09-26-2013, 01:45 PM
The Archives were based in a rather understated hall, and unlike the other rooms Nyx and Whirda had seen, this one favoured a more 'natural' look over the finesse and grandiose furnishings and decorations typical of the Elves. The hall looked as though it had freshly been carved out of a tree. The Archives also lacked the paintings and tapestries of the other rooms the women had seen recently – instead, the prime focus of this particular room were the bookshelves.
They were arranged into neat rows, with enough space between the end bookshelves and the wall for at least five people to move comfortably. The aisles shared the same generous space. The bookshelves themselves reached from the floor to the very top of the ceiling, with movable ladders stationed at each end for easy access to the books higher up. Nyx marvelled at the simplicity of the room's design, and her mind boggled as she tried to process just exactly how many books were stored within the walls.
While Nyx was admiring the architecture, Whirda took the scroll Tyrande had given them and made a beeline for the nearest elf. He looked rather wizened and weathered for his age, and wore simple robes that weren't entirely unflattering. He looked up as she approached, caught a glimpse of the parchment's seal and immediately rose, inclining his head politely as Whirda closed the gap between them. His gaze shifted from Whirda to Nyx, who was making a beeline for them.
“Ah, you must be Lady Tyrande's guests. May I?” The elf gestured towards the scroll, which Whirda readily handed to him. He unfurled the parchment and studied it for a few moments, nodding to himself as he read. “Ah, yes. We took the liberty of collecting the books you require and gathering them in one place for your convenience. Please, follow me.”
Without waiting for so much as a nod of approval, the elf turned on his heel and lead them through the Archives. They must have passed at least seven or eight rows of bookshelves before he stopped at a door on their left. It was marked by an Elvish handmade sign, and a few wisps hovered around the entrance. He pulled a key from around his neck and unlocked the door, scroll still in hand, and lead them into what looked like a cosy study.
It shared the same architectural décor as the Archives – it seemed as though the entire room was a part of the tree itself. Wisps provided ambient light, but were assisted by candles hanging from the walls. A few bookshelves lined the walls, but the centrepiece of the room were the three desks. On the middle desk was a pile of books, which the elf immediately headed for and began to check the titles with whatever was written on the scroll from Tyrande. He nodded satisfactorily and placed the scroll beside the stack of books.
“Everything is present and correct. Do not hesitate to find me if you have any further questions. I will be around to answer them.” He turned as if to leave, then hesitated. “Oh, and Whirda? Lady Tyrande wishes to see you. Alone.” He emphasised the last word with a pointed look at Nyx, who held her hands up in a submissive gesture. He narrowed her eyes before leaving the women alone.
“What was that about?” Nyx asked in a hushed tone, watching the elf intently as he closed the door behind him.
“Elves,” Whirda practically spat. It was clear she hadn't entirely put her grudge behind her.
“What does Lady Tyrande want with you, anyway?” Nyx continued, twirling her staff around her fingers.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Whirda replied with a shrug.
“I guess you should go and find out, though. She'll be waiting.”
Whirda began to head towards the door, but hesitated. “What about you?”
Nyx lightly nudged the pile of books with her staff, taking extra care not to knock any off. “I'll stay here and start on these.”
“Very well.”
“Try not to bite her head off, okay?”
“No promises. And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're in such good spirits.”
Nyx beamed at Whirda as she turned and left the room, leaving Nyx alone in the company of the books the historians had recommended to them.
As she moved her staff from her right hand to her left, she felt a strange pang shoot through her body, unlike anything else she'd ever experienced. Before she was aware of what she was doing, her staff had switched hands again and she used the prongs on the top of the staff to reopen the scab on her palm. As the wound began to bleed, she balled her hand into a fist and squeezed.
Nyx felt powerless. All she could do was watch, and that's when she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the ruby – her eyes had turned black, like that of a demon. She fought the urge to shudder as her blood dripped onto the orb. That was when she realized that something was wrong. Instead of running down the orb and soaking her staff, the red orb seemed to be absorbing her blood. The ruby seemed to glow feverishly as it drew power from her life force. This continued for a good few minutes.
