A Strange Red Book

[Irelander]

Act 1, Scene 1: A Death at the Inn

An emaciated, unbathed, ranting Ynnwn scrambles into Kad-el's tavern.  After indistinct rambling, he collapses, dropping a green journal at his side.

Day 1

I never imagined that I might find myself wrist deep in dirt, searching for whatever ancient secrets the ground might keep.  Who knows what knowledge is buried here?  Some of the other archaeologists mentioned that this region is the origin of all Yliakum.  If that's true, who knows what we might find!

Day 4

We found some Dermorian bones today. No telling how old they are, but based on depth, they are relatively new.  Judging from the marks on the clavicle, we all agreed that the woman had suffered an attack from some beast.  An interesting find, but nothing notable to the academic community.

Day 20

A room!  We found a room today.  Corm poked his head into the large, empty library.  At least, we think it's a library.  There was a table and chair, preserved but weathered by time.  Books were stacked everywhere.  No bookshelves, mind you, just stacks of books.  We'll start cataloging tomorrow.  What wealth for the University!  To know what migh have been known ages ago!

Day 21
Corm was unwell today and did not join us in the unearthed library.  We entered through the small hole we'd dug yesterday.  We did not dare risk collapsing the room by expanding the portal.  We counted 165 books in total and began assessing their constitution.  Most are constructed similar to modern books: a series of signatures joined at a shared spine, with outer binding.  One book, though, was. . .  I don't know yet.  The red binding is as vibrant as any new book in Hydlaa. Instead of signatures, three perforations along the face near the spine penetrate every page. Bone, it appears, has been place in these perforations to hold the pages together.  It was no doubt thought a sinister thing by simpler beings.  A book of magic, perhaps.  Still, it does give an uneasy feeling.

Day 24
Corm has gotten worse, but refuses to return to Hydlaa.  He has been poring over the strange red book all day.  The script is one none of us have ever seen.  It is an illuminated manuscript and some of the depictions are reminiscent of modern ideas like Dakkru's visage.  The ornate script is easy to discern, but again, we have no idea what the symbols mean.  Corm plans to work through the night despite his state.  The Ylian has fortitude, I'll give him that much.

Day 30
We've catalogued twenty books so far.  Most are business records.  A few contain recipes and spells and the like.  Nothing new to the University, though.  Same books as in the University, just older.  There's that, I guess. Some ideas are older than we thought.  Corm looks awful, but he's up and about again.  He's pale now, even for an Ylian, with an unsettling shade of black/blue under his eyes.  He spends all of his time with the strange red book.  I stopped into his tent this evening, and as I entered he drew it close to himself.  As if I were to steal it!

Day 40
Our progress has slowed trememndously.  More have gotten sick like Corm.  Same story as Corm.  Bedridden for a day, then a withered return after a few days.  Everyone's back on their feet, but they all study the red book day and night, only pausing for brief rest.  They don't even eat.  If they've translated it, they haven't shared any progress.  Corm has changed most of all.  I haven't seen him sleep in a week.  The others. . . They revere him.  I feel like I'm living out one of the stories about life long ago, stories we learned in University about times of simpler understanding.

Day 59
I've been running for days now. A massacre at Corm's Tent.  Everyone was-- Nothing was left.  The whole hide tent was soaked through with blood.  I could see from without.  Inside- I couldn't tell where one body began or another ended.  Everything was covered.  Except the book.  The strange red book.  It sat on the entrail covered table where Corm had sat for weeks to study it.  It was as clean as the day we found it.  It called my name. Dakkru be damned, I heard it whisper my name.  I ran.  When I stop to rest, I hear it again.  Getting louder, more than a whisper.  I won't rest.  I have to get to Hydlaa.  I'll be safe.  I have to find someone who can silence the book.  The strange red book that knows my name.

Day 60
I'm almost to Hydlaa town.  It's more than my name now.  It shows me stories of horrors approaching Hydlaa. I'm almost there.  I'll warn them.  I'll warn them.  The red book.  The red book is the death of Hydlaa.

