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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 12, 2023 18:18:21 GMT -5
Most libraries in Sol City were little more than ornamental pieces meant to delight the eyes and play on one’s ego by making them appear smarter than they were. The books inside were drivel; propaganda written by the sun elves, bolstering the crown family’s ever-so-lofty reputation. It was likely that nothing of value had been contained in the hallowed halls of the city’s archive, an annex built into the Sun’s Keep, for centuries… but if one was patient enough, they could wade through miles of shit for a nugget of gold and be rewarded for their perseverance. And Marlow Fenastra was desperate enough to try, at this point. One had to live under a rock to avoid hearing talk of the Sol Stone - it was all the courts were buzzing about, especially since the Queen Consort had dispatched the Legion of the Black Sun through the entirety of Charon, giving credence to the rumors regarding Scern’s Story. It must have been important enough for the vapid woman and her husband to silence any talk of it. Since the mad cultist’s escape from the Citadel, Marlow’s curiosity about his story had only grown. She was an alchemist and scientist, first and foremost - but the alchemy and magic went hand in hand, and since the Scern’s capture, the world had only gone mad. Monsters acting out of their expected behavioral patterns, natural disasters, not to mention the dragon god she’d read reports on… the key to fixing it lay in a fundamental understanding of how the Sol Stone had altered the world. And in order to figure that out, Marlow needed more information. Not just on the Sol Stone’s creation, but its breaking, the truth about the gods, and even anything she could find on the necromancer himself. So yes, the archives was a long shot, and she knew it. But she was in town for a meeting and a presentation on her thesis so there was no point in not checking it out. Only, here she was, her arms laden with books, and no place to sit. Tables were few and far in between, with most being taken up by tittering, vain nobles reading trashy romance novels (she thought she saw more than a few copies of Neck Romancer among them. Which she only recognized because she might have skimmed the novel herself one day when she was bored. Sue her.) The point being. These were all people she held no place with; heiress to a humble-but-rising merchant family in Eclipse City, one of unfortunate blood at that. She despised rubbing noses and playing nice with them when she knew they whispered about her parentage and her off hobbies behind her back. Best to avoid them at all costs. She skirted around them, scanning the area for a place to sit and study… Only to wince when she heard the sound of giggling in the distance, bouncing off of the high ceilings and echoing like ghosts in the archive’s foundation. Marlow frowned. Happiness? In a library? It was odd enough that it warranted investigation. The petite elven woman’s heels clicked against the marbled floor as she made her way around the corner, peering into an alcove. It was there she saw a couple of… children? Marlow blinked. What were children doing in a library? Unsupervised? What if they crumpled the books and drew on the walls and whatever other rambunctious things children did? To her surprise, though, they seemed absorbed in what they were doing - enough so that they were making an attempt at reading, only stopping to speak to one another intermittently. Whatever they were doing, it was clear they found it important. Marlow shifted her grip on the books in her hand, pushing her round-rimmed spectacles further up her nose. It was as good a place to study as any, she supposed. Clearing her throat, Marlow spoke up. “Excuse me, pardon. My apologies for intruding, but - do you mind if I read in here? I can’t find another place to sit.” MinionsMarlow Fenastra - Warlord Quest Name: Nose in a Book Participants: Two or more Location: Anywhere (libraries) Post Requirements: 4 posts per person, 200 words per post Reward: +1 Renown Description: The world is starting to warm up to the idea of Scern's story being truthful, at least to some degree. Many still can't fathom how they were able to be tricked for so long by an imposter god, and had absolutely no idea about Vulcadreaus. Scholars are starting to realize they know very little about Charon's true history and are now asking for help from the public. People have begun to pour over old texts, study forgotten scripts, and attempt to find any information that would help shed a light on the world’s current situation. You are being asked to study old texts from libraries or book collections around Charon, hoping to find any clues to help explain things. (No information is found, however.)
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 12, 2023 19:37:16 GMT -5
Ah, Sol City – a shining beacon on the horizon for travelers by sea; the center of Charon, whose economy is heavily bolstered by trade between itself and the other regions; the place the crown resides and from where it distributes its (mis)information; decorated by a gilded keep and a crumbling spire – a perfect juxtaposition to represent the Capitol’s imbalance in power in the world. Full of nobility, pride, a false sense of security, Sol City is exactly the kind of place the Sun Elves wish it weren’t.
And Astrid sure does hate it here.
Run ins with guards, destroying a temple, nearly dying to a crazed bounty hunter, surviving a massive city-splitting earthquake, recently suing a mob, and now looking for information on strange magics of the land with her new friend Cypress, Astrid has a storied history with the capital city of Charon. But between this and Thorock, at least here she can wave around her nobility without catching much attention like she might from a certain dwarven leader of the smoky city.
See, Astrid cannot deny that at least Sol City is an easy place to find information with Capitol Landing being at the center of Charon. (At least, generally, when the crown isn’t tucking it away into lost corners.) With her ties to the Mage’s Guild, Platinum Corp, and Dragon’s Cradle’s alliance with the Capitol, Astrid tends to have a pretty alright time finding information here. When she was researching cultists, here she found clues that ultimately led her to Scern and the whole Ziev debacle. Somehow that feels like a lifetime ago, and while Scern’s escape from prison initially concerned her, seeing the crown covering up the facts that the man stated only pushed any worry to the back of her mind. There are more important things to worry about, anyway.
For instance, finding information on why the heck Cypress’ magic seems uncontrollable. After plenty of testing on the side of a mountain, they confirmed that, like most people’s magic, Cypress’ is extremely volatile when emotions run high. That part isn’t unexpected, and it’s something they managed to find some control over with practice. In Astrid’s opinion, one should be able to be emotional without worrying about blowing themselves up.
The source of Cypress’ magic is the odd thing to Astrid. It isn’t something she’s familiar with, and she’s only found one clue in her research so far: Wild Magic. Where it comes from or how it works, they don’t know. Which is what brings them here. It could be sourced from a curse, a topic of recent interest to Astrid after dealing with an Ur-Beast after her blood and accidentally switching bodies with one Morrigan Moonweaver – a terrible but enlightening experience, really – that somehow brought both of them greater understanding of one another and might have lifted the veil of spite if only just a little bit.
