It was unlike Azazel to leave the comforts of Zeinav City, where he held strong and growing support amongst the people who catered to his every whim by virtue of the obsession with him that he had inculcated. Even so, the demon in mortal flesh had expansive plans for Charon: plans that would never be achieved if he contented himself with even a whole city under his sway. He was still loath to engage in combat, given the wording of his binding contract with Arteron, the other demon vying for control of his mortal flesh, so the opportunity to gain acclaim simply by searching for buried history of the gods was a laughably easy bargain.



The harsh desert sun beat down upon the demon's mortal flesh. When he was a spirit, things such as environmental hazards were not considerations to make. Now, however, as sweat trickled down most unbecomingly down his brow, Azazel commanded his clothing to become full-covering but free-flowing, complete with a head wrapping to hide him from the day's oppressive gaze ^{[Morph Suit]}. The heat was the least of the trials the demon of manipulation had to deal with, however.

What in the hells are we doing out here, Azazel? I've told you before, Arteron, if we are to enact our plans throughout the world, we require fame that spreads far and wide. Your plans, not mine. All I want is to fight, and you've been weaselly about it ever since our bargain. You even let that frost knight nearly kill our puppet just to deny me control! Now, now, Arteron, I do these things for our mutual interest. Whatever else you think of Videl, he is a resource. If nothing else, he is a conduit to this vampire justicar. If it comes to it, you can fight the girl, but until then, I need to steer our course rightly. Someone needs to chain your most... unproductive impulses.

The wrath demon grumbled in reply, but, as was often the case when it came to verbal sparring, he was hopelessly outmatched by the manipulation demon. Satisfied with the silence that followed, Azazel referenced the map he carried and compared it against the landscape. The entrance should be just here, in the shadow of the western cliffs. 

Right where he expected it, there was a stone door hiding the promised library. It was hidden by an illusory stone face, of course, but no magic was concealed from the demon's piercing gaze ^{[Astral Soul, Expanded Mind]}. Azazel chuckled to himself. No one in the city had found this crypt yet, despite its relative proximity, for the simple fact of mortal suspicion. Three scholars in the academy housed pieces of an ancient riddle that told of the Crypt of the Four Kings, each jealous over its discovery. Because of their envy and desire for sole recognition of discovery, none had shared their research with the others, and so the riddle remained incomplete.

All it had taken was a single afternoon for the demon. He plundered each of their minds ^{[Reveal Truth]}, crafted the riddle whole, and solved it in a span no mortal could dream of. Leave it to those pathetic weaklings to stand in their own way. If they were a bit more open-minded, like me, they could have had all the secrets within. Yes, because stealing ideas and taking credit is so praiseworthy.

Azazel shrugged off the relatively lacking insult as he stepped forward to the set of double stone doors. true to form, as the riddle implied, the door was only intended to be opened by four individuals working in concert... unless, of course, one could manipulate all the mechanisms themselves. While the handholds were all spaced apart to far for a person to touch other than the middle two, Azazel simply exerted his will and pressure on the outer plates ^{[Telekinesis]}, and, in concert with the two he pressed physically, the crypt opened up, eerily soundlessly.

Azazel stepped in, his fiendish eyes seeing perfectly in the pitch blackness of the place ^{[Night Vision]}. There were row upon row of stacked shelves filled with scrolls, texts, and other ancient manuscripts. A wide grin spread across Azazel's face at his found treasure, even as Arteron groaned at the sight.

SPOILER: Click to show

 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.)

Nieven had enough of reading boring texts at the Zeinavian library, he had already been through three history books and a fashion magazine as a treat. He had found nothing that met his curiosity’s end and he had enough of it. He dug through every text, ripping books off the shelves and skimming them as fast as he could. He had found nothing at all and he was exhausted and upset after he had finished putting all of his mess away. He pouted in the corner, upset that for once his hard work had not paid off. He was about to leave the library when suddenly a figure in a dark robe quickly ran in front of him and outside dropping an assorted amount of fancy keys and a small notebook.



