RP:Journey to the Repository of Remembrance

Part of the You Must Have Been Human Arc

Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc

Summary: Shortly after Khitti’s search for more information pertaining to the self-proclaimed God of Undeath, a small group ventures out to the abandoned libraries in the frozen tundras of Frostmaw in a bid to access a place that mortals were never meant to find. A ritual performed by Valrae, Kailani, and Khitti opens a portal for the three of them, along with Archmage Lanlan, the hostage Worm that Walks, Kasyr, and Kanna to traverse. Unfortunately, they find what they were looking for, and more.

Frozen Library

This room is open and cold, and as you look up you can see a man-made whole within the ceiling that allows sunlight to travel down against the patterns on the floor. However, since then, the snow has fallen and the room is covered in ice and snow. The area seems rather magical as well, as you notice many of the books here in this place are not cold to the touch. As the sun escapes in through the roof, it gives off no heat, but only light. You see a path leading to your east, and west, as well as north.

After Khitti’s fact finding mission with the Worm that Walks, they began to understand what must’ve happened, why Lanlan’s fairytale was so vague. There are some things that mortals just aren’t meant to know. Aren’t allowed to know. Judged by the highest courts to be forbidden, some secrets are cast out of existence. But knowledge isn’t an easy thing to kill. It persists, some say, in a place beyond time or space or even memory. When someone takes a secret to the grave, it actually goes somewhere else. That place is where they’re going. But only if it exists. And if such a place does exist, it might be in the realm of shadows, a wretched echo where souls sometimes get lost and never make it to Perdere or Praemia. The home to things that shouldn’t be. But if this vault of secrets is real, and if it’s in the shadow plane, then it could be the cursed echo of the frozen library west of Frostmaw. Lanlan and his colleagues are betting on it, and they’ve agreed to meet here. In this terrible, cold, far away place.

Lanlan seemed serene despite willingly descending into the frigid waste on a gamble. Not even the cold weather could get to him, but that was thanks to the glowing salamander-skin gloves wrapped snugly around his fingers. The rest of it? Maybe it was the windy broom ride he shared with Valrae. A long time spent not having to talk or be talked to (they couldn’t hear each other anyway); a time to between obstacles where there was nothing to do but wait. And such a smooth ride, he didn’t even mention the landing. But he was here, and so was everybody else. There were some things that needed to be addressed. He was looking at The Worm that Walks for an awkward amount of time, staring into the darkened holes of its iron mask. If it was clear that everyone else knew he was looking at him, he figured the worms would too. “You understand that by being here, you’re relinquishing all your freedom. What we may find here can under no circumstances be relayed to Caluss, and neither can it be told to Quintessa by necessary extension. That will be ensured by us. By me.” It wasn’t a threat, merely information. Worms schedule was now full for the foreseeable future, every hour of every day accounted for. “In fact that goes for everyone here. No one outside of this room is to know anything.” To that end, he lifts a sizable black diamond from his sleeve and levitates it in the air above them. It spins, spins, spins so rapidly, that it seems to spin itself into dust, which disperses over them, before twinkling into nonexistence. But so would they, to anyone trying to perceive them magically. “Safe from prying eyes, for a few hours at least.” Subtly, he glanced around to see if anyone was impressed.

Once word from Khitti had been passed that she’d managed to narrow down what exactly they were looking for, or at least where they might find the information, the witch had spent several long days in the libraries of Xalious. She’d poured over the texts with Lanlan and Karasu, seeking any hint of a library lost to time. In the end, it was the spellblade that found an old, dust covered scroll that spoke of a ritual some of the most fanatic and knowledge obsessed scholars were said to have used to gain entry to an alternative afterlife filled with wisdom that had been forgotten in the realm of mortals. There was a brief, heated debate as to the validity of these claims with Kyl'oriel, but with no other leads to speak of the witch hurriedly learned the motions and then set about changing them. In a matter of days, those that were needed had been notified and were set to gather in Frostmaw, of all places. Valrae had traveled out of Xalious and into the frozen ruins of the once great kingdom with the archmage in a simple black carriage before the pair finished the more treacherous end of the journey crowded on her broom. She was tucked away behind a bone white cloak that was lined heavily with fur to keep the worst of the chill from her more temperately inclined Cenrili blood as the biting wind bloomed red on the apples of her cheeks. Once she’d made it to the agreed meeting space and were transported, the witch quickly set about preparing for the speculative ritual.

The deyas, small leaf shaped oil lamps that were customarily used in ancient rituals that the scroll claimed to have originated in the Nameless Desert, were lit and placed around a circle of black salt. Incense of aster and myrrh coiled around them and added an earthiness to the unfamiliar, stale air. When everyone was gathered, Valrae greeted them as they came and talked them through the finer points of the ritual. They would need someone willing to reach the brink of death, while trusting Kailani to keep them from slipping beyond the point of no return, and another person to sacrifice hard earned knowledge they would not mind losing in the event that this dark horse spellwork actually succeeded. After what could be assumed as a hot blooded debate, it was Khitti who would end in the center of the circle. The witch made no more conversation as the moment that had been twisting and knotting at her insides neared. She didn’t hear Lanlan’s conversation with the Worms and had little time to react to his presence, choosing to put her faith in the friend she was now leading into harm’s way rather than threaten or interrogate the creature. Valrae’s hands shook as she offered out the wickedly sharp athame to the redhead, apology flashing for the other witch in her dark eyes. Without further delay, the circle was cast and magic was called down. As the magic pulsed through her it lifted the waving ends of her golden hair. It saturated their surroundings thickly, crowding the back of Val’s throat as she moved through the motions. She uncovered the gilded cage that held the previously silent white owl that sat perched within its confines. That was, until the witch pulled it from the cage gently and held it tight to her chest as it cried and attempted to free itself. Mindful of the sharp talons that thrashed at the ends of its feet, Valrae stepped into the circle and waited for Lanlan to take his place in front of Khitti. When he was seated, with the offering written out on a scroll in front of him, she would wait until Khitti’s signal and in a mirrored motion, plunge her own dagger into the bird’s chest. Its dying cries echoed around the library and sliced her heart into aching ribbons as the blood poured down her arms and dripped onto the scroll in Lanlan’s hands. This is what she chooses to focus on as Khitti follows through with her own motions.

It had taken a lot to convince Khitt to let Khitti kill them both. It took even more to convince him to -not- tell Annette and Brand. It ended up being very difficult keeping that secret, and eventually they failed--Khitti’s really bad at hiding things from Brand; dude is like a bloodhound with her bullsh-t--and spilled the beans. After much arguing, Khitti had put her foot down and said that it -had- to be her that died and that she had faith enough that Kailani and Valrae could keep them from dying fully. So now, here we are, with Khitti taking the athame from the Red Witch in the middle of an area of the Shadow Plane she’d yet to travel to, while doing her best to hide her ever-growing worry (it was obvious though because of those pensive-looking eyebrows of hers). Before the ritual officially began, however, she’d pass out a small bit of food to each person in the group, a single chocolate covered truffle for each. Most were filled with cherry cordial--and the cherry itself!--while she had been nice enough to fill Worms and Kasyr’s with a bit of blood to make it a little more palatable. “If something bad happens, get as far away from the library as you can. Wait a few minutes and then eat these. It will teleport you to me. If you can’t get out of the library? Eat it anyway.” She opened her satchel to show off the hilts of her swords hidden down inside the bigger-on-the-inside bag. They'd fight their way out if they had to. “Kasyr, I know you don’t really need it, but… you know… just in case.” She’d never been this far into the Mountains of Madness, Frostmaw’s mirror, and she didn’t want ANYONE getting stuck on this side of things again. Too many family members got stuck in the Shadow Plane and she wasn’t about to add her friends to the list too. And when everyone was situated? And Khitti was properly seated in the middle amongst them all? “Don’t let me die for real, or I’ll come back and haunt all of you.” She’d take that athame to her throat and sliced away with barely an ounce of hesitation. The motion of it all was so quick, you’d think that she was craving the sweet release of death right then and there. Blood sprayed from the redhead’s neck, crimson splattering on Lanlan, those beside him, and the grey-colored snow beneath them. Khitti had missed her jugular of course; she’d made sure to do her homework on what might be the best, yet most convincing area of her body. Still, each time her heart beat, more blood would spill from that slice in her throat, her hand going up to it to stem the tide futilely. Blood soaked the front of her black dress and eventually, Khitti passed out from the loss of it all, though for now and not much longer, she was still just barely alive.