In addition to Astrid’s own possible curse, the possibility of Cypress’ wild magic being a curse, and the strange situation of this Everett guy and his memory loss, it seems reasonable that researching this could lead them to many answers.
And dammit, Astrid wants some answers for once in her life.
So studying they do, piling up books of anything that could be even remotely helpful while a tiny paper dragon[1] crawls up and down Astrid’s arms, slipping across her shoulders like a cat, perching between or on her horns, sniffing at books that it really would like to eat, if only she could feed it some of these pages. Surely, the librarian won’t notice, its eyes seem to beg. But the girl is hyper focused, and a magical piece of parchment[2] manifests ink words of notes that Astrid wants set aside, but that she doesn’t want to spend time writing herself at the moment. Thank Cantio for helping Astrid learn to better read, and thank Blue Raspberry for needing to be taught, because while she could read before, now she can blaze through books.
That is, until, Astrid reads something silly about a curse that brings pants to life breaks her concentration thoroughly, and she can’t stop herself from giggling at it. “L-Look at this, Cypress,” she says, covering her mouth and hoping her thick leather gloves muffle her enough to not disturb the other patrons – or worse, the crabby librarian who definitely did not want to let her into the library unattended. “It says the pants’ll even eat folks! How could they do that??”
It takes a moment to get back to it, and not another moment later does Marlow’s voice draw Astrid’s attention. Crap, she’s upset someone. Dammit, pants! Then it registers what Marlow asked, and Astrid looks her up and down, while her brain catches up so her mouth can speak again. This person doesn’t seem like snobby nobles of Sol City, who Astrid would absolutely deny with some petty excuse.
“Oh, sure thin’,” she says chipperly. Without missing a beat, she stands up and pushes a stack of books to the side to make space for Marlow’s own hefty load of information. “Sorry, thought ya were someone here ta fuss at us fer makin’ a stir.”
1. Book Wyrm 2. Wanted poster
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Post by Cypress Springleap on Dec 12, 2023 21:49:22 GMT -5
The Capitol is a place intimately familiar to her.
She’s been everywhere inside and outside its walls. She’s skirted its guards after nosing through the marketplace; she’s visited the Temple of the Sun to pray for help; and she’s watched the waves crash against the ships at the Gold Port. She knows the best alleyways for dropping the guards— areas where she can fit, but they can’t— and she knows the best place to look for dropped solars at the Brass Dragon. She’s watched the sun rise over Sun’s Keep and dozily dreamed about what it must be like to be a real princess; almost as much as she’s sat across the street of the healer’s offices, peeking at glinting potions and elixirs in the windows.
She had a lot of patterns and a lot of habits; but when she found a home in Shade’s Orphanage with Cyran and Del she gave Capitol Landing up to walk the streets of Darkveil.
Sol City is bittersweet, now; memories of lonelier days, but of an aching familiarity in its glittering, noble atmosphere. Being in Sol City during that Summer Festival was the first time Cypress stood in its streets as something more than just a little urchin. It was the first time she trotted down its glimmering pathways with a coin purse in her pocket and the freedom to… feel like something more.
It was where she met Everett, too— at a nook on the beach where she often went to cool down when she felt off-kilter.
And today, she makes another small milestone in the pathway of her memories: a trip to the library with her new friend. She remembers trying to come here a few times before, but the crabby librarian— who she’ s pretty sure is the same librarian— would turn her away because “she might get her grubby little fingerprints all over the books”.
Astrid might have noticed some hesitation when they first arrived, with the Satyr hovering awkwardly behind her until the librarian finally relented to let the two children inside unattended by an adult. She breathed a sigh of relief after that, scuttling after her new friend with a nervous click in her step, and doing her best to run through calming mantras in her head— lest she give the librarian an actual reason to yell at them when plants start growing out of the books, instead.
Speaking of which, it’s… been an eventful past few days; because before being whisked away to a Sol City library, she was swept away to Dragon’s Cradle; where Astrid tried to give her lessons on how to use her magic.
It went better than expected.
Cypress has always been ashamed and embarrassed of her inability to use her magic. She’s used to swallowing it down, ignoring it, and trying to wish it away; very few times has she tried to embrace the arcana that clings to her like a stubborn parasite. She had always thought that she’d rather have no magic than this kind of magic; and even with her efforts to control it, and Astrid’s advice, it still won’t listen the way she wishes it would.
Astrid is nice, though; and she didn’t make Cypress feel bad about it. They did find some ways to help her mitigate the emotional outbursts that come with it, but it’s certainly not fixed.
It’s still… there.
It’s always just… been there, and that’s a difficult thing to explain when asked.
There was no magical events, no divine intervention. There was no blessing, no curse that she can remember. There was no wishing upon a star, or praying for magic; there was just a little satyr girl who couldn’t understand yet the shame of having a magic she couldn’t control, and who took great joy in the way that the ‘plants began to follow her’.
She’s not sure she was born with it either, though— because it just happens, and then didn’t stop. Is it a sickness? Who knows, it’s not like she has parents to ask.
So now, after everything, Cypress sits curled up in a chair close to Astrid with a comical stack of her own books and research papers. She’s bundled herself up in the worst kind of posture, with her shins resting on the edge of the table and her hooves on the cushion of her chair. A book rests against her knees with the title reading in a worn gold leaf, ‘Anatomy of Arcana Formulae: Curses of the Mind’.
She’s halfway through a lengthy paragraph with a huge deal of big words she can barely comprehend when she hears Astrid start to snicker next to her.
“Hm?” She perks her ears and looks at her with a quizzical smile when she hears her name. She leans over when Astrid shows her the book, tail wiggling curiously; and almost immediately, her nose scrunches. Her lips purse to muffle the snort that comes from seeing a curse about cannibal pants.
Astrid’s laughter is contagious; and the pants do not help.
