Deafening Research

There's a great structure at the heart of Bryn Myridorn, a large temple complex dedicated primarily to Daeus, of course, but also to the other Gods in part. Beneath it, there are voluminous rooms, archives, and more.

With great ease, considering who you are, you've been able to gain access to records over the centuries, and even some research assistants to help you in your hunt.

It is going to be a lot of careful reading, however, and flipping through dusty books.

With his personal issues settled, Seldan has proven to be more than patient in his research, and indeed seems as if a burden has been lifted from him. He is kind to those present, although in front of Aryia, to them he says only, "Baram is no longer a threat, for he does penance for his deeds in Am'shere. Perhaps one day he shall return, but not before the Draco Solis' grace is again his."

He seems unhurried, now, searching methodically through the voluminous archives, seeming willing to spend long hours at this. Whatever, or whoever, had him racing appears to be no more. He focuses his efforts on what would appear to be the end of the Demon Wars, searching from there backwards for a mention of this Kintarix.

This is one of those times where Aryia, with all her foibles and dogmas, is genuinely surprised at the ease of her stepping foot in such a sacred place without much of a fuss. A travel bag rests beside her, shades take in the towering structure from the inside. A low, quiet whistle leaves her, one that fades away as Seldan explains what happened to his father.

She blinks. Am'shere? Damn. Good luck.

Now within the stacks proper, the pugilist didn't get the direct terribleness of the Legend Lore, so her direction was a bit different. Works of art and war, divine battles, smiths inspired by battle patrons. Surely there was some kind of sacred hammer out there, be it for smiting evil or creating masterpieces.

GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/history: (19)+6: 25
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/history: (13)+17: 30

... this is going to take a while.

That's the first thing you're struck by. The research asistatns are bringing box after box full of old manuscrupts, testaments, testimonies, prophecies and liars and old reports from groups of wandering heroes and more. Som uch more.

Anything that they've been able to cross reference as even POSSIBLY having a link to your target. They've been burning that midnight oil for your sake.

They are grateful, of course, for the news that the threat is resolved.

... but *so much manuscript*, and most of it only has a little to do with the possibility you're hunting. Testimonies from the demon wars are even harder to come by -- those who survived seemed loathe to talk about it and have their tales recorded for any kind of posterity.

_So be it._ In truth, Seldan had expected nothing else, for coherent accounts of the Demon Wars are difficult to come by, and he suspects that what he seeks lies somewhere in the _middle_ of the Demon Wars, not at the beginning, or at the end. Accounts of individual battles are likely to be rare.

And in truth, he is grateful for the time spent researching this for them. This must have taken a lot of time to compile. So he dutifully at least skims each manuscript in each crate, tongue between his teeth and finger trailing down the page, until his eyes blink with weariness.

Time was something Aryia had in droves as opposed to others. But even with that, and tempered patience, she can be found pacing around the stacks. A different tome in hand on each lap through. A gestured sign of thanks as an assistant hands her another box to leaf.

She tackles another create, a handful of vague references for herself set aside as her fresh journal has a sizable dent put in it from notes. For a spell, it almost appears that she fell asleep at the table. But a deep breath spill out of her nose as the pages resume their crinkling turns.

GAME: Aryia rolls fortitude: (1)+21: 22 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Seldan rolls fortitude: (10)+30: 40

...hours pass. So many hours. Page after page. Paper cut after inevitable paper cut.

Fatigue sets in. There's only so much of this one can tolerate at any given time, but given that you've likely got a limited window of help before they have to move on to others, you're going to have to push through. It's ... not easy, even for those who are resistant to fatigue and have much practice at it.

... still, Aryia seems to be falling forward in her chair, and Seldan is still tracking horrible testimonies where Celestial warriors get involved.

It's ... a process.

After a while, Aryia will find that a copper coin imbued with blue-silver-gold light bounces off the page in front of her and heads straight for the tip of her nose as she falls forward. Seldan is sitting across from her, his finger holding the place on testimonies of celestial warriors. Reading about this isn't much less bad than the visions of the _legend lore_, but if he doesn't wake her, he is likely to sleep himself - complete with more nightmares.

So in order to imbue weapons with divine might, they must first be... and then after receiving the blessings from the out being, you must...

Deep contemplation. Yes, so much so it must be considered...

Light breathing indicates a dedicated mantra of control. Surely.

A grimace flashes across her face as the glowing copper coin shines behind her eyelids, the mute pugilist sharply inhaling, shaking her head some, and sitting upright. "-'m -w-k-," she hisses softly.

