Librarion: Dominion 1/11 Sorrel bothers a god

Kelne, Dwirhian, Derthaad and Andy helped write the opening RP after the events of the Mind Palace

I'm the Wolf. I solve problems.

Sorrel was very experienced in cleaning up messes.

She prided herself on her speed and efficiency. Secure the site. Neutralise witnesses. Destroy evidence. Bribe law enforcement. Secure a patsy to take the fall just in case. She had specialised in it for the House Wolf Team.

This felt more complicated.

The Librarion had the finest minds in Kantas flummoxed. Essentially a notebook that had become a god, they had ambition. A little too much ambition. Inevitably it was a group of Kantas adventurers who had inadvertently created this god, then another group that had given it real power. Kantas made messes.

Oh, man, I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.

A few weeks back Sorrel, Kelne, Dwirhian and Derthaad had stumbled back from an unsatisfactory attempt to deal with the mess. They were covered in troll blood with an enormous diamond in Kelne’s backpack and were asked to meet Lady Saria Underwood in the Town Hall.

In a well-appointed room with a large oaken table and padded, high-backed chairs, they found the halfling lawyer sitting in green trousers and a pale blue shirt.

"Good evening all. I understand you've encountered this Librarion figure again and it's concerning enough it’s been brought to me? Well I'm here and I'm listening. Tell me what you think I ought to know and I'll see how I can help."

'Well,' Dwirhian spoke hesitantly, “I don't know whether it's concerning exactly, but I'm personally stumped. Librarion has found this ancient dwarven library under Kundar and is reading a lot and becoming... very big and I'm guessing probably powerful too, although the only things we know they can do are speaking in people's minds and making paper shapes.”

The others nodded gravely.

“But they've got lots of kuo-toa worshippers and they're starting to get Kundarians too. And they wanted us to get this diamond for them so they could create their own divine domain in Mechanus. I have no idea how much of a problem that is or what to do if it is.'

Lady Saria took a deep breath and looked round at the others. 'Is that about right?'

Derthaad nodded. "When we left, he didn't seem to be hostile, just wanting more knowledge and a place of his own. However, we were pretty sceptical of him achieving full godhood and have his place in Mechanus"

Sorrel cleared her throat nervously. "I should add to my colleagues eloquent account that I was good friends with Faust, whose notebook is the... inception of this creature. Faust was disintegrated by two would-be god figures, one from Mechanus. The notebook is really the last echo of the lovely bard's presence. I felt strongly that it achieving godlike status in Mechanus would be an insult to Faust's memory. I apologise if that lead to unfortunate decisions, but I feel it important to place on the record."

Derthaad slowly shook his head. "Nope, you were right. I am also of the opinion that playing gods can lead to disastrous outcomes."

Saria had been taking notes, but then stopped and sat back in her chair. "A minor god with obscure motives who you've just sabotaged under Kundar? Well, I can at least see why you brought this to the authorities." She thought for a moment, glancing at the page before her.

The door opened and two female figures, a copper-scaled kobold in fine attire and an elf in the vestments of Waukeen, walked in. "Ah welcome - thank you for joining us on such short notice. May I introduce the Varn Hangshul, of the ambassadorial staff from Kundarian embassy and Yaltine Everian, High Priest of Waukeen in Daring Heights. I thought they should be a part of this discussion as well, as this concerns both of their areas."

High Priest Everian leaned forward. "Remarkable. Kuo-Toa imparting divinity is a known and well-documented phenomenon. However, it has seldom been recorded as being quite so impactful. I would assume that’s because of the magical nature of the book."

“Ambassador,” Dwirhian began carefully, “Librarion has a senior priest called Mavok Kendrix, a dragonborn. Kelnè here thinks they may once have been a priest of Tiamat. They were not keen on us getting the diamond. I think they like having Librarion in Kundar and being in charge of the followers.'

Varn laughed, short and raspy. "Former Tiamite, you say? That tracks."

Yaltine added quickly, "If we're considering sending Librarion to Mechanus, we're talking about either sending a god to their glory or their doom. Any of you who find any solace in religion may wish to reflect on the incredible impact you are about to have on the future of the cosmos. Minor or no, this is still a god you are talking about."

Sorrel shook her head. "Anything but that. There must be another way."

If my answers frighten you, then you should cease asking scary questions.

Time passed. Sorrel went into a looking glass land and came back. But Librarion played on her mind. It was a mess. It needed to be cleared up. And Faust’s notebook couldn’t become a god in Mechanus.

She put the word out to the perfect god slaying team.

Dwirhian – nimble and strategic, aware of the threat like no-one else.

Oziah – no-one hated gods more.

Glint – the fire genasi atheist whose very head was a blazing threat to a god made entirely from paper.