Cypress’ attempt to stop herself from laughing makes her uncoil from her atrocious sitting position. While she covers her mouth, she sits up and leans closer to Astrid. “What!?” She breathes through her fingers; she still keeps her voice low as she reaches over and grabs one edge of the book to look closer. “Oh my gods… who made this!? Why??”
… But also, the mental image of a witch casting a curse on a pair of pants is almost too much… she can imagine a pair of trousers with a set of big, sharp goofy teeth, and… she can’t sit here and laugh about it by herself. She has to curse Astrid with this thought.
She quickly rummages into her bag, pulling out a graphite stick, and making a rudimentary sketch of a witch casting a spell on a pair of pants with stupid googly eyes and goofy teeth along its waist line on the back of a library card (whatever, they’ll be long gone by the time that crabby librarian even looks at this book).
She tries to repress her giggles while she crafts her library-card masterpiece, but then she’s interrupted in her shenanigans.
She spooks, covering the library card with both of her hands with an embarrassed look on her face, until she realizes it’s not the librarian coming to chew her out for drawing on public property. She offers Marlow a sheepish smile, then flips the library card on its back and slides it in front of Astrid without context.
“Yeah, you can join us,” she agrees,“Um, we’re usually not too loud… the librarian lady’s a little strict, but… hope you don’t mind us talking now and then, we’re tryna— um, figure somethin’ out.”
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 15, 2023 22:26:28 GMT -5
Marlow was not usually the type to get nervous, though she was an observant young woman. And the two kids weren’t especially subtle about their distrust when she entered, as if all light and joy had been sucked away by her entry. They recovered quickly enough, she supposed, but they were as easy to read as - gods forgive the pun - an open book.
Lunala, this is why I don’t like dealing with kids…
Regardless of their distrust, though, she was surprised to receive an acceptance. And it was better than nothing… which was what she would have if these kids hadn’t been nice enough to let her sit with them. Feeling quite like someone who had been relegated to the children’s table at a family gathering, Marlow bowed her head in thanks before making her way over where the little blonde-haired one had made space for her.
“Thank you. Um, don’t worry, I won’t rat you out to the head archivist. She’s a bit of a ponce, anyways. I’m Marlow - don’t worry, I won’t bother you two. I’m here to, um, figure something out, too.”
To her surprise, open books were scattered across every visible surface. Even though they’d been laughing and joking around, they were here for something serious. Marlow thought she saw… magical theory? Curses? Primordial energies?
“Heavy topics.” She noted, setting her own pile down. Books with titles such as ‘The Complete and Accurate Hystorie of the Collapse’, ‘The Sol Stone and You! How to Come to Terms with the Fact that the World is Fucked’, ‘Scern’s Tale is Propaganda and Here’s Why You Shouldn’t Listen to it’, and ‘Who is this Scern Guy, Anyways?’
Drivel, all of it; she’d consumed all the Crown’s bullshit regarding Scern and how his tale was nothing but a pack of lies… but it was the only rational explanation for anything. It was the only piece that made this puzzle make sense. Marlow needed to know more, even if it meant reading bullshit on the off chance there might be something useful in here. She pulled out a couple of notebooks from her bag, producing a quill and ink, flipping open to the first page.
Not looking up from the book she was reading, her transcribing hand moving smoothly and efficiently while she skimmed her tome, Marlow spoke. “So, are you two from the Academy? They usually send their students here for independent study.” She tilted her head, an action decidedly so like her father in mannerisms that it might even remind them of someone familiar… even if they couldn’t quite place it.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 15, 2023 23:30:50 GMT -5
“I dunno, maybe some wizard who don’t like pants ‘cause he fancies his robes more!” Astrid snickers, trying her very best to whisper.
With their giggling subsided after discovering the actual ridiculousness that magic can manifest, Astrid looks to Marlow. “I ain’t worried about ya rattin’ us out,” she says with a lighthearted smile. “Ain’t like she’s gonna be able ta do nothin’ ‘bout us. But thanks nonetheless. I’m Astrid, an’ this is me friend, Cypress.” Settling back into her seat, she sits upright.
“Well, the library’s the best place ta find information…” Astrid trails off then continues. “...is somethin’ I wish I could say. Ain’t had a lot a’ luck, but the good stuff’s always buried in tombs or somethin’.” Curiosity gets the better of her, and she glances over Marlow’s own stack of books. “Looks like ya got yer own special topics. Real interested in the Scern stuff, huh? What’s yer take on all a’ it?” Being that Astrid has had direct contact with Scern, heard his story firsthand, dealt with Ziev firsthand, she considers that maybe she should play it safe before brazenly declaring that she’s met the guy who also recently escaped from prison. Not that anyone would believe her initially anyway.
Astrid casts a glance to Cypress then looks at Marlow, trying to decide how much Marlow actually cares about having a conversation with them. Regardless, the way she’s able to just write while reading is impressive considering Astrid needs to use her magical parchment to keep up. That must take a lot of practice. “Erm, nah, not necessarily. We’re investigatin’ personal matters, though I’m part a’ the Mage’s Guild, so I’ve been ta the Academy an’ worked with folks from there before.” Of course, she says this incredibly nonchalantly, forgetting that it’s supposed to be prestigious and still probably also holding a grudge against them for not letting Cantio in for some time.
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Post by Cypress Springleap on Dec 16, 2023 22:17:51 GMT -5
Cypress snorts in laughter over Astrid’s response and quickly covers her nose with both hands as if it will hide a sound that’s already been let into the world. Still, when all is said and done, Cypress can’t help but peek at the strange woman’s titles as she makes herself a nook of book nearby; she sure has some colorful titles about that Scern fellow… isn’t he bad? Didn’t he go to jail, and say a bunch of bad stuff about the gods? “The librarian’s just a big curmudgeon.” Cypress adds to Astrid’s comment, “It’s nice to meet you, though miss Marlow.” Cypress wiggles back into her seat while Astrid comments about Marlow’s choice in books; she sniffs, flipping the page in her own book to a section titled, “Mind Worms: A Massive Drain on the Brain”. There’s even an illustration of a mind worm; eugh, it looks… gross. She wrinkles her nose at it, but peeks over her book to eavesdrop on Marlow and Astrid nonetheless, despite technically being a part of the conversation, herself.
