O---------------------------------------------O
| |
| |
| |
| A Trip To The Library |
| by Amani Naevelle |
| |
| |
| |
O---------------------------------------------O

Greetings dear readers,

Working within a Great Library, I often encourage people to find wandering
scholars to invite back to our Library. I also notice that sometimes those poor
scholars are lead on quite a journey before they make it there. I have been
guilty of this myself. When one is busy, and has but a limited amount of time to
get things accomplished, one does often try to combine them. Sometimes, to the
detriment of others.

As such, this play is dedicated to all the scholars who have found themselves on
unwelcome adventures, simply trying to get to a Library.

May Mother Night keep you,
Amani Naevelle

O---------------------------------O
| Act I, Scene I: A Great Library |
O---------------------------------O

Scene: An Arcane Library:
The smell of incense and candle-smoke is engrained into the very being of this
room. A tall table stands in the centre of the room, a thick oak slab covered in
melted wax and ink stains. Papers are rolled up on its surface, many in the
process of being written. All around the walls stand tall bookcases, filled to
the brim with ancient books and scrolls. A small window provides the only light,
shining down onto the wooden floorboards through glass panes covered in dusty
spider-webs.

Characters:

A disheveled scholar, a concerned scholar, a grumpy scholar, a young scholar

Costumes:

The disheveled scholar:

He is a tall trill in mud and blood-splattered robes, his feathers are in
terrible disarray. He is missing one shoe and he carries the satchel which holds
his books, scrolls and several jars in his hand as the straps are both missing.
Deep circles of exhaustion ring his blue eyes and lines of stress mar his face
and he moves with a stumbling limp. He has clearly had a tough time of it.

The concerned scholar:

She is a middle-aged human woman in pristine robes, her strawberry blond hair,
shot through with a few grey strands, is loosely braided. A pair of wire-framed
reading spectacles sit low on her nose, giving her the impression of peering
down at everyone and everything. She has a pleasant face, however and the
crinkles around her eyes make it evident that she smiles often.

The grumpy scholar:

He is a rather short, overweight mugwump who wears a perpetual frown. Dark green
skin glistens with natural moisture and wide yellow-green eyes, slit by a
vertical pupil, peer at the world around him. He wears a disgruntled expression
most times. The frown marring his face seems a permanent fixture.

The young scholar:

He is a young shadow-born faeling and shadows seem to move within his skin. His
eyes are dark red and his dark brown hair is cut short, almost shaved. His
bat-like wings constantly fidget, expressing the natural energy of his youth.

**************

The Curtain opens to reveal an arcane library. The smell of incense and
candle-smoke is engrained into the very being of this room. A tall table stands
in the centre of the room and the walls are lined with tall bookcases, filled to
the brim with ancient books and scrolls. A small window provides the only light,
shining down onto the wooden floorboards through glass panes covered in dusty
spider-webs.

A Shadowdancer leads a disheveled scholar into the Library. The scholar stumbles
a bit as he makes his way towards the shelves. The Shadowdancer watches with a
pleased expression before turning and leaving once again.

DISHEVELED: (murmuring and whipping a tear from his cheek with a shaky hand) Oh,
thank the Gods. I truly never thought I would make it here. And look at all the
books! My research can finally continue!

The disheveled scholar staggers towards a shelf full of delicate scrolls and
parchments, reaching out with a grubby hand to pick one up. Stepping out from
behind a nearby shelf and holding a thick tome, a grumpy scholar catches sight
of the disheveled scholar and protests.

GRUMPY: Say there! What do you think you're doing?

DISHEVELED: (stepping back, obviously startled by the other man's tone of voice)
I was merely going to...

GRUMPY: (interrupting rudely, his tone sour) Merely going to destroy that three
century-old parchment with your muddy fingers?

The disheveled scholar peers at his hands and a wry smile crosses his tired
features.

DISHEVLED: I suppose I might like to clean up before I begin my work at that.

GRUMPY: What a novel idea!

The grumpy scholar shakes his head and makes his way toward the large table in
the center of the room, muttering the entire way. Once he reaches the table he
snaps at a young faeling scholar to sit up straight and then slouches into a
seat, opening his book.

During this exchange, neither scholar noticed they were being watched by the
concerned eyes of a third.

