag. You see a small silver necklace of a seagull around her neck.
”A flooded building? Interesting. I see why they contacted me, I’m the two time grand lodge swimming champion. It would have been three time but a late entry this year barely edged me out on the final stretch.”
She pauses before asking a couple questions, ”Do we have a map or description of the archives? And maybe an idea as to where the flood started?”
"Is anyone amongst us skilled at plumbing? I, for one, am not."