Kailani would have arrived at the library at roughly the same time that everyone else did, opting to travel through the frigid region by air rather than on foot. Grimclaw, the black and white griffin who is often in Kailani’s company, does not enter the library. The blue-haired druid asks her trusted companion to remain outside. The group is joined, a few people are greeted, plans are heard, food is taken, and some very unpleasant decisions are made. Worry and doubt began to creep forward but Kai does her best to center and find focus on the ritual that was taking place. And she most certainly needed to focus if she was going to be able to keep Khitti from passing on. Admittedly, Kailani has only managed one successful resurrection and she had an entire team of people working with her then. That was different though, in that instance, the body and soul had been separated enough that it had begun to severely decay. Which meant that Kai would have an easier time for her second attempt? Especially if Khitti was to never fully die? Valrae begins the ritual and there is a noticeable shift in the air, it’s heavier and laden with magic. This is Kailani’s cue. The druid closes her eyes while taking in a deep breath, a breath she holds for three counts before releasing it. As her eyes open, there is a faint blue glow to them, the druid reaching out to the elements that surround them all to coax them to do her bidding. This time she was attempting to channel the element of the spirit, pulling all of the healing energies that she can toward her so that she can allow it to pass through Khitti at just the right moment while at the same time trying to keep both of Khitti’s souls tethered to the area. As Kailani’s restorative energies flow through Khitti’s body, she might feel a warm and calming sensation pass through her, while the druid works to pull her back from the brink of death and hopefully mend her wounds so that continuing on this mission is no burden to her. If everything went well, no one but that owl would be dying today and everyone can continue on as planned.

Kanna stands near the end of the group’s trail, unusually quiet for the chipper bard they have come to know. Traversing the Frostmaw wilds is not something Kanna enjoys doing for several reasons, with the recent calamity destroying thousands of homes and leaving scattered frozen corpses that have yet to be transported to graves being just another recent addition. A sapphire blue cloak covers her plump form, with intersecting diamonds of incandescent russet wolf fur decorating the body and lining the hood. The source of the fur trails alongside her as an added form of protection today; the large wolf is well-behaved, staying at Kanna’s side. From under its ember-like fur, a matching sapphire collar peeks out as a stark contrast. As the group enters the lost library’s foyer, Valrae’s plan is reiterated, and Lanlan’s threat is relayed, Kanna lowers the hood of her cloak, revealing red-rimmed eyes. The proposal of sacrificing Khitti, even if only for a short time, for an unconfirmed chance at forbidden knowledge was not going over well with her, but Khitti seemed to be at peace with it. As such, the bardic necrobotanist had bitten her tongue and opted not to argue it any further, especially since she herself was too cowardly to risk death or undeath a second time. Her eyes scan those gathered once more as they prepare for the ritual. Instead of stepping forward to give Khitti a hug, Kanna silently kneels and hugs her lupine companion goodbye. “Do not let anyone outside this room touch her.” She murmurs, pointing across the room at Khitti. The wolf does not respond aside from sneezing at the magical dust Lanlan sprinkles across the room, but Kanna seems to be satisfied that Amante understands his command. The wolf moves to keep guard at the only entrance and exit to this place. Fighting back tears, Kanna moves to stand near Kasyr and the iron-masked guest as the ritual commences. Her eyes screw themselves shut as the innocent owl is sacrificed, then Khitti herself, hot tears rolling down her cheeks and adding fresh salty ice to the layers caking the marbled floors. Only a hiccup escapes her as she tries not to bawl.

The Worm That Walks had chosen to stick by Khitti since visiting Helshade, and as promised, had been letting her do the talking, but when Lanlan began speaking to them about things like freedoms and what was necessary, the strange ethereal voice the Worms possessed was produced once more. “Oh, were you talking to me?” It turns out Worms wasn’t looking at the half-drow at all, and it becomes apparent as their form shifts to face him. “Doesn’t all that go without saying? There is no freedom from my mission, Mr. Elf, there is no guarantee you can make that will trump the necessity of why we are here… But you are right. If Alithyk learns what we are doing it will stop at nothing to foil us, but make no mistake, Mr. Elf, nobody wants to see that being brought to heel more than I do.” During the ritual the Worm remains silent, their back turned so they did not have to witness such a thing. Instead they turn the small sweet Khitti had given them over in their gloved hands, considering what would happen should they be trapped on the other side.

That Kasyr was there first shouldn't really be much of a surprise- the Kensai having made a point to be punctual, given the fate of the continent rested in the balance (yet again). Unfortunately, that also meant that he'd been left with a fair amount of time on his hands, and so- even as Lanlan provides his solemn speech as to the importance of their actions, and provides them a veil against the intrusive scrying of outside individuals- he's doing so not only to his intended audience, but a veritable entourage of sad-faced snowmen. It's a decent gag, really- and one that manages to keep the Kensai amused- even when he becomes properly aware of Wormys presence. It's a small thing, really- but even as Valrae tries to impart the importance of the given ritual, and sets him to a post along the perimeter to play watchdog, and Khitti engages with her fussing, preparations, and enchanted cherry cordials - Kasyr’s focus is locked. The thing reminded him far too much of the entities that had populated Kahran's forces. And, at least when it came to the potential remnants of an omnicidal lunatics' army, a bit of paranoia could be considered healthy. Which is more than can be said of Khitti's swiftly split second smile. The sight is troublesome to the Kensai, stirring a quaint mixture of concern and hunger in equal measures- and yet, perhaps the most prevalent feeling is a sense of sympathy that emerges as he glances over to Lanlan and considers the theory Valrae had inadvertently posed to him. Alas, their course was set.

Lanlan closes his eyes and holds his arms in front of his face as Khitti’s blood sprays across him. Luckily, the clothes Inks made for him were magically immune to becoming dirty, and the blood dribbled off without a concern. He says nothing, but shows Valrae a mean look, silently telling her, ‘Khitti did that on purpose’. Then he places the death-soaked scroll into a large dimpled copper bowl. It was nearly a decade of work he was offering up. Nearly a decade’s worth of work compiling a dictionary to a forgotten language of runes. Nearly forgotten, until he helped bring them back. Just the act of naming the blight “Robelous Runes” on paper made him feel lighter. It was enough, Valrae explained, that they knew what the phrase represented. No need to inscribe every last symbol on paper. Good riddance, he shed it spitefully like a curse. Silently, he wondered what would be left of those memories. Would they be pulled out carefully, and only blur the runic lines? Would it be surgical, and he’d only miss the writing. Or would entire days and nights–and the people he spent them with, be erased? When the grisly work was done, Khitti maimed and saved, the symbol of wisdom butchered, it was natural for everyone to fall silent. What was supposed to happen? One of his eyebrows trembled, ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything, but he looked sharply toward his allies, before plucking from another sleeve a certain kaleidoscope. He holds it to his eye, rotating the bead chamber as he slowly scans the room. “...D…Dog?” He barely whispers it. Pulling the kaleidoscope away from his eye again, he sees nothing. But with it against his eye, there it is. Amid a catastrophe of colors, a curious hound droops its snout into the bowl, laden with tributes, and it pulls something out of it, reducing the sacrifices to shreds of paper and metal splinters. It hovers around Khitti for tense moments, snuffling the air around her, before huffing with impatience, and turning around.

Lanlan can hardly see anything through the kaleidoscope, except this hound. And he can barely see that. Abruptly he leaves, disappearing into a wall of apparently solid ice, onto the spirit-path. An open door to any, whether they can see it or not, but they can at least see Lanlan, if not the pooch. All around them is a windy nothing, an expansive, misty space. Where the ground ended and the open air began was never clear, but their steps remained solid, if perplexing. The path they followed was winding, confusing, yet the dog that trotted obliviously ahead of them seemed to move intentionally, knowing exactly where to go. Suddenly the dog stops. Has it become aware of them? No, it’s something else. It shifts its weight back, before suddenly springing forward and disappearing. Lanlan stops too, uncertain. He takes the kaleidoscope away from his eye again, spins the chamber, puts it back. And then he jumps too. Blindly.

Repository of Remembrance

No singular description can encompass what one sees when a mortal from the Hollow plane enters this place. The landscape is ever-changing, morphing itself into the perfect space according to the mind and heart of those traversing it. Time does not flow here the way it does in other realms. The further one delves, the more winding and impossible the passages become to navigate.

