• Graded • Beneath the Marbled Halls

[Neronin]

14th Trial of Saun, Arc 717
Etzori Museum of Art and History, Underground Vaults

“Are you sure you are well, Nero?” Tabard said as he collected the small wooden box from the vault. The vault, vault forty-five, housed ancient weapons whose powers not even Tabard was sure of, or so he claimed. Neronin thought the man knew more than he let on about the contents of the museum. He put on a good show of joviality and companionship, but Neronin was just Tabard detested trust at least as much as he did. The old man was shrewd and tactical though, and Neronin was always left guessing. He turned with the mystery item in his hands and peered at Neronin with his brow furrowed. “You look… paler than usual.” Tabard said softly, his eyes sliding over Neronin’s features.

Neronin couldn’t meet his eyes. The man was perceptive and he worried he would read some truth in him that he could not hide. Instead Neronin turned to look at a few of the items housed in glass cases along the shelves of the vault. “I’m fine, sir. It must have been something I ate.” He said softly as his eyes fell on an obsidian dagger that glowed with a red gem in the hilt. “I assure you my work will not suffer.” He finished as his eyes drift from the dagger to an iron hammer engraved with glowing red runes.

“I’ve never been in this vault.” Neronin said before he could stop himself. The accusation in his tone was faint but noticeable. Tabard was silent, watching him survey the glass cases with the package in his hands.

“Yes. It’s a rather delicate set of artifacts in here. Highly dangerous in the wrong hands. It’s always been policy that only the Head Curator may handle these items alone.” Tabard said smoothly, nodding his head towards the exit. Neronin turned to face him and laced his fingers in front of him. He swept out of the room with his eyes downcast.

“Undoubtedly a wise decision.” Neronin said as he left Vault 45. The hallway beyond were all made of large stone blocks and lit with brass lanterns so that there weren't and shadowed portions. Each vault had oak reinforced with iron strips and a small brass plaque with the vault number.

“Perhaps someday you’ll be back in there though, Neronin.” Tabard said with a grin. He set off down the hallway with Neronin close on his heels. “You will, however, get the chance to experience a few of these vaults in detail shortly.” Tabard said with a grin, glancing back at Neronin. “Nero, I’d like you to inventory the items in vault’s thirty-three and thirty-four and log their name, description, and state.” Tabard raffled off easily. The man made a quick spin and faced Neronin.

Neronin glanced from Tabard to the vault behind him. “Of course, sir.”

Neronin got the distinct impression Tabard was somehow trying to punish him by banishing him to the vaults for the day. The man had seemed the slightest bit aloof after their conversation and that usually meant something was agitating the even-keeled old man. He nodded and grinned as Neronin showed his willingness.

Made by Kovic

[Neronin]

“Good, these are important items that only the most trusted and apt assistant may handle.” Tabard said. His words left Neronin feeling patronized, but his tone seemed sincere.

Tabard took a pair of brass keys from his large key ring with a practiced competence. Neronin’s pale eyes fixed on the ring as the man slid it back under his tunic where it hung from his neck. Tabard inserted the first key into the lock on the door of Vault 33. When it opened Neronin was lead into a narrow vault with shelves of historic looking texts and scrolls. Upon the nearest shelf to the reinforced iron doorway was a huge leather-bound ledger with the numeric 33 enshrined upon the cover in large letters accompanied by the seal of the museum. Neronin watched as Tabard fiddled with his flint and steel rod, lighting the single oil lantern in the vault. As the light flared it sent dark shadows the length of the vault.

“Open up that ledger Nero.” Tabard said, fumbling again with something inside the folds of his robes. Nero turned and opened the ledger to the page roughly halfway through which held half a page’s worth of inked records and a yellowed space of lines below, ready to be recorded again. “Right, so what I need you to do, Nero, is record the name and number of the item, the state of repair here,” Tabard indicated with his finger. “You can see the shorthand the previous curator used, that will suffice. “A description of the text as well as your initial here, and the season and Arc.” Tabard finished simply. He set down the two brass keys, flint and steel, and the quill and inkwell he had fished from inside his robes, as well as some spare parchment.

Without further ado Tabard left the vault, closing the door behind him. It hissed shut with a metallic snap, and Neronin felt entombed. He was not sure how he felt about being given this task. He was happy to spend the hours alone, away from the annoyance of dealing with imbeciles. On the other hand, he was sure Tabard assigned him this duty because the old man wanted to show some subtle form of dominance over him. For that, Neronin was irked.

