Private The Madman's Library [TML]

[Lyt]

The Madman's Library​

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Players so Far:​

Rizen - Riz ​

Gorthal - Abraxas​

Rarga - Rarga or Raah​

Raurshka - Raurshka​

Shear - Jo'Zaree ​

Lyt - ??? ​

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4th Era, Year 203, Fifth of Rain's Hand, 7:00 P.M.​

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Ka'Rzique found himself utterly mystified, staring up at the sky slowly turning from gold, to violet, with the great aurora starting to make it's appearance. The lone KhaJiit, with a strange name lost himself in the brilliant sky, mumbling to himself.​

"Color colors, sunset colors. Set my heart aflame.​

Never seen such pretty colors, let my mind exclaim..."​

He wore common fur hide over his leopard spotted fur, which suited him just fine. You could hardly tell the difference between his fur and his covering. He managed to look quite the feline, with his yellow eyes wide with wonder, curiosity and a touch of madness. A single leather pack adorned his shoulder, full of something Ka'Rzique loved but didn't understand. His belt held no weapons but one, small sheath that should have held a dagger, but instead held a small sharpened bone. Ka'Rzique adjusted his pack absentmindedly, enraptured by the changing sky.​

​

His appearance there on the road to Whiterun from Iverstead must have seemed odd, because a guard stopped and asked, "Are you alright there?"​

Ka'RZique could only babble, never taking his eyes off the sky, "Lost, yes Lost is Zeek, in Sky, Rim, yes Rim, SkyRim am I?"​

"Excuse me?"​

"Help find me you must, help Zeek, Skyrim is vast, find who Zeek is, I'm thus. Mind is long gone, long past."​

The guard seemed flustered, "Are you mad?"​

The word seemed to act as a lightning bolt, and Ka'Zrique instantly brought his full attention to the guard, to glare most fiercely at him with his yellow slit-like eyes. The guard stepped backward in fear, then reached for his weapon.​

"MAD YOU SAY? CORRECT INDEED. BUT SOON IT'LL BE YOUR MIND IN NEED!" The KhaJiit screamed. ​

And quick as a flash Ka'Rzique drew the bone and sliced at the air in front of the guard. Time seemed slowed and the guard's swing at Ka'Rzique was reduced to a snail speed. Ka'Rzique stepped away from the sword and reached into his pack, drawing out a shimmering book. He put the bone-shard back into it's sheath and time returned.​

The guard's sword swung harmlessly at air. The guard looked shocked that he'd missed the Khajiit. He rushed forward with another attack.​

Ka'Rzique opened the book at the guard. ​

The guard froze. His face was lit by strange hues eminating from the pages.​

Ka'Rzique cackled gleefully.​

"Lost you mind to the book with the lights. Now your mind is like mine!"The guard was completely mesmerized, a look of utter content on his face.​

The Khajiit cackled again, and then closed the book with a snap and the guard fainted.​

Then Ka'Rzique took the guard's gold and returned to his contemplation of the sky. When he finally got bored, it was midnight. Then he made his merry way to Whiterun by the light of the auroras, singing loony lyrics as he went.​

***​

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On the road to Whitrun, Sixth of Rain's Hand,6:45 A.M.​

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A Wizard in Black robes waits to ambush the next traveler to Whiterun from Iverstead. A single thought is in his head: Just one more black soul and I'm golden...​

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[rizen]

A Wizard in Black robes waits to ambush the next traveler to Whiterun from Iverstead. A single thought is in his head: Just one more black soul and I'm golden...

The wizard waited in eager anticipation from his makeshift campsite to the side of the road, never dropping his stare from the horizon...as the horse and carriage approached.
"The hunter took aim for the eyes, and thus-"
The wizard jumped at the outburst, spun on his heels to see a dirty jester with an idiotic grin sitting next to the campfire.
He raised both of his hands with the lick of flames emanating from his fingertips.
"Nah-uhhhh" Riz jibed, waggling his finger back and forth at the wizard;
His finger dropped to rest upon the open book he had sprawled on his lap.
The jester squinted at the small print and cleared his throat.
The confused wizard, reluctantly listened with his jaw hanging at this sudden madness.
"AND THUS..." Riz continued "...he had no idea" Riz snapped the book closed and leveled his gaze to the wizard " HE HAD NO EYED DEAR!" proclaimed the jester whilst twirling his finger at the side of his head.

The wizard, began to wander in a dreamlike state from his encampment to the road muttering the implications of such brilliance, the carriage now forgotten...that is, until it ran him down.