Upon jumping across this invisible gap, they suddenly become in this repository of unremembered things. The blank eternities that they traversed only a moment ago seem to have vanished. As has the dog. Instead, they see this pseudo-natural monument to knowledge, seemingly carved into the stony-gray side of a massive canyon. Shelves stacked to their left and right that reach taller than the tallest giant, and stretch as far as they can see, for the end must be obscured in dust. Uneven blue-white light glows against the shelves, revealing a prism of every color, but made of books’ bindings. Between those two shelves, a massive ravine, endless midnight between its jagged walls. Then, just in front of them, something seems to bleed into existence. A being comprised only of tattered robes and chains it seems, the stuff under its hood made of the same nothing as the ravine it floats out of. It seems not to notice the group of interlopers, intent on wrangling something you didn’t notice before; a single page. Drifting between the shelves, an endless swarm of pages twist and curl aimlessly in a windless, endless corridor. And floating lazily after them, the cloaked librarians, wielding small softly glowing lamps, bathing things in front of them in a soft blue-white light. Then they see what binds them to this place. Heavy chains are draped around their robes, and they lead down, down, down into the endless abyss of the ravine. And as the library continues to meld into existence, now can be seen a massive web of these chains reaching out of the darkness, each one presumably tangling up a ghostly librarian.

Valrae had taken the delicate, magical chocolate Khitti had offered and placed it into the large leather bag resting near the ritual. Kanna and her wolf eased some of the fret that hummed through her, the witch suspected that if it were needed her bardic skill would be enough to help in aid in magic the witch herself was lacking. Part of her fully expected that none of them would even need to use it. That the ritual would fail and Khitti would be put through pain for no other reason than a gamble that felt too great now that the Owl’s blood ran hot and sticky through her fingers. Her grasp of the magic nearly slipped as she watched her friend drag the blade across her throat. The lack of hesitation nearly choked her and her eyes might have been locked forever on the scene, her mouth open to scream, if not for the gentle pull she could feel from the bond she now shared with Kasyr. Her head turned toward the Revenant, a look of pain and curiosity passing over the pale lines of her face. Kailani’s magic pulls her back. She turns her head in time to see the transformation in her eyes, something she noted distantly in her mind as powerful and full of beauty, and sends a silent prayer to the gods that her magic was enough. A look passes between her and Lanlan, his annoyed and hers one of wild, unbridled fear. Without the tool that Lanlan possessed, the witch could not see the hound as he appeared. Instead, there was only the small trill of awareness sliding across her skin a heartbeat before it devoured the offering of the Arch Mage and the Worms. Witnessing this sent a shockwave through her, the sweet thrill that made her stomach drop in a happy free fall that celebrated the unlikeliest of successes. Things moved quickly after that. Lan stood, disappeared. It was only when Valrae saw that Khitti was mended that she would follow where the drow had disappeared. Hands warm and sticky with blood, the witch grabbed her bag and dove after him. She felt the world warp around her, felt the round rise up to meet her feet. She follows Lan quickly, fear making her heart beat rapidly against the cage of her chest as he pulls ahead and disappears again. The witch follows his motions and feels nausea roll through her as again her feet touch ground. She slammed into Lanlan’s back, stumbling and reaching for him to steady herself. She opened her mouth to speak but the words tumbled from her mind as the foreign, amazing scene unfolded before her eyes.

Khitti … was alive? She wiggled a finger or two. Like that was supposed to actually prove anything. She peeked one eye open, and then the other, her line of sight somewhat fuzzy for the moment before it finally focused. Woohoo, she was alive! A hand, caked with blood, went up to her throat where the slit she’d left there had been woven back together by Kailani’s magic, leaving the redhead to give a quite audible sigh of relief. Taking a moment to fully compose herself after returning from the brink, she scooped up a bit of the shadow-snow and cleaned off her hands with it, then her neck, then finally pushed herself up off the ground. The witch wobbled a little, her body cold from the mountains’ environment and the near-death experience as well. She pulled on her wool coat, put a reassuring hand on Kailani’s shoulder as if to say ‘thank you’, then wandered off towards where Valrae and Lanlan had gone. There was no way she wasn’t going to see this damn library now, after all that. Silence lingered after Khitti the whole way, her thoughts on the library itself. Whether or not it was for that information Lanlan wanted was a whole different story--Khitti would never pass up the opportunity to go into a forbidden library.

Kailani was almost frozen in place until she saw some sort of movement from Khitti, some sign that she had not managed to let the redhead die. When Khitti places a hand on Kai’s shoulder, the druid meets it with a sincere smile. If Khitti’s hand had a bit of blood on it, that did not bother Kai nor would it show on her black attire. It is not entirely clear if Kailani is able to see this spirit pooch or not, her reaction of surprise and confusion could easily be attributed to Lanlan and his reaction to the dog. In typical Kailani fashion, she does not use her words to express if she can see this pooch too. What she does do is follow after Lanlan without even a hesitation. When both dog and Lanlan stop, Kailani mirrors their actions and comes to an immediate halt as well. It was instinctual, really, given the lifestyle she was prone to. No hunter wanted to be spotted in the middle of stalking their prey. When it comes time to jump, there is a slight pause but Kailani does not let that moment hinder her for long. If the portal closed, leaving her on the other side, and then the mission was not a success? The druid would feel nothing but guilt. So she jumps. While Kai is not exactly scared of heights, the idea of jumping and falling into the unknown is intimidating even for someone as seasoned as her. So when this only results in them appearing in this mysterious library, Kai is nothing but relieved and it shows on her expression. That relief does not remain for long as Kai’s blue eyes take in the details around her, specifically noting the chains that seem to keep the ghostly librarians held within this place. Kai frowns, says nothing, and does everything that she can to keep with the group.

The silence is unbearable for the moments that Khitti lays dying. Even if it was only for show, just the thought of losing someone she cared for was dealing psychic damage. Just as Kanna opens her mouth to cry that they have failed, risked Khitti’s life for nothing, Lanlan’s whisper cuts through the cold. “What…?” She looks to the spot where his kaleidoscope points, but sees nor feels anything. Was this the power of an arcane magic master? When she looks back to Lanlan, she sees him moving towards the wall with no sign of stopping. “Lanlan--!” Kanna steps towards him to grab the hem of his cloak and stop him from hurting himself, but the Archmage slips out of her reach and steps through the glassy ice. Kanna stares at the wall for a moment, then looks behind her at the others to see if they had seen the anomaly as well. To her relief, Khitti begins to move again. This was a success! She bites her lip with apprehension and turns back to the wall, tentatively reaching a hand up to it. This was too good to be true. To her surprise, her hand passes through the invisible barrier as well. She’d be damned if she were to allow Khitti’s sacrifice to go to waste. Amante gives a soft whine from the doorway to the corporeal library, content to stand guard against any who might try to follow the group or compromise their journey back. With a deep breath and a swipe of tears from her face, she makes her way through the portal, keeping an eye on Lanlan’s robes all the while. When forced to jump from the edge of the platform, Kanna is reminded of the same curious sensation from when Caluss had ripped the rose from her heart. There was no direction here, no sense of pain or discomfort, and just as soon as the feeling had arisen, it was gone. Kanna was standing upright once again, her eyes were now attempting to adjust to the scenery of bookshelves so impossibly large that even Xalious could dream of owning it all. “We aren’t dreaming, right?” Kanna breathes, her eyes fixed on the cloaked figures as they begin to float closer to the group.

The Worm That Walks steps forward to produce their own offering, pulling a large, metallic scroll case from the mass of worms they called a body. Simple and bronze with a magical lock keeping the knowledge safe within, the Worm doesn’t even bother unlocking it for the keepers of this domain; They knew deep down that no knowledge was out of their grasp. “The things my people kept secret from the world… How to summon an undead god… These things must never be allowed to exist in the mortal world ever again.” The Worm That Walks places the scroll case into the copper bowl next to the other offerings, content that it would be safe, that the centuries of effort their family put into uncovering the Order of the Shade would finally be expunged from this world. It was mostly a symbolic gesture at this point, with Alithyk Caluss already summoned and the Order’s mission a success, but the weight they and their ancestored carried all these years upon their shoulders felt good to finally be rid of. Never again would those perverse, twisted rituals be performed by anybody. Stepping back, the Worm That Walks curiously watches the hound accept the offering, shredding the knowledge from the world. Tentatively the undead scholar follows after Lanlan, passing through the wall of ice to walk the spirit path into the repository.

Kasyr may have been concerned, but he never quite reached the heights of outright worry or uncertainty that the others did. After all, his presence meant Khitti always had a means of cheating death- even if that particular outcome would no doubt lead to an excess of resentment. In any case, the reasoning helps to settle any semblance of nerves he might have otherwise felt, and to focus instead on the more curious phenomena occuring- as their sacrificial script is consumed. "...Huh." He'd been expecting something a bit more theatric, really. Though, Lanlan makes up for that particular shortcoming by virtue of his hushed whispers and abrupt dissapearance. Admittedly, the Kensai does reserve a certain degree of suspicion for the drow- and so, where others might follow after with nary a second thought, the swordsman takes a moment to ensure this isn't some elaborate illusion, or arcane contrivance. "Merde." By that juncture, the others had started to trickle through- essentially solidifying that, despite everything, there was no mischief reserved for the moment. Even as he stepped through, he became duly aware that there was something a bit curious about the path, for though he hadn't tarried for long, the others seemed uncomfortable far ahead- always at risk of being lost by some unprecedented turn along the path, and at a distance which refused to narrow. It's only when he's abruptly spat into that phantasmal collection of books that he's finally allowed some semblance of respite- even if there was a certain discomfort elicited by the repositories implied infinity.