Cool hues of light streak from her cheek as the copper coin has stuck to her face. She blinks, peels it off, and snorts in tired amusement. "Sorry," she signs, sliding the coin back and rubbing her eyes. "I somehow blurred boredom and trace. I guess I couldn't take the two hundred and sixtyth twenty page blessing on making a weapon sparkly." <Handspeech/Tongues>

As Aryia's eyes fall down on the text she fell asleep on -- inevitably -- there's a drawing.

.. a crude sketch of a being wielding a hammer. She might've almost missed it! The hammer has a nimbus around it. Light. Perhaps it's a step in the right direction!

Seldan only chuckles quietly in answer, taking the coin and letting it sit next to him to provide additional illumination. "This is not my first night vigil, and it is not in my mind that it shall be the last." The matter settled, he continues to read on, skimming, discarding, skimming, reading, skimming, discarding, and so on. His tongue wanders back between his teeth as he does so.

Aryia yawns, rolling her shoulders. "I can do it too, just normally I'm doing something else, or meditating. Reading is great and all, but usually it's something more exciting, not-" she taps the page, looking down at it, "-shit like this-" <Handspeech/Tongues>

Blink. Read. "W-t - f-ck-ng s-c-nd."

She taps the table to get Seldan's attention, and slides the book over to him, her far more awake now.

"Mmmm?" Seldan looks up, his own interest piqued. He uses the gently glowing coin to mark his place in the manuscript he is reading, and pulls the book over that Aryia offers to him. "I- perhaps you have found it!" he breathes. "Certainly a hammer of light -" He looks to see if an anvil is pictured, or only a hammer.

Aryia bobs her head briskly as she leans over the table to read with Seldan about the sparkly wielded hammer!

GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (17)+25: 42
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (2)+35: 37

The testimony attached to the drawing is from a story told by a veteran of the demon wars. A rare find, given the reticence with which it is treated. It is very, very old, and doesn't look like it is a *direct* dictaton. Instead, it's a story of a story, with an artist's rendition attached.

Still, it's talking about how they were faced with something called 'the Unloved King' and how, in a moment of dire need, a great celestial light filled a 'bleak and doomed silence' with harmony. The angel brought its hammer to bear against the Unloved King and helpd them rally to defeat him, but was 'shattered' by the Unloved King's dying echoes and was entombed with him by the survivors of the battle.

Seldan reads, tongue still between his teeth, several times. "Doubtless a full different music from that which seemed to please Kintrilax," he murmurs at length, finally releasing his tongue and searching for his own notetaking supplies. At length, he finds them, pushing the book a bit away towards Aryia and making his own notes from the testimony, underlining _the Unloved King_ and _buried with the angel who defeated him_.

Aryia's brows raise as gets the book back and reads, the disused pen scooped up as notes are jotted down into her journal with her own interpretations. She clicks her tongue, nodding in agreement as he looks back and forth the same page. "I get the feeling we're going to have to be freeing another angel, or pieces of it. At least we got a lead now," she signs, staring at the rough depiction of the hammer.

The mute smacks her cheeks to wake herself up. "Okay. Unloved King. People love writing shit about shitty rulers. Have to find where they ruled, and the end of said rule." <Handspeech/Tongues>

GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/history: (14)+17: 31
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/history+1: (17)+17+1: 35

Seldan stares at what he's written, the tip of the quill waggling back and forth in his hand, frowning at it. "Well may it be that the Unloved King was no king at all, but a moniker given to any of many monstrosities bred by the Demons in the course of the wars. Thus is is difficult in the extreme to learn more of it - and yet," he speaks slowly, and lays his pen down.

Instead, his head lowers, and he assumes a meditative pose, laying an ink-stained hand over his heart. "Ancestors mine," he whispers, "were you witness to the Demon Wars? What means the name, the Unloved King?"

Aryia scratches her head. "I don't get it, but I sure as shit am not a historian, so I won't pretend I do," she admits, watching Seldan place his note taking tools down.

The mute tilts her head to the side, watching whatever it was that the Silverguard was doing. An old memory flickers to mind, about the tattoos on his arms. Then of his talking blade. Oh. That makes sense.

Her chair creaks as she leans back in it, pen tip lazily hovering over a blank page in wait. <Handspeech/Tongues>

What flickers into life, after a few moments of Seldan's silence, is not his arms, but his entire chest and back beneath the shirt that he wears, a blue-gold-silver gentle glow visible beneath it. It flickers unhappily, then steadies, and he breathes only, "Thank you," as the glow fades.