He quickly grabbed them and tried to jog after the figure but to his dismay, he had lost them quickly. He frowned about heading over to the constables when he decided to give it a small peak. And with a single peak, his attention had been caught and a new goal was given to him. It appears that the gods had gifted him once more thanks to his beauty. Where he had previously hit a dead end it was a new end that landed right in front of him. He quickly with a rush headed towards the marked catacombs, wonder and curiosity on his mind as he journeyed through the desert and made it towards the hidden crypt. He entered through the back door that was marked down on the magical-appearing notebook and fearfully emerged into the unknown.

As Azazel poured over the texts, to Arteron's burgeoning irritation, the demon found himself likewise becoming bored. No doubt the old codgers at the academy would find old knowledge such as this fascinating from an anthropological standpoint; most of the information the demon poured over was outdated and unhelpful. Medical theories that had since been disproven, social studies of a dominated people, practices for strange idolatry... none of it was particularly helpful for the objective that he had come for.

This is a waste of time, Azazel. Surely even you see that. A whole afternoon's effort surely necessitates a bit more patience, Arteron. Despite his stoic words, Azazel felt an increasing desire to simply leave the dusty tomb behind. Perhaps he would sell the location to one of those professors and add the profits to his growing war chest. The demon smiled, too wide, at the thought.

His musings were cut short when he heard movement come from another section of the tomb. Getting into a low stance, Azazel crept forward, wary of the possibility of undead that walked the halls of this place. Finally, some action! Hush, let us see first. Bit by bit, like a thief in the night, Azazel got closer to his target, who was still making small noises, sounding loud in the otherwise silent tomb. What he saw was quite unexpected.

A sylvan elf was groping around in the darkness, obviously having a hard time seeing in the dominating gloom of the place. Even so, his resolve was undeterred as he pressed forward into the pitch blackness. The elf was dressed finely in a foreign style, seeming all the more out of place in an old crypt such as this. Azazel smiled, even as Arteron internally groaned. Something interesting indeed.

The demon sat himself exactly as he desired on a nearby stool, his legs crossed nonchalantly as he smirked up at the noble, willing a discarded torch on the floor up to the wall the noble's hand trailed upon ^{[Telekinesis]}, so he would think he'd found an old sconce. The demon waited for the man to light the torch and kept his eyes affixed and his smile wide.

Nieven closed the door behind him as he walked inside the crypt with a wide grin, completely content with being almost handed the potential answer to his challenge. He was so content and confident in fact that he began humming to himself as he continued to walk forward among the darkness. Nieven wasn’t too much of a fan of old decrepit tombs however considering the gods just handed him the key to knowledge. He would be remiss if he simply ignored the call to action, even if it smelled like musty old paper and his eyes were watering from all of the dust. Still, he tried his best to keep a positive outlook even humming a little song to himself as he tried his best to make out anything among the complete darkness around him. The Sylvan elf wished that the gods, as charitable as they had been, provided him with some sort of torch or light. It would make his search for knowledge about them a lot more productive instead of bumping into everything around him.



Suddenly he heard movement appear from the floor and to the wall next to him, he quickly turned around and saw just the thing he was looking for a torch!



The vain former noble couldn’t help but exclaim, “Huzzah why yes of course the gods are truly smiling at me. Who wouldn’t after all, they have even provided me with a light source in this rubbish place”.



He then grabbed the unlit torch and held it in his hand thinking for a second trying to come up with a way to light such a tool. After a moment he comes up with nothing except for rubbing his hands together on it quickly to start a small fire. He thought it was a good idea considering he saw one of his brothers do it once during an adventure on an uncharted island.

In the consuming darkness, the demon quirked an eyebrow and grimaced in irritation. This foolish mortal's antics were ruining his dramatic reveal. Moreover, the noble had the gall to thank the gods for the torch that he had graciously provided. Aw, did the little mortal hurt your feelings, Azazel? Do you... I could kill him for you... 