As the demarian turns the found page over in his hand, Lanlan is dead silent. There’s no reason why it wouldn’t have already seen them, but there’s no reason to draw attention to them. Perhaps they were extremely near-sighted, thanks to doing nothing but staring at scribbled words all day. After the longest moment, the Demarian abandons its prize. Its not the page it was looking for. It drifts off to another, as Lanlan moves along the edge of the ravine, along the bottom row of an endless stack of books. He checks the bindings to notice any titles, trying to find a theme, a style of organization. None of the books out here were even in a language he could read. He didn’t want to linger here, in what seemed to be the main part of the repository. But there were only two ways forward it seemed, to shimmy and creep on the narrow and jagged ledge just in front of the shelves, the only thing not consumed by the massive abyss between the shelves. Left or right. Left. He led them under heavy chains dragging under floating demarians, tracing a hand lightly against the stony shelf for balance. Until they see one chain that apparently leads directly into a shelf. Upon moving just a bit closer, they see a tunnel, hewn out of the stone, with the bookshelf built over, and continuing after it. Another fork. Into the tributary he goes, following the heavy chain, until they come across a demarian bouncing jovially and singing the words it reads, mumbly style. As before, Lanlan becomes as silent and still as stick bug blending in. But then…the demarian becomes silent too, and starts hovering ponderously toward them. “Finally! I thought I was going to be the last one! It’s been 1,027 years since we got any extra help and look!” It swung its softly glowing lamp toward a row of scroll racks that stretched indefinitely and impossibly into the giant part of the library they just left. On a slightly raised stony plateau, there was a book and a quill pen. “How am I supposed to transcribe all these on my own?” It was definitely talking to them, and hardly seemed to notice that it was a very, very different thing than what they were. Lanlan hardly wasted any time before answering it, “Ah! I know what a dreadful task to have to undertake on your own! And yet I’m afraid I have to let you down, because we have a different task set before us. You’ve been in this library for quite some time, haven’t you? Then I wonder; could you take us toward the stories of Xalious the man?” It hovered blankly for quite some time. Then it said suddenly, “That’s not fair, I’ve been wanting that job since I got here, why would they give it to you?” Lanlan asks for the Demarian’s name. He gives it. “Umeboros? Wow! Didn’t I mention how Umeboros is the one who is supposed to join us in our task?” And that’s all it took. Umeboros the Demarian happily, and slowly leads them away from the scroll racks. As he bobbed jovially ahead of them, Lanlan pulled his kaleidoscope to his eye, just to inspect the spirit before him. Rather than a cluster of tattered gray robes all weighed down by chains, he glimpsed a pale-faced human man. Soft and round, and topped with a cloud of red curls. As they walked, the notion of time seemed to gradually slip away from them. There was no effort in their steps, no fatigue in the journey, no hunger, no thirst. They might not breathe if it wasn’t such a habit to do so. But every once in a while, they would cross in front of another path; one that led to an entirely different type of library, or even another world! But Lanlan knew none of them would be the one he wanted, and his focus was honed in on his guide.

Valrae pulled her eyes away from the unfathomable cavern of stacks when she heard Kanna’s voice. Blinking back to herself, she looks around and mentally notes each face. Even the Worms had made it! Relief washed over her, smoothing the more frayed edges of her nerves as her eyes found Khitti whole and on her feet. And her heart ached for Kanna, whose delicate face still told the tale of freshly shed tears. The witch offers her a smile she hoped was full of reassurance and not the unnerved energy that tingled down to her toes. Her cheeks were still rosy from the cold, her hair a wind tossed mess that waved over the white cloak that covered her shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed of anything this elaborate,” She whispers softly to the bard. “Lan wait!” She hisses, when she turns back and sees the drow picking his way carefully on to a path she strongly suspected he’d chosen at random. The chains overhead made her nervous, the distant moving of the Demarians in her peripherals ominus and seemingly promising danger. She would never meet Umeboros though…. It started with a whisper. Just one, something that could be ignored and explained away as a trick of the mind. But it grew to many whispers as the path before them began to stretch out beneath the witch’s feet. She looked to the others, to see if they’d noticed that the end of the stacks seemed to move farther and farther away as they walked ever forward. But they were busy, they weren’t paying attention. They didn’t hear the repetitious beckoning that began to shift into something more akin to the beat of a ritual drum. Sweat began to bead at her temples. In the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw movement between the carefully bound tomes. Valrae’s head jerked toward the motion again and she was caught in the endless gaze of black. Far away from herself, the witch recognized the body of a snake. It wound through the shelves as if it were endless, its glistening white body gliding with a fluid grace that was both lovely and terrifying. Valrae followed it. On and on the serpent twisted, winding down corridors that shifted in architectural feats she’d never seen before. More joined it, writhing vibrantly jewel toned bodies that slid up from the yawning ravine’s chasm to her left and dripped down from the highest points of the stacks to her right. The path narrowed and soon the witch was walking delicately, one foot in front of the other, with her arm stretched out in front of her as her hand slid across the smooth, dark stone of the shelves and the white serpent beckoned her ever forward. She didn’t know when the temperature plummeted but plumes of misty gray clouds escaped her as she breathed. Distantly, the witch could feel the grip of something on her mind even as the drum continued to beat for only her ears. It held her away from herself, a forced disassotion that placed her outside of her own body as she explored the never ending twists of the Library. When she came to a halt she was standing in a circular room she had not seen before. The curved walls towered to impossible heights, filled with dusty leather bound tomes that whispered of long forgotten secrets and desperately hidden truths. She lifted her face to what she thought to be the heavens, only to see what could have been a reflection of herself far above. The room in this reflection wriggled with serpentine bodies, every inch of it alive with deadly motion. The witch stood in the center of its circle, the opalescent snake coiling around her body as its head rose up and it's dark eyes met her own. When she looked down, there was a heavy book in her hand, bound in a glistening material that was unknown to her but shimmered with pale blues and pinks as if it had been carved of opal. Beyond it, the witch could see that her feet were seemingly suspended over a cosmos on fire. There was endless black, cut through by the hurdling path of brightly burning stars. The drum that had been pounding in her head ended on an abrupt, final beat. A piercing scream of terror ripped through her as her body hurdled several feet toward what she now recognized was the floor.

Khitti stared up and around herself at the library like a kid in a candy shop. It was glorious. It even had those ladders that were on wheels and hooked to the shelves so she could just ride around on them for hours, collecting all the books she wanted, like some kind of beauty stuck in an enchanted castle. “This is -exactly- as elaborate as I’ve always dreamed,” she said, in a weird sort of response to Valrae’s bewilderment. She half heard the discussion between Lanlan and the Demarian, a smirk issued towards it. But that was all they’d get. Even as they walked about, heading towards the area with information they needed, Khitti was starry-eyed. The shelves they walked past held tales of places long since dead, of magic she wished she could wield, of people she wished she could be. Perhaps bringing Khitti to this library was a bad thing, but she would’ve found a way to go, one way or another. She’d gone to all of Lithrydel’s libraries, and could look around the endless prophecies that the Shadowseers in the Lake of Echoed Screams kept watch over whenever she wanted. She had thought that Frostmaw’s forbidden library had been It™. That was as big and as forbidden as they got. But no--this place existed as well, and she wanted nothing more than to stay here forever. The library had done exactly as it wanted with Khitti, leading her along like a child to the great glorious gingerbread house, though she had not thought to leave behind breadcrumbs to find her way back. Why would she -want- to go back? Everything she ever wanted was here. All the knowledge she could ever hope to find. And the library knew, deep down, what Khitti wanted to find. She eventually found her way alone to a section that seemed… familiar, despite never having seen it before in her life. It smelled of a forest she hadn’t caught the scent of in over a decade, heard laughter and voices she hadn’t heard in just as long. There was no one there, but that didn’t matter. Khitti was home and everything was perfect.