Laurel – the nature loving druid and goat owner, who would find a mechanical destination for a manufactured god against everything they held dear.

Kelne – the diamond holder, powerful devotee of Tymora who had seen the blasphemy of an imagined god perverting the belief of innocents.

She played the plan through in her mind. Oziah’s sword and Glint’s fire sending the godbrain blazing to the floor.

Dwirhian’s nimble tactics and delicate cunning.

Sorrel’s arrows holding back the hordes of irate believers. A wide kill zone. Rapid fire.

Kelne’s mighty bolts of divine fire destroying the library. Their healing keeping the party alive.

Laurel morphing into eagles or bears, tearing into any who threatened, then saving Faust’s book from the wreckage, finding the true paper and separating it from the false with her instinct for wood and trees.

It would be bloody and dangerous work. Wave upon wave of believers. The fire and the fury of the dragonborn. The cunning of the kobolds. The unspecified fishlike attacks of the kuo-toa.

And the god. An actual god.

Sorrel had fought devils and angels, demons and vampires, the energy sapping denizens of the shadowfell and the insolent skills of the feywild.

But a god…

She began the final ritual of cleansing in case her soul would be lost and wondered if it was fair to ask the party to come.

But then she thought – they’ll love it. The chance to kill a god.

There was always the possibility, she supposed briefly, that Glint’s pacifism might… but no. An atheist. A ball of flame. An academic who acquire knowledge through care and study.

No, Glint would burn this abomination. She was almost certain. And Dwirhian could be relied upon.

Let me think.

“It’s a bad idea Sorrel,” Dwirhian sighed. “Don’t do it. Honestly. I can’t stress this enough. A genuinely bad idea. I want nothing to do with it. It’s a really, really bad idea.”

“I’ll put you down as a maybe?”

It’s the one that says Bad Motherfucker.

Ozaiah’s armoured fist shot out of the shadow and hauled Sorrel into the alley beside the inn. Sorrel fought a bewildering collection of emotions from desire to guilt to relief to fury.

“Darkfire,” Oziah rumbled. “A word. I know you’re on route to divinity with the Moon maiden blah blah blah. But the gods will be here long after you’ve gone. Don’t fall in love with them. They want the surplus value of your labour and that’s all.”

“This is, what, the Kapital theory of Clerics?”

Oziah snorted. “The gifts of the goddess will become shackles and when the shackles hold you down, call for me.”

And then she glowered like only a great sexy paladin can. “This is not because I give a shit, you understand? I do this out of respect for Silvia because Delilah and her have this thing. And because I suppose I don’t find you as nauseating as most people. But if you tell anyone I ever spoke to you I will hunt you down like a dog and tear you limb from limb. Understand?”

“I have the gist, yes,” Sorrel nodded. “Nice to see you, by the way.”

Oziah growled. “Now. What is this shit? God stuff?”

Sorrel told her how she felt about Faust and Oziah nodded thoughtfully.

“OK then. Faust was good to me. In that case I’m in. As long as we kill the god.”

“I mean that would be the happy ever after obviously,” Sorrel said conversationally as they wandered into the usual bar. “But I need to warn you there is a small chance…”

“Sorrel!” Glint called across the bar from corner table where he sat with Laurel and Kelne. “Here to do the right thing by Librarion! Just as long as we don’t do any killing!”

Laurel nodded vigorously while Kelne stared into the sparkling diamond.

Sorrel sighed. This would be a long day.

Man, I don’t even have an opinion.

Shortly after they entered the caves beneath Kundar Kelne summoned Tymora.

“I mean, why not?” Sorrel thought. “Let’s get another god involved. Hopefully Oziah won’t try to kill them.”

Whilst Kelne communed the party bickered about strategy. It was a bickering that had started as they left the inn and showed no sign of ending. Sorrel hoped Tymora might have some suggestions.

Kelne’s trance dissolved. The results appeared inconclusive, but Kelne seemed more cheerful, which… well, that was good at least. Hopefully.

“I asked Tymora if they’d replace Librarion in the hearts of the faithful, but they seemed unconvinced,” Kelne reported.

“Can gods force belief onto people? This feels like some sort of theological debacle,” Oziah shrugged.

“I would say not forcing, but potentially joining in the persuasion effort by demonstrating their power?” Laurel offered.

“There’s a new Godslayer in town bitch,” Oziah hissed.

And on they went.

Say ‘what’ again.

Sorrel worried a little that the debate would attract attention. They’d been bickering for close to three hours and the Librarion must be almost within earshot. She carefully strung her bow.

“I just think that killing something because you don’t approve of it being alive is murder,” Glint was determined in his argument.

“But does this thing have life?” Oziah seethed.

“But is it right to kill it?” Glint glowered.