Riz smiled and waved to the carriage as it passed by. Afterwards, he rummaged through the wizard's belongings. Black soul gems? He licks one and wrinkles his nose followed by a look of disgust shot at the dead body.
He reached into his own satchel and produced another black soul gem "This one tastes better, keep it" Riz dropped the black soul gem on the chest of late wizard and continued to Whiterun at a leisurely stroll.

 

[Lyt]

There was a bump. The carriage jostled.
"That must be Lysandus... right on time. One down, two to go. Keep going driver."
The elderly mage studied his book from the corner, taking in what the reptilian across from just said.
"Seem's like this recovery operation is going well, even compared to the Master's predictions. Don't you think so Gregor?"
"Too easily. Let's just hope the Khajiit is as easily predictable... and as easy to eliminate. I bet he's in Whiterun by now." Gregor didn't much care for the operation, the escapees had gotten away with several artifacts, and if they blabbed about their secret...
"Not matter, Gregor." Said Polian. "The madness has probably gotten him to babbling. Even if he does spill, it will be as fool's words. Our real worry is the Whiterun guards, they can be awfully suspicious."

They talked for a several hours, all about the master's plans.

Half way to Whiterun, the carriage halted.
There was chatter outside.
"Driver! What is it?"
"We've been waylaid, sirs. She wants us to pay a fine." The driver called out.
Polian opened the carriage door. A single frost spike ended the Highway woman.
"Go driver! We have no time for Thieves!"
The carriage moved on as the Reptilan wizard closed the door and resettled in his seat.
"What about the book thief?" Gregor inquired.
"If the master's predictions are correct, which they have been accurate to the second since we left the library, then we will deal with him in Whiterun as well."
Gregor still had his doubts. No divination had ever been so precise before. He wondered just what maddening power the Master had acquired in the dark recesses of the library. The carriage continued up the road toward Whiterun, oblivious to the thieves now investigating their fallen comrade. the arrows that the thieves sent after the carriage glanced harmlessly off the magical shielding that extended even to the horses and driver. Inside Gregor checked his watch 6:50 A.M. Then he glanced back at his book.
"Death of Lysandus, by Carriage Wheel, 6:48:01 A.M. 6th of Rain's Hand
Death of Ka'Rzique, By Whiterun Guards, 12:53:17 A.M. 7th of Rain's Hand.
Retrieval of Artifacts, 1:00:26 A.M. 7th of Rain's Hand.
Capture of the book thief, 6:58:56 A.M. 7th of Rain's Hand."
And other finely predicted details...
Too easy... No prediction is this accurate.


***

Whiterun, Sixth of Rain's Hand, 4:30 P.M.

"Well this is a real treat." Commented the prison guard facing the cell. "Where did you find him?"
The other guard looked weary. "The mad cat was sleeping on the roof of the Greymane house. Talking in his sleep, sounded like the maddest poetry. Kept poor Olivia up all night. Got the whole town talking. I reckon he's bewitched."
"Any possessions?"
"Just a book, and a strange bone. We have them locked away. He also had a modest pouch of coins."
"And he just sleeps there?"
"Yup. He didn't even stir when he fell off the roof, Or when we dragged him in here! It's the damnedest thing. But that's not even the weirdest part. The book he had with him, no-one here can open it."
"Curious. Must be one of those private journals the mages in Winterhold College have been fooling with. I bet he's one of their lot. Betcha he's fiddled with things he ought not to have fiddled with."
"Better keep him locked up for his own saftey, 'till the Khajiit wake up and can tell us more. keep his things locked up."
The guards turned away from the cell and toward the door. "Any news from Drokin yet?"
"No. he still hasn't reported in yet."
"Better send someone to go find him. I bet he had too much to drink at the Hommingbrew Meadery again."

In the cell, Ka'Rzique slept soundly, dreaming of the library.

 

[Gorthal]

Abraxas threw his cape back over his shoulder again and strode out of the Bannered Mare in style. Everything had gone smoothly for him ever since he entered Skyrim; he came to Whiterun, flirted with the barmaid and got himself a job. He was to go to the Valtheim Towers and kill a bandit chief which to the Imperial, sounded like an easy way to make money. I"ll probably net a nice few hundred coins for this. After a few jobs, I'll get my armor repaired and... Gather the materials for my project. He though to himself. Exiting the gates of Whiterun deep in thought, Abraxas turned east along the road, already hearing the tinkling of gold in his purse.

