Private Tales Aghast With a Laugh and a Fiery Blast

[Sin Derage]

Thoughts swam around his mind like flies to a pile of shit. They flit and fluttered around his mind and no more than he could take note of them, than they evaded his sense once more. He had come to Allaria for a specific reason, but he found himself distracted by the sheer audacity of its construction. A monument to money and greed, it stood in defiance of the shifting sands that he was accustomed to. It was a balk to the nomad. A cage of the 'intelligent' to trap poor souls that knew no better than the boot.

Had he been the boot, he was certain that he would have no qualms to the tragedy here, but he was not. So, he could afford to detest its abundance and its forgone opulence.

The library. A thought hissed, thick and hot as melting wax. It snapped his mind to focus, as he wound through the city towards the Inner City.

It didn't take him long to find the Athenaeum, partly because he had a well laid out map and partly because it was massive. It loomed above him as he approached, and looked down upon his tiny mortality in bleak obstinance. It had little care for the small, unknown mage of the desert. There was a marked difference between the average patron of this establishment and himself. Most were well groomed, in finery or some apparel of allegiance towards some great sect than themselves.

There were other stragglers, though. Little strangers that looked as out of place as he did. No one took notice of him, and he was glad for that. He walked up the broad steps and entered through a columned entrance. There were imagery and sculptures carved into almost every flat stretch of stone that occupied the walls, floor and ceiling.

"Is there anything that I could help you find?" The words pulled him out of his thoughts.

He looked over and downwards at a small man with white flowing hair. It piqued an image of someone that he once knew, in a past life. Someone either long dead to the world, or at least to Sin.

A smile twisted behind his masked face, and mirrored in his eyes as he answered, "I'm looking for the Andrathuil Arcanum."

That particular tome did exist, but it was not quite what he had in mind. What Sin sought was something that would require a seeking spell. He wanted to be left alone to his devices, though. Perhaps sending this man after something that he had no interest in would allow him time to inquire within his spirits to the location of that which he sought.

"Ah yes, if you will follow me," The man emphasized the word 'follow' as he gestured.

The corners of his eyes tightened almost unnoticeably at the response, but he gave a curt nod and muttered, "After you."

He would have to entertain this man for a short moment, but soon he would begin his search.

 

[Zakarias]

Through the storied halls, tall ceilinged and so full of tomes and texts, scripts and scrolls from every corner of the world, pranced Zakarias. His bright red horns crested over some of the smaller stacks, and his bells rink-a-tink-tingled with each of his joyously long strides. His eyes, silver blue, burned bright as they twift, too and froe, across the leather bound spines of so much parchment and vellum.

"No, no, no," he muttered beneath his breath. Each negative hotter than the last. His striding stopped, and his bells tinked soft as they came to rest. He growled as his eyes narrowed, razor thin, and his long fingers balled into tight fists. A stomp, loud enough to ring out, hard enough to shake some nick knacks and bobbles that were littered about.

Some passers by stared, and to them Zakarias smiled, long behind his mask.

"My mistake," he said to them, and bowed low to them. "I forgot, quiet is the rule of this place."

The young scholars blinked, gathered the tomes they required and hurried off and away from the stranger in his pale mask and red motley.

Zakarias straightened back up, dusted himself off and scowled at the spot where the young scholars had been. "They might do," he followed after them, long step after long step. On the tips of his toes and the balls of his feet. Bells a-jingl-soft-jingle. "Oh, young scholars~" he called after them, and they hurried all the faster away. Zakarias huffed, brow tilted down as he glared, his voice came hot and throaty as he willed its low rumble forward with a wisp of wind come out of his magick. "I said, oh young scholars you bloody twerps!"

They yelped and almost broke into a run. Bells rang behind them, faster and faster. Until two large hands seized them by the shoulder and halted their escape.

"Ailee-yo-dan-modh-smach" he uttered into their ears. Soft as spring rain.

What fear had been large in their eyes had melted away, they blinked, and looked back at the man who held them. They saw no Jester there, felt no fear that had been so rightly stirred up. Instead, they felt easy. And saw an old sagely man, long of beard and only as tall as their shoulders. "C-can we help you sir?" The one with chestnut hair asked.

Zakarias, who in all other eyes but theirs was still an enormous red menace, mimed frailty, hunched low and hobbled as his arms shook like old dry branches in a storm. "Why," he stammered, voice dry and brittle. "Yes, young minds, I have seem to have lost my way. Wizened as I am, my mind loses track of place from time to time," he laughed an old man's laugh.

"Oh, of course sir," the shorter of the two replied, and put his hand on the older man's, to comfort him.

Zakarias smiled wide and thin behind the twisted expression painted on his mask.

 

[Sin Derage]

"I'm certain that it would be here," The Archivist muttered from the pile of scrolls that he balanced carefully in his hands.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. There had been the slimmest margin of a moment where he had thought that this person would know what they were doing. Unfortunately, as is the case with most sentients that he came in contact with, the moment was fleeting. He sometimes wished he had played around with mind magicks more often, so that he could simple turn this man's mind into a pile of mush.