“It was adventurers,” Oziah moved past seething and towards boiling. “It’s a bastardisation of godhood. Someone tricked these fish people into thinking it was something holy but they’d spun it all out of thin air.”

“We are all accidents of one sort or another,” Glint reasoned.

Kelne and Laurel were nodding. Sorrel checked her quiver and loosened her rapier in its scabbard.

“Is it necessary to kill this god?” Laurel chipped in.

Sorrel thought about rearranging her daggers but had to admit she had no more weapons to adjust. She sighed and joined the conversation.

“The locals don’t want a god in their basement, basically,” Sorrel explained. “Even though they’ve done the place up nicely. Lovely wood finish. Can’t fault the workgodship.”

Kelne had been lost in thought but suddenly brightened. “What about the Disappearing library, and the Therapist in that library? Could they be of aid here. Relocate the Librarion to the Library? Of course, that could go terribly.”

As they spoke a Kobold poked their head round the corner and cried out in joy.

“Worshippers! Let me lead you to the all-powerful Librarion!”

“We will attempt diplomacy,” Oziah told Laurel through gritted teeth.

“I appreciate that,” Laurel beamed.

“Call it personal growth,” Oziah sighed.

Yo, flock of seagulls, know why we're here?

Mavoc Kendrick, a bluescale dragonborn with folded paper wings, looked up as they approached, sighed a long, disappointed sigh then turned to the enormous floating godbrain fashioned from endlessly folded paper shards bent into inconceivable shapes hinting at geometries from twisted planes of despair. Lighting flashed across it and a low bass hum echoed through the vast library.

“Ah, interestingly it looks like the adventurers didn’t die like I told you. Some of them are here,” Mavok’s voice was so measured it was almost insolent.

The Librarion unfolded a long strand of parchment that extended to the balcony like a ghastly tentacle, thudded to the floor in front of them and boiled up into the shape of an elaborate dragonborn.

The creature made arcane gestures that Sorrel recognised as some form of compulsion spell, but she shook it off.

Oziah was staring Librarion down as if begging it to say something, anything she could take offence at.

“Why do you wish to journey to Mechanus?” Glint asked.

“I know where I came from,” the paper dragonborn replied in a rasping voice. “A magic book written by a Tiefling. But I have become a god. I belong in the outer planes, not beneath a city. I am a being of order. Mechanus is a plane of order. I have been told there is space for me.”

Glint seemed puzzled. “What will you do in Mechanus?”

“I have so much knowledge,” the creature’s voice echoed in their minds. “I would build a library worthy of the amount of information I can obtain. I would like to know everything.”

Oziah extended a slow hand and closed it around Sorrel's wrist briefly, tightly to the point of pain, like a shackle.

"This is no time to flirt, Oziah," Sorrel whispered.

"There's always time for flirting and violence."

Sorrel considered this and nodded. "I have flame arrows. This thing has too much ambition."

"Say the word, Darkfire."

"Let the talk play out. As it will. We need to cover our back."

Oziah squeezed once more and let go, her hand on the pommel of her sword.

Pretty please with sugar on top

“Have you considered the Plane of Knowledge?” Laurel offered.

“I have never heard of this,” the voice was puzzled. “Let me research this.”

The paper dragonborn’s eyes closed.

“By its very nature it will never be satisfied,” Oziah hissed to the others.

“The Librarion will want more - it's already close to madness,” Sorrel agreed. “It is interested in trying out what it's like without the fish folk. Let's do that. Partly as we're outnumbered. We can't create a constantly expanding supergod.”

“We can create a constantly expanding library,” Glint shrugged.

“It's not a library,” Sorrel sighed. “Libraries don't have ambition.”

“All gods have ambition,” Oziah hissed.

“So we'll just kill them all?” Glint’s scorn was palpable. “It is a god by nature. You demand food to live and aren't stopping eating any time soon. Should all buns and steaks in Daring Heights come together to murder you?

“I don't crave all the food in existence though,” Sorrel shrugged.

Oziah started running a sharpening stone along the blade of her sword.

“Anyway, you're an atheist,” Sorrel pointed at Glint. “Here's a chance to level the playing field.”

“I am. So the Moon Maiden never demands anything from you? And if she did, should Silvia come and finish her off for that?”

“The Moon Maiden, may the light ever shine from her, does not demand everything,” Sorrel waved her hands vaguely.

“Yet,” Oziah grunted.

I’m proud of you, Honey Bunny.

The dragonborn opened its eyes. “To enter the Plane of Knowledge I have to know my true name. But you’re contemplating violence against me. I’m interested that you have such division amongst you. Allow me to plead for my life.”

It rustled and pulsed and became a nimble kobold, springing up onto a vacant bookshelf.