A somewhat long walk later, found Abraxas in sight of the Valtheim Towers. Not sure what to expect, he drew his Elven sword and reached for his knife belt, searching for a throwing knife in case of he needed to take out an archer. Finding himself grasping at air, the assassin stopped and looked down at his pitifully empty holsters. Oh right... I'm poor. Sighing to himself, he instead reached to his right hip where he kept his Elven dagger sheathed and drew it, holding the dagger in a reverse grip. Trudging up the slightly inclined path, Abraxas ran into one of the tower's residents; a female bandit who demanded he hand over his purse. It's empty anyway but I'll just kill her... IN STYLE! With that thought concluded, he sprang forth and before the outlaw could even draw her mace, Abraxas pierced her in the throat, unleashing a stream of blood which he nimbly avoided. With a fluid motion, the assassin flicked the red liquid from his blade and entered the tower. Upon taking his first step up the stairs, another lackey charged forth with a war cry tearing from his lips. Narrowly dodging the bandit's blade, Abraxas slit his throat with a flashy spin. Upon reaching the top floor, Abraxas was charged by a heavyset Orc in full steel armor and wielding a steel battleaxe. Ducking under the lateral blow, Abraxas lunged straight for the bandit chief's knee.

They had been fighting for too long. A whole minute passed as Abraxas and the Orc exchanged blows. The Imperial was starting to get nervous. Surely the Chieftain's lackeys had heard the fighting by now and would rush in to help. So lost was he in thought that a bash from the butt of the Orc's battleaxe caught him in the face. Reeling from the blow, Abraxas rolled onto a wooden table, dropping both his weapons in the maneuver. A powerful overhead smash cleaved the flimsy table in half and as it collapsed, Abraxas launched himself forward, punching his adversary in the face. Alighting upon solid ground once more, he stooped to retrieve his fallen dagger straightening up just as the Orc sent a low sweeping attack his way. In one lightning fast movement, Abraxas kicked the haft of the battleaxe, causing his foe to recoil. In this moment of weakness, the assassin deftly slit the chieftain's throat, finishing once again with a flourish. Panting from his long struggle, the first thought to enter Abraxas' mind was; By the Eight! That must've looked very cool. This thought was cut off however, as an arrow skimmed past his very eyes and embedded itself in the wall. He thew himself back as two more sailed leisurely threw the open doorway. All was quiet until the sounds of booted feet emanated from the stairwell. In a flash, his mind concluded that the bandit chief's allies had crossed the fast flowing river and made it up to the tower, effectively catching him in a pincer attack. I can't fight them all right after battling their leader. There's only one way to escape and it's going to look ... Well quite spectacular really. Stepping once more into the doorway, the assassin ducked to avoid the pair of arrows that soared over his head. Running as fast as he could, the Imperial made it to the middle of the bridge before he jumped, angling his body into a more streamlined shape in preparation for his icy ordeal.

I wish I was an Argonian. This thought entered Abraxas' head as soon as his body plunged into the fast-flowing river, swept up by the moving water, he scrabbled to find purchase upon their slippery surfaces. Finally hauling his shivering body onto shore, Abraxas found himself once again upon the road he used to travel to the towers. Glancing back furtively at the Valtheim Towers, he set off back to Whiterun in order to claim his reward. As he walked, he became aware that somebody or something had followed him. Peering around his shoulder, he discovered it was a lone wolf obviously hungry and conflicted over whether to eat him or not. Okay, here's what I'll do. Just take my crossbow and fire a shot over my shoulder while barely looking. It'll be an impressive sight for sure and that wolf would surely want a good death. Mind made up, he followed through with his plan, carefully reaching back for his crossbow and taking aim without moving his head too much, he fired. The steel bolt sliced through the air, cleanly missing its mark. Hmmm... I missed. That probably didn't look very good. The next thought to pop into his mind sounded something like; OH S*&T I MISSED! With that, he took off with a very ravenous and now angry, wolf tailing him. Wait... why am I running from a wolf? I'll just unsheath my sword and spin around, catching the wolf just as he lunges at me. It'll look even better than shooting it with a crossbow. Not to mention that was my last bolt too. Slowing his steps, the Imperial listened keenly for the wolf's leap. When he thought he heard the footsteps disappear, he whirled, pulling his blade out at the same time. He had mistimed it however, and came face to face with a wolf just as his blade was an inch from the animal. Falling from its weight and momentum, he scrabbled desperately for his dagger and stabbed the beast in the neck. It instantly went limp and he heaved the carcass off of his body. Great that failed too... The Jarl better pay me well for this.