CONCERNED: Don't mind him, he's always like that.

A disheveled scholar twitches as the new voice startles him, yet again. He
glances around wildly before spotting the woman who had spoken, stepping from
behind another set of shelves, her arms laden with several thick tomes as well.

CONCERNED: Say, are you alright? You look as if you're about to fall over at any
moment. Why don't you sit down a while? The books aren't going anywhere.

CONCERNED: (adding with a small grin) Besides, he did have a point. You're only
going to smudge the scrolls if you touch them right now anyway.

DISHEVELED: (with a small sigh and a look of longing at the shelves and the
books they contain) I suppose you're right. I am quite tired. Sitting for a
while will do me good.

The two scholars make their way to the large table, each taking a seat. As he
sits, the disheveled scholar can't help a small, tired groan which catches the
attention of the young scholar seated close by.

YOUNG: (eyes wide) What the Nil happened to you?

The disheveled scholar chuckles at the youngster's brash question and waves off
the admonishment the other nearby scholars direct toward the lad.

DISHEVELED: What the Nil, indeed. It is a long and arduous tale.

GRUMPY: (without looking up from his tome) Then I don't want to hear it.

CONCERNED: (waving impatiently at the grumpy scholar before turning her
attention back to the disheveled one) Oh hush. Are you sure, dear, that you're
up for telling a long tale? You look done in.

YOUNG: (leaning forward eagerly) You can tell it, can't you? I'd love to hear
it.

DISHEVELED: (smiling at her concern and the boy's enthusiasm) I'm resting better
than I have for days. I can tell the story.

The disheveled scholar pauses, as if collecting his thoughts and then continues.

DISHEVELED: It began some days ago, while I was in the mountains collecting
samples for my study on the effect of weather-related magic on the natural
weathering of geological structures in the mountains

YOUNG: (speaking excitedly) Oh! Have you read Wolen's work on...

GRUMPY: (banging his fist on the table) Nocht's toenails, boy! You wanted to
hear the damn story, let the man tell it!

The disheveled scholar blinks, taken slightly aback, but then clears his throat
and begins again.

DISHEVELED: Well, as I was saying, I was in the mountains collecting samples and
recording measurements. However I knew that I would need to find a Library soon
so I could do more research. I was thinking about packing everything up when...

The stage darkens gradually as the disheveled scholar speaks, until it is
impossible to see anything at all on the stage and his voice fades away. The
curtains close once again.

O----------------------------------O
| Act I, Scene II: The Mountains |
O----------------------------------O

Scene: Atop a ridge.
A smattering of clouds fills the sky, lacing it with spider webs of grey. The
pure altitude of this part of the mountains is not nearly as obvious to the
south as it is here. This ridge spans the distance between two much taller
peaks, preventing travelers from being forced to dip into the valley below the
two. To the north it appears the unfathomably tall summits of Avechna's Teeth
grow even greater in height.

Characters:

The scholar, the young warrior

Costumes:

The scholar:

He is a tall trill wearing well worn but clean robes, his feathers are
immaculately preened, despite exposure to the mountain winds. He wears
comfortable leather sandals and, strapped to his back, a satchel which holds his
books, scrolls and several jars. His expression is thoughtful and eager.

The young warrior:

He is a young Orclach warrior, dressed in a mixture of mail and leather armor. A
massive double handed sword is sheathed and strapped to his back. He is covered
in a myriad of scars, some small and some not so small. Dark green eyes peer out
from under sparse eyebrows, offset by mottled grey skin.

*************

The curtains open and light returns the stage revealing a mountainous scene atop
a ridge that spans the distance between two much taller peaks. In the distance,
to the north, are the unfathomably tall summits of Avechna's Teeth.

Walking along the trail with a jaunty step, a scholar talks to himself, the
expression on his face thoughtful.

SCHOLAR: I've done all the work I can for now in the field. I really need more
resources to complete my study. Books, records, charts which I can use to
compare my own notes and reading with. Descriptions of samples and experiments
to compare with my own.

SCHOLAR: (with a deep sigh) Without all this, my own study is rather worthless.

The scholar continues walking along the trail, his expression still thoughtful
and his step still jaunty. Soon, he encounters someone, walking along the same
trail in the opposite direction. It is a young orclach warrior.