“Glint, we’re good?”

Glint nodded.

“Kelne – you are a follower of Tymora. I have committed no crime. Killing me is murder. If I can go somewhere where I can seek knowledge is that unreasonable?”

There was a very long pause.

“I don’t know. It’s too difficult.” Kelne said eventually.

“Laurel, if you allow me to live I will educate people,” the kobold turned its head. “Maybe I can lend you a book?”

“You do seem not keen on killing,” Laurel pondered. “As long as your search for this knowledge is peaceful, but - out of respect - not to Mechanus.”

“Well, you have recommended me a place much better than Mechanus. And now Sorrel, you think my path will lead to destruction?”

“I don’t know of any god whose followers do not kill in their name,” she said carefully.

Librarion considered this then turned to Oziah.

“You wish to respect Faust and want to destroy me to put that to rest,” the voice was light and friendly. “But you are destroying a piece of Faust. Do you remember his poetry better than I do?”

“Remembering facts is not the same as preserving someone,” Oziah growled.

Here we go, Sorrel thought, and shifted her bow so that one flex of her shoulder would drop it into her hand, ready for action.

A single sheet of paper with a poem scrawled on it bubbled from the kobold’s mouth and dropped beside Oziah. Sorrel glanced down. It was by Faust.

Oziah stared at it.

“I could kill a god for you?” Librarian offered.

Oziah kept staring.

“Are we good?”

“I think what you seek is addictive,” Oziah drawled eventually. “I don’t think you would chose to become mortal, for instance, because it’s power not knowledge you’re after.”

“So my choice, by your assembled and wildly conflicting positions, is to fight to the death, give myself a true name and enter the Plane of Knowledge or make myself a mortal.”

Here it comes, Sorrel thought. She turned to blade herself in Librarion’s direction, blocking its view of her left hand as her bow slipped off her shoulder and into her fingers, its enchanted yew shivering at the call to battle.

A thought crossed her mind.

“I feel for you, I confess,” Sorrel found herself saying. “You have had no choice in this. No free will. You have been created by other’s actions, you have hungered for knowledge without knowing why, worshipped by creatures you don’t understand, and you have a mighty knowledge indeed… but you do not know yourself. And that is the greatest knowledge of all.”

The silence was deafening.

“Let me think about that a minute…” Librarion rumbled.

It’s the same ballpark.

“This sucks,” Mavoc whined. “What happens to us? Do I have to get a job or something? I wanted to be high priest.”

The huge brain’s multi-layered folds started to unravel. It twisted and crackled with power, reforming and condensing until its single remaining pillar was as tough as steel as it flowered into an ambiguous humanoid form some ten feet tall.

It turned to all of them and spoke with a new, stronger voice. “I am going to use my considerable power to become something else. I’m also going to give myself a true name. I will change my regular name too. So. I have read many books – most did not have pictures – but I cannot think of a name.”

“Ulysses?” Oziah ventured. “Ulysses is good.”

Sorrel nodded. “To follow knowledge like a sinking star far beyond the bounds of human thought.”

Everyone looked at her.

“It’s a poem called Ulysses… so… knowledge… it seemed… oooh look at the brain!”

Light glowed from deep within the new shape and paper sloughed from its body.

They could see the worshippers drifting around the library, suddenly aimless, as they felt the connection slipping.

They felt a soft rumble in their souls as Librarion’s final farewell echoed through time and space.

And slowly, painfully and unbelievably the creatures new form emerged… a 10 foot Tiefling, inky black, covered in white tattoos, red eyes glowing in the gloomy library.

“Faust…” Sorrel whispered.

“Ulysses,” the Tiefling corrected her. They produced a small black book and offered it to Glint. “This is for you, the one who fought for me.”

All right, it was a miracle. Can we go now?

“What about them?” Sorrel indicated the massed ranks of kuo-toa, staring wild eyed and open mouthed at the self-destruction of their deity. “They need to believe, right? I mean they might start believing in anything.”

She picked a book of the shelf at random – a dictionary – and let the pages fall open.

“They might start believing in,” she glanced at the book. “The letter Q. I mean, obviously not that. No-one would believe in Q. But you see what I mean.”

“I may have a solution,” Kelne nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s another fucking god,” Oziah slumped into a well-appointed high backed reading chair. “This is like whack-a-mole.”

Then Kelne began to preach. “Could I interest you in Tymora? All the modern god conveniences, no awkward downsides…”

They keep underestimating you

Sorrel leaned against the bar in the Ettin, her eyes unfocused, a shot glass on the stained wood in front of her.

“How’s the day going?” the barkeep eyed her curiously.

Sorrel thought long and hard. The silence seemed to go on forever. 

“Oh, you know…” she said eventually. “Same old same old.”