"A hundred gold!? That's all you're paying me? Just a hundred gold for killing three bandits, jumping into a freezing, fast-flowing river and fending off a hungry wolf?"
"Well I'm sorry but that's all the bandit was really worth. We didn't say anything about paying you for the other two bandits or killing a wolf or diving into a river." Huffing with frustration, Abraxas snatched the bag of coins away from the very non-apologetic steward before making his way back to the Bannered Mare, looking for ale in which to drown his sorrows.

Whiterun, Sixth of Rain's Hand 5:30 P.M.

 

[Lyt]

Drokin was having a bad day.
It felt like he'd forgotten something, but he couldn't figure out what. He'd just woken up atop a rock at about 4 in the afternoon. How he got there, no one-could tell. He couldn't remember what he'd done last night, only that he dreamed about a book... a book with lights. with each passing moment his brain seemed more befuddled. So he sat down at a table in The Bannered Mare and collected his thoughts, when he realized that he had no coins.
Great, He thought. I'll have to go home, but where is my home? And where is the tome, and the bone and the...? Drokin stopped himself. Why can I only think in rhymes? For how much time?... He put his hands on his face and rubbed his forehead, A headache was setting in. So He sat there in the corner of the tavern for a while, A confused Whiterun guard with no money, no Memory of the night before, and no clue. This is the strangest hangover I've ever had. And Drokin the guard was pleased that the thought didn't rhyme.

He decided to get an adventurers attention, "Excuse me adventurer, do I look... drunk... to you?"

The Bannered Mare, Sixth of Rain's Hand, 5:30 PM

***

Ka'Rzique awoke in a prison cell and immediately began to panic.
"Where is the book!? Why is it took?!" He rambled.
"Ah Good! Your awake." Said the guardsman. "And who might you-"
"WHERE IS THE BONE? AND WHERE IS MY TOME!" The Kahjiit Screeched supporting himself with the bars.
The guard was taken aback. "Quiet you! Your things have been put away for safe keeping."
"SAFE?!" Ka'Rzique's eyes narrowed. "..no, nothing is safe, while I'm in a cage, and soon comes a mage who'll take you as slaves, and me he'll have slain." The Khajiit paused and eyed the guard menacingly.
"Listen you! I don't know what spell you're trying to cast, but I'll have none of it here. Farengar will take a look at your things to see if they're dangerous, and then they may be returned to you."
"I NEED THEM SOON, FOR MY DEATH LOOMS!"
"WE JUST NEED TO KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" The prison guard roared back. The Khajiit stopped and glared through the bars at the guard. The Guard composed himself warily, then continued. "Just tell us who you are, from where do you hail, how you came by the magical artifacts and what they do, then we'll worry about who's trying to kill you."
The Khajiit glared still.
The guard glared back.
Finally Ka'Rzique spoke. "Who Zeek was is long forgotten, who Zeek is is book begotten."
The Guard blinked from beneath his helmet.
Ka'Rzique continued coldly, "I come form a library of lore, filled with forbidden store. From there I took the book, and lost my mind with a look. Then I found the bone, with it time and space undone. They well KILL ME for these things, I should never have escaped."
"Have you gone mad?"
"Not gone, but certianly mad, Where IS MY BOOK? CANNOT WITHSTAND!" The Khajiit resumed his screeched rambling and did not cease for many minutes. The guard finally punched the Ka'Rzique thought the bars. "I'll have no more of this!"
But the screeching only intensified, this time the lyrics were laced with curses. Then as suddenly as it began, the Khajiit's screaming ceased, and it curled up against the back of the cell, mute as the void.
The guard just stood there puzzled until another guard entered. "Sir! Townsfolk say Drokin's shown up! He's at the Bannered Mare!"
"Just leave him there. Let him suffer his hangover alone." The guard crouched down in front of the cell looking at the Kajiit. His eyes were as empty as clear marbles.
"We've got bigger problems than a drunken guardsman."

The Whiterun Prison, 5:30 P.M.

 

[Raurshka]

The Banned Mare 5:41 P.M

Raurshka walked into the Bannered mare. He had Just arrived in the city and was curious to find some work due to him being short on coin, if he didn't find a job soon he would surely stave.
After a few bottles of mead that he kept tucked under his robe, he decides to approach the barkeep and ask if any jobs around town were available.
"Sorry, nothing i know of" she replied wiping down the bar, hardly listening to the question.
"What do you mean nothing!" he snapped, grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt.
Suddenly two sets of hands gripped him from behind pulling him away from the barkeep, he tried to fight but was weak and sluggish due to all the mead he had just drunk.
They then proceeded to drag him across town and throw him into the dungeon.