Kailani was glad that Lanlan was the one doing all of the talking. The druid was pretty sure that Lanlan was spinning lies to the demarian, but Kai did not really hold judgment in the moment. Not beyond the simple thought of ‘better him than me’. Kai’s not much of a liar, the beans would have been spilled far too soon and that would have created far too much trouble. So Kai stays quiet, having every intention of sticking with the group as they follow their guide. Even the best intentions pave the way to Perdere. It starts as a soft pull at the back of her mind, something that is easy for Kailani to ignore given that she had a task that she was meant to focus on. This was an important business they were tasked with! Yet as serious and focused as Kailani can be, even she is not able to resist the pull. She finds the further they travel, the more her eyes begin to wander, and that soft pull turns into a nagging sensation. One moment Kailani is walking with the group and then before she realizes it, she has found her own path and has wandered away from them. It really does not even cross her mind to give pause to look, not even a glance over her shoulder to see if they were still in sight. The blue-haired half-elf is entirely consumed by this feeling and where her feet happen to be leading her to is a mystery, even to Kai.

Kanna makes her way down the impossible corridors, content in the silence that certain friendships brought. To others, it was a terse silence, wracked with wondering what Perderian abomination was about to jump out at them for trespassing, but Kanna was content enough by the warmth of Umeboros the Demarian to not fear that harm would come to them. After a while of walking, the episode of Khitti’s near-death experience is forgotten, and Kanna’s tears have evaporated. It is not anything grandiose that draws Kanna’s attention away from the group. Rather, it is a blur of white in the corner of her eye that makes her turn her head. There, behind a long abandoned oil lamp on one of the side paths, is a small white rabbit using its paws to wipe at its face in quick motions. The small creature is shivering in the cold, rubbing its head against the lamp as though it was accustomed to the warmth it once gave. “Oh. I’ll be right back.” Kanna whispers to the group as she breaks away, making her way down the corridor of books. Seeing her approach, the rabbit starts and runs down the corridor into the darkness. There is a moment of hesitation. Would the rabbit find its way back in the darkness? What if it was too cold to bear? Kanna kneels at the oil lamp and strikes a match. Carefully, the bardic necrobotanist steps further into the darkness, hoping to get a glimpse of the shivering creature again so she can give it warmth. When the woman turns to look back at the group, only the shadows greet her visage from the way she came. “Oh dear…” From the direction the rabbit fled is a familiar sound, faint at first. Only as she moves down another row of shelves does she realize what the sound is: it is the ocean. Kanna follows the sound of the ocean, her steps slow at first, but increasing pace as the waves become more distinct. This is not the gentle winds of Chartsend, nor the splashing waves against the coral-laden shores of Cenril, nor the raucous chatter and choppy seas of Rynvalian ports. It is the sound of waves crashing against rocky bluffs. It is home. No sooner does she realize this does she see a doorway of light, the white rabbit standing at its edge and looking back at Kanna expectantly.

The Worm That Walks does their best to stay with the group, but it doesn’t take long for the scholar to get distracted by something, the title of a book on a shelf causing them to look away just for a moment. Kanna’s voice regains their attention, saying that she’d be right back, but when the Worm looks up she is already gone. “We really should stick together I- Hello?” They are alone in a long corridor of books now, their ethereal voice echoing aloud. “Mr. Elf? Mrs. Witch? The cute bard- anyone?” An ethereal sigh emanates from them next, a shake of their head expressing their discomfort in being separated in this place. “Lord Xalious guide me…” Moving forward, the Worm That Walks does the only thing they can think to do and that is look for how to kill Alithyk Caluss themself. With any luck they would find each other again. They pass different demarians, each looking like normal people for the Worm’s sight without eyes. They ask for directions, but most seem too busy to help, shuffling away from the Worm That Walks as they explore the aisleways of endless books. “I was just asking…” The Worm mutters as the last one walks away, leaving them to search by themselves. “No need to be rude, sheesh.”

Kasyr is following after Lanlan under the misguided notion that he has some sort of plan. A belief that lasts up untilt he exchange with the Demarian begins- at about which point he's introduced to the singular realisation that they were stranded in some potentially nigh infinite pocket plane on a hunch. That said, as dreadful as that may be- it's somehow worse to bear witness to the ease in which he manages to hoodwink the robed figure that was now serving as their tour guide. "Daedria, just ignore all this, je vous en prie." The last thing he needed to do, was risk the gods wrath, and so he does his best to keep close to their guide. And this works, for a time- until he becomes acutely aware of a subtle sense of silence. Where once there were faint echoes, an offbeat click of heels to signify the footfalls of his companions, there was nothing. What should have been a gathering of peers behind him, was a desolate emptiness- shelves upon shelves stretching as far as the eye can see, only occasionally ponctuated by the fluttering of an errant page, or the clink of chain as some unseen Demarian works nearby. "Psst." He tries to be subtle, his breath coming out in a hiss. "Pssst!" It's at the lack of an answer that the Kensai turns his attention swivels back towards lanlan- or at least, where the archmage should have been. Somehow, within that distracted moment, he'd found himself seperated- swallowed by the twisting corridors of that expansive collection. Even when the kensai tries to center himself, to reach out with his empathic senses and find a singular sign of his peers- there's nothing to latch onto. Something that leaves the man withan unexpected sense of isolation, and leaves him with little to do, save to wander those hallways in search of something or someone familiar. Once more, the swordsman leaves his trust to his intuition, and simply starts to walk.

Lanlan follows Umeboros who talks endlessly about -things-. And Lanlan can’t say anything to oppose this, because he had no idea how thin the tightrope was that he walked on behalf of all of them. So he remained engaged with this buffoon and laughed when he was supposed to. “Umeboros, you can’t be serious…Avian plumbing systems used to empty directly into the Castafonxy river? That’s completely absurd!” He’d never heard of the Castafonxy river until now. “Ohhh that’s what dried it out? Truly I had no idea their droppings burned so hot.” What was he saying? He had to tune out his own thoughts to survive this. And now their journey led them up and away, up a staircase that disappeared into mist. And it was dark, but he could see fine. “Yeah…” Lanlan couldn’t help but become enamored with what he was seeing. Books weren’t being piled on top of each other in this place anymore, rather each one was independent. The space was expansive and covered in mist, and then a dark, star-patterned pedestal would stretch out of the veil and offer up an open book. Each one seemed like it must be a prize, a privilege just to be read. But they had the sense of also being unattainable… Somehow he knew that if he walked toward one, even if it seemed to be but a few yards away, he would never be able to close the distance. Yet that only made him want it more. But it was like this for each of them. “We’re almost there,” Umeboros calls back. And Lanlan is composed enough to wonder what that could even mean, because he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t walking. He can barely remember what they were supposed to be going towards. It’s almost as if this place of misty clouds is where he’s always been. And though the darkness seems oppressive at first, somehow the stars that surround him seem to echo kinship to him, and he’s comfortable. “Here we are!” It’s Umeboros again. They’ve approached a pedestal, and one that seems to be made of nothing but nyx. How the book can rest upon starry sky is beyond him, but also beyond his consideration. He picks it up, it seems to be made of the same stuff, and everything behind it seems to vanish into space. “Weren’t there more of you?” Umeboros asks and Lanlan looks behind him, before asking, “Who would they have been?” There are hints of people, shadows of memories that weren’t completely locked beyond the library’s cleverness of forgetting. As he continued to imagine them, he could almost see them behind him, as the memories were crafted out of his magic almost by instinct. And then suddenly, a cloak of black dust he forgot he was wearing collapses to the ground under him, seeming like a small pile of black sand. The spell meant to hide them has ended. It triggers a shift in the air, and panic in him. An instinctual reaction, to suddenly being very vulnerable. The library itself seems to stutter awake and groan. And it isn’t for nothing, from out of thin air it seems, a writhing tentacle of deep purple and pink talons stretches toward him. He snatches the book and scurries back, as the tentacle passes through Umeboros. His robes become limp, his lamp dim. He’s gone. Lanlan had to be too, gone from this place. He was walking on a barren, monotonous cloud. And the tentacles perforated it from every angle, closing in on him. But he could still fight, couldn’t he? A multitude of Lanlans, mirrored reflections of himself, emerged from him. But they weren’t exactly what he expected. Their hood was pulled over, obscuring his face in darkness. And they were ragged, like they’d been worn for a millennia. And his legs, if he had them, must’ve been hidden in the cloud. But his illusions scattered as they should, dispersing the dangers he faced as he made his way to the staircase. And as he hurried, as he panicked and frightened, his wits gradually came back to him. “Those idiots abandoned me,” he says. And the mere notion, rather than infuriate him, actually brings great relief. A thought, a personal thought, for him to cling to. “Kasyr that oaf,” he says, encouraging himself. The bottom of the staircase is in sight, but it’s being swallowed up by a snare made of groaning tentacles. He extends his fingers, and from them blooms a magical dust that seems to persuade treasured tome to life. It flutters about angrily, violently, furious at being awakened, and flaps its covers at the crush of tentacles that dares to close its doors. But the book will have victory, and as it opens to a particular page, the sounds of war; clanging spears against shields, war cries, and twangs of arrows. A hail of them erupts from the pages and pins the tentacles backward. There’s a hole big enough for him to squirm through.