"Sol City almost imploded; there were a bunch of pamphlets dropped in the capitol... people weren't happy."
She’s never been particularly religious given prayer after prayer in the Temple of the Sun had gone unanswered, but she still recalls the reaction of Sol City… she remembers picking up an unsigned pamphlet in the street, with everything Scern wanted them to know… there were riots at the Temple, she saw people yelling, others turning their nose up. The guards were called to protect certain locations, and de-escalate other situations.
It was all pretty scary, honestly; the atmosphere felt darker and heavier than it ever had before.
She watches miss Marlow write while she reads, and proceeds to make a face of utter befuddlement at the sight. How is she doing that? She offers Astrid a quizzical glance, before ultimately looking back at the young lady who’s joined them. “ I’m not part of the Mage’s Guild or the Academy; I don’t really like the Academy folk, to be honest… No offense if you are, just… the people I’ve met there so far were rude and snooty. Astrid’s helping me research something, so we came here, but…” she trails off, then gives Astrid a sidelong glance. “ …You don’t think we’ll really have to find a buried tomb to actually find good information, do you?”
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 17, 2023 9:41:17 GMT -5
“Astrid. Cypress.” She repeated the names in greeting; curt, yet polite. She had clearly been raised on manners, but felt little need to flatter and go through frivolous, over-the-top greetings. Besides, the kids were in the middle of their own investigations… she’d caught sight of the book Cypress was reading, surprised to see her reading about intellect devourers and mind worms. Strange topic choice.
“Hmm. Tombs are good for unearthing ancient history.” She murmured in assent. “Evidence that explains theory, allows us a glimpse into the true past. But there’s a lot that can be gleaned in libraries, if one knows where to look. A lot to be heard in what isn’t said. There’s a reason that this building is full with more than enough fiction and vapid romance to fill reader’s minds with cotton, yet hardly anything on fundamental histories and science. The Capitol boasts their knowledge, yet they keep it locked away where no one but the crown’s most favored children can touch. If you can’t find it here, then you know you’ve stumbled upon something important.”
She paused; caught herself. She’d not meant to go on such a tangent. Grandfather would call it unbecoming of a woman to be so cynical.
“But I digress. Scern.” It felt weird to be talking with a couple of kids - hardly scholarly intellectuals by any sense of the meaning - about such a controversial topic, but they both seemed interested enough, and Cypress, having firsthand knowledge of the fallout of Scern’s revelations. That in itself was important. She cleared her throat, collecting her thoughts.
It was… admittedly the first time anyone had asked for her opinion on the matter.
“The courts in Moonglade are having a field day over his story. At first, they dismissed it, until they realized that it meant that the royal family couldn’t have been chosen by gods if the gods were never alive to do so in the first place.” Oh, what a stir that had caused. “They believe in it only because it suits their own political agendas. As for me…”
Here, she frowned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure what I believe. It’s something out of a storybook. But then I started looking at the patterns. Much of my research has been subject to odd fluctuations in the Formulae, and I know my numbers are sound. Something must have happened to change the inherent magic in the material plane. If I want to find out what, I have to give credence to Scern’s recounting events. Knowing what happens means I’ll be a step closer to fixing it. If only I knew what the Sol Stone had been composed of… or even had a piece of it myself…”
It was clear she cared less about the man and the politics behind his crimes and more the science behind what he’d created and subsequently destroyed.
She turned to Cypress, transcription paused.
“There were pamphlets? Do you have one?”
It was also clear that she lacked the tact and sensitivity to know when she was walking across a landmine of sensitivity if it meant getting the answers she was looking for. The young little satyr seemed unnerved by the change of topic; Marlow guessed she was a native, one with poor opinions of the city. It didn’t bother her much.
“Oh, no, I’m not a member. I’ve no talent for magic - I’m an alchemist. Of course, the two go hand and hand, but the academy is less about the thought behind it and more about the practical applications. And they’re all stuck up… what was the word you used for it earlier? Curmudgeons?” She hid a small laugh behind her hand, only to stop when Astrid spoke.
“What.”
Astrid was joking… wasn’t she? She had to be pulling Marlow’s leg here. There were elves who spent the entire breadth of their centuries attempting to gain membership to the ‘prestigious organization’, and yet, here was this child, claiming to be a member. Was she taking the piss?
Marlow set her pen down, looking at Astrid. If she wanted to spark conversation via inane and impossible jokes, Marlow would oblige. “Oh, if you’re a member, perhaps you’ve some insider info on Scern’s statement and the Sol Stone? Maybe even the rise and fall of Vulcadreus?” Her tone was only lightly sarcastic, mostly because she had trouble expressing such emotions in the first place. Mostly, if Astrid or Cypress had something to say, she wanted to know what it was.
This, too, was information gathering.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 17, 2023 19:50:49 GMT -5
Marlow is clearly a lot more well spoken than Astrid really ever hopes to be. The way she describes and compares unearthing tombs to books in libraries is both interesting and… admittedly hard to follow for the half-dwarf who’s spent the whole day with her nose in books rather than doing what she prefers of the two options, unearthing tombs. But Astrid can’t help but be amused by Marlow’s more cynical take on the library’s contents. In some ways, she really has to agree. Sol City’s library is one of the biggest in the world and a great place to start, but the more private collections of people hidden away tend to have the good stuff – if you know how to get to it anyway.
Astrid is glad she asked Marlow’s take on the Scern situation. The last thing she wants to do is reveal anything to someone who will argue with her. In her experience so far, the people who don’t believe the capitol are the ones that are a bit easier to have a conversation with. As someone whose world got particularly rocked by the revelation that the gods were dead given that Astrid fully believed Avasha granted her magic to begin with, she’s faced her own struggles with coming to terms with the truth. Things in Charon have been changing, and they will keep changing.
A piece of the Sol Stone… Astrid’s face pauses in open-eyed consideration, a blank stare at nothing in particular. She herself has a piece of the artifact stored safely in a box at home. There are plenty of things she could do with it, and she wants to try its magic in a crafting project, but what project is another matter entirely. Marlow wants to see it. She has a piece. She could just…show her.