The young warrior approaches the scholar and offers a quick salute in greeting.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the wind is very strong and carries his words
away.

The scholar shakes his head, pointing to his ear and then shrugs. The warrior
tries again, with the same results, though this time a faint 'Hello' can be
heard. It is obvious much more has been said though.

The young warrior looks frustrated and tries again, drawing a very deep breath
before bellowing out his words. Of course, just at this moment, the wind dies
down completely.

WARRIOR: (bellowing loudly) HELLO, THERE! ARE YOU LOST?

Birds take flight from nearby trees and small animals dart into bushes to hide
as the warrior's loud voice echoes off of the rocks of the mountains. Both the
warrior and the scholar stare at each other, rather shocked by the outburst.

WARRIOR: (clearing his throat and offering a bit of a wry grin) Ahem, sorry
about that.

SCHOLAR: (waving the apology off) Not at all, my good warrior. Not at all. It
was quite bracing!

SCHOLAR: (adding with a chuckle)And, while I'm not particularly lost, I'm not
entirely sure where to go. You see, I just finished collecting samples and
measurements for my study on the effect of weather-related magic on the natural
weathering of geological structures in the mountains.

The scholar trails off when he notices the rather blank expression on the young
warrior's face.

SCHOLAR: Ah, but that doesn't matter really. The point is, my work in the
mountains is finished and I need to go to one of the Great Libraries of the
Basin in order to finish my study, but I'm not certain how to get to one from
here.

WARRIOR (his expression brightening) Oh! Well, why didn't ya say so! I know
where one of those Great Libraries is. I can take ya there.

SCHOLAR: Can you really?

WARRIOR: (with a wide grin, showing off yellowing teeth) Sure, follow me. I'll
get ya to the library, no worries.

With that, the scholar falls in behind the young warrior, a look of eager
excitement on his face. Soon he would reach the Great Library and complete his
work!

The stage darkens again, until nothing more can be seen and the curtains draw to
a close.

O-----------------------------------O
| Act I, Scene III: The Tidal Flats |
O-----------------------------------O

Scene: A stretch of scallops

Scattered over the sand, someone has left piles and piles of scallops out in the
sun for the bird. The shrill caws of gulls fills the air, as well as their stink
combined with the rotting meat inside the scallops. A keen eye is needed to
avoid stepping on shell or bird alike, and the squishing noises underfoot are
something to shudder over as the sand itself is dry.

Characters:

The scholar, the young warrior, the Geomancer novice

Costumes:

The scholar:

Unchanged

The young warrior:

Unchanged

The Geomancer novice:

She is a sixteen year old viscanti with dark red skin and black hair. Her eyes
are a very pale blue color and sit beneath delicately arched brows. Bony
growths, shaped like horns, jut from her forehead and curl backward across her
head. She is wearing a pair of black leather pants, a grey silk shirt, a red
coat and a leather backpack.

***************

The curtains draw open and the stage lightens to reveal a beach scene, littered
with the shells of scallops. The sound of gulls fills the air and the smell of
ocean spray overwhelmed by that of the scallops, decomposing in the sun.

The scholar trudges through the disgusting piles of scallops, watching the
ground intently and trying his best to avoid stepping on them. By his side is
the young warrior who is peering around as if searching for something, not
really paying attention to where his booted feet land and the horrible squishing
crackle that results.

SCHOLAR: Not to be a bother, but there doesn't seem to be a Library here, my
friend.

WARRIOR: (glancing over at the scholar with a look of mild surprise) Of course
not. These are the tidal flats. Who'd put a Library here?

SCHOLAR: Well, that's my point, really. When you said we were teleporting, I
thought you meant we were teleporting to the Library.

WARRIOR: (shrugging and returning to his search) We'll get there. I need to help
someone first. Damn fool ran off without any mending salve.

The young warrior continues his search, shaking his head at the foolishness of
forgetting such vital supplies. A low groan from behind a particularly large
pile of scallops had the orclach picking up his pace. The scholar picked his up
as well, while trying to keep his sandaled feet from actually stepping on any
scallops.

When he reaches where his warrior companion has stopped, the scholar sees a very
young viscanti girl sitting on the ground, both of her legs bent at awkward
angles.

WARRIOR: (sorting through a stack of vials, each a different color and shape)
Silly Geomancer, you're lucky I decided to come help you out. Didn't your
teachers teach ya anything?

