Tweet
Closing the door behind him, the tall man ascended the small flight of stairs that led up to the main floor of the building.
He paused at the top, taking stock of his surroundings. The musty smells of books, dust and air left too long without freshening mingled with the acrid traces of chemicals he couldn't even begin to try and guess at. Sidestepping, he navigated his way through a jumble of books strewn across the floor of the landing; some lay open, resting on top of the heap - the desired knowledge they held having been gleaned - where they had been left, forgotten, the reader apparently in a hurry to continue their investigations. Leaving the entryway behind, he was forced to skirt an abandoned handcart as he moved into the workshop proper.
Bookshelves, piled high, lined the few walls free from barrels, boilers, iron pipes or strange machinery. On benches, various liquids bubbled and boiled away, while scholars watched on, recording their observations. At the far end of the workshop, a bald scholar hunched over his table, taking meticulous notations as he perused a large open tome.
"Greetings, traveller," the bald scholar welcomed him, barely glancing up from his work. The man stood in awkward silence as the scholar continued his fastidious notetaking, for all appearances having forgotten the visitor's presence.
Some short while later, now apparently satisfied a safe spot had been reached to pause in his notations, the scholar painstakingly cleaned his quill before delicately positioning it on the table, neatly parallel to the parchment.
Turning to look at his visitor for essentially the first time, the scholar instantly recognised the black cloak fastened proudly about the broad shoulders of the smiling golden-haired young man, marking him as Tormtar. Beneath the cloak, his visitor wore a simple grey tunic over a plain white shirt. Long pants of dark brown were tucked into well-made, unadorned boots. "Is it wisdom that you seek?" the bald scholar inquired. "The Lord of Knowledge shares gladly with those who do."
"It is," the young man nodded once as he spoke, his smile fading. "What can you tell me about Old Blood sickness?"
((This post is in response to ingame happenings involving DM Acorn))
He paused at the top, taking stock of his surroundings. The musty smells of books, dust and air left too long without freshening mingled with the acrid traces of chemicals he couldn't even begin to try and guess at. Sidestepping, he navigated his way through a jumble of books strewn across the floor of the landing; some lay open, resting on top of the heap - the desired knowledge they held having been gleaned - where they had been left, forgotten, the reader apparently in a hurry to continue their investigations. Leaving the entryway behind, he was forced to skirt an abandoned handcart as he moved into the workshop proper.
Bookshelves, piled high, lined the few walls free from barrels, boilers, iron pipes or strange machinery. On benches, various liquids bubbled and boiled away, while scholars watched on, recording their observations. At the far end of the workshop, a bald scholar hunched over his table, taking meticulous notations as he perused a large open tome.
"Greetings, traveller," the bald scholar welcomed him, barely glancing up from his work. The man stood in awkward silence as the scholar continued his fastidious notetaking, for all appearances having forgotten the visitor's presence.
Some short while later, now apparently satisfied a safe spot had been reached to pause in his notations, the scholar painstakingly cleaned his quill before delicately positioning it on the table, neatly parallel to the parchment.
Turning to look at his visitor for essentially the first time, the scholar instantly recognised the black cloak fastened proudly about the broad shoulders of the smiling golden-haired young man, marking him as Tormtar. Beneath the cloak, his visitor wore a simple grey tunic over a plain white shirt. Long pants of dark brown were tucked into well-made, unadorned boots. "Is it wisdom that you seek?" the bald scholar inquired. "The Lord of Knowledge shares gladly with those who do."
"It is," the young man nodded once as he spoke, his smile fading. "What can you tell me about Old Blood sickness?"
((This post is in response to ingame happenings involving DM Acorn))
Comment