[LigH]

[ Promising introduction. I hope I may be able to notice this event in-game, but regarding the daytime this post was written, I doubt it... ]

[Mariana Xiechai]

Well I'm interested! 

[Rigwyn]

[ Me too. This looks like a nice start. Good Luck! ]

[Irelander]

Act II, Scene I

Dorthran Logra died at their feet, but not by the work of either's hand.  He had clamored into Kada-El's, ranting about a red book and horror beyond imagination, then collapsed.  He was dead.  Strangely, his body remained. 

Stashka read aloud from the Ynnwn's green journal as Hemmel cast a shadow about them before investigating the body. After unfruitful examination, they decided to follow what few clues that had been revealed to them.  First, though, what to do with a corpse that Dakkru did not claim?

They had hidden the body of the Ynnwn well.  Stashka was content to simply relieve the corpse of the 800 tria, but Hemmel was hungry for the mystery.  Had so many perished as the journal claimed?  Was Dortrhan simply mad? 

Stashka and Hemmel made their way to the ruins to investigate further.

As they approached the ruins they discovered tents and equipment as one might expect from an excavation.  Tents were being taken down and loaded on to carts in organized fashion.

A fair-skinned Ylian called out to Stashka and Hemmel, "Are you from the University?"

""Uh...yeah! Yeah, we are!", replied Stashka, calling from afar.

The Ylian set down the rolled canvas and pikes which had been slung over his shoulders and walked up to greet the apparent students.

Hemmel slowed his pace to walk behind Stashka, holding his cane behind his back.  He surveilled the orderly camp cautiously.  This is not the image of destruction that Dortrhan's journal had recorded.

"I wasn't expecting anyone else, but we'll gladly take the help."

Stashka, with his usual subtlety, looked about suspiciously and asked "Yeah, sure right. Uh....wait a sec...do you have any, uh, dead bodies around here?"

The Ylian had removed his sun had removed his sun hat to wipe his brow, but paused at the strange question.  "I don't. . . Excuse me?"

"Please, excuse my friend.  He can be rather unorthodox at times" said Hemmel, attempting to route any suspicion.

Stashka, smiling widely, rebounded saying "Huh. You seem to be out of the loop. Nevermind then. So, you needed help with, uh, excavatin then?"  Stashka leaned toward Hemmel, whispering "What's goin on here? Does he not realize that maniac and his friends died here?"  Hemmel raised a hand to stay Stashka's excitement.

The Ylian bent his head slightly, raised an eyebrow. "Actually we've just finished a few months of work.  We're packing up to head back to the University."  Assessing Stashka sharply, "I don't recall seeing you at the University. I'm Professor Cormoerand. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Stashka. I'm, uh, new. At the university. As a student, of course." Stashka said, shaking the professor's hand.  Walking past the professor, he asked absently "So, uh.....didja find some treasures? I mean- anything of, um, intellectual importance?"

"And I am a more distant associate," nodded Hemmel.

Behind the professor, Hemmel noted 'students' packing away equipment and continuing to prepare carts.  Stashka marched past the professor to help pack the more expensive discoveries. "Don't go far," Hemmel cautioned.

"Well, if you are here to help," the professor said, following after Stashka, "you can break down tents. Sadly, we found no 'treasure.' "

Stashka erupted. "I aint goin nowhere! Not if there ain't nothin' worth crap in this place. I ain't doin no packwork, neither. We hoped to have found a room deep in the ground, but it turns out to have been empty."

Professor Cormoerand stopped.  "Excuse me? I don't believe you're actually from the university."

Hemmel approached the professor.  "As I said, he is rather unorthodox. Or unbalanced, whichever you prefer."

Stashka, his senses finally overriding his greed, spun toward the professor, "Empty? But I thought there were books and....uh....um, nevermind. OK! You've found us out! Might as well admit it! We, too, are, uh, seekers of, uh, great findings! We've been looking for the hermits books for a long time, too! Of course we're from the university!"