GEOMANCER: (a sullen and painful expression on her face) I didn't know the crabs
would break my legs.

WARRIOR: (scoffing) Crabs or no crabs, ya don't leave the city without mending
salve. That's basic! Ah, here it is.

The warrior hands one of the vials to the young geomancer.

WARRIOR: That's my extra, so you can keep it. I don't want to have to come back
out after you.

The young Geomancer novice makes an appreciative noise and then pours a generous
portion of the salve into her hand. She begins rubbing it into her legs, wincing
as the bones begin straightening themselves out.

GEOMANCER: (climbing to her feet) Thanks.

GEOMANCER: (noticing the scholar for the first time) Who's he?

WARRIOR: Scholar I'm taking to the city's Library.

SCHOLAR: (offering a polite little bow) Pleased to meet you, miss. I'm glad
you're feeling better.

GEOMANCER: (offers a smile to the scholar before returning her attention the
warrior, a confused expression on her face) We have a Library?

WARRIOR: (rolls eyes) Go back to hunting for clams or crabs or whatever. Ask
your guild, I'm busy.

The geomancer novice huffs and stomps away and the Warrior chuckles.

SCHOLAR: (looking suspicious) We are going to a Library, right?

WARRIOR: (looking confused for a moment before laughing) Oh, yeah! Don't pay
attention to her. She's only been out of the Portal of Fate for three days. Her
brain's still all addled. Come on, let's get you to that Library!

The stage darkens until nothing can be seen and the curtains draw to a close.

O-----------------------------------O
| Act I, Scene IV: Magnagora |
O-----------------------------------O

Scene: Center of the Necropolis.
It is difficult to detect any features of the room, due to the powerful field of
energy that is put out by the Megalith of Doom, absorbing all but the darkest of
colors and dominating everything else in the room. The architecture of the room
is designed to accommodate the Megalith of Doom with a high dome that forms the
entire ceiling. A circular series of steps descends three tiers down to the
indentation in the centre of the room where the Megalith stands. Four archways
lead out of the room to the other areas of the Necropolis, where candles and
other illumination can barely be detected through the powerful force of the
Megalith.

Characters: The scholar, the young warrior, the grizzled Ur'guard, the Nihilist

Costumes:

The scholar:

He is a tall trill dressed in well worn robes, the bottom of which is coated in
a thin layer of sand and smelly muck. His feathers are immaculately preened,
despite exposure to the mountain winds. He is wears comfortable leather sandals,
likewise soiled with sand and muck. Strapped to his back is a satchel which
holds his books, scrolls and several jars. His expression is tired but eager.

The young warrior:

Unchanged

The grizzled Ur'Guard:

He is a battle-hardened orclach whose mottled grey skin is riddled with thick
ropes of scar tissue. One black eye is missing, covered with a patch made of
preserved merian skin. The other glares outward with palpable menace.

The Nihilist:

Dressed in black, formless robes with a raised hood and long sleeves that extend
past the hands, it is impossible to tell if this Nihilist is male or female or
even what race he or she might be.
************************

The curtains open and the stage lights, revealing the center of the Necropolis
and the Megalith of Doom. The energy given off by the Megalith gives the scene a
surreal appearance, with only the darkest of colors showing through. Everything
else is bleached out and hollow. Standing around the Megalith are the scholar
and the warrior, who is talking to a grizzled Ur'guard, and, standing alone, a
Nihilist.

The scholar tries to appear interested in the conversation going on beside him,
however, he does not quite manage it. He appears tired but eager.

SCHOLAR: (leaning forward slightly) Pardon me

The two warriors pause and regard the scholar, twin looks of annoyed expectation
on their faces.

SCHOLAR: I simply wondered if we might be going to that Library you mentioned
soon? I am quite tired and would like to settle in and begin my work.

WARRIOR: (frowning deeply at the scholar) In a minute, I'm talking here.

The grizzled Ur'guard laughs and the two men return to their conversation.
Visibly deflated, the scholar wanders around a bit. He is startled by the
warning growl of a demon lurking close to the nearby Nihilist.

SCHOLAR: (laughing nervously) Ah, yes. Didn't see him there.

The Nihilist does not reply, merely shifts position slightly, giving the
impression that he or she might be listening.