With a deep sigh he replied, "Please, take your time. I'm certain that you must be close."

This seemed to renew his fervor, for he dove himself back into his work. He had hesitated earlier in leaving the man in earlier bouts of him searching, but he didn't hesitate this time. As the man searched through the piles of scrolls, the mage quietly walked away.

Once he was far enough away that he'd broken the line of sight, he took another deep sigh. This one was more collecting his thoughts, though. There was a shred of a fragment of one of his memories that had brought him here. Legends of an old tale that he'd heard from a rumor. It just tickled his mind enough to send him to Allaria. A place that he'd much rather not go.

Always drawn to the old and powerful, he'd sought out that knowledge. First, he needed to clear his mind and find a way to convince his own thoughts to allow him to know what it was he sought. That would be much easier, if it were not for a ruckus being caused in the library.

A clown. A jester?

Whatever this being qualified itself as, it was most definitely a nuisance. He'd want to keep a wide distance away from the strange creature. The mob of unruly children really did nothing to incentivize him, either. Another crowd of people that he'd rather avoid. That being said, it was rather strange when the children went from being slightly aghast, to markedly not so. Their entire attitude changed.

It had to be some kind of magic, because they completely changed the entire way that they approached him. A bit of nuisance might be worth it, if this creepy jester guy had some kind of secrets to share. What if he had come to find the same treasure that Sin himself sought? He may not know exactly what he sought, but he coveted it nonetheless. Therefore, it might be expedient to find more about this Jester's undoubtedly foul purpose in this library.

"Sir Jester, if I may have a moment of your time," He gave a shout as he approached the strange man.

 

[Zakarias]

Excellent. Yes. Let them take him where he needed to go. To that most ancient place. Let them guide him to that spell that would tell him where to find that wandering trove. Gently. He fed them his mana. Twisted and turned their thoughts with a steady drip of suggestion.

A master archivist, whose mind was on the way out, but who's reputation still carried weight and more. Help him today, and find yourself with a letter of thanks on the morrow. A recommendation for apprenticeship in a fortnight. Simple steps. A calculus common to the calculating. How he would-

"Sir jester," came a voice from across the way, which smashed his mental chain linked to those two young minds.

Zakaraias felt them come undone. Felt their minds slip from the binds. Clarity rushed in, quick as air. They stopped, raised hands to their heads, and massaged their temples with fingers and thumb.

"What..."

Zakarias relinked the chain. Channeled more of his will through his grip on their shoulders. "Now, where was that tome, young scholars, hmm?"

"If I may have a moment of your time!"

He ignored the voice, and whispered strings of cant below his breath. Some time, yes, he would weave a maze in their minds and give himself time to deal with this...

"Idiot!" he shouted out to the man who stepped towards him quick. His whole body went rigid and stiff, he let the young men walk on, their ears deaf to all sounds but those he had scripted in his spell. But other heard, and chose to rush away instead of dealing with....whatever that was. "What? Hmm? What is it you want?!" He demanded as he spun about, waving a finger at the other man who wore a mask. "Waste my time?" his voice was shrill and thin and cold enough to burn. "Because you've already done that and more, oh ho ho," his voice went hot, low and growled. "how much more you have done, and how much more will you do?"

 

[Sin Derage]

"Your time?" His voice whipped the word back at him like an accusation, "As it seems I've yet to waste anything of import, I am certain that you would not be remiss to be rid of a little more."

At the end of his clip, he moved to look closer towards the strange jester and he asked, "It so happens, I am here in search of something of great importance, and I believe I have found it."

His first comments had not seemed to flatter the man, so it was important that he brought it back around to make him feel like Sin was complimenting him. He had a feeling that this man's ego was the way to learn more about his purpose here.

"Are you not the famed sorcerer that I seek? I am certain that it must be you," He told him with a tone that he hoped was excitement. He was not an easily excitable person, so he was not sure that it would come off as such.

If nothing else, he'd confuse the man enough that he have to go lay down.

 

[Zakarias]

A smile cracked along the features hidden behind the pale mask with the twisted visage, and his bells rang softly as he loomed in place. "You jest," he said, steel in the taught chords of his voice. "Surely, if you think my time is for you to treat so frivolously," his tone dripped venomously.

But the man went on, his words sweet, almost complimentary. His lip curled further, and his eyes squinted pleased through the slits of his mask. "Oh?" he listened, and when the words went on, he stopped. "Famed sorcerer?" he laughed a little behind his mask. "Little old me?" he laughed louder still, and went on laughing in a fit, hysterical.

The young scholars that were his guides went on walking, deaf to the madness. They still saw the bent old man they lead around, felt his hand on their shoulders, even comforted him as he groaned about his aching knees and needing a break.

"Pray tell, dear stranger" Zakarias said between breaths, eager and giddy as he swelled up to his full height to look down upon the man. "What is the name of this sorcerer you seek? For how am I to know if it is my name you search for, and not some other great mancer of magicks?"