Post by andycd on Aug 15, 2024 13:46:48 GMT
Nearly a thousand years ago, Gadenthor fell to the ground in Harnash. But once it flew still, and a city of such unrivalled magical power merits an underground just as impressive...
The life of a scroll golem is a curious one, though in a world of wonders and terrors, perhaps not the most curious. Like many constructs of its type - guardian entities - most of a scroll golem’s existence is spent watching, patrolling, guarding. Most other constructs however, aren’t as restless.
Whether due to the nature of parchment compared to sturdier materials like stone, clay or iron, or due to some whim of the spell’s architect (seeking to make them more approachable, perhaps) any given scroll golem has trouble remaining motionless. They stretch, they flex or adjust themselves, folding or unfolding a joint, seemingly by reflex. Only by reverting to a standing mode - once again indistinguishable from a regular scroll - can they seem to stay still.
Pae sighed, pausing in cleaning the grooves of a dagger while she took stock of her office. It was a question of their utility. Their miniature frame should make them excellent for stealth or recon - but their innate twitchiness gave them away. A stone golem in position was totally silent - not even a heartbeat to give them away - but you could hardly fail to spot their massive bulk if you had any sense. You could always hear when a scroll golem was watching you - standing on top of a bookshelf or peering round an ornament on a side table. If you were very good, you could count them by sound alone.
The Operations Office held numerous scroll golems, their papery shuffling a welcome accompaniment to Pae’s own work, managing ledgers and writing or approving orders for thefts, establishing safehouses or connecting a new portal to the Edge. At the moment though, she was on her own equipment maintenance, and so was listening that bit more intently, less papers of her own to distract. And the rustling in the room was one golem louder than it should be.
Her hand flew out, the dagger pinning a papery form to the cover of a regrettably expensive book on the history of vault design. Stepping over swiftly and, unlike her still squirming prey, silently, she stabbed her second dagger in and ripped down, tearing through the parchment like, well, itself. A golem would never provide answers so inspecting its corpse would have to do. The most important thing was to make sure it couldn't cast its spell.
Following a quick sweep of the rest of the office, Pae spread the tattered remains of the intruder. Around the room, paper flapped nervously.
“Don’t worry. Loyal golems have nothing to fear,” she said, wryly.
Assembling the pieces, she examined the nature of the creature. References to shadows, to travel and to an area of effect were all she needed. Not a wizard herself, she still had enough familiarity to recognise a spell designed to Pass without leaving a Trace. So that’s how it got in. Did someone really expect it to get into her office, gather information and return? Pae liked scroll golems because they were easy to underestimate, but thinking that one of the Lords of the Edge would make that mistake was foolhardy.
Or perhaps not. The scroll golem was a spell scroll of course, but any limbs and other extremities were typically made with blank or spare parchment. These were clearly the latter, and they made for fascinating reading. As Pae read more of the golem's contents, the truth became clear. This golem wasn’t sent as a spy, but as a whistleblower.
Once more Edgelord Pae sighed, returning calmly to the task of cleaning the grooves of her dagger. It looked like she would need them again before the day was done.
The life of a scroll golem is a curious one, though in a world of wonders and terrors, perhaps not the most curious. Like many constructs of its type - guardian entities - most of a scroll golem’s existence is spent watching, patrolling, guarding. Most other constructs however, aren’t as restless.
Whether due to the nature of parchment compared to sturdier materials like stone, clay or iron, or due to some whim of the spell’s architect (seeking to make them more approachable, perhaps) any given scroll golem has trouble remaining motionless. They stretch, they flex or adjust themselves, folding or unfolding a joint, seemingly by reflex. Only by reverting to a standing mode - once again indistinguishable from a regular scroll - can they seem to stay still.
Pae sighed, pausing in cleaning the grooves of a dagger while she took stock of her office. It was a question of their utility. Their miniature frame should make them excellent for stealth or recon - but their innate twitchiness gave them away. A stone golem in position was totally silent - not even a heartbeat to give them away - but you could hardly fail to spot their massive bulk if you had any sense. You could always hear when a scroll golem was watching you - standing on top of a bookshelf or peering round an ornament on a side table. If you were very good, you could count them by sound alone.
The Operations Office held numerous scroll golems, their papery shuffling a welcome accompaniment to Pae’s own work, managing ledgers and writing or approving orders for thefts, establishing safehouses or connecting a new portal to the Edge. At the moment though, she was on her own equipment maintenance, and so was listening that bit more intently, less papers of her own to distract. And the rustling in the room was one golem louder than it should be.
Her hand flew out, the dagger pinning a papery form to the cover of a regrettably expensive book on the history of vault design. Stepping over swiftly and, unlike her still squirming prey, silently, she stabbed her second dagger in and ripped down, tearing through the parchment like, well, itself. A golem would never provide answers so inspecting its corpse would have to do. The most important thing was to make sure it couldn't cast its spell.
Following a quick sweep of the rest of the office, Pae spread the tattered remains of the intruder. Around the room, paper flapped nervously.
“Don’t worry. Loyal golems have nothing to fear,” she said, wryly.
Assembling the pieces, she examined the nature of the creature. References to shadows, to travel and to an area of effect were all she needed. Not a wizard herself, she still had enough familiarity to recognise a spell designed to Pass without leaving a Trace. So that’s how it got in. Did someone really expect it to get into her office, gather information and return? Pae liked scroll golems because they were easy to underestimate, but thinking that one of the Lords of the Edge would make that mistake was foolhardy.
Or perhaps not. The scroll golem was a spell scroll of course, but any limbs and other extremities were typically made with blank or spare parchment. These were clearly the latter, and they made for fascinating reading. As Pae read more of the golem's contents, the truth became clear. This golem wasn’t sent as a spy, but as a whistleblower.
Once more Edgelord Pae sighed, returning calmly to the task of cleaning the grooves of her dagger. It looked like she would need them again before the day was done.