“What on earth...?” she murmured, as the glow faded. Her eyes seemed to return to their usual crimson, too. The orb looked much the same as before, but Nyx could tell something was swirling around inside of it: her blood. Horrified, she gingerly placed the staff on the desk beside her, and turned her attention to her palm. Using some of the bandages she had summoned before (and cunningly stored in her robe), she quickly redressed the wound.
Still feeling shaken from the unusual experience, Nyx forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. Lady Tyrande had sent them to the Archives to read up on what the elves knew about the Blight, not to get freaked out by strange compulsions linked to a weapon she recently acquired.
She plucked a book from the top of the pile, and settled herself on the desk to read it. She flicked through the pages, scanning the text for key words and phrases which would actually prove to be useful in their investigation. Having been an avid reader in Ferelden, Nyx was already all too familiar with the knowledge that elven authors were known for being rather verbose, and for using an entire paragraph to explain something that could've been summarized in a single sentence.
Interestingly, what she found was that they were echoing many things she had already learned before coming to the Omniverse. If the blights that destroyed the Moors were anything like those that terrorized Ferelden, then Nyx knew what they would be facing – an Archdemon.
'Archdemon' was the name given to an Old God that had been tainted by darkspawn, and manifested in the form of a terrible dragon. It leads the hive-minded darkspawn on a path of darkness and destruction.
It was at this point that Nyx remembered exactly where she was. This wasn't Ferelden, and this certainly wasn't a 'normal' place, by any stretch of the imagination. 'Does the Omniverse even have any Old Gods?' she thought to herself, crimson gaze scanning the pile of books for any titles which could potentially be related to religion within the Omniverse. None of the books the historians had presented seemed to even hint at religion.
She bit her lip, but continued to study. Though she was unsure of whether the leader of the Blight would match what she was expecting, one thing was for certain – the horde responsible for the awful attacks on the elven lands were indeed darkspawn. They fitted the description down to a 'T'. Nyx had spent so long studying them that she could recall the summary passage about them from memory: 'The darkspawn are perhaps the greatest single threat to all of Thedas; they are bloodthirsty, exceptionally numerous and willing to indiscriminately kill or corrupt all in their path.'
This didn't bode well for the elves at all.
They were arranged into neat rows, with enough space between the end bookshelves and the wall for at least five people to move comfortably. The aisles shared the same generous space. The bookshelves themselves reached from the floor to the very top of the ceiling, with movable ladders stationed at each end for easy access to the books higher up. Nyx marvelled at the simplicity of the room's design, and her mind boggled as she tried to process just exactly how many books were stored within the walls.
While Nyx was admiring the architecture, Whirda took the scroll Tyrande had given them and made a beeline for the nearest elf. He looked rather wizened and weathered for his age, and wore simple robes that weren't entirely unflattering. He looked up as she approached, caught a glimpse of the parchment's seal and immediately rose, inclining his head politely as Whirda closed the gap between them. His gaze shifted from Whirda to Nyx, who was making a beeline for them.
“Ah, you must be Lady Tyrande's guests. May I?” The elf gestured towards the scroll, which Whirda readily handed to him. He unfurled the parchment and studied it for a few moments, nodding to himself as he read. “Ah, yes. We took the liberty of collecting the books you require and gathering them in one place for your convenience. Please, follow me.”
Without waiting for so much as a nod of approval, the elf turned on his heel and lead them through the Archives. They must have passed at least seven or eight rows of bookshelves before he stopped at a door on their left. It was marked by an Elvish handmade sign, and a few wisps hovered around the entrance. He pulled a key from around his neck and unlocked the door, scroll still in hand, and lead them into what looked like a cosy study.
It shared the same architectural décor as the Archives – it seemed as though the entire room was a part of the tree itself. Wisps provided ambient light, but were assisted by candles hanging from the walls. A few bookshelves lined the walls, but the centrepiece of the room were the three desks. On the middle desk was a pile of books, which the elf immediately headed for and began to check the titles with whatever was written on the scroll from Tyrande. He nodded satisfactorily and placed the scroll beside the stack of books.
