Post by Rhyldrin Ken'rae on Sept 21, 2013 20:31:53 GMT -5
The drow was in a library…. The drow was in a library. Even with the obvious before him the drow still seemed to be in awe that he was in a library. Generally when he needed information it was given to him in the verbal sense, albeit under duress, but verbal nonetheless. Yes there were times when the drow researched specific subjects but they were so focused that generally a library wouldn’t contain the tomes needed. The cloaked and cowled drow made his way along the rows of books, that emerald gaze shifting from side to side within the shadows upon his face. Two reasons brought him to this library in Archgate, Nevahlah, the first stop of a possible many, but those reasons were related to some extent.
Since his death fighting that damned ice lizard the drow had taken an almost unhealthy fascination with death and certainly how to avoid it in the future. Of course the drow had fallen victim to fascinations in the past, obsessions really, but none of them had so altered his way of thinking as this particular topic. Though he had pretty much recovered from his passing into the nether, the attack by Misty during his time there and also the fact it was his first time to ever stop breathing completely, had exposed a raw nerve. The Infernals would never let him off their strings, no matter what they said. He would always be one of their puppets, a fact that unraveled his resolve almost as much as actually dying.
Rhyldrin’s had taken several steps to avoid such a cataclysmic event from occurring a second time, strengthening the promise of his life remaining his to command. In his quest to not just cheat death, but to control and wield it in a way that no one could imagine the drow had thought to seek out the past and it was then that an idea had come to him. Certain scholars had a fascination with collecting personal works. True, all works were, in theory, personal, but truly personal works, or journals, were highly sought after by some. It was with that idea that the ebon skinned dragon slayer visited one such collection.
Thankfully, for the collector, the drow’s reputation had perceived him to some degree and was allowed to enter with little protest. Inquiring specifically about past outbreaks of the undead rising from their graves the drow was led to a particular aisle of shelves by the owner. Several journals, grouped by their monastery and date, stood on a shelf chest high. Reaching out dark digits Rhyldrin slowly slid one down along one of the spines before looking at the clean pad of his finger. Slightly surprised the drow lifted an eyebrow before turning his gaze upon the collector. The collector had a look of pride upon his face but quickly showed intelligence by saying nothing more than “fragile things, books, and as such must be carefully cared for. I’ll leave you to your search my lord. A desk can be found at the end of the main aisle.” He then stepped back with a bow and walked back to his main study.
After the drow was certain he was alone he lifted the several books and made his way to the mentioned desk. Sitting slowly he studied each cover before laying them all on the wooden surface before him. A random one was selected and thumbed through slowly before certain words began to pop out at him. Slowing down he began to read closely at the words, seeing if anything was mentioned about a previous happening of the current events and also to see what was said about the undead in general.
OnlineHost: *** You are in "Dice Rolls". ***
OnlineHost: I Yield to None rolled 1 20-sided die: 16
+ 11 Init for Knowledge: Undead = 27
(General Idea of Content from OH Boards: 'The Apprentices'? Sure, people might call them masters or lords but everything shows that they are apprentices of another. I don't know that persons name but that person was evidently the one that taught the apprentices how to use traps, illusions, and other things to make undead into walking bombs. The real master must have been some genius.)
A marker, a piece of parchment, was placed between the pages where he came across a reference to the Five Masters while also gleaming some information on the effects of poisons on the undead, or the lack thereof. He had been aware that only certain poisons, designed specifically to combat the undead, could work on them. Ironically enough those poisons were made from the dead.
The second journal was lifted and leafed through but didn’t seem to offer any helpful information on his desired topic. He smirked some as the author, a monk, wrote more about his own worth and knowledge than the teachings of his calling. Setting it off the side he brought up the third and final journal from around the time of the outbreak and renewed his search.
OnlineHost: I Yield to None rolled 1 20-sided die: 17
+ 11 Init for Knowledge: Undead = 28
It would seem the fates were with him this day as he once again came across a reference to the five and another piece of information on the nature of the undead. The fact that undead couldn’t be reasoned with or otherwise tricked mentally made sense, though the implications of such had the drow thinking for several minutes. He focused on the situations he had experienced the undead up to this point and thought out how this knowledge could have changed his attempts or the attempts of others. The information on The Five was also helpful, as it seemed to support, at one time, these five were the lessers of another, even more powerful being.
(General Idea of Content from OH Boards: The Apprentices'? Yeah, they once all were together as a group of five apprentices serving a powerful necromancer named Vi. Then the necromancer died and the apprentices started to have a falling out. That was around a hundred or so years ago and the apprentices have been fighting since.)