SCHOLAR: (fidgeting nervously) I'm on my way to the Library, you see. I have
important research to conduct. You see, I'm doing a study on...

Suddnly the Nihilist stiffens, standing straighter, hooded head cocked to the
side as if listening to a far away call.

NIHILIST: (speaking in a harsh voice that manages to be both guttural and
squeaky) Glomdoring attacks the Demon Lords.

With that announcement, the Center of the Necropolis becomes quite crowded very
quickly. Ur'guard and Ninjakari begin sharpening their weapons and readying
their defenses. Bards begin tuning their instruments and singing rallying songs.
Geomancers and Nihilists begin chanting, preparing their magics.

The scholar eyes all of this activity with great alarm. He pushes his way
through the crowd, trying to find the young warrior he arrived with. Once he
spots him, the scholar tugs on the orclach's sleeve.

SCHOLAR: (his voice desperate) But, the Library?

WARRIOR: (growling impatiently) I don't have time for that! Didn't ya hear? Nil
is under attack. You can stay here or you can come with me, but I'm going to
defend!

Just at that moment, a lull in the activity occurs, and right then, the sound of
something monstrous shrieking in pain echoes up from below. The scholar stumbles
forwarded in shock from the sound.

WARRIOR: (clasping the scholar on the shoulder roughly) Good man! Stick close to
me and you'll be fine.

Almost before he realizes what that means, the crowd begins transversing to the
higher planes in a wrenching pulse of color that sends them tumbling through the
aethers.

The stage goes completely dark, until nothing can be seen and the curtains draw
to a close.

O-----------------------------------O
| Act II, Scene I: A Great Library |
O-----------------------------------O

Scene: An Arcane Library
Unchanged

Characters:

A disheveled scholar, a concerned scholar, a grumpy scholar, a young scholar

Costumes:

The disheveled scholar:
Unchanged

The concerned scholar:
Unchanged

The grumpy scholar:
Unchanged

The young scholar:
Unchanged
****************

The curtain opens and the stage lights up revealing the Arcane Library and the
four scholars seated at the table in the center of the room.

GRUMPY: (leaning forward slightly) Let me get this straight. You were in
Magnagora?

DISHEVELED: Yes

GRUMPY: (leaning forward still more) At the Center of the Necropolis?

DISHEVELED: (looking a tad put out) Yes, what of it?

The grumpy scholar bursts out laughing, the sound like rusty croaking. He just
shakes his head and gestures for one of the other two to explain.

YOUNG: (failing to hide a grin) You'd never been to Magnagora before, had you?

The disheveled scholar crosses his arms and peers at the youth, clearly waiting
for an explanation.

CONCERNED: (frowning at both the other scholars in disapproval before speaking
to the disheveled one) You were at the Library, you see. The Library in
Magnagora is just through the northern door in the Center of the Necropolis.

The disheveled scholar goes even more pale as his mouth drops open from shock.

DISHEVELED: Do you mean to say that all that incompetent warrior had to do was
to point at a door and I could have avoided all the horrors that happened next?
I think I feel faint.

CONCERNED: (reaching toward the disheveled scholar) Do you need to stop? Perhaps
some tea? I'll get you some tea.

The concerned scholar gets up from the table and leaves the Library in search of
tea.

YOUNG: You aren't going to stop telling the story are you? It's very
entertaining.

YOUNG: (leans closer and whispers) Much more entertaining than these crop
records I'm being forced to study.

GRUMPY: (without looking up from his book and having recovered his dour
continence) I heard that.

The young scholar shifts in his seat and flashes the grumpy old mugwump an
innocent smile before turning back to the disheveled scholar with a hopeful
expression.

YOUNG: But really, you're going to finish, right? It sounds like it's about to
get good!

CONCERNED: (carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches) Really! Stop badgering the
poor man. He obviously isn't well.

The concerned scholar sets the tray in a clear spot on the table and pours a cup
of tea, making clucking sounds with her tongue as she does so.

DISHEVELED: (blushing a bit and waving off the attention) I'm fine. I'll finish
the story. I suppose the 'best' part is coming. Though, of course, from my
perspective that is rather subjective.

The disheveled scholar accepts the cup of tea and small plate of sandwiches with
a small smile.