“Everything is present and correct. Do not hesitate to find me if you have any further questions. I will be around to answer them.” He turned as if to leave, then hesitated. “Oh, and Whirda? Lady Tyrande wishes to see you. Alone.” He emphasised the last word with a pointed look at Nyx, who held her hands up in a submissive gesture. He narrowed her eyes before leaving the women alone.
“What was that about?” Nyx asked in a hushed tone, watching the elf intently as he closed the door behind him.
“Elves,” Whirda practically spat. It was clear she hadn't entirely put her grudge behind her.
“What does Lady Tyrande want with you, anyway?” Nyx continued, twirling her staff around her fingers.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Whirda replied with a shrug.
“I guess you should go and find out, though. She'll be waiting.”
Whirda began to head towards the door, but hesitated. “What about you?”
Nyx lightly nudged the pile of books with her staff, taking extra care not to knock any off. “I'll stay here and start on these.”
“Very well.”
“Try not to bite her head off, okay?”
“No promises. And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're in such good spirits.”
Nyx beamed at Whirda as she turned and left the room, leaving Nyx alone in the company of the books the historians had recommended to them.
As she moved her staff from her right hand to her left, she felt a strange pang shoot through her body, unlike anything else she'd ever experienced. Before she was aware of what she was doing, her staff had switched hands again and she used the prongs on the top of the staff to reopen the scab on her palm. As the wound began to bleed, she balled her hand into a fist and squeezed.
Nyx felt powerless. All she could do was watch, and that's when she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the ruby – her eyes had turned black, like that of a demon. She fought the urge to shudder as her blood dripped onto the orb. That was when she realized that something was wrong. Instead of running down the orb and soaking her staff, the red orb seemed to be absorbing her blood. The ruby seemed to glow feverishly as it drew power from her life force. This continued for a good few minutes.
“What on earth...?” she murmured, as the glow faded. Her eyes seemed to return to their usual crimson, too. The orb looked much the same as before, but Nyx could tell something was swirling around inside of it: her blood. Horrified, she gingerly placed the staff on the desk beside her, and turned her attention to her palm. Using some of the bandages she had summoned before (and cunningly stored in her robe), she quickly redressed the wound.
Still feeling shaken from the unusual experience, Nyx forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. Lady Tyrande had sent them to the Archives to read up on what the elves knew about the Blight, not to get freaked out by strange compulsions linked to a weapon she recently acquired.
She plucked a book from the top of the pile, and settled herself on the desk to read it. She flicked through the pages, scanning the text for key words and phrases which would actually prove to be useful in their investigation. Having been an avid reader in Ferelden, Nyx was already all too familiar with the knowledge that elven authors were known for being rather verbose, and for using an entire paragraph to explain something that could've been summarized in a single sentence.
Interestingly, what she found was that they were echoing many things she had already learned before coming to the Omniverse. If the blights that destroyed the Moors were anything like those that terrorized Ferelden, then Nyx knew what they would be facing – an Archdemon.
'Archdemon' was the name given to an Old God that had been tainted by darkspawn, and manifested in the form of a terrible dragon. It leads the hive-minded darkspawn on a path of darkness and destruction.
It was at this point that Nyx remembered exactly where she was. This wasn't Ferelden, and this certainly wasn't a 'normal' place, by any stretch of the imagination. 'Does the Omniverse even have any Old Gods?' she thought to herself, crimson gaze scanning the pile of books for any titles which could potentially be related to religion within the Omniverse. None of the books the historians had presented seemed to even hint at religion.
She bit her lip, but continued to study. Though she was unsure of whether the leader of the Blight would match what she was expecting, one thing was for certain – the horde responsible for the awful attacks on the elven lands were indeed darkspawn. They fitted the description down to a 'T'. Nyx had spent so long studying them that she could recall the summary passage about them from memory: 'The darkspawn are perhaps the greatest single threat to all of Thedas; they are bloodthirsty, exceptionally numerous and willing to indiscriminately kill or corrupt all in their path.'
This didn't bode well for the elves at all.