Azazel noted with amusement the change in tone of thought as the wrath demon's taunts fell away into a haze at the possibility of combat. As was their nature, all demons were slaves to their ideals, and even as Azazel could never resist wrapping mortals around his finger, Arteron hungered for combat as an addict might his fix. Though Azazel felt no sympathy for the subservient demon in his plight, there was a curiosity in his mind. What must it be like, to be denied of your desires? BLOOD. KILL. MURDER. Ah, eloquent as always. Perhaps it was better that Arteron was so lost in his bloodlust to not be aware of Azazel's question. Azazel supposed he ought to allow the wrath demon to exercise his purpose sooner rather than later to avoid the annoying consuming thoughts sent across their link.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Azazel willed a small bit of flint he had found in the crypt's main brazier to float over the the noble ^{[Telekinesis]}, striking it against the wall to create a shower of sparks that lit the torch, revealing the demon sitting and smiling widely right at the noble.

Nieven kept trying to make a spark by quickly running his hands over the torch to no avail. He was about to give up after only about half a minute of trying before suddenly a spark appeared next to the wall to his right. That spark lit up the torch completely and he smiled feeling incredibly accomplished.



He simply grinned ear to ear with self–satisfaction beautiful singing, “Yes why of course the torch has been lit, all to a man such as I everything must submit, for even the gods above me are on their hands on knees ready to assist”.



As he sang he completely ignored whatever was around him too enthralled in his world to notice anyone. After finishing his song and dance number he finally sat down on one of the crypt’s benches and glanced in front of him the torch illuminating his vision. Suddenly he let out a deafening shriek of pure terror as he saw a stranger in front of him sitting, waiting, and looking at him. Usually, this would be a warm welcome but considering he thought he was completely alone in this decrypt crypt this was terrifying. He continued screaming as he stared right into the man's eyes waiting for him to speak to stop.

Azazel merely blinked at the spectacle, stunned by the mortal's abounding arrogance and subsequent terror. After but a moment to regain his composure, the demon's vessel adopted a mischievous grin as he regarded the elf.

"Quite an entrance you've made there. Though I would caution against such volume in a crypt. You never know what sort of creatures might hear you and make your screams justified..." Azazel perfectly trailed his words insidiously, hoping to shock the mortal to silence.

"Which brings about my next question: why have you come to a forgotten tomb in the desert?" And how did you get in? Some security the fabled tomb has if this dolt was permitted entrance. "Hoping for plunder? If so, I imagine you'll be sorely disappointed." The demon gestured with a careless hand back to the rows of books behind him, with nary a Solar or other valuable in sight.

Azazel rose smoothly from his seat, in a motion that was altogether too fluid, and stalked forward towards the elf. "Won't you tell me your name, adventurer? I shall record it for you in the event of your demise. Wicked things walk this world, and you seem far too pure of heart to weather them."

The terrified Sylvan Elf continued screaming for another moment, truly letting it all out before responding to the creepy fellow in the dark crypt across from him. He then silenced and cleared his throat, patting his chest to try to regain any confidence that he previously had, considering he felt both a little embarrassed and still slightly scared. The man said that he was alone this whole time in silence and to think that some random weird stranger was there watching him unnerved him.

After a second the same ever so familiar grin of confidence appears on Nieven’s face as he begins to speak, “Why hello there creepy stranger who likes to watch people dance and sing in the dark. Yes, I would say I did, and you’re welcome by the way. After all, you truly are blessed to see what you just did. I have fans who simply spend one hundred solars to see a performance as magnificently brilliant as that. I appreciate your concern however I mean this tomb has been blessed by my presence so it’s now considered a great site because of it”.



He takes a moment to relax some more in his bench now much more comfortable that he was able to express his greatness.



“As for my gracious presence here that is very simple, the gods themselves laid the map and key for my arrival. After all, they presented those in front of my very own path so that must mean that I am supposed to be here. I’m not here for some sort of treasure or riches although it would be nice instead I’m here for something much more valuable, knowledge. After all every good noble must be well read and I have much interest in what has been going on in Charon and what it all means”.



