RP:Solving the runes and Playing the tunes

Synopsis: The entire entourage of Lefty, the wayward undead ocular, gathers for an emergency cram session to solve the mysterious runes. A stranger enters the room and offers a suggestion that offers a surprising breakthrough.

Part of the Wholehearted Wanderers Arc

Part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Arc

The Great Library of Cenril

You enter the library. The air smells musty, but by no means damp, though there are signs that moisture must have gotten into this place at one point. There is a water-damaged door that evidences this. It does not appear to be locked. Maybe you can push it? The air tingles with magic, most likely from the enchantments placed upon the books to keep them preserved. The bookshelves are huge; they stretch as far as you can see. Looking up, you see that they also stretch up towards the very high ceiling. The floor is black marble and the walls seem to be constructed from contrasting white marble. The tables, which form an orderly line down the center of the library, appear to be ash wood and have gold leaf decorating their legs. The place is deathly silent, probably due to the enchantments placed in the building rather than the compliance of the patrons. How would one find what they were looking for here? You could spend a lifetime in this hall of knowledge and not even read a hundredth of the books here.

As you enter, you can clearly see that every table is littered with scrolls and maps. Books are lying open on every exposed space. Lefty had called an ‘all-hands on deck’, and his team dares not disappoint. The avian man flips through three separate tomes, comparing details and verifying theories. Lefty himselfs scurries along the floor, balanced atop a pair of ancient and uncanny hands. He peers at every text for a few moments before moving on. A very unhealthy and scorched dryad flips slowly through a single book. Her vines snake through the room, connecting everyone in Lefty’s hazardous matrix. Whenever the eyeball places a finger on a vine, it gives of steam and smoke. Shortly after, all three know everything the other two have discovered. Off in the corner, a small kitten obscured by fog gnaws on a pair of detached legs. Doing so sends fuschia sparks flying from the wounds, and dribbling out the side of its tiny mouth. Such does not deter the handheld feline terror, as it experiments with the newfound talent for necromancy. Since no one is paying attention to him, there’s no way to know if the kitten is learning anything or just likes the sensation of sparks popping in his mouth.

Sidd had been having the most fantastic day today, as he finally received a bit of correspondence from a long missed mate. He'd been living the quiet life, for the most part. By day, he'd take on odd jobs around the Cenril port as a means to keep himself in gold and of sound mind; And by evening, he would usually be found drowning himself in the most inexpensive of liquors to dull the loneliness. That letter, though. That was the kick in the ass that got the man motivated into finding his way off the shores of Lithrydel, and out into the blue yonder where his greatest companion currently resided. Sid hadn't set foot in the Cenril library before, but this was the best place to search for information about the world at large, as he'd been told by a generous old man at the pub. However, as soon as he stepped into the room, he was immediately thrown for a loop by the strange sideshow act that had been taking place before his arrival. "What in the fresh hell?.." he uttered in disbelief.

Lefty looked up from his latest discovery, which no doubt added to the mystery man’s consternation. An eye with hands staring you down has to be unsettling. The eye taps a nearby vine, sending a shockwave through the avian man’s body. A few words are uttered which do not bear repeating, before the avian looks over to the newcomer. “Hello. Are you here to help with the cause? The script isn’t elvish or draconic, but we haven’t the faintest what it could be.” The dryad and kitten ignore the exchange, letting the more prosaic and coherent lackey handle the social discourse. “I’d advise picking a book on. . .well, not any of those.” A sharp dismissive wave is given over to the pile on the left.

Sidd couldn't quite take his peepers off of the eyeball that was seemingly, somehow, communicating with the avian. He knew it was rude to stare, but that had to have been the weirdest thing he'd ever seen - and he'd seen a lot of weird things in more recent years. When he could finally pry his eyes away, he looked over to the dryad - another creature that he'd never seen before, and then finally to the foggy area where the kitten lay. It took a moment or two before the sound of the avian's voice broke his concentration, but Sid would eventually respond with a confused grin while scratching at the back of his fading, blue mohawk. "Uh, yeah, sure. The cause. I'm always down for the cause, man. Um. What exactly.. is the cause, again?”

Lefty said, “Oh, I assumed the Bards had sent you. Simply put, we’re trying to track down what, to be quite frank, is an uncontrolled weapon of mass destruction. I would say uncontrollable, but Lord Lefty has assured those in power that he is up to the task. The problem we’ve run into, is that no one who’s been in contact with it has survived. They have however left behind these five infuriating runes.” The avian man opens his notes to the picture of each sigil: r ^^ + @ e. “We’ve rotated them, arranged them, and compared them to several known languages. No luck so far, but they have to mean something. Your help could mean the difference between life and death to so many. Lord Lefty thanks you, and the Bard’s Guild will be appreciative as well, I’m sure.”