Then she comes back to reality when Cypress asks her a question. “Ah, well, no, we don’t necessarily hafta find a tomb ta find answers,” she says. “Don’t hurt though. Plus it’s more fun than readin’ a bunch a’ books that ain’t always got the facts right.” Given that Astrid has yet to find information on specific claims of a vengeful Ur-Beast, yeah, she’s a bit sour with libraries in general.
It’s obvious that Marlow doesn’t believe that she’s a member of the guild, which isn’t uncommon for Astrid. She likes proving people wrong, and a smirk crosses her face. “Actually, I met Scern face ta face, an’ it weren’t ‘cause I’m a member a’ the guild. That was before I joined the Mage’s Guild. I’ve been in all Charon’s guilds, actually.” She refrains from mentioning that she left the Fighter’s Guild after being involved in the destruction of the temple in Sol City. Maybe it’s better that people think that was a random act of angry violence from people mad at the crown.
“I was in Darkveil when Vulcadreaus showed his ugly mug. I helped cut his head off.” The claim is ridiculous. She is a child, and it’s not uncommon for kids to make up stories about themselves, and the things they’ve done just to impress someone. But Astrid can prove it if she needs to, so she looks confident as ever when boasting her claims.
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Post by Cypress Springleap on Dec 23, 2023 20:39:36 GMT -5
Cypress wiggles her ears while she listens to Marlow’s murmuring about the library; how the Crown redirects the attention of those seeking real knowledge with fluff and the barest of bones; and it’s… a curious thought. She is by no means a child whose world has been sugar coated; she knows that the Crown has done little to help its most disadvantaged citizens; but the idea that they might hide away important information feels disingenuous. She looks into the illustrations of the book in her lap, brows furrowing slightly. ‘If you can’t find it here, then you know you’ve stumbled upon something important.’
She sniffs softly while she considers it, but those words she takes to heart; and the satyr closes the book she’s reading. She sets it quietly on the table while Marlow continues, listening passively to the young woman’s tale of the Moonglade, while she reads the titles of each book she and Astrid had picked up along the way. It isn’t until Marlow addresses her about the pamphlet that Cypress fully tunes back into the conversation; the Satyr tilts her ears back and blinks in surprise. She seems a little nervous by Marlow’s full attention. “ Oh, um…. No, not anymore. Sorry.” She apologizes, ears twitching back. “ Parchment and ink gets real ruined in the rain, so… it didn’t really survive for long. I tried to keep it away, but it ruined some of my Golden Consortium pamphlets too when the alley flooded…” She glances away, but smiles sheepishly when Astrid mentions that it doesn’t hurt to raid a few tombs. “ I bet it’s more exciting than reading in the library.” Cypress agrees, tail wiggling gleefully. She’s about halfway through reading her pile of titles about mind-worms, intellect devourers, and other memory maladies that she’d pulled out on a whim; but she’s finding a significant lack of curses and spells that affect the memory in particular. She’s very quickly distracted by Marlow’s claim to being an alchemist, to which the satyr gives a soft gasp. “ You’re an alchemist?” She chirps, a sparkle behind her eyes while she listens to Marlow’s gripes about the academy— claims which Cypress happily nods to— although, Astrid’s claim of meeting Scern very suddenly and abruptly catches her off guard before she can pry Marlow for information on alchemy. “ Whaaaa?” She peeps, eyes widening slightly. “ Astrid, you didn’t tell me that you met Scern! When did that happen?” She whispers, keeping her voice low; but she has told her about Vulcadreus, so she sits back in her seat. “ Well, you did tell me about that one… can you believe that?” Cypress looks at Marlow, clearly convinced by what could be presumed as a tall tale. “ You should’ve seen her when we met, too! Astrid’s real strong, she knocked the teeth outta a guy who was trying to scam me! It was so cool.” The Satyr swings her legs cheerfully; although, her piping in might make it seem even more like a tall tale, given she’s backing up Astrid’s already wild claims to a complete stranger.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 27, 2023 10:03:27 GMT -5
“Well, be careful about any tombs you decide to poke around in.” Marlow warned, not sounding particularly serious about it. “I heard rumor that the Sultan was asking adventurers to unearth secrets from some of his family’s historical sites, and one of them collapsed on a couple of excavators!”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, don’t worry about the pamphlets, then. I’m sure someone will have a recording… golden consortium?” Was Cypress an alchemist? Was Cypress excited she was also an alchemist? Marlow brightened considerably at the familiar topic.
“I am. Chemistry is so fascinating, don’t you think? Everything has its place in the natural world and it all makes sense. Are you trying to join the Consortium, then?” She confirmed, excited to be on common ground with them… and Astrid, to some degree, if she truly claimed to be part of every single guild in Charon. A lofty claim; not one Marlow necessarily believed, but she figured it was probably more tactful to prevent from upsetting them by casting doubt on her words. Human relationships were complicated and tricky, and children were the worst of all - mini humans. But she remembered what she was like at that age, at the very least. Precocious and excitable, wanting to be treated like an adult at the big table. Alchemy was a lot easier to understand. Set formulas and materials you did not have to speak to or worry about them being finicky. It worked the way it was meant to.
“Er, well.” She cleared her throat, cheeks coloring pink at the realization that she’d gotten ahead of herself. She smoothed over her skirts in her lap. “I am a businesswoman, first and foremost. Alchemy is a hobby.” One her grandfather had heavily disapproved of, calling science a dark art and nonsensical. In her childhood, he’d actually forbidden her from pursuing the art, claiming she had no need for such things.
One year, she’d gotten so upset about Grandfather’s strictness that she’d asked for nothing that Winter’s Crown in defiance. Grandfather called her childish. But Papa…
She remembered Papa leaving her with her nanny, disappearing for nearly the entire day. He must have snuck out of the manor in secret. When he returned, he pulled her aside and handed her a gift wrapped in nondescript parchment paper - a set of tiny little vials, alchemical herbs, mortar and pestle, and a book on potions for beginners.