The Whiterun Prison 6.20 P.M

The guards thought they confiscated all his possessions, but they didn't get the lock pick he hid in his under-clothes.
When the guards were out of sight he began to pick the lock on the trap door inside the cell.
He finally got through and dropped down to the pathway underneath.
After a few twists and turns he opened the first trap door he found and it luckily lead to the storage room where they kept all the prisoners items.
Raurshka pulled himself up through the door and looked around the room for his things, as he was searching he stumbled across some type of book.
"Hmm..interesting," he said grinning and studying the books cover, "this could come in handy" his grin widened as he tucked it under his arm and continued looking for his possessions.
He found a chest in the corner with no lock and pulled it open with ease, the Orc pulled out his long purple robe with golden trimming on the neck and wrists and the words "Cat Killer" stitched into the back, draped it around himself then began rummaging through the chest some more.
"Wonderful" he muttered to himself, realizing all his potions were no where to be seen.
Raurshka looked next to the chest and found his dirty black boots, he shoved them onto his large feet and tied his robe up.
"How do I look?" he brushed down his robe, "Fabulous as always" he told himself.
Then jumped back down to the path underneath the prison through the trap door and gently shut the door with a *Clank*.
The Happy Orc strolled down the path looking through each trap door for a way out, finally he found it, opened it and crawled out impressed with his own escape.
"There will be a bounty on me," he thought to himself, "Maybe I should lie low in The Drunken Huntsmen, they won't look there!," he said trying to convince himself that he would be fine.

 

[Lyt]

The Bannered Mare, 5:42 P.M.

Drokin's question fell on deaf ears as the orcish adventurer caused a mighty commotion, and was promptly dragged off to the prison. He decided to head back to the barracks to get some gold. It was very fortunate that he had a stash handy. A memory smashed into Drokin's head like a gold brick. The Khajiit with the book, It was my Gold that he took! Drokin winced again as he left the Bannered Mare. Why was he thinking in rhymes?

Whiterun Prison, 6:21 P.M.

Ka'Rzique still sat staring at the cell door. He saw the guards bring the orc in, search him and stripp away his possessions. The Khajiit prisoner managed to read the words: "Cat Killer," crudely embroidered into the orc's robe. This was just before the guards and the new prisoner were out of sight. Then, when Ka'Rzique's sensitive ears heard the unmistakable noises of an escape, he thought better than to ask for the orc's help, but figured his own escape had no better opportunity. Muttering an unusual spell, he stood up, and walked though the bars like they weren't there anymore, which they weren't because they simply evaporated in a puff of dust and rust.
The Khajit found his pack and his weapon, the Bone.
But it was then that the Khajiit realized that the orc had taken his Book.
All of Ka'RZique's fur stood on end. He was suddenly very angry. He re-equipped his pack, his belt with his Bone-weapon. His claws became lit with electricity. His fur crackled with static.
He followed the orc's escape through the trap-door, silently as the grave, for Ka'Rzique was on the hunt...

Whiterun Prison, Shortly after...

The prison guard returned to find both prisoners missing. "Curses! We'll have a riot on our hands before the night is out!" He then proceeded to alert the rest of the guards...

 

[Gorthal]

Abraxas looked up as a guard ran into the Bannered Mare, rousing his peers from their mostly drunken stupors before the whole lot dashed off outside. Wondering what the big commotion was, the Imperial downed the rest of his mead and slid some coins onto the counter before taking his leave.

 

[Rarga]

The Whiterun gate 8:00 P.M

Rarga proudly strode up to the Whiterun gates after successfully ridding Skyrim of the Lost Knife Bandits located at Lost Knife Hideout in Eastmarch. As he was just about to enter he was rudely interupted from his proud state by one of the guards, "Orc, what are you doing here?, Cities closed while prisoners are on the loose," the guard bellowed moving to block Rarga's way.
"You must be kidding me," Rarga replied smirking.
"No, what would an Orc like you be doing here anyway?" the guard asked taking a step foward.
"I'm meeting someone here, it's none of your business anyway," he retorted.
"Hmm," the guard took another step forward then turned towards the other guard, "Wasen't one of the prisoners an Orc?"
"Yes, but i'm not sure that he's the one," the second guard replied to the first.
"Can't take any chances," the first guard said as he unsheathed his iron sword.
"Do you have any idea who i am?" Rarga replied coldly
The guards grabbed Rarga and brought him into Whiterun by force.

Whiterun Barracks 8:12 P.M

The guards took Rarga into the barracks, Rarga decided not to struggle as he knew he was an innocent Orc.
As they came in the guards took him to the back room where Irileth the Jarl's housecarl was having an important meeting.
"Irileth, we have come to believe that this Orc is the same Orc who escaped from prison," the first guard interupted.
She rose from her seat, walked over to Rarga grinned and said, "No, you are mistaken. This man is doing a job for Jarl Balgruuf himself. You have accused the wrong man."
The guards immediently released their grip on the Orc.
"Thankyou, Irileth," Rarga said angrily eye-ing the guards beside him.