GRUMPY: (without looking up) If you spill any of that, the Librarian is going to
have something to say about it.

CONCERNED: (rolling her eyes) I'm sure he won't spill it. The man needs to eat.
Look at him! And we have him telling this awful story instead of resting
properly

GRUMPY: (looking up finally) I'd be just as happy if he stopped.

YOUNG: No! Please tell the rest! Don't mind him, he's just being, well, himself.

The disheveled scholar offers a wan grin and sips his tea.

SCHOLAR: I'll keep telling the story. Honestly, I don't think I could stop if I
wanted to.

The grumpy scholar makes a rude noise, which everyone ignores and the disheveled
scholar purses his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face.

SCHOLAR: On Nil, I was told I wouldn't be any use, which did not hurt my
feelings any, as my only desire at the time was to live long enough to find a
Library. So, I was told to wait by the Megalith while the fighting force went to
defend the Demon Lords...

The stage darkens gradually as the disheveled scholar speaks, until it is
impossible to see anything at all on the stage and his voice fades away. The
curtains close once again.

O-------------------------------------O
| Act II, Scene II: The Plane of Nil |
O-------------------------------------O

Scene: Before the Megalith of Doom.
Emerging from the black mists that surround it, this small hillock of rock is a
plain crag of darkened rock. Its surface is broken and cracked, the stone pushed
aside as if the Megalith at the hill's apex has been thrust upwards from the
very earth. Black ooze runs down from the centre, draining through the cracks
and running across the stone.

Characters: The scholar, the young warrior, the grizzled Ur'Guard

Costumes:

The scholar:

Unchanged

The young warrior:

He is a young Orclach warrior, dressed in a mixture of mail and leather armor
all of which is covered in splatters of blood and gore. Both of his massive
hands grip the pommel of a massive, double-handed sword. He is covered in a
myriad of scars, some small and some not so small, as well as fresh wounds
oozing blood. Dark green eyes peer out from under sparse eyebrows, offset by
mottled grey skin.

The grizzled Ur'Guard:

He is a battle-hardened orclach whose mottled grey skin is riddled with thick
ropes of scar tissue. Fresh wounds ooze blood and his helm is dented. One black
eye is missing, covered with a patch made of preserved merian skin. The other
glares outward with palpable menace.

********************

The curtains open and the stage lights to reveal a small, stony hillock
surrounded by swirling black mist. At the apex of the hill the Megalith of Doom
rises from the very rock itself. Surrounding the Megalith are a ring of Ur'Guard
Grand Marshals.

The scholar paces back and forth, chewing uselessly on one thumbnail. He stops
and peers into the black mist surrounding the hill occasionally, but then heaves
a frustrated sigh and begins pacing again.

SCHOLAR: (wringing his hands together nervously as he speaks, mostly to himself)
I don't even know how long it has been. At least the sound of screaming has
eased a bit.

SCHOLAR: (laughing abruptly) But does that mean victory? And if so, whose?

SCHOLAR (approaching one of the Ur'Guard Grand Marshals) Can you tell me how
long I've been waiting? It feels like days, weeks, years.

The scholar is completely ignored by the guard, save for a small growl and a
fist clinching tighter around a weapon.

WARRIOR: (limping out of the black mist) What are you still doing here?

Soon several more people began making their way out of the mist to gather in a
bedraggled group around the Megalith. Every face was sullen, every eye filled
with burning hatred.

SCHOLAR: (eyeing the unhappy crowd nervously) I'm still waiting to go to the
Library like you...

UR'GUARD: (his voice enraged and snarling) The LIBRARY? Trill, do you know what
just happened?

The scholar swallowed, unsure how to answer as the group seemed ready to turn on
him at any moment.

UR'GUARD: (advancing on the scholar, his fists clinched) The Holy Plane of Nil
was just attacked and EVERY ONE of our Demon Lords were slaughtered. Half the
city, killed trying to defend Them. Those tree-hugging heathen freaks laughed
while they did it.

UR'GUARD: (leaning close to the scholar, looming over him) Do you really think
anyone here gives a damn if you ever make it to the Pit-spawned Library?

The scholar shook his head franticly and the grizzled old Ur'guard shoved him
away in disgust, stomping off to discuss matters with a knot of Nhilists and
Geomancers nearby.