Somewhere in the freefall, Valrae had closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was standing in the round room with her feet on the ground and her arms heavy with the unknown book. There were no serpents coiling around her, twisting on the floor. The room was silent and cold, almost peaceful as the stars passed overhead. Disorentied, the witch clung to the book in her arms and felt the stickiness of dried blood between her fingers as her knuckles went white. Her first steps were stumbling as she moved toward the shelves to her left. Her eyes were drawn toward a book bound in gold, its spine netted in thin gossamer webbing that obscured the words printed underneath. She plucked it from the stacks and dropped it into her bag. The witch was just moving to another book when the sound of rattling chains reached her ears. The cold rush of fear is what brought her fully out of the siren’s grip of the library. Suddenly realizing that she was very, very alone, Valrae tucked the white book in her bag as well and searched for the exit. When she found it, she carefully looked around the corner. The round room opened up to the long, cavernous corridor that they seemed to have landed in. Hoping the others might not be terribly far, the witch began picking her way across the narrow path to the left without knowing if she’d chosen the correct direction. She walked for an undetermined amount of time. The Demerians seemed unbothered by her presence; this was a small relief as she picked her way through a dangerously narrow break in her path. Just as she was placing her heel down on the next step though, something shifted. The library groaned and shook beneath her feet. Valrae cried out and a Demarian’s head snapped her way for the first time since they’d arrived. The witch teetered toward the edge of the ravine and her heart leapt into her throat as fathomless darkness swam into view. She righted herself and clung to the edge of the shelves just as a tentacle snaked out and nearly wrapped itself around her. Valrae screamed again. Then she ran…

Khitti picked up a book on the nearest shelf, ‘Dhavislaav: A History Volume 1’. It was written on the “before times”, before magic had been banned from her home country, before they had begun to put anyone with the slightest hint of magic to death. For a moment, Khitti thought she smelled burning flesh. It was unmistakable to her. Death and Khitti went together like ice cream and cake. And yet, it was gone just as quickly as it had started and Khitti shrugged and went back to her book. It told of a great witch tribe that dwelled in the northern half of the continent and all lived in peace throughout the country, both witch and non-witch working together. Until one day, they didn’t. It was the end of that book and Khitti quickly sought out the next. Volume 2 explained that the witches had been betrayed by the others. The non-witches had grown jealous of their power and wanted to enslave the witches, to use their power for their own gain. A terrible war broke out--the very same that lead to the ban on magic--and Khitti could only stare at ink on the pages as it spelled out the name of the witch that had led the charge: Khatja von Schreier, the first of her name, the daughter of the leader of the Shadow Lily coven. Khitti yelped and threw the book down onto the floor, which promptly opened back up where she had left off. It was then that she had noticed that the scent of the forest and the happy voices had gone, replaced with sounds of magical explosions, weapons clanging together, and screams. She put her hands over her ears and let out a scream of her own, the sounds were that overwhelming. But no one would hear her. And eventually, the sounds of war stopped, the pages of the book flipping to the end of the text.

Khitti slowly pulled her hands from the sides of her head and stared down at the book. Volume 3 flung itself off the shelf and settled onto the floor in front of the witch, and she could do nothing more than sink down to its level and pour herself over its contents. This one contained the ungodly extensive description of the first Khatja von Schreier’s death. She had been made to watch her entire coven--nay what they had thought at the time were -all- of the witches--burn. And then it was her turn. But there would be no quick death for Khatja. A myriad of torture devices had waited for her, from the iron maiden to the birch rod to the rack. They used her own magic against her, keeping her alive to suffer through it all. Then came the dismemberment. They had drawn and quartered her in front of all, as a message to any witches that might still be in hiding. Khatja died hearing the boos and jeers of those that had hated her for no reason… only to be brought back from the dead later that night. She had been stitched together, in much the same way as Khitti’s sister had after they’d been kidnapped by the necromancers, and Khatja had been left as a zombie in the dungeon of the Capitol. Eventually, when the non-magic users had figured it out, they returned her mind to her, forcing her to suffer moreso still. But there were some people that did not agree with what had happened to the witches, like Khatja’s husband. He had whisked away himself and their son to the southern half of the country, to blend in with the rest of the non-magical folk. And from there, the line continued… and for a time, it seemed like the line would end with Khatja ‘Khitti’ Elysse von Schreier, Thirteenth Of Her Name, until fate deemed it had been time for her to meet a certain former assassin from Catal…

Khitti just sat there, shaking, staring at the book before her. She was a witch. She was a witch? She. Was. A. Witch. And they had betrayed them! A newfound fury erupted inside of her and Khitt was quick to try to quell it. It was over and done with. But it wasn’t, was it? Those same sorts of people still ran the Dhavislaavian capitol, though when she had been there, there was one person on the council that had decided to spare her. The need for justice--for revenge--called to her as it never had before. Candles in the area snuffed out and relit with purple flames. The shadows strengthened, seeking to turn this part of the library into a blackened void. And it nearly did, until she looked down at the books and saw that parts where it mentioned Khatja, now said Khristoff instead. The names flickered back and forth, seemingly unsure of which person to settle on. It was enough to bring Khitti back from the brink again, this time from a rage-induced madness, and force her to start gathering the volumes she’d already looked at, as well as some others that were more specifically about the coven itself, and shove them into her satchel. It was then that that ever familiar feeling of dread washed over Khitti and she felt nausea like never before. “Something’s wrong…” Her words were for herself, of course. It was then that the same great tentacles that sought out Lanlan came after her now as well and Khitti was quick to shadowstep away before it could plunge through her chest and pierce her heart. There was a lot of swearing, in Common, Dhavislaavian, and Catalian, as Khitti darted about, grabbing books and shoving them into her bag before trying to force herself to focus on the path that had brought her here in the first place.

Kailani does not realize it but she has gone left and right through this maze of a library and managed to get herself utterly lost. Nor has the druidic woman fully processed that the subject matter of the books on the shelves seems to contain everything that feels passionate about. Kai may find value in learning and knowledge but she has never been materialistic. The further she travels, the more that she finds herself paying attention to the titles that are on the spines. Flora. Fauna. Wildlife. Geography. Anything related to the natural world. Plenty of information on the mystical and the magical. She was just about to reach up and grab a book that is a deep shade of ocean blue and embellished with green seashells and coral-colored starfish when something catches her eye. Her first thought was that it was a flash of movement but when she turns to look, she sees no one around her. Not even her companions are within sight. What she does see is a podium that has a green leather bound book on it. Was that there before? Kailani could not remember but she could have sworn it was not. Curiosity gains the better of the druid and the ocean book is forgotten, albeit temporarily, so that she can approach the podium. It is this book that Kailani ends up picking up, slowly flipping through the pages to see what sort of information it might contain. Anything of use to defeat Caluss? Kai could not be certain, not yet. The druid remains standing near where she found the book, completely ignoring the happenings around her, as she flips through the book page by page by page….

Kailani stands there trying to determine if this is the book that she wants, as her gut instinct seems to be suggesting it should be. At first the pages of the book were turning thanks to Kailani but all of a sudden they seem to take on a life of their own. The pages flip rapidly, enough that the fluttering of paper is audible – but likely only to Kailani given that her companions seem to be missing. This is a detail that she still has not fully processed yet, and we can most certainly blame the library for the fact that she is being less than observant. The pages of the book suddenly stop and when they do the book is open to a page that begins to speak of an artifact. Kailani was just about to start reading the details about Hind’s Deer Triskelion but the library has other plans for her yet. She was about to be attacked! The library groaning and shuttering was the first clue that Kailani got that something was amiss and was what actually caused her to look up from what she was reading to study her surroundings. When she looked, she saw several mysterious figures surrounding her and before she knew it all of their forms were engulfed in tentacles that were trying to grab and restrain her. The first emotion that Kailani feels is fear and dread, knowing full well that there is almost nothing within this library that she would be successfully able to defend against. The next emotion she will feel won’t wash over her until she is outside of the library and that is guilt. The reason she will be feeling guilt is rather than trying to locate the companions to make sure they stay safe, Kai for a change thinks a little selfishly. The candy that Khitti gave them at the beginning of the mission is taken into her grasp and swallowed, resulting in Kailani being teleported out of the library and back to the safety of the mortal realm.