Shortly after....

Rarga came into the Banned Mare still channeling his anger after the misunderstanding earlier that day.
He bought a bottle of mead and sat in the corner of the room wondering why nobody but the bar-maid could be seen.

 

[Gorthal]

Abraxas watched from the shadows of a building as guards scattered all around town. Everything went quiet for a few minutes before two guards entered, escorting what he thought was an Orc although he couldn't see in the somewhat dim torchlight. Abraxas wondered if he should follow them but decided against it. After proclaiming that he was an assassin, the guards had become wary and it wouldn't look good if he was caught sneaking into Dragonsreach during the night. It took but another five minutes before the Orc came back down from the Cloud District, this time alone and entered the Bannered Mare. Curiosity led the Imperial to follow, taking a seat casually by the fire, noticing that he and the Orc were the only patrons.

 

[Raurshka]

The Drunken huntsman 8:20 P.M

Raurshka had been held up in his room at the drunken huntsman for almost 2 hours and had tried time and again to open the mysterious book he had found in the Dungeon and had yet to be successful. "Worthless, what am I supposed to do with this?" He asked himself. He put it in the bottom draw of his dresser and locked his door. He then cast an invisibility spell over him self and went to sleep. His dreams only filled with nightmares of the attack on his strong hold when he was 23. Him and his cousin, Rarga were the only survivors. They parted ways some years ago and he still hoped that he would reunite with his cousin one day.

 

[Lyt]

The Drunken Huntsman, 8:20 P.M.

Ka'Rzique followed the escaped orc into the Drunken Huntsman. With the coins he ad pilfered from the unconscious guard the night before, he bought a bottle of mead, and put it in his pack for later. He then payed for a room, even though he had no intention of staying there. The scent of the orc was very strong. The Khajiit reached his room, became invisible, and then followed the scent to the next room over, stealthy and unseen. Ka'Rzique also felt that the book was near. Here it is at last, my prize, my link to the vast.
The door was locked, but the Khajiit only had to mutter a similar spell to the one that freed him from the prison cell. The lock rusted away silently and Ka'Rzique tread silently into the room. The orc was on the bed Ka'Rzique knew, for the bed sagged and creaked under an invisible weight, and the orcish scent was very over-powering.
Not yet, Ka'Rzique thought. My prize before my foe, only to avoid much woe.
Ka'Rzique sensed the book inside the bedside dresser, and silently unlocked the bottom drawer the same way he'd done to the front door. Opening the drawer with only a slight creak, Ka'Rzique beheld his prize, and gingerly caressed it as he lifted it to his heart. For a moment, Ka'Rzique was lost in the bliss of his reunion with the book. It was then that he forgot his quarrel with the orc. The lights are mine, and this orc need not die, for the lights are mine, now leave must I.
And as silently as he entered, he snuck back out of the room, leaving the drawer and the door both ajar. His invisibility wore off once he returned to his own room. He closed the door but did not lock it, instead he cast a specialized lightning rune on the door, designed only to stun any orc that tried to barge in. He placed another enchantment there that had the effect of warding the door from anyone who was looking for Ka'Rzique. The enchantment was weak however and any mage would get past it easily, but Ka'Rzique figured guardsman would have a more difficult time being able to perceive the door even if they were looking for it. He then placed several other runes elsewhere on the floor, some designed simply to let Ka'Rzique escape if things got too messy. Ka'Rzique knew many strange spells from his time studying in the Library. Some of the spells he'd never tried until now.

Satisfied that he was now somewhat secure, Ka'Rzique sat cross-legged against the wall opposite the door, and opened his book. The pages filled with mesmerizing patterns of light, but Ka'Rzique new how to read them. He found the page he'd opened the night before, and saw into the mind of a guardsman named Drokin...


The Guard Barracks, sometime earlier...

Drokin found his locked chest where he kept his possessions and savings, and then he took out enough for a few day's worth of dinner. I'm running low on cash, must earn more for this stash. Rhyming AGAIN? My mind's been rent? The strange lyrics continued to stream through his head as he left the barracks. It was just outside that Drokin witnessed commotion. An Orc was being escorted to the barracks he'd just left. One of the guards following behind the escorts noticed Drokin's shield with his unique symbol.

