Post by Sunday on Mar 20, 2020 17:00:10 GMT
Sunday slams down the scroll in frustration, earning a disapproving look and a tut from the scribe re-shelving a number of books an aisle or two over. Mouthing “sorry” at the stern-faced dwarf, Sunday picks up the offending, unintelligible text, gathers up an armload of others, and walks over to one of the low reading tables tucked against the curved wall of the academy tower. Sighing, Sunday takes the first scroll off the top of the stack and begins to read.
A few hours later, she pushes her seat back from the table and stands to stretch, joints popping as she works the stiffness out of her body. Sitting back down, Sunday glances quickly around before surreptitiously wiggling the fingers of her left hand underneath the desk. Bringing the newly conjured cheese and tomato sandwich up from beneath the table, Sunday goes back to the task at hand, opening what feels like the 745th treatise on aberrations, and making notes on a scrap of parchment while trying to recall the liquid-guttural exchanges between the beholder and neothelid.
“Trllilillssssathliiiiiksewuqwirdfsds sdsdsdz kqwdi xiinqnqpcks?”
Startled at hearing the same alien, trilling, gurgling speech spoken aloud behind her, Sunday spins on her stool, one of her hammers appearing - so quick it almost seemed like it was summoned - in her outstretched hand and pointing at…
...Oriloki, as the giant sage backs away a step, his hands upraised, bespectacled eyes blinking in surprise.
"Mistress Sunday, my apologies! I intended no alarm!"
Sunday exhales slowly and mutters "मूर्ख"quietly to herself as she hangs the weapon from her belt again.
"Ori. Don't do that." She pauses for a second, frowning. "What're you doing here? And why are you speaking like that?"
Oriloki starts to chuckle, before stopping himself at the look on her face. "Heh- ahem, well, I had intended to peruse some of the texts concerning aberrations that we have here, but was informed a certain tiefling had commandeered them all. I approached to see if our interests were aligned - my apologies for the ill-conceived introduction."
"It's fine. It's just I've not heard that language before I encountered it yesterday - and now from you today as I'm reading up on it. You startled me."
"Not my intention, I assure. I've been following up on some of the disturbing developments that Mistress Thistletop asked me to investigate a while ago. The incident with the rakshasa? Something didn't quite sit right. Other independent reports have been coming in, too...." Oriloki looks at the books and scrolls littering the table. "Maybe I can help..?"
"Feel free. I'm trying to find out what a star spawn is and what it might be doing with a beholder in the middle of the fourth circle of the Hells."
Oriloki pulls over a chair from an empty table nearby, and sits down to read over Sunday's notes and the texts she's pulled together. As he tuts and makes a third correction to her handwritten scrawl, Sunday rolls her eyes and slips away to get some fresh air. Returning an hour later, she finds Ori sitting patiently at the table, arms folded into his sleeves. Seeing her entering the reading chamber, he stands up and carries a single sheaf of paper over to her.
"This might suffice - as a precursor to what you're looking for. A brief summary of the star spawn and their major aspects and known qualities, with an emphasis on iner-planar travel." He pauses. "I took the liberty of including some cross-references; recent reports of...devotees...of the Far Realm in Kantas? Cultists, I believe you would call them, dotted about here and there in the Dawnlands. Nothing too conspicuous yet, but certainly enough evidence to suggest that... well, maybe you should read for yourself..." He trails off.
Sunday, frowning, takes the paper from his hand and quickly scans it.
"Oh, fucking come off it...." She snaps.
"Mmm, well, indeed." Oriloki murmurs in reply. "Preliminary findings, you understand. Nothing concrete or confirmé, as they say in Thay."
"Thanks, Ori. I'm gonna have to drop this off with Aurelia and the rest."
"I'll accompany you, if I may; I have a meeting of my own to attend."
The two of them exit the academy and make their way to the main Council building in Portal Plaza. As they enter, the giant goliath bows and starts to take his leave, but Sunday halts him with a hand on his sleeve.
"You speech their language, right?" She says, wafting the page in the air.
"I have a substantive familiarity with the dialect of the Far Realm, yes. It's one of many langua-"
"Teach me it. I have a feeling I might need to know it."
"Mmm-mmm." Oriloki frowns, noncommittally. "It is quite a complex method of communication; the lexicon isn't entirely verbal, you see: there are a myriad of intonations, gestu-"
"Yer, great. Sounds difficult, I get it. I'll pick it up fine, though, with you tutoring me - and with this." She taps the simple band of copper nestling in her hair, hand-woven around with sprigs and clippings of purple iris, sage, holly, and lotus flower amongst the foliage adorning the item.
Oriloki shifts his stance, uncertainly. "I suppose I could prepare a simple glossary of terms: some common phrases and expressions..."
"What, like, 'Hello, my name is Sunday.' and 'Where is the library?'... Fuck that. I wanna get to know these...creatures. I wanna get inside their minds... before they get inside mine. I need to know how they communicate."
For a second time that day, Oriloki lifts his hands in the face of Sunday's intensity. "Very well, very well. But it won't be easy, or quick. Or cheap. I have my own work and expenses to consider. I estimate it will take just over 11 tendays and cost aro-"
"Don't worry about that. I'll cover it. Can we start soon?"