He then shakes his head and smiles at the dear stranger, “Oh you’re right, apologies for the rudeness I got a little caught up in my greatness. My name is Nieven Oakenthorn, former Third Son of the House Oakenthorn, former Black Dragon Pirate Prince, and current freelance adventurer, future business mogul, and future greatest noble ever. As for me dying, that’s not ever going to happen after all, I’m protected by the gods themselves my dear. Oh forgot to ask, what is your name, creepy stranger who likes to sit in the shadows?”.

The demon in mortal flesh smirked at this silly little noble's performance, truly mesmerized by the ability he had to go from abject terror to grandstanding. His lack of self-awareness, or awareness in general really, is truly formidable. He pisses me off. Can I kill him now? Not just yet, Arteron. This one seems eminently exploitable. The demon fashioned his face into one of adoring admiration at Nieven.

"Why, of course, Lord Nieven! I must have been unable to believe your presence here. It's so unexpected to have one of your eminence here after all! This also explains my shameful conduct of lurking in the shadows: I was simply too stunned by your brilliance!" The demon got onto one knee in an elegant bow, placing a hand over his sternum.

"Your humble servant is called Azazel. If you're looking for advanced knowledge, I'm sorry to say you will be disappointed. This trove of scrolls contains only old and outdated knowledge. There will be nothing of the sort of information about the current goings-on of the world you seek. Indeed, this journey has been one sorely disappointing, save for the good fortune of our meeting."

Your bent towards being a sycophant will never cease to amaze and disgust me. Wow, 'sycophant': someone has been reading alongside me. Shut up.

The silly and sanguine sylvan elf was simply gleaming with pride over himself as he listened to the strange fellow’s obvious good taste and good manners. He took a moment to look him over as he held the still burning torch in his hand, its light revealing what was in front of him, a muscular-looking Zeinav man. Probably some sort of treasure hunter or adventurer, he assumed it wasn’t a surprise he’d be here, even if he was kind of odd.



“Thank you, Azazel for being such a dear after all I appreciate being appreciated above all else. Yes, I am here now and have graced this decrypt icky tomb with my presence as you can see. Don’t apologize there dear trust me I completely understand being stunned by my greatness. It is no wonder you couldn’t move or speak after all a man of my excellence simply shuts down all other movements just by existing. It’s good to see at least that you have manners and are reacting adequately to beauty itself”.



He frowned for a second as he heard the other man inform him of no good information, “Oh is that so? I mean you’re right about good fortune for meeting me after all but I don’t know about finding nothing. This map and notebook I found in front of me say that this place is an ancient secret hub for information. This is the former station of one…”, he then goes into the notebook to read, “Archival Knight of Knowledge Vuder Frinsnear”.

"I'm afraid I've never heard of this 'archival knight'. You're welcome to look around if you'd like, but I think whoever sold you that notebook may have swindled you, lord. I was told this mausoleum was the Crypt of Four Kings, a monument to rulers of time long passed. I've been poring over these tomes for a few hours and have found nothing but dusty scrolls and outdated information. May I inquire what specifically you are looking to know of? I might be able to assist in your search if I have an idea of what you seek."

On the slim chance there actually is something of value, and on the slimmer chance this mortal actually discovered it before me, I'll let him lead me right to it. Then, if something were to 'happen' to him, well... the Unbandaged are quite a plague in Zeinav these days, aren't they, dear Arteron? Just make sure you make it look convincing. Your revolting practice of bathing in the entrails of your kills should suffice.

Now you're speaking my language, Azazel. I'll crush this tiny elf like a twig. Shame he won't be much of a fight. Think there might really be some undead in this tomb? Might be better hunting.

Eyes on the prize, Arteron. Wait for my signal.