"You there! Where have you been?"
Drokin stood at attention, "To tell the truth sir, I'm not entirely sure."
"Drunk again soldier? I hope you're over it now, he have an emergency. Go search around town. Two prisoners have escaped. We just found the orc, but the other one, a leopard spotted Khajiit is still missing."

At the mention of the Khajiit, Drokin's memory stirred. "I'll get started right away."

"Good, keep disappearing like that you'll lose more than your job. Just a friendly warning."

"Understood." Drokin affirmed. Then he rushed off to start searching the town still hungry and still slightly befuddled. But at least now he had a clue. He had a strong feeling that he had a score to settle with the Khajiit, even though he still only had a vague vestige of a memory from last night.


Later at the Drunken Huntsman, 8:20 P.M.

Drokin had followed rumors up 'till this point, that a crazy Khajiit had found his way into town and onto the roof of the Greymane House where the guards found him. A more recent rumor of an orc and a khajiit prowling the back streets, led Drokin to the Huntsman. Why hadn't the other gaurds come? Too obvious a place to hide for some. Drokin didn't even care that his thoughts rhymed now. By any means necessary, Drokin would make the khajiit remove whatever curse he'd woven over Drokin.

Drokin entered the Huntsman and was met by several stares. Drokin still wasn't sure why the guards hadn't searched the place, but he figured that it must have something to do with the clientele. An elven mercenary eyed Drokin coldly from her booth to the right. Drokin then took a seat at a table nearest the stairwell and waited. It was then that Drokin felt an odd sensation, rather like being greeted by someone who wasn't there, rather like having a visitor in the private realm of his thoughts. A single thought ran through his mind, [Wait right here. Watch for things to fear.] The suggestion kept Drokin seated. His befuddled mind was suddenly crystal clear, and he remembered everything, in fact he remembered more than everything. In this strange state of mind Drokin knew, Magic... the book! It has me!

He also knew that his mind was no longer his alone, and this other mind was keeping him from leaving his seat.
Curse that Khajiit!
[Not nice, not nice at all. Cursed already, in book's claw.]

 

[Raurshka]

(OOC... Wait, so did i just get arrested?)

 

[rizen]

(OOC : No, Raurska...I read it in timeline as Rarga's being escorted by the guards)

Within Whiterun's gates 8:30 P.M

Gospel of the Naysayer
"Assume a man a milk-drinker, milk is scarce and therefore prized by the treasure-hunter, thus yay, to those I befriend, fellow milk-drinkers"


The jester had intended on meeting with the fortune-teller but it had grown late. The visit would have to wait until tomorrow. "Overcast with a slight chance of showers" Riz snicked to himself.
There was a stir about Whiterun this evening with the guards so Riz, on instinct, veered to the closest bar. The drunken huntsman.

Riz paid the barkeep without request for drink (although parched by travel) ushered behind the bar, and sat on the cold floorboards with his back to the wall. Apparent to be non-threatening, the barkeep paid him no further attention. Fool. He can pay for his sitting if he prefers...by the hour. Elrindir smiled, this was a profitable evening.

The interior glow was beckoning, it was mere moments before Riz was yet again engrossed in 'his' book, taking intermissive long hard stares into the vast expanse of nothingness in deep thought.
Elrindir had become concerned for the jester's mental state. He just sat there, staring into space in a dazed grin with spittle hanging from his bottom lip.
"Hey...HEY" Elrindir waved his hand in front of the stunned jester. He snapped his fingers.

Riz blinked. His pupils focused and he shot a warm smile at the barkeeper.
"Got milk?" Riz inquired with an overly dramatic shrug.
Elrindir considered this question in disgust, thinking over an appropriate retort. However, the anger left him as quickly as it had emerged along with his acknowledgement of the jester. He turned back to his patronage for the evening.

Elrindir couldn't help himself, he'd prided himself in his customer service...but the insults continued forth from his mouth. The patrons became aggressive...and that's when the brawl broke out...

 

[Rarga]

The Banned Mare, 8:50 P.M

Rarga shifted in his seat avoiding making eye-contact with the only other patron in the inn, and called the bar-maid over to request a meal.
"A slice of Horker loaf and some mead, Please," the Orc said,whilst giving a polite smile to the bar-maid.
His meal arrived not long after and he paid the bar-maid well. Then remembered, I'm running low on coin, yet i still need to get my reward from Jarl Balgruuf. But with all this commotion around, I can't risk getting accused once again."
The Orc grunted in anger and stabbed at his food.

 

[Lyt]

The Drunken Huntsman, 8:55 P.M.

Ka'Rzique grinned. His control over the Drokin was limited, but he could see what the guard saw, and knew what the guard was thinking. The downside is, many of Ka'Rzique's thoughts would find their way into Drokin's head. It was a literal battle of wills. [That Jester, he is in danger, because of a book he carries. And he will be caught if he tarries.]
Drokin's unspoken reply was terse. [What did you do to me? You filthy alley kitty!]
[You forced Zeek's hand. Now as a tool you'll stand.] Drokin stood at the suggestion. Ka'Rzique commented, [Tell the jester that danger comes, two wizards under direction of One.]
[Do you always rhyme? What has happened to my mind?]
[That's the book's doing,] Thought Ka'Rzique amusingly. [My mind and yours blending, enjoy this sending. Finish and there'll be healing.]
Drokin walked forward toward the Jester, giving in to the suggestion, but only because he was a prisoner offered a way out. [When this is over, it is you who'll need healing,] Drokin thought in Ka'Rziques direction.

The guard sat down in front of the Jester and said, "Danger comes on swift wheels, two wizards in thrall of seals." Drokin's words felt guided, just audible over the din. "From the library from which you steal, numbered are your hours by steel."

 

[Gorthal]

The Bannered Mare, 9:00 PM

Abraxas climbed restlessly to his feet. The Orc at the bar had been deliberately avoiding eye-contact and Abraxas decided not to make any conversation. Instead, he stepped outside into the cool night air immediately hearing the sounds of a fight coming from somewhere closer to the gate, Abraxas followed the cacophony of voices as they grew louder. Stopping outside the source, he glanced at the sign that designated the building as the Drunken Huntsman. Pausing out of hesitance, he pushed the door open slowly.

The sight that greeted the assassin was hectic to say the least. It seemed everyone in the bar was trying to rip each other apart and someone continued to yell out insults above the din, as if egging the fighters on. The assassin ducked as a chair flew over his head. Almost crawling, he made it to a somewhat quiet spot behind the bar, running into a Redguard and a Whiterun guard. It seemed to him like the guardsman was telling the Redguard something but he couldn't make the words out over the sounds of the brawl.

 

[Rarga]

The Banned Mare, 9:05 P.M

Rarga 'somewhat' finished his meal and decided he needed some rest.
He paid for a room and was escorted there by the bar-maid.
When he entered the room he lent both of his ebony swords against the bedside table and laid down on his bed to rest.
20 or so minutes passed and Rarga couldn't get a wink of sleep, he decided to go for a late night stroll, hoping that there would be no more inconveniences.

Inside the gates of Whiterun, 9:28 P.M

As Rarga left the Banned Mare he found that he could hear the sounds of a fight, a quite large one at that he realised as he approached the growing noise.
What could possibly be going on here? He wondered.
Rarga stood just outside The Drunken Huntsmen pondering on whether he should enter or not.

 

[rizen]

The jester cringed at the mention of 'the library' as if those two words had stingers.
Riz leaned in, face to face with the guard. He cautiously raised his hand, then slowly and lightly knocked on the guard's forehead. "...a rhyme-sayer?" the jester cackled at this encounter.
The word's struck home like a sharp slap to the face and he crammed the book into his satchel. "a RHYME-SAYER chooses words wisely" He proclaimed with a solemn nod.

The drunken huntsman had become crowded, and regardless of the rhyme-sayer's apparent knowledge, soon they would come for him...wizards...guards...whoever.

Riz nudged the rhyming guard with his elbow and nodded in the direction of the man in the dress standing next to them...apparently posing?.
Riz took to his heels in gails of hysterical laughter, to both raised voices and bottles whizzing past his ears.

Outside, the grass had become wet with dew. He slipped and fell, got up laughing even harder than ever as he felt the warm trickle of blood from his nose begin to flow. How long has HE been standing there? Had the Orc seen that happen? "TAR-DAAAAARRRRR!!!" Riz gave a bow of granduer to the Orc and ran off into the night aware that you cannot run as fast when laughing but unable to help himself anyway...

In Riz's haste, he had failed to notice the page that had come loose of the book and drifted to the floor...the page that now clung to the heel of the 'man in the dress's boot...

 

[Rarga]

Outside the Banned Mare, 9:35 P.M

Rarga decided to enter but just as he was about to take a step a hysterical jester bolted out of the door's.
Rarga watched shocked and silent as the jester fell, got up straight away still laughing then ran away.
'Have i gone mad?' Rarga thought putting a hand to his forehead.
Rarga very confused and unfocused stumbled into the Drunken Huntsmen, still trying to make sense of all this.
'Such a strange day......' Rarga thought keeping a palm against his head.