Suspicion subsided at the mention of 'books' and the 'hermit'.  "The University did know what we expected to find. . .", thought Professor Cormoerand.  "Again, we found nothing. We excavated what we'd hoped to have been an underground dwelling, but it turned out to be an empty pocket in the earth. A former, natural cistern perhaps, but nothing of value to us."

"Are you sure," Stashka asked.  "Could it have been a room at one time?"

Shaking his lowered head, the professor intoned "No, not likely."  His eyes searched the ground, the raised to scan the distance.  One could see almost see the question growing.  "Can you tell me- you are new, I know- but, perhaps you knew a student by the name of Dorthran?  He left the camp on strange circumstances.  We hoped he'd returned to the university.  Have you seen him?"

"Dorthran?  A tall Ynnwn, yeah?" said Stashka.

"So, he did return?  Good.  He did not seem well."

"He didn't talk much," Stashka continued. "What were the strange circumstances?"

A student approached Professor Cormoerand to inform him that they were almost done packing.  The professor suggested taking one last account of everything before leaving.  "You'll be the one to retrieve anything left behind this time," the professor scolded.  Returning his attention to Stashka, he continued "He became erratic a few months into the excavation.  He began watching everyone; spying on us out the corner of his eye."

"That so?" Stashka said, glancing toward Hemmel, his face rife with confusion. "Did you notice him carrying a book around with him at all? He was obsessed with it when he came to, uh, the university."  The conflicting stories between the Ynnwn's journal and the professors account were becoming a bit much for Stashka to process in the moment. 

Hemmel scanned the camp.  As the student said, everything was packed up.  Carts filled with supplies and people approached them.  "Can you describe his erratic behavior?"  Scanning the former camp site once more, Hemmel settled his eyes on Stashka. In away only comrades could tell, Stashka knew this look was significant.  It carried a message and that message was "Keep your mouth closed, for once."

"He was a good student. For the first few weeks he kept up with work, and even led some identifications of unearthed remains," the professor recalled.  "He was crack on with bone identification. After the first month, he started withdrawing.  He did keep a journal. Most of us do."

Students began passing by on their carts laden with supplies.  Stashka pressed his lips tightly together, trying his best to keep silent and listen.  As the professor kindly excused himself to make one last check of the former camp, Stashka's ears perked up as he heard a passing student say "Yeah, someone tore pages from my journal, too.  The jerk!"

Stashka spun around and ran toward the caravan, yelling "Hey!  Hey!  I'm missing journal pages, too!  Hey!"  Hemmel quietly surveilled the professor, the former campsite, then the flow of students.  With a sigh, he followed after Stashka.

The student called back to Stashka, "Seriously, who does that?"

Stashka nodded emphatically. "I know right! Hey, did he take anything else of yours? Anything else missin?"

"Just a couple pages from my journal," he said.  Stashka had passed his limit for inquiry and appealed to Hemmel for help.  Other students could be heard agreeing that their journals were missing pages, too.

"Does anyone remember," Hemmel's voice carried loudly, "what kinds of things were written in those missing journal pages?"

A student from another cart called out "Nothing important.  They would have been notes on an empty hole in the ground." 

"What hole?  Where is it?"  Asked Hemmel.  The carts were picking up pace as they made their way to the smoother plains just beyond the ruins.

A third student called from further away.  "You can't miss it. It's a hole. In the ground."  He pointed a ways behind Hemmel.  Stashka, tired of questions and carts, turned to run full gait toward the former campsite.  Hemmel followed calling "Don't stray too far, Stashka."  He had little faith in the situation.  "Someone is lying," he thought.  "Boldly.  The professor.  The students.  Their journals.  This doesn't sum."

[Irelander]

Act II, Scene II

They discovered the excavated hole easily enough . The earth was well worn and grass had been trampled from use.  He knelt down to peer in, but the meter-wide entry allowed little light to enter.