Stepping through the doors is a scene from a dream the woman has had many times, one that had always fled her mind upon waking. It is the royal library of Ikari; a storage for copies of books that were deemed mandatory knowledge by the high elves of Rynvale, and for the history of the island and its denizens both before and after the land’s colonization. Large bay windows of the high building look out over the castle promenade, the protected Lake Safaia, and the rocky bluffs just past the small forest lining the edge of the lake. Kanna sets the oil lamp down on a desk as she looks out over the home she had fled as a child. “This is a dream…” She murmurs in shock. The white rabbit climbs the scattered books and pillows so that it may rest again on a well worn cushion that lies in the sun. Though no people are visible from the window, Kanna sits down at the window for a long time, watching the sapphire waves lap at the distinctive heart-shaped formations that formed the serpent’s peak. The knowledge of what this place was had not all been there, but somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Kanna knew that her mother had brought her here before, when she still lived in the castle. Whether it is minutes or hours, the sun’s position does not change.

After a time, the bardic necrobotanist turns her head away from the visage of home to peruse what it is that is kept here. Just as the others undoubtedly are doing as well, Kanna is drawn to a specific book that stands out from the endless shelves of this room. A book wrapped in blue dragon leather, embossed in golden threads. Next to it is a similar book, wrapped in red ogre leather and embossed in silver threads. The blue book reads ‘The Beast of the Rynvalian Archipelago’. The red book reads ‘The Creations of Vakmatharas’ in high elvish. She knows she needs to study the red book. Kanna knows this. But the book next to it is written in the same elven-hybrid writing that she had first learned how to read and write in. This book was given to this library by someone from her home. She needed to know more. When she opens the book to a page describing the acknowledgement and authors, Kanna falls to her knees in shock. A wood-print of a human woman in a deep violet watercolor kimono with a floral elven parasol looks up at Kanna, her back to the same sapphire lake just outside the windows. Her expression is serene and happy as two watercolor drops of cornflower adorning her eyes under a fringe of beautiful ebon hair look out at the viewer, and though she has not seen her in over twenty years, she knows immediately who it is. “母上...” Kanna’s voice breaks, her finger gently tracing the visage of her mother as tears roll down her face. Who wrote this book? Who had forfeited it for forbidden knowledge? As she comes to terms with the realization that the world had been robbed of her mother’s contributions to history, Kanna’s resolve hardens. Kanna’s heart would not be able to handle leaving without this long-lost memory of her mother. Unbeknownst to her in her nostalgia, the fine dusting of black magical powder evaporates, falling to the ground wordlessly. The library knows she is there now, and it knows she plans to take what does not belong to her. The white rabbit resting under the window knows it too, and emits a high-pitched cry, an alarm for the other guardians of this realm.

Kanna stumbles backwards, clutching the blue book to her chest. Storm clouds quickly gather outside as Kanna looks behind her for some interpretation of what is happening here, only to find herself utterly alone. The door she has entered through is gone, as are the other doors in this place. The wooden floors of the Ikarian Royal Library twist beneath the woman’s feet, morphing into similar storm clouds. Thunder fills the room, and similar tentacles the others would be facing start to wrap around Kanna’s ankles, forcing her down. “No!!” Kanna takes the red book before it can escape her reach. As the tentacles climb and the demarians encroach from the shadows, a glimmer of a sparkling candy wrapper catches her eye in her cloak’s pocket. Khitti’s candy! With no time to waste, Kanna takes the chocolate, wrapper and all, into her mouth. Just before Kanna’s bones can start to break, Kanna disappears, the library of memory once again void. The tentacles recede into the floor, and the scenery morphs, save for a cushion with the white rabbit on it. The time would come again for illusions to take place here. In a burst of magic, Kanna appears just behind Khitti. “Khitti!” Kanna gasps, almost falling to her knees as the relief from not being crushed is so sudden. The bardess spits out the candy wrapper.

The Worm That Walks continues to aimlessly wander the long, endless corridor they found themselves in, lots of interesting books, yes, but nothing that would tempt them from their mission here. Duty was much more important than the idle curiosities of one person- even if they were made of a thousand worms. “Helloooo, Mr. Elf- oh no, I think I might be about to tell Quintessa everything, you better come stop me.” Their voice doesn’t reach him, however, they are too far separated, but curiously enough someone else responds, a voice that the ghost that haunted the worms recognized, one that brought an influx of lost memories. “Madison, keep it down. This is a sacred place.” Worms turns to face the woman who spoke, it was an elder from their clan, their mentor in life.“What did you call me?” Worms can sense the familiarity of that name. They must have used it long, long ago. “Have you forgotten who you are, Madison?” She chuckles at him, the elderly woman walking closer to examine them. “Don’t get distracted, my child. I know this place calls to you, but you must keep going. Don’t let our deaths be in vain.” As she says this a golden light shines from behind the Worm That Walks, which they turn to glance at in reaction. “Follow it. Everything you need to triumph over evil and restore the balance is here in this library- Hurry, before the others defile this place. Go!” The old woman pushes Worms away, down the corridor towards the source of enlightenment. Perhaps before they get there someone else will have already acquired the knowledge they need.

Kasyr's errant path draws him deeper and deeper within those storied shelves- where even those arcane sources of illumination are dimmed, and the air grows stale from lack of breeze. Inwardly, he can sense no change in his situation, nor detect a single mote of the others he came in with- but, that perturbance begins to mean increasingly less the further he travels. Something tugs at him, a hungry yearning which forces his gaze across featureless tomes bound in immaculate, yet unfamiliar leathers. Without even thinking about it, his fingers begin to drift along the shelves, dust slowly building up along the tips of his finger as he tries to find some semblance of familiarity. Onwards he marches, surrounded by profane iconography, esoteric texts, artfully recreated scrolls. At one point, he finds himself nearly pausing to look over a particularly impressive tapestry, which juxtaposed a warriors Kata alongside an unknown language- and yet, he fails to hearken to the temptation. As he steps away, the image begins to evaporate from his thoughts- and yet, whatever epiphany it might have borne does not hold enough weight to cause him regret. It does not appeal to the hunger stirring within his heart, which begins to tug more insistently at his steps. It's only when he finds himself standing before a simple scarlet tome- a journal, by all appearances, that the kensai finally feels satisfied. Though the words etched on the cover are unknown to him, the desire to pick it up is nigh irresistible- coaxing him into sparing a few precious moments to feel the heft of it's realness in its hand. It's such that he almost doesn't notice the burst of black powder that rains off him and hits the pedestal it had sat upon. There's a few moments where the Kensai stares at that material blankly, before a growing sense of awareness begins to flicker through his mind. With some effort, he starts to recall the process that Lanlan had explained- non-detection for, "Hours? Has it been-" From somewhere amongst the stacks, a scrape of wood emerges, movement barely visible between the gaps, flickering amongst them as though it were stalking him, encircling his position. Without even thinking about it, the swordsman pockets the book- and starts to step away, only to pause for a moment. "Maybe...?" And yet, it's not knowledge that's offered in the purloined items place- but a hastily scrawled I.O.U. An indignation that only seems to hasten the movements of the unseen thing, as layers upon layers of purpling limbs overlap and encircle the area, seeking to cut off the Kensai from escaping with his purloined paperback. "So that's a no."

Lanlan dives through the narrow gap created for him by the war tome, but only to get his leg snagged by a hook laden tentacle. As his agonized wails echo, a second and third tentacle grab onto him, puncturing his shoulder and coming out of his neck, piercing his wrist and curling around his hand. They hardly show a hint of tension as they pull him apart, rendering him as dust and aether, snapping back toward their roots for the effort. Okay, now the gap was really wide enough, and he flies like an arrow through the gap, leaving behind the dusty illusion that got shredded. But the danger is beginning to seem inescapable, as the rattling chains grow near. From out of hardly noticed corridors, Demarians aim to surround him, lifting their ghostly sleeves toward him. His thoughts seem to magnetize toward the abyssal black hole within them. And as he aims to cast an illusion at them, the memory for how exactly to do it seems to suddenly slip his mind. “Uh…” And the tentacles don’t stop emerging from simply everywhere. Luckily these things were slow as molasses, Lanlan can outrun them. But as he does, leaving a haunting horde behind him, the ground he steps on begins to crumble under his steps, as if it’s suddenly gone from hard cobble to to loose dirt. It takes a couple of brand new Lans to grab one arm each, and pull him out. They hurl him toward an empty looking corridor, but no sooner has he chosen it, than it’s become filled up with demarians. He knows he has some tricks up his sleeve, he just can’t remember what they are right now. But from within his secret pocket, he finds a sweet little chocolate. He can almost remember what it meant to him too, eat it when in doomed. Was he doomed? The ceiling, the floor, the walls were all opening up. Yielding to the sprawling tentacles of the being that is this library. And within the mesh, heavy chains flowed toward him, seeking to bind him like it bound so many other souls, turning them into mainly witless servants, and occasionally enthusiastic ones. He ate the chocolate, leaving a caricature of a Lanlan in his place. It struggled to gesture obscenely at every tentacle it saw, spreading insults as generously as possible. Even when it became ensnared, it still used its eyebrows to spell out choice words in purple ribbon. And then Lanlan was with Khitti. He looks at her with confusion. The sight of her brings angst more than relief. His instinct is more toward self-defense in fact. “...Valrae?” That doesn’t seem right.