He went about his work without complaint though. The ledger update was somewhat dull, with many books or scrolls simply an ancient recording of some long dead person of import’s life. He would gloss over there, with barely a glance at each page to determine rot or mite damage. Occasionally he found a gem of fascinating information.

He read an illuminating manuscript detailing the many triumphs of a particularly ambitious Alchemist named Horacio Normara who was able to imbue an entire company’s worth of swords with paralyzingly poison. They were met with such success he was made an advisor to the High Marshall immediately. Neronin read on about how Alchemy was used to imbue Normara’s and the High Marshal’s armor with the strength of steel and the weight of silk.

Neronin carefully recorded their exploits together. The document seemed to highlight the many powerful alchemical creations with which Normara and the then High Marshal had cemented their dominance of the region with. Though he had not investigated the benefits of Alchemy before, the document lit an interest in the subject and Neronin made a note to research further into that field

Made by Kovic

[Neronin]

Many more texts were less interesting. The Assisrant Curator noted them in a bored, dutiful way that was nonetheless bereft of interest. He worked his way through the vault as the breaks trudged on. Twice Neronin had to leave to replenish the candle wax and once to relieve himself before he found another text of interest. A deep and personal interest it sparked, indeed.

The story of Melanie DeRespin, an accomplished mage and shrewd tactician. She had brought about a radical reversal of a campaign against Rhakros when she used her power to bring supplies to troops far and away from the city. Neronin read that she, like him, was a Rupturer. She had constructed something called a Sundial, he read. It was no ordinary sundial, but a tool with which she could transport herself and supplies across unimaginable distances to the furthest troops. She had used this sundial to replenish troops who were far behind enemy lines and deep within Rhakros territory. Neronin poured over the text, gleaning what few details he could. His crow’s feather quill in hand, ready to scrawl anything of import on one of the spare pieces of parchment Tabard had left.

Such details were meager and without much substance. He found that the sundial had required a healthy understanding of geographic distances, as well as a ‘conduit of power.’ Neronin did not know what that meant, but he had an idea. They speak of the power that animates my Maimers, he thought as he paused in scribbling down these notes, this is a Well, most assuredly?

But he was not certain. Such thing’s were far from certain with such an ill informed history as this. Still, the knowledge of such a device was valuable. Neronin glanced at the closed door, wondering if Tabard knew. Then he narrowed his eyes. Did Tabard have one of these devices? Perhaps such an artifact was somewhere in the Museum?

In the end, Neronin only wrote ‘Exploits of Melanie DeRaspin’ under the description for the text. He did, however, place it gingerly back in its place, committing the location to memory. Perhaps he would find a way to return and peruse it later.

In fact, when he was finished for the day and Tabard returned, he came bearing news of just such an opportunity. The old man surveyed Neronin’s work and was pleased. He had catalogued nearly half of the vault’s contents and Tabard seemed pleased with this progress. As he locked the vault behind them, the Head Curator asked if Neronin would be interested in doing a complete accounting of the standard vaults within the museum, as it had not been done in many arcs.

Glancing back at the door that held such interesting knowledge, Neronin nodded. “Of course, Head Curator. I would gladly update the records.” He said in a carefully tired voice. He did not want Tabard to think him eager, lest he grow suspicious. Though this seemed a dark and tedious task, Neronin’s heart alighted at the opportunity to learn more. He laid his hand carefully over his breast where, beneath his robes, the parchment with his notes was.

Made by Kovic

[Djinn]

Rewards

Points Earned: 10

Approved Rewards:

Knowledge:

Appraisal: Identifying the state of Old Texts
Appraisal: Comparing State of Repair to that of the Past
Research: Reading Historical Accounts
Research: IDentifying Traits of the Sundial
Rupture: Sundial
Alchemy: Used to Imbue Traits into Items

Location: Etzori Museum: Vault 33
Location: Etzori Museum: Vault 45

Loot: Parchment with notes on the Sundial and Alchemy
Injuries/Overstepping: None
Fame: None
Devotion: No

Comments: I love Nero. The dialogue between he and Tabard is excellent, and you describe his feelings about everything so well. I'm always interested in coming up with little bits of history that make things more exciting, so the people that you made up and mentioned here excite me. Enough to use them in further threads. All in all, great read, man.