“It’ll be our secret.” He’d whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Merry Winter’s Crown, Songbird.”
It was one of her fondest memories of him, before he… he left. For whatever reason, Marlow didn’t have many. She couldn’t recall his face, or his smile, but she could recall the way he cradled her when she was scared. Or the way he risked grandfather’s anger to make sure she knew she was cared for.
Papa was a forbidden subject in the house now.
Marlow sighed and tapped her fingers against her book, tuning back into the conversation. Astrid wore a smug grin on her face that Marlow didn’t like the look of wait what.
Her quill slipped between her fingers and clattered to the table as she gaped at the dwarven child.
Okay, that was a rather substantial, and… downright impossible claim.
She picked up her quill and pushed her spectacles further up her nose, recomposing herself. Was Astrid just joking to make fun of her? Was she trying to make herself look cool? Did she expect Marlow to believe she’d met both Scern AND Vulcadreus? Marlow supposed she could play along. Tapping her quill to paper, as if ready to record, Marlow spoke.
“You’ve met Scern? What was he like? What did he say? Did he give any information about the Sol Stone?” She paused, sparing a glance for Cypress, who was so excited by her friend’s claims that Marlow didn’t have the heart to tell her it probably wasn’t true. “Mm, that sounds incredible. Almost too good to be true. Perhaps you could tell me a bit about that battle, as well?” The Vulcadreus fight, being more recent and more explosively public, had been a little easier for Marlow to find information on. Cultists had been kidnapping and sacrificing people all across the realm, all culminating in a battle with a summoned primordial being who sought to destroy their world and make it anew. Adventurers at the scene rose up to stop it. Some even had descriptions. The Witch of Moonglade, for one… she didn’t remember seeing anything about a dwarven child though. She was curious to see what Astrid might say when pressed further.
“Sounds like a harrowing meeting.” It wasn’t entirely clear whether she believed this or not, too. “You must be quite strong then, Miss Astrid.”
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 27, 2023 20:37:41 GMT -5
For a moment, Astrid considers if that same tomb is the one where Cirice and Gerhart met, but then shrugs because it doesn’t really matter right now. They didn’t give her many details about that adventure, and she’s much more interested in chatting about tombs as a whole. “Well, yeah, if yer not careful anywhere ya go stickin’ yer nose, ya could get trapped. Might be a mine or a tomb or an old dwarf home… Lots a’ underground places ta get stuck. S’why I made a drill.” She, of course, provides no context behind what a drill does or how the one she made is special because at this point, it feels like another thing to prove to Marlow.
She’s also heavily distracted by a strange jealousy hearing Marlow and Cypress talk about the Golden Consortium. Sure, Astrid and Cypress spent most of their time at her house focusing on controlling magic, but the whole reason the two of them met was because of a bogus potion seller. Didn’t Astrid tell Cypress she’s a part of the Consortium then? And offer to help teach her? Astrid tries not to make a face or cross her arms. She doesn’t need to prove anything, she knows exactly how capable she is.
“I like the science a’ alchemy,” she says simply instead. “It’s like weird chemical math. But me studies with that are helpful fer craftin’. Turns out magic an’ metal interact in weird ways same as chemicals an’ metal. Makes fer some interestin’ stuff.” As Astrid picks up a pen to feign taking notes, she uses Marlow’s words and tosses them right back at her. “But that’s just a hobby on the side.”
When she hears the quill clatter to the table, Astrid looks at Marlow wondering if now she wants to believe her. At first, the smile on her face is smug, but it quickly becomes one that’s genuinely excited. “Aye, yeah, I did, I met him!” She looks at Cypress. “What? It ain’t like it’s somethin’ that comes up in everyday conversation. S’pose it was about a year ago..?” Gods, was the fight with Ziev a year ago??
Another thought crosses her mind which is… If that was a year ago, then how long has it been since she met Cantio and Zarius and Veliky? Oh gods, how old is she now??
Back to the conversation at hand. Astrid has to think about her opinion on Scern. Honestly, she hasn’t given it much thought because he said what he said, and what he said was certainly hard to believe. Given all the things that have changed since then though… “Ah, anyway, he was… Well, ta be real honest, he didn’t seem all that crazy. Sure, the stuff he said was really wild an’ I didn’t really believe him that much at first, but I figured even if he was lyin', we did have ta fight Ziev, which was tough. He kept us locked in a time loop ta wear us down. After the battle ended, we listened ta Scern's story. Figured the worst he did was make us fight some cultists an' demons. I voted ta jail him, but some folks wanted ta kill him. Me gran believed him though. I think she used some magic ta see into his mind. Sooo yeah, the way stuff’s been goin’, how stuff's changed since the Sol Stone broke, I've come around ta believin' it. Apparently, it kept outside stuff from gettin’ into the world an' let Ziev absorb all the other gods' power or somethin'.”
Astrid’s eyes drift down as she remembers feeling somewhat lost learning that Avasha was dead and being struck by lightning was all just happenstance. “Hit me kinda hard personally, but the best we can do is just move on an’ figure out what ta do next.” She shrugs and looks back at her study partners, then a sly smile spreads across her face.
“I’ve got a piece a’ the Sol Stone. Wanna see?” she asks. Though before she gets an answer, she twists a swirl of purple magic in her hand and summons her piece of the Sol Stone from the lockbox at home.[1] There, sitting in her hand, is a fragment of metal and magic. And Astrid is grinning over it like an idiot.
“I’ve got a piece a’ stone from Mount Drakolt that stays hot too! It’ll imbue fire magic on a weapon fer a little bit if ya use it like a whetstone on somethin’.”[2] This thing she procures from her bag, which Cypress recognizes as the same piece of rock that Astrid claimed rocketed down from the sky and struck that shady potion seller.
“What d’ya wanna know about the fight with Vulcadreaus?”
Maybe she doesn't have to prove things to Marlow, but this stuff is really cool, too cool not to share.