“Hm, well I guess that makes it the two of us huh? I’ve never heard of this fellow before but this random notebook and map that brought me here in the first place states it as such. This was a present dropped in front of me by the gods you know? I think I shall at least take a look around to satiate my great mind’s curiosity. However, at the same time I could just be misinterpreting this writing, after all, it is very messy and sloppy. Unlike mine, my handwriting is perfect in every way. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve wasted your time here, but no offense my dear, you’re not me, as for what I’m here for I’m sure that you’ve heard of the recent goings on concerning that Scern fellow his speeches and the disaster that ways Vulcadreus and their calamity. I just want to look into what in the world is going on here, gods being dead and primordial gods seem like stuff I should know about. I don't know if I call it paranoia or curiosity but it rubs me the wrong way to think I’m being lied to. So I went to a library and spent hours combing over text. After ten minutes, I walked outside and saw a person drop their belongings. I was about to give it back when I noticed a detailed map and extensive notes detailing the secret truth. And so now I’m here sitting on an incredibly dust bench across from you stranger”.



The sylvan elf smiles as he waits for the other man’s response before standing up and starting to get to work holding the torch with his right hand as he begins looking through the incredibly disgustingly dirty and dusty bookshelves.

Mortals with such a combination of arrogance and incapability never cease to confound me. I was born of their most conniving, so perhaps it is the way of things that I can't comprehend their lesser examples. Can I kill him yet? Not just yet. His search will be amusing, if nothing else. He really pisses me off, talking down to us like that. He doesn't know about you at all. Stop taking things so personally, especially from a mortal. It's unbecoming.

"By all means, lord. I will be just over here if you need me." Azazel moved to a set of shelves opposite the noble, running his finger over the scrolls as if intently searching. In truth, the demon was mainly keeping an eye on the silly elf, waiting for the next advent of logic-defying entertainment the mortal would provide.

Time continued to drag on, and eventually the irritation at stagnation that the wrath demon felt began to affect Azazel as well, over their shared vessel. It was a new fact of life for him, to be so affected by another, but double possessions were so rare as to be nonexistent, so they were braving uncharted territory. Finally, when the radiations became unbearable for Azazel, with no further outbursts or entertainment from the noble, the demon stood to his vessel's full height to stretch his legs and began moving toward the entrance.

"I think I have given up on this endeavor, Nieven. It no longer interests me. Don't lose yourself in the dark..."

As the demon exited the tomb, Arteron began complaining. We're not even gonna kill the elf, after all of that? You and I both know such a kill would not be satisfying in the least. You would kill him in under a second. Let's go find more worthy prey to exercise our pent-up energy before returning to the city. That much, at least, we can agree on.

As Azazel ceded control to fall into a state of unperturbed thoughtfulness after leaving the tomb, the man that was the demon's vessel turned bright red ^{[Fiend, Evil Incarnate]} and doubled in size ^{[Berserker, Intimidating Presence]}. It unleashed a terrifying, inhuman cry and raced on all fours into the wilderness, eager to tear apart a monster of more fitting strength

“Why thank you there Azazel, you have proved to be a most wonderful and humble assistant. Even if your presence was incredibly confuddling and disturbing I cannot say that meeting you has been a bad thing. Especially considering how well-behaved and mannered you are”.



He then begins searching around the dusty musty bookshelves trying to search for anything of meaning. Something had to be here, the gods themselves decreed it for him. After all, being given the directions and keys to this place it was as if he was destined to find something here. Eventually, after some time, seconds become minutes, minutes become an hour and the sylvan elf continued looking without signs of stopping. He was begging to get a slight headache and dizziness from skimming all of this ancient text but was not going to leave this tomb without something for his troubles.



He eventually noticed Azazel took his leave and smirked a little tired as he bid the other man farewell, “Oh that is more than understandable my friend, I bid thee farewell, and don’t worry about excellent me over here. I’ll be more than fine with this torch gifted to me by the gods I promise. It was an absolute joy to meet you. I hope the wilds treat you well. Hopefully, we see each other again although under much nicer and less dirty circumstances. Toodles”.



He then bows politely and continues his work, after about another hour and getting through almost all the books Nieven finds it, something incredibly valuable. He finds an extensive book on natural home remedies for beauty and ailments which he happily takes before thoroughly cleaning it. He then smiles, taking his prize with him. Although he didn’t find some sort of ancient truth or treasure he found something endlessly more important, secrets to keeping himself looking even more beautiful and handsome.