WARRIOR: (shaking his head as he approached, his limp improving with every sip
of one of his vials) You have a death-wish, don't ya?

SCHOLAR: (his voice rich with wounded dignity) The only wish I have is to find a
Library. It is all I have wanted since I met you. And something you promised to
deliver but have not.

WARRIOR: (shrugging sheepishly) Yeah, well, I didn't expect us to get raided,
did I? Look, we'll be heading back to Prime soon. I'll take you when we get
there, promise.

SCHOLAR: (looking skeptical) How do you know we'll be leaving soon?

WARRIOR: Well, this happens quite a lot actually. And that's what happens. The
Glomdorings come, they have their fun, we defend as best we can. They eventually
leave and we go home.

SCHOLAR: (looking relieved) Oh, well that's...

WARRIOR: The only time it's different is when someone decides we ought to chase
them down and...

UR'GUARD: (stomping forward and whistling sharply to get everyone's attention
before bellowing loudly) LISTEN UP! We're going after those bastards. Everyone
follow me, we'll catch them on Astral.

WARRIOR: (sighing) That happens.

SCHOLAR: (looking confused and slightly horrified) What happens? What does that
mean?

WARRIOR: (grabbing ahold of the scholar and pulling him along) Means we're goin
to the Astral Plane to hunt down some Gloms!

SCHOLAR: (shaking his head even as he's led toward the gathering group) But
there's no Library on the Astral Plane!
WARRIOR: (pausing a moment to look at the scholar) Actually, there is. Kind of.
But you don't want to go thre. Trust me.

UR'GUARD: Is everyone following me then? Good! Let's go get those bastards!

The gathered crowd of Magnagorans roared in approval and one by one began being
swept away by aetheric energy.

SCHOLAR: (panic making his voice high-pitched) But I don't want to go to the
Astral Plane! Can't I just stay here?

WARRIOR: (laughing) Nope! Not unless you want the demons to play with your
innards! C'mon!

Though the scholar opened his mouth to say something in reply, it was cut off by
the lurching tumble and swirl of color as he was swept up and transversed to the
Astral Plane.

The stage darkens until nothing can be seen and the curtains draw to a close.

O-------------------------------------O
| Act II, Scene III: The Astral Plane |
O-------------------------------------O

Scene: A gruesome room of flesh covered in running sores.
Soft, pink flesh covers all surfaces in this room, and the eerie sensation of
blood rushing through veins only a few millimeters below the ground is
disturbing. Dotted around the room are gruesome yellow ulcers, pulsing softly as
the tissue around them leaks a mixture of blood and the acidic contents of the
inside of the sore.

Characters: The scholar, the young warrior, the Shadowdancer herbalist

Costumes:

The scholar:
He is a tall trill dressed in well worn robes, which are stained with blood and
strange muck. His feathers disheveled, some coated with gore and slimy mud. The
straps of one of his sandals, soiled with sand and muck has snapped. Strapped to
his back is a satchel which holds his books, scrolls and several jars. His
expression is terrified.

The young warrior:
Unchanged

The Shadowdancer herbalist:
She is a Shadowcaster faeling with pale skin, contrasted with deep shadows which
seem to shift underneath. Deep purple robes made of silk offset her bright red
eyes and pale blond hair. Her hands, with their long, clever fingers, are
stained lightly with the sap of the plants she harvests.

************

The curtains open and the stage lightens to reveal a disgusting fleshy landscape
dotted with seeping sores. A gargantuan red scorpion passes through, pausing to
snap its pincers before moving on.

Soon the young warrior enters, supported by the scholar who is looking worse for
wear. They are moving slowly, carefully, watchfully. Seeing the area is clear,
they stop.

WARRIOR: (groaning as he sits, his broken legs splayed out before him) Blasted
Geomancer. If I hadn't given her my spare mending salve, I'd still be able to
fight.

SCHOLAR: (collapsing to the ground beside the warrior) Oh, yes, because that's
what's wrong with this situation. You can't fight anymore.

SCHOLAR: (twisting to the side suddenly) Don't you see that I'm busy?

SCHOLAR: (blinking in confusion before returning his attention to the warrior) I
only wanted to go to the Library. Why couldn't you just take me to the Library
like you said you would?

WARRIOR: (pouts a bit) I meant to.