When he raises his eyes, they are haunted, but full of understanding. "The Unloved King is not a monster, or a king, but a ballad that drove mad all who heard it, drove them into its service, dancing unto their deaths. None were immune. Some became living echoes to its majesty. It infected the very land itself, and roamed wholly unchecked until it was finally extinguished, and erased from the collective memory, that it never be sung back into being. It is in my mind that this hammer countered it with mighty thunder, drowned it out, but -"

"Do we venture into a place where such a thing be entombed, we must be wholly deafened, never unstop our ears for a moment, lest it echo within. It must never be released, never heard again. Hence the bleak, doomed silence, and a celestial harmony-" He closes his eyes again, then looks back up. "A thing so terrible that even the ancestors feared to remember, to think on it, and I am grateful that they did so."

Aryia watches, quirks a brow and tilts her head, watching the glow for a moment as she brings up her own hand. A little idle flick of a finger, and moonlit hues glimmer across the skin. Interesting.

Her attention is drawn back, and the only noise from her is the scribbling of ink on parchment as she takes down the Silverguard's diction. She frowns, dotting the last period. "That is both reassuring that we're not on a wild goose chase, and fucked that it happened. And probably will have to deal with once more."

She looks up with him. "Thanks." Gestured upward, towards whatever ancestors were asked. Then back down to Seldan, "We need to get you like, a pile of kittens or something to scrub your brain from all the shit you divine." There is no flicker of a smile. She's serious.

"And sounds like a perfect time to teach you a few signs." Small smile. <Handspeech/Tongues>

The glow fades, and Seldan scrubs at his eyes with the backs of his hands, and exhales a long, slow breath. "Divination is a difficult discipline," he murmurs, turning to his own notes and writing down the same thing from his memory, which isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. He looks up, and nods slowly. "I would learn, if you would teach. It seems that it will be needful, in this place. Still must we find the place where it lies."

He considers his notes, then the manuscripts. "It is perhaps best, do we speak of this to none save those who need know, and of that to none. I would not have the curiosity of historians and bards raised. Still is there one more thing I would find, do we have the strength."

He closes his eyes. "The celestial who took Kintrilax's hand -" He breathes out, and pauses. "I would learn more. Though I knew not the face - there is something familiar about it."

"Can show you some basics while we're traveling," Aryia gestures with a finishing thumbs up. "I don't really talk of this batshit insane stuff to anyone really, and I intend to keep it that way. I'd prefer to not see the start of a horrid era and have to live through it for how ever many centuries I got left in me."

She tilts her head at Seldan's request, considers, then drops her chair back to all four legs as she rubs her hands. "I have the strength. Got my power nap in. Looking for an angel, or some other kind of celestial?" <Handspeech/Tongues>

"The hammer's wielder," Seldan answers, turning back to the book at hand and consulting it and his notes. "I am near certain that they are one, and the same."

GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/geography: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/geography: Trained Use Only: 0

There are fragments. Now that you know you're on the trail of the Unloved King, they do have more about it there -- and they've reached out to the Bardic Colleges for help. Perhaps they might know something?

Still, you're no experts in triangulation and it's harder than you'd like. The best you've been able to get so far is 'somewhere in the Desolation', which is probably not terribly surprising but at least narrows it down to a geographic region.

Aryia scratches her head at the notes, as well as the map of Ea that lives buried in her pack and is well worn. "Seas I can figure out. Lands, eh..." she sighs. "Somewhere in Desolation. Beyond that, don't fucking know. We'll probably have to ask around."

She rubs her shoulder, the hours researching slowly seeping tension into her frame. "It's a start." <Handspeech/Tongues>

For Seldan's part, he reads the descriptions and shakes his head, not even able to glean that much. "Even so. Our search was not in vain." He works a quick spell to dry the parchment before him, then caps his inkwell and begins to assemble the manuscripts and scrolls he had set aside, that they be returned to their proper crates. "Indeed am I grateful for your aid in this. I would seek others to aid us in his search, be they willing, but I am loath to speak to any of the Unloved King, lest it park curiosity that leads its holder to disaster for all."

Aryia does her part in helping clean up, her doing her best to not try and imagine the dawn cresting into the building outside the archives. She nods sharply, picking up her travel bag and stashing her journal into it. "A lead is a lead, no matter how small. Or, large, in this case of a whole continent."

The Silverguard gets a thumbs up. "No problem. Just want to get this shit knife dealt with and destroyed after the terribleness it did. But I agree, let's not speak of this King, and gather a trusted party."

She stretches, hands on her back as a few satisfying pops echo through the shelves. "Which, I think we can get started after some proper rest." <Handspeech/Tongues>

"I shall seek you for those lessons," Seldan agrees, leaving the crates for the research assistants to put back, and standing himself. His back, too, gives several loud pops as he stretches, and gathers his cloak. Gravely, he thanks the research assistants for their diligence, and bids caution in setting down much information, lest such a horror be again turned loose upon Ea.

With that, he gestures that Aryia should precede him out of the cathedral, and into the predawn chill.

-End Scene-