Leaning back in the chair Rhyldrin thought over everything once again. He would need to find more sources from the same time period to confirm what these two monks, from the same monastery, suggested. At some point he had crossed his arms and now he found the rhythmic tapping on his arm, from his own finger, bringing him out of his daze. A single corner of that dark mouth turned upward to form a half smirk before he moved to stand. Perhaps it was time to do some… field work with the undead.
Since his death fighting that damned ice lizard the drow had taken an almost unhealthy fascination with death and certainly how to avoid it in the future. Of course the drow had fallen victim to fascinations in the past, obsessions really, but none of them had so altered his way of thinking as this particular topic. Though he had pretty much recovered from his passing into the nether, the attack by Misty during his time there and also the fact it was his first time to ever stop breathing completely, had exposed a raw nerve. The Infernals would never let him off their strings, no matter what they said. He would always be one of their puppets, a fact that unraveled his resolve almost as much as actually dying.
Rhyldrin’s had taken several steps to avoid such a cataclysmic event from occurring a second time, strengthening the promise of his life remaining his to command. In his quest to not just cheat death, but to control and wield it in a way that no one could imagine the drow had thought to seek out the past and it was then that an idea had come to him. Certain scholars had a fascination with collecting personal works. True, all works were, in theory, personal, but truly personal works, or journals, were highly sought after by some. It was with that idea that the ebon skinned dragon slayer visited one such collection.
Thankfully, for the collector, the drow’s reputation had perceived him to some degree and was allowed to enter with little protest. Inquiring specifically about past outbreaks of the undead rising from their graves the drow was led to a particular aisle of shelves by the owner. Several journals, grouped by their monastery and date, stood on a shelf chest high. Reaching out dark digits Rhyldrin slowly slid one down along one of the spines before looking at the clean pad of his finger. Slightly surprised the drow lifted an eyebrow before turning his gaze upon the collector. The collector had a look of pride upon his face but quickly showed intelligence by saying nothing more than “fragile things, books, and as such must be carefully cared for. I’ll leave you to your search my lord. A desk can be found at the end of the main aisle.” He then stepped back with a bow and walked back to his main study.
After the drow was certain he was alone he lifted the several books and made his way to the mentioned desk. Sitting slowly he studied each cover before laying them all on the wooden surface before him. A random one was selected and thumbed through slowly before certain words began to pop out at him. Slowing down he began to read closely at the words, seeing if anything was mentioned about a previous happening of the current events and also to see what was said about the undead in general.
OnlineHost: *** You are in "Dice Rolls". ***
OnlineHost: I Yield to None rolled 1 20-sided die: 16
+ 11 Init for Knowledge: Undead = 27
(General Idea of Content from OH Boards: 'The Apprentices'? Sure, people might call them masters or lords but everything shows that they are apprentices of another. I don't know that persons name but that person was evidently the one that taught the apprentices how to use traps, illusions, and other things to make undead into walking bombs. The real master must have been some genius.)
A marker, a piece of parchment, was placed between the pages where he came across a reference to the Five Masters while also gleaming some information on the effects of poisons on the undead, or the lack thereof. He had been aware that only certain poisons, designed specifically to combat the undead, could work on them. Ironically enough those poisons were made from the dead.
The second journal was lifted and leafed through but didn’t seem to offer any helpful information on his desired topic. He smirked some as the author, a monk, wrote more about his own worth and knowledge than the teachings of his calling. Setting it off the side he brought up the third and final journal from around the time of the outbreak and renewed his search.
OnlineHost: I Yield to None rolled 1 20-sided die: 17
+ 11 Init for Knowledge: Undead = 28
It would seem the fates were with him this day as he once again came across a reference to the five and another piece of information on the nature of the undead. The fact that undead couldn’t be reasoned with or otherwise tricked mentally made sense, though the implications of such had the drow thinking for several minutes. He focused on the situations he had experienced the undead up to this point and thought out how this knowledge could have changed his attempts or the attempts of others. The information on The Five was also helpful, as it seemed to support, at one time, these five were the lessers of another, even more powerful being.
(General Idea of Content from OH Boards: The Apprentices'? Yeah, they once all were together as a group of five apprentices serving a powerful necromancer named Vi. Then the necromancer died and the apprentices started to have a falling out. That was around a hundred or so years ago and the apprentices have been fighting since.)
Leaning back in the chair Rhyldrin thought over everything once again. He would need to find more sources from the same time period to confirm what these two monks, from the same monastery, suggested. At some point he had crossed his arms and now he found the rhythmic tapping on his arm, from his own finger, bringing him out of his daze. A single corner of that dark mouth turned upward to form a half smirk before he moved to stand. Perhaps it was time to do some… field work with the undead.