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Post by Cypress Springleap on Feb 4, 2024 1:07:03 GMT -5
Cypress blinks, ears perking when Marlow’s focus switches from the pamphlets to the Golden Consortium; a glitter in her eyes sparks at the undertone of curiosity from the older girl. “ Mm!” She agrees, sitting up a little straighter in her seat with a generous amount of enthusiasm that makes her flinch. She covers her mouth with her fingers, peeping over her shoulder to ensure she hasn’t triggered a leer from the librarian, before sheepishly joining back into the conversation. “ Yes! Well, kind of… I don’t know if I could ever possibly, but… I would love to join the Consortium one day.” Her fingers tighten around the pages of the book she’s holding, and with a tiny squeak of awe, she adds, “ It’s amazing the things we’re capable of creating with the world around us, right?” In truth, she’s not sure she could ever really get out her admiration for the Golden Consortium into proper words; she’s kept every pamphlet she could get her hands on, even the ones damaged by rain or trampled underfoot in the market. There’s something beautiful about taking something normal and unremarkable and turning it into something unique and wonderful; or taking something dangerous and poisonous and turning it into something life-saving and miraculous. It’s not all just formula, even though it is all exacts and measurements and precise methods to harness elements and arcana; but there’s a magic to it, too. Maybe it’s not considered real magic, like the kind the Mage’s Guild would sport, but it’s a magic in it’s own right. The thought that someway, somehow, everything has its place in the world— even if it hasn’t been discovered yet— is so exciting; and in a strange way, that gives her hope. Cypress blinks, realizing she’s tuned out of the conversation with daydreams instead of sentences, and sinks back into her seat. She glances at Marlow from over the rim of her book, then glances at Astrid, and back again. She hopes she didn’t miss anything. When the conversation picks back up, though, she still can’t believe all of the things Astrid has managed to do in her few years (year?) of adventuring. “ Well! I mean, yeah, okay—” Cypress admits, slouching her shoulders in defeat. To be fair, she’s not known Astrid for long; so it’s not all that surprising they haven’t talked about this. A grand part of their time together was spent testing her magic. “ —but meeting him is almost as big as seeing the mountain come alive!” Not big as in literally, of course; just metaphorically, but still; Cypress listens with rapt attention while Astrid describes Scern— and then, mentions Ziev. “ Like… Ziev, Ziev?” She emphasizes in a whisper, eyes widening when the name of one of the gods comes up. At some point during Astrid’s recollection, Cypress has set down her book on the table, and leans an elbow on the table to rest her cheek in the palm of her hand to make herself more comfortable while she listens. It’s still… hard, to wrap her head around the grand tragedies of these scenarios— she cannot imagine standing before an entity once known as a deity, let alone fight them… and hasn’t Astrid done this twice, then? What about Vulcadreus? She moves to sit up, plopping her back into the frame of her chair and offering Astrid an empathetic glance when she mentions that, ultimately, the experience hit her rather hard.
Cypress was never really sure about the gods, herself— so she can’t imagine how daunting it must have felt to have her beliefs ripped out from under her hooves. The satyr’s ears perk when Astrid speaks again; and a prompt look of shock flickers across her face when Astrid produces a stone. “Wh- whoaaaaaa!?” She does her damndest to restrain her voice. It’s just a shard, but, it’s also not just any shard; it's the shard. "That's so cool!"
Cypress tilts her head in awe, grinning wide as she leans back in her chair and glances excitedly in Marlow’s direction, eager for her opinion on everything Astrid’s said and showed so far.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Feb 9, 2024 17:28:54 GMT -5
“A drill?” Marlow’s eyes sparkled, oblivious to the obvious petulance in the child’s tone. It did not occur to her that Astrid might feel threatened by her intrusion upon their private time, as irrational as it was; and yet, that was just what feelings were. Hopelessly irrational. “What is a drill? Some sort of mechanism to create an opening underground without compromising the structural integrity of the tomb? I’d love to see what it looks like!”
Ah, so Astrid was a crafter; not necessarily a chemist. Marlow once dabbled herself, but machinery made less sense to her than chemistry did. Most of her work was relegated to improving chemical instruments that were involved in purification and even potion delivery. Before the world had… put everything on pause, she’d been working on the development of a device for potion injection directly to the veins and heart. To make their effects more potent, of course.
“Crafting is fascinating. Do you have a smith, or a laboratory? I’d love to see the setup you have. Both of you.” She turned to Cypress. “It’s not about whether you can or can’t. It’s about what you want, and what you love. If you’re passionate, and driven, and work hard, then you will get there. And I look forward to seeing the both of you there when we both accomplish our goals. The world needs more young minds who give a damn about making it better.”
Her normally demure demeanor had all but melted talking to two people who shared the same interests as her. Even Astrid’s absurd assertion that she’d met Scern hadn’t dimmed her mood. It was all part of getting to the truth, right? She sat still and listened attentively to Astrid’s story, copying it down in her books. Interestingly enough, there were certain elements to the story that corroborated with witness testimony. Official crown reports stated that the group of heroes involved in the battle had been the ones to lead Scern to his arrest… that he wasn’t as out of his mind as the stories might lead one to believe was a new one. As was the function of the Sol Stone. And a time loop?
“That would make sense.” She tapped her quill along the paper. “After its wreckage, many people started… remembering things. Knowledge that ought to have been common, yet, it wasn’t. Ziev was - is - the god of space, of the collection of knowledge. Making an item that could collect and seal away such things would be terribly easy. But how did it steal the power of the gods-?”
Her neck snapped up hard enough to crack it at a mention of a piece of the Sol stone.
“You have what?”
She was on her feet as an instant, watching as Astrid summoned something from thin air - a piece of oddly colored… what looked like metal, jagged at the edges, able to fit in the palm of her gloved hand. It would be easy to pass off any old hunk of junk as a replica, and yet, as Marlow stared at it, she could feel it; the whisper of pressure in the room, noise in the back of her mind, a presence she almost felt drawn to.
Her jaw dropped to the floor.
“Oh my gods it’s real, you’re telling the truth, you really have a piece.” She stepped forward, her legs weak - the sheer power of it almost knocked her off her feet. “Can I… can I hold it?”