Hemmel reached into the opened ground and closed his eyes.  Light began to shine from within the earthy portal.  A small, ghostly sphere descended from his hand.  Stashka prepared a rope to follow the glowing orb into cavern below.

The roughly excavated hole gave way to the finely hewn stone walls of the room below.  "Whoa," Stashka watched as the sphere illuminated the room below.  "Hey, this don't look like a natural cave."

Hemmel stood up and called after the caravan, "Professor!", but the caravan was too far off.

"Just leave him be, Hemmel.  He's obviously off his rocker, or somebody is around here."

Hemmel wanted answers.  The professor couldn't hear him, but perhaps Hemmel could get his attention another way.

A dark mist formed around Hemmel's hand as he centered himself.  He reared back and threw the mist as high into the sky as his might would carry.  The entropic mist erupted into a roiling darkness.  Darklight cast against everything in the area as would a candle light a room.

"PROFESSOR! I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION!", yelled Hemmel.

Cries of terror rose up from the caravan.  Students pointed to the darkness in the sky and wondered what was happening, if this would be their end.  The drivers quickened their pace to escape the peculiar darkness and soon the caravan was out of sight.

Hemmel lowered his head and sighed.  "Subtlety.  Hah!"

Stashka looked up from the portal to catch Hemmel's attention.  "The only way we be gettin' answers is going down to see for ourselves."  Hemmel placed a caring hand on Stashka's shoulder.  "That could be dangerous," he said.

Stashka smirked.  He grabbed the rope and swung about to begin his own descent.  "Sure, I know that.  If you hear me screamin', wait ten minutes before you go get more help."  This did not alleviate Hemmel's trepidation.  "I'll call up if its all clear.  And if it isn't, I'll, uh. . . cal up. . . anyways."

"You know the code for all clear," Hemmel sternly commanded.  Hemmel sent down two more orbs of light after Stashka.

Stashka looked around the room below. The walls were no accident of nature.  Someone made these. Still, it was safe, so he called up the all clear.

"What do you see, Stashka?"

Stashka hesitates to leave the comfort of the rope, but steps into the room as the orbs of light follow him.  "Uh...its definitely a room, not a cave, whatever that crazy professor thought..."  The room was large, and mostly empty save for a table and chair; stacks of books canvassed the far side of the room.

"UUhhhh....Hemmel, I'm gettin a little nervous now too...I'm seein these books, remember like the one that Ylian saw, fore he went crazy and died?  Everything from the journal- it's all here."  Stashka's legs became heavy.  This horrific images from the journal played through his mind.

"Don't go close," Hemmel's voice echoed eerily down the chute and around the chamber. "I'd rather you not become another pale, arguably dead, possible phantom."  Hemmel heard Stashka shuffle another step.  "Stop!" he called. "I need to test something first."  Hemmel dropped six rods down the portal.  "Use these."

Stashka picked up the rods, noting each was composed of a different metal.  He twisted his face in confusion. "Now what?"

"Each of those resonates to the energy of a Way.  If there is any intense magical energy down there, at least one of them will vibrate.  Not very hard, mind you.  You'll feel it tremble in your hand."  Hemmel waited for a response, alert and ready.

Stashka held out all six rods away from his body.  He stepped slowly into the room and waited.  "I . . . I don't feel anything. . . yet."  After a few moments, confidence found him.  He tucked the rods under his arm and approached the books.  "Yeah, nothin'. I'mma get a better look here now."

"Very well," Hemmel called, "but keep talking.  That will let me know you are still yourself."

"Right. Uh, well, I'm just seeing the books, table, chairs, so far."

Stashka continued his search alone in the quiet room.  Old books, an old table, an old chair in a beautifully crafted room.

Hemmel waited above, alone with his thoughts, to keep an eye out for trouble.  He wondered whether the caravan was real.  He stood among the ruins, rope in hand, darklight cast all about him.  He wondered and worried as he wrestled with the dark unknown they had discovered.