"Yes, I suppose." He rubs a hand over his bald scalp, considering. "This time is actually rather suitable - 4th bell, next tenday then? At my office here."
Sunday chucks him a quick salute before striding deeper into the Council complex, calling over her shoulder as she departs. "Brilliant, cheers. See you then."
A few hours later, she pushes her seat back from the table and stands to stretch, joints popping as she works the stiffness out of her body. Sitting back down, Sunday glances quickly around before surreptitiously wiggling the fingers of her left hand underneath the desk. Bringing the newly conjured cheese and tomato sandwich up from beneath the table, Sunday goes back to the task at hand, opening what feels like the 745th treatise on aberrations, and making notes on a scrap of parchment while trying to recall the liquid-guttural exchanges between the beholder and neothelid.
“Trllilillssssathliiiiiksewuqwirdfsds sdsdsdz kqwdi xiinqnqpcks?”
Startled at hearing the same alien, trilling, gurgling speech spoken aloud behind her, Sunday spins on her stool, one of her hammers appearing - so quick it almost seemed like it was summoned - in her outstretched hand and pointing at…
...Oriloki, as the giant sage backs away a step, his hands upraised, bespectacled eyes blinking in surprise.
"Mistress Sunday, my apologies! I intended no alarm!"
Sunday exhales slowly and mutters "मूर्ख"quietly to herself as she hangs the weapon from her belt again.
"Ori. Don't do that." She pauses for a second, frowning. "What're you doing here? And why are you speaking like that?"
Oriloki starts to chuckle, before stopping himself at the look on her face. "Heh- ahem, well, I had intended to peruse some of the texts concerning aberrations that we have here, but was informed a certain tiefling had commandeered them all. I approached to see if our interests were aligned - my apologies for the ill-conceived introduction."
"It's fine. It's just I've not heard that language before I encountered it yesterday - and now from you today as I'm reading up on it. You startled me."
"Not my intention, I assure. I've been following up on some of the disturbing developments that Mistress Thistletop asked me to investigate a while ago. The incident with the rakshasa? Something didn't quite sit right. Other independent reports have been coming in, too...." Oriloki looks at the books and scrolls littering the table. "Maybe I can help..?"
"Feel free. I'm trying to find out what a star spawn is and what it might be doing with a beholder in the middle of the fourth circle of the Hells."
Oriloki pulls over a chair from an empty table nearby, and sits down to read over Sunday's notes and the texts she's pulled together. As he tuts and makes a third correction to her handwritten scrawl, Sunday rolls her eyes and slips away to get some fresh air. Returning an hour later, she finds Ori sitting patiently at the table, arms folded into his sleeves. Seeing her entering the reading chamber, he stands up and carries a single sheaf of paper over to her.
"This might suffice - as a precursor to what you're looking for. A brief summary of the star spawn and their major aspects and known qualities, with an emphasis on iner-planar travel." He pauses. "I took the liberty of including some cross-references; recent reports of...devotees...of the Far Realm in Kantas? Cultists, I believe you would call them, dotted about here and there in the Dawnlands. Nothing too conspicuous yet, but certainly enough evidence to suggest that... well, maybe you should read for yourself..." He trails off.
Sunday, frowning, takes the paper from his hand and quickly scans it.
"Oh, fucking come off it...." She snaps.
"Mmm, well, indeed." Oriloki murmurs in reply. "Preliminary findings, you understand. Nothing concrete or confirmé, as they say in Thay."
"Thanks, Ori. I'm gonna have to drop this off with Aurelia and the rest."
"I'll accompany you, if I may; I have a meeting of my own to attend."
The two of them exit the academy and make their way to the main Council building in Portal Plaza. As they enter, the giant goliath bows and starts to take his leave, but Sunday halts him with a hand on his sleeve.
"You speech their language, right?" She says, wafting the page in the air.
"I have a substantive familiarity with the dialect of the Far Realm, yes. It's one of many langua-"
"Teach me it. I have a feeling I might need to know it."
"Mmm-mmm." Oriloki frowns, noncommittally. "It is quite a complex method of communication; the lexicon isn't entirely verbal, you see: there are a myriad of intonations, gestu-"
"Yer, great. Sounds difficult, I get it. I'll pick it up fine, though, with you tutoring me - and with this." She taps the simple band of copper nestling in her hair, hand-woven around with sprigs and clippings of purple iris, sage, holly, and lotus flower amongst the foliage adorning the item.
Oriloki shifts his stance, uncertainly. "I suppose I could prepare a simple glossary of terms: some common phrases and expressions..."
"What, like, 'Hello, my name is Sunday.' and 'Where is the library?'... Fuck that. I wanna get to know these...creatures. I wanna get inside their minds... before they get inside mine. I need to know how they communicate."
For a second time that day, Oriloki lifts his hands in the face of Sunday's intensity. "Very well, very well. But it won't be easy, or quick. Or cheap. I have my own work and expenses to consider. I estimate it will take just over 11 tendays and cost aro-"
"Don't worry about that. I'll cover it. Can we start soon?"
"Yes, I suppose." He rubs a hand over his bald scalp, considering. "This time is actually rather suitable - 4th bell, next tenday then? At my office here."
Sunday chucks him a quick salute before striding deeper into the Council complex, calling over her shoulder as she departs. "Brilliant, cheers. See you then."