Valrae ran until her breath came in shallow ragged pants, her legs aching as she dodged the tentacles and chains that sought to grip her and drag her down. Her cloak billowed out behind her, white and red with blood. She ran until the path ahead started to crumble beneath her feet, the stacks she’d gripped onto suddenly pitching forward and pressing her further toward the edge of the great chasm as books began to slide and fall into the abyss. They rained down around her, centuries of lost knowledge falling like stars into the endless void that might be Valrae’s own end. One of the heavier tomes fell against her shoulder and knocked her sideways. She stumbled forward just as a Demairan swooped low. A thin hand reached out, gripping her face with such force she felt her teeth ache. It’s touch was so cold it burned her skin as she cried out. The floor fell away from her feet as its inhuman jaw stretched wide, seeming to unhinge as it screeched out in a sound that she’d never heard before and could never begin to describe. And it took from her. She could feel it pull the knowledge painfully from her mind, memories being ripped from her like pages from a book. There was no more sound to escape her now, the pain seizing the lungs in her chest. But power hummed at her side. The emerald skull cried out in fury, her hands itching with the strength that suddenly filled her. Hands raising, Valrae unleashed her power and it left her like a thunder clap. Fire rolled from her fingertips, hot and burning bright with the hue of the skull that rested in her bag. It was hungry and dark, it devoured the Demarian in its path and erased the books that had fallen around them. The secrets contained within now truly erased from the world. With the Demarian no longer holding her, Valrae free falls. She plummets again, her hands reaching out with nothing to grip hold of as she tumbles over and down like a comet of white and gold. Panicking, her shaking hands reached for the sweet that Khitti had given her. Just as chains snaked out to stop her free fall, the flavor burst in her mouth and she was transported again. Pain wracked her body as she landed with a loud thud. Her teeth were still rattling when she heard Lanlan call her name.

Each time someone ate a candy, Khitti could feel a pull on her mana, draining her just a little as the spell was used. Only Kanna showed up by her side, though she’d felt more than one strong tug, and it left Khitti to assume that the will of the person that ate it had been strong enough to teleport them back to some place much safer than by Khitti’s side. Khitti had put another enchantment in place on the candies, just in case. Something -always- went wrong when she was around, so it was the best way to go. Khitti reached out for Kanna’s hand, even called out her name until the redhead stopped short, her face contorting briefly into one of confusion as bits and pieces of her memory were stolen away. Where the tentacles had failed to reach her, the library itself ate away at her memories like a mindflayer, seeking out the most important things that she might have hidden away. With it went the design and location of Haladavar’s moon laser, to such an extent that the crates that hid them away on the Tranquility disappeared from the cargo hold. It even went to such an extent as to rid Brand and his crew of even just the knowledge of the crates themselves, though none of them knew of the contents. She could feel the library searching, rooting around for more like a pig searching for truffles in the earth. “No… NO! My memories are my own. GET OUT!” Perhaps, if she hadn’t had several encounters with mindflayers, she might not have realized what was going on. But it felt much the same and it brought back the trauma of those instances to the forefront of her mind, and brought tears to her eyes. “We need to get out. Now. RIGHT NOW.” And then Lanlan and Valrae popped up in front of her, in much the same manner as Kanna had. She stared at the two of them for a moment, then looked around. “Where the hell is that Worm and Kasyr?!” Would either of them actually eat the candy? Khitti didn’t have time enough to mull it over before she reached into her bag to pull out her gladius. Thankfully, there was one thing she could count on: the fact that both Worms and Kasyr had a love for blood. And so, Khitti bled again for the second time on this trip as she took her sword and ran its blade down the top of her forearm, letting the blood pool and spill over before she whipped her arm to the side enough to fling the blood and its scent about the area. Then, she set to opening a portal to Lithrydel, all the while, muttering a strange mantra as she tried not to freak the hell out anymore than she already was. “There’s no place like home… There’s no place like home… There’s no place like home…” And when the portal was fully opened? She’d push Valrae, Kanna, and Lanlan right the hell through it. “KAASYYYYYRRRRR, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE.” She wasn’t leaving until they all got out.

The Worm That Walks follows the golden light all the way to Lanlan, then picking up their pace when they sense something is wrong. “Mr. Elf! There you are- did you find it?” For the first time there is some excitement in their ethereal voice, some fragment of happiness that they were one step closer to their goal. “Now we must hurry and find the others. I have a very bad feeling that they’re going to do something foolish in here.” The feeling turned out to be correct, but it was far too late, the guardians of this place were already irritated and closing in. Before Worms can reach the archmage he is beset by tentacles, causing them to halt right where they are. “You’ve done something foolish yourself haven’t you…” But Lanlan is already gone, disappearing with help from the magic held in that little candy. “Of course!” The Worm That Walks removes a glove and drops it to the floor, the worms that made up their hand wiggling voraciously as they place the sweet in their palm. In seconds the candy was gone and before the tentacles that were targeting Lanlan had a chance to doubleback for Madison, the Worm That Walks had vanished in much the same way, teleporting to the location that Khitti was currently to rendezvous with her and the others to escape.

Lanlan projects multiple illusions to distract the demarians and tentacles that continue to loom toward them. All of them are Kasyr this time. So in the grips of the one who is definitely not Valrae, they all get to see Kasyr get torn to shreds over and over again. Presumably, everyone enjoys this just as much as Lanlan. Kasyr runs up to a Demarian, “Omlette du fromage,” he says as he tries and fails miserably to stab. The demarian bashes his lantern against the illusions head, and the illusions memories are all sucked into the light. “Oui oui, non?” Another Kasyr fails against a tentacle, that snares him by the ankle and smacks him into a teetering tower of books. “Au contrere mon frere,” says one Kasyr after a particularly deft dodging maneuver. Then he dies.

Kasyr was in the process in pulling out a candy with one hand, and flipping off the accumulation of tendrils with the other- when he abruptly stopped in place. Elsewhere in the Library, his companions had eluded it's attention with the aid of that Chocolate-coated Coven Cordial. But not Kasyr- that memory, still lingering at the surface of his mind is pried loose like a shingle, and cast off into the storm. It's as that cherry flavoured ash trickles from between the swordsmans fingers that it finally makes its move, a flood of midnight flesh pouring towards the Kensai in a singular effort to snuff him out of existence. And yet, when the impulse to flee is suppressed, it leaves only one recourse. "Daedria, don't abandon me now." Whilst it's doubtful that any of his companions would see the brief flash, the flicker of lightning -emerging- from the library and cascading out in tandem with the Kensai's quick draw- but the ensuing peal of thunder is no doubt harder to miss, as eldritch flesh is blown apart, sent cascading back into antique shelving, priceless treasures smeared in ichor. And yet, though it earns him a brief respite- the damage is superficial at best, as dismembered limbs crumble away into a confusion of scrawled text, only for fresh flow of sentences to begin seeping out from the thing- reconstructing the idea of the thing. And even those bought moments don't come cheaply, for though his reflexes are peerless, the kensai is hardly unscathed- pages sloughing off his body like sunburnt flesh, memories of the shattered city's history and their archmage etched on each one. He can feel the tug, the probing hunger of the thing, and he knows he needs to make the next strike count. '-our ass - here.' comes the distant call, echoing pointlessly through the repository. And yet, that sanguine provides a more concrete trail, a reminder of his peers, and a way out. "Actually. Hold that thought." The grim humour serves as an epitath to Iskaldors memory- shortly before the full bredth of the Kensais power flares into existence. Khitti's blood provides him with a direction, and faced with the simple severity of the library's caretaker, the Kensai makes what he believes to be the best decision- notably, to send himself careening -through- the shelves it was so careful to guard, boring a series of blazing holes through the remnants of lost scholars, fallen civilzations, and things best left unremembered- so that he can come to a skidding halt before Khitti, accompanied by a cascade of still burning pages, and smouldering coverlets. And yet, the rest of his companions are nowhere left to be seen, having long slipped through the breach- during those brief moments stretched into terribly long minutes- their dreaded distortion of time only partially stymied by the dread essence which fueled the unhallowed revenant.

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RP:Journey to the Repository of Remembrance

Frozen Library

Repository of Remembrance