The scholar scoffs before reaching up to pull at the feathers on his head,
muttering. The warrior watches him with raised eyebrows.

WARRIOR: Say, you alright there?

SCHOLAR: (letting go of his feathers and glancing around) I don't feel well.

WARRIOR: (nodding a bit) Astral insanity. Hits everyone sooner or later. I've
got a bit of it myself. Been hearing voices. Seeing shadows. And not those
blasted things the Glomdorings fling about either.

SCHOLAR: (groaning) I hate you.

WARRIOR: (chuckling) Aw, c'mon. It isn't that bad. Sure, we'll probably die up
here. But it was a glorious battle. Even if those Gloms cheat.

WARRIOR: (his expression turning fierce and his voice snarling)How else could we
have lost? How else could the Demon Lords have fallen? How else could everyone
have been killed by those Wyrden bastards?

SCHOLAR: (offering a small shrug) Maybe they were just better fighters?

The young warrior roars in rage and launches himself at the scholar, hands
outstretched as if to throttle him. The scholar falls backward beneath the
warrior with a frightened cry.

Just as the warrior gets his hands around the scholar's throat, he stiffens
suddenly, hands falling to the side and a look of shock on his face. Protruding
from his chest is the barbed end of a giant red stinger.

The scholar screams in terror as the warrior is pulled off of him and into the
air by a gargantuan red scorpion. The scorpion grabs ahold of the warrior's
right arm and left leg with its huge pincers and rips them off at the same time.
Blood splatters the scholar.

While the scorpion is busy, the scholar scrambles backward and wedges himself
between two pulsating growths and watches while the scorpion slowly consumes the
young warrior and then, apparently sated, moves on.

The sun rises and sets two times and the scholar remains wedged in his hiding
spot.

A barghest stalks into the area, walking by the side of a Shadowdancer
herbalist. The woman stops not far from where the scholar is hidden and then
holds her arms wide before spinning in a clockwise circle with her eyes closed.
A shimmering white orb springs up around her.

Once the shield is in place, she crouches down and begins plucking
sparkleberries. The barghest sits, eyeing the surroundings with baleful eyes. It
does not take him long to spot the scholar.

SHADOWDANCER: (glancing up from the herbs she is collecting) What is it?

The Shadowdancer herbalist follows the gaze of her barghest companion and blinks
with surprise when she spots a trill dressed in scholar's robes hiding close by.

SHADOWDANCER: (standing and moving toward the scholar) What are you doing there?

SCHOLAR: (rocks back and forth, plucking at his pinfeathers) I keep saying no
and no and no but still the vials keep asking. No! No!

SHADOWDANCER: My, you have been here a while haven't you. Come on, then. Up with
you. This is no place for you.

SCHOLAR: (eyeing the hand the Shadowdancer is offering) A place for everything
and everything on fire.

SCHOLAR: (tears coming to his eyes) I just wanted to go to the Library. For the
books, you see. I need the books.

SHADOWDANCER: (reaching down and takes the scholar's hand) Come with me then. I
know where the Greatest Library in the Basin of Life is.

The scholar allows the Shadowdancer herbalist to pull him out of his hiding
place. She makes a face at the state he is in and she raises her free hand.
Clouds form over the scholar, and an isolated rainfall washes the worst of the
congealed blood and pus from the fleshy sores off of him.

SHADOWDANCER: That's a little better, isn't it? Now, let's get you to that
Library, shall we? We just have one stop to make first.

SCHOLAR (sighing) Promises, promises.

The stage darkens until nothing can be seen and the curtains close.

O--------------------------------------O
| Act II, Scene IV: The Glomdoring |
O--------------------------------------O

Scene: Before the Master Ravenwood Tree.
The dark heart of Glomdoring Forest is almost audibly beating in this, its
shadowy centre. Tall, blackened trees surround this clearing, pressing together
into an imposing barrier of rotten vegetation. Moulds and fungi are smeared
across the plants, their pungent stench suffusing the forest. The branches are
coated in dark slime, slick tendrils that hang downwards. Although a variety of
trees might actually grow here, the black tar that coats them renders them
indistinguishable. A thin black mist creeps between the trees, hanging low
across the ground. The floor of the clearing itself is simply bare earth,
cracked and dry. Overshadowing all is the Master