She managed a step forward, knees hitting the table she’d forgotten was there, staring at the stone and the volcanic rock in disbelief. They were real… and that meant that Astrid’s story was, too. A child had been there as the world fell apart at the seams. Perhaps some distant part of her worried for Astrid’s safety, but she was clearly well and fine in front of her; and more importantly, she was a valuable source of information. So many heroes from the events had been shrouded in mystery and anonymity - rarely did any sources mention faces or names. Of course the crown wouldn’t want anyone to know who was involved in shaking the foundations of their hierarchy.
And yet, here one of those very heroes was. Right in front of her.
Marlow shared an awestruck look with Cypress, both of them clearly taken aback by the piece of legend brought to life in front of them.
When she turned back to Astrid, there was a solemn look in her eyes.
“Everything. I want to know everything you remember.”
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Feb 9, 2024 22:54:40 GMT -5
For a moment, Astrid contemplates Marlow’s question about structural integrity and decides that she did not test that and does not know. “I dunno about structural integrity,” she begins, a thoughtful note in her words, “but it’ll certainly do some diggin’. I seen some word workers with similar stuff fer borin’ holes in beams, so this does that, but it’s bigger an’ fer rocks an’ other hard stuff.” Unfurling a magical piece of parchment,[1] ink appears on the page as a perfect blueprint-style drawing of her drill, which seems to be like an oddly shaped spear with a spiral head and a crank. “I’d pull it out here but it’s kinda loud. Does a good job diggin’ an’ killin’ giant bugs.”
She sets the parchment down, unbothered if either of the others want to pick it up and look at it as the conversation continues. “Aye, I got a workshop in me basement,” she says. “Two kinds a’ forges, lots a’ table space, an’ plenty a’ yard fer testin’ stuff.” The half-dwarf shoots a playful smile to Cypress knowing fully well that it hasn’t been that long since the two of them spent a few afternoons causing absolute chaos with testing the satyr’s magic.
“Don’t worry about gettin’ into the Consortium,” Astrid says. “I learned a lot from a couple a’ good folks, an’ I’ll introduce ya, I promise. Plus I’ll do whatever I can ta help. Yer real smart, so I know ya can do it. I mean, if I can then you can fer sure.”
As Astrid regales the two of them with her story of fighting Ziev and meeting Scern, she smiles a wicked smile. “Aye, Ziev, Ziev. An’ he certainly ain’t “is” no more. We killed him. Or at least, I think we did. He disappeared, that's what matters. Used the Sol Stone ta do it, I think. Part a’ why it broke. I think Ziev was some mortal wizard guy or somethin’ way back when an’ like… took the other gods’ power? I… It was a wild story. Though take all those details with a grain a’ salt ‘cause I was beat ta the Hells an’ slept fer like a week after that.”
And with that, Astrid manifests the piece of the Sol Stone in her hand with a proud smile. “Sure, ya can hold it,” she says, nonchalantly dropping the piece of this Very Famous Artifact in Marlow’s hands, something that Astrid has been pouring over a way to use it in a special craft but just hasn't managed to figure that part out yet. “Ain’t like you can steal it from me. I’ll just teleport it back ta me hand if ya do.” The threat is a light one, playful even, which somewhat downplays the seriousness of all the things Astrid has been saying, but that’s pretty like her.
Then her expression drops into one of disbelief. ”Everythin’?” she asks. Astrid looks around at the books and notebooks piled up with wide, almost exhausted eyes, then she shrugs. “I’ll do me best then.” And she sits down to talk about the journey of looking for the Sol Stone, finding cultists in the Arid Mesa, walking through a magical barrier into a space dimension, and as much of the battle with Ziev that she can possibly remember. Maybe she should have written it all down after it happened, but despite it being a year since then, her malleable brain managed to hold on to a lot of it.
“An’... yeah. Then stuff started gettin’ funky, an’ the earthquakes started happenin’, an’ Vulcadreaus woke up, an’ the rest is… recent history?”
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Post by Cypress Springleap on Feb 13, 2024 20:40:55 GMT -5
She listens quietly to the two girls prattle back and forth without interrupting; but Cypress blinks, ears twisting back when Marlow addresses her. She smiles lopsidedly and nods while she swings her hooves lazily beneath the table. The advice settles strangely in her heart, though… She’s wanted a lot in the past, but a great deal of those wants were never achievable. She was quick to learn that some people can and some people cannot, and that she is the latter of the two.
Wanting had a tendency to lead to crippling disappointment, so Cypress tried to stop wanting for her own sake. It made the let-downs less painful; and now, in a better position than she once was, it’s hard to see past those unhealthy safeguarding habits which had once kept her safe. She’s started to work on overcoming them, and has felt more confident about the slow process after meeting Astrid and seeing first hand just how far she’s come.
It makes her feel like maybe she can want and have dreams again.
Cypress drifts back into the conversation when Astrid speaks to her. “Huh… Really?” She perks her ears, glancing Astrid’s way with some surprise that gives way to a subtle warmth behind her eyes. She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, ears wiggling while she processes Astrid’s promise. “Thank you… That means a lot.” She smiles at Astrid before settling back to listen while the girl recounts the story of fighting Ziev.
She can hardly believe it, but she does believe it; she’s seen Astrid’s strength, and she completely believes every word. She listens, a glitter of curiosity and interest behind her eyes while the story jumps rom Ziev, to the Sol Stone that she’s summoned forth. With a look of pride alongside awe, she shares a glance with Marlow before looking back at Astrid with a wide grin.
While Marlow takes the Sol Stone, if she does, Cypress leans forwards and rests her elbows on the table; she propers her face up with her palms, and listens; and by golly, it’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot for her to go through in such a short amount of time! Cultists, a magical barrier, an empty void full of stars and galaxies— a battle of insane proportions against a god!
Wow…
Cypress’ tail wiggles while Astrid finishes her story, and she blinks slowly once the story has finished. “I can’t believe you ran into like… two ancient gods. I mean, kinda. Vulcadreus was a mountain, but still. I can’t even imagine what that would be like… scary, probably….”
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