Sidd steps further into the room, setting his bag down near a table closest to the main entrance. He's careful and cautious in his footwork, trying his best not to step on the web of vines because he wasn't sure if they were important or harmful, or what. As he moved past the dryad, he gave her a meek little nod and smile, that kind you give to a passing stranger in the street that you may have accidentally stepped in front of. "Nah, sorry to disappoint ya, I'm just some guy staying in town. This sounds pretty serious, though." Almost immediately, Sid forgot about his main reason for coming to the library, but things took an unexpectedly interesting turn. "A weapon of mass destruction, eh? And no one has survived once they've made contact? What does that mean exactly? Like, has it been five people killed, each with one of these runes, or has there been some huge catastrophic event with a lot of dead folk, and runes left behind?" As Sid took a gander at the sigils, one brow lifted in curiosity. There was something oddly familiar about those sigils, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. "How many languages have you been though?"

The avian man, one Were Pigeon by name, counts on his fingers. “Languages? Elvish and draconic, like I mentioned, pixen, underpixen, halfling jive, abyssal, tauran. It appears to be none of them, but getting back to the death toll. Your latter guess is more correct. We’ve discovered mass graves, which make sense given the nature of the device. Creature? No, best just call it a thing. Hundreds of corpses, which would eliminate necromantic involvement. Upon raising them, they could only trace these runes, and offer depressing chants about the wind and wishing for release.” Were Pigeon steeples his fingers to answer the next question he anticipates even before Sidd asks. “The item is a shard of glass containing a bard’s voice. What makes it worse is that the bard was tone deaf and had no volume control, hence the sonic overload and bleeding from the ears, eyes and mouth. A disembodied voice blowing out the ears of the living with tones never meant to be heard. What was the Lady thinking?!?” As he utters this last, Lefty fires a laser into the avian’s shoulder blade. Were Pigeon muffles his scream. “Apologies. My tongue got the better of me. This situation is not the Lady’s fault. She’s already dead.”

Sidd listens intently, but much of this was definitely above his level of understanding regarding the world around him. Underpixen? Halfling jive? Abyssal? He had no clue as to what any of those were. "Damn. Sounds like a few singers I know," he quipped in response to the mention of the shard with the bard's voice. Before he could ask his next question, Sid was startled by the sudden laser that came flying from behind him. He quickly turned to the eyeball, assuming he was the culprit, then pointed and scolded it like it was a dog. "Oi! NO. Not in the library! First, what if you missed and hit me? Not cool, man. Or, what if you hit the books?! All that precious knowledge that could be useful to the cause! THE CAUSE." Sid winked, showing that he was mostly joking, but still - it did scare him a bit. "Okay. So. Disembodied voice is the main clue. Like, forgive me if I sound dumb, because I'm not exactly from here. And I know that different cultures around a world, or even throughout history, have different ways of writing things down. I'm just guessing, but do you think the symbols may have something to do with music? If you've already been to that avenue of thought, then feel free to tell me to shut up. Also, who's Lady, and what's she got to do with this?"

Were Pigeon says, “Lord Lefty worships the Entropic Duality. One of which is the necromancer who raised him. We refer to her as the Lady” Were Pigeon looks at Lefty as he carefully chooses his words. “The Lady was a deranged madwoman who experimented with things she ought not. Brilliant mind, but hopelessly broken.” Everyone in the Library pauses, except the kitten in the corner who continues to fight a leg. “We hadn’t considered music. More the fools, us.” As one unit they begin to find books on ancient music to study the runes. Their footsteps echo in the silence in a faint seven-point rhythm. Tap ta-tap ta-tap ta-tap. “Your insight is wise beyond your ego, friend. We shall explore this avenue.”

Sidd actually felt proud of himself for once. Even if it didn't amount to much in the end, just the idea that this may have been something worth exploring was enough to make him feel as if he were actually contributing something of importance to the world around him. "Glad to help, really! I mean, mass destruction, right? That's not good for anybody. I really hope it pans out. 'Cause living. I like doing it, y'know?" Sid wasn't sure he could be of much more help than that, because he wouldn't have any idea where to start looking. Besides, he's pretty sure even that bit of effort blew a few braincells for the evening. "I'm gonna leave ya's to it, I think. You guys all look smarter than me! Wait. Smarter than I. Hah! I do hope the next time we cross paths, there'll be progress. Nice you meet you all!" Completely forgetting why he had even gone to the library in the first place, Sid carefully maneuvered over the vines, grabbed his belongings and headed back out into the night. He needed another drink.

The dryad waves at Sidd as he leaves, turns the page and taps her finger on the table in an odd periodic beat. Ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap, pause. Over and over, absently, without paying attention. The kitten knocks over one of the legs in the corner and it makes a thump, exactly at the moment the dryad pauses. Lefty finds himself tapping along, and the seven point rhythm from before resumes. Thump ta-tap ta-tap ta-tap. Every iteration of the sequence has an odd effect on the runes. They glow faintly, barely a glimmer at first, then brighter until it’s too late to turn back. Lefty realizes what has happened, and sends the details over the connection. If anyone wondered how the crew were getting their injuries, this action would answer everything. The dryad ignites with emotion, and not figuratively, but a few well-practiced slaps put out the sparks. Were Pigeon’s flesh begins burning from the inside and he calmly applies aloe to the worst areas, before drinking what remains in the bottle. Before the runes destroy his notes, Were Pigeon matches them to the book in his hand. “Dwarven Glockenspiel, we’ve found it. Gather the troops. Looks like we’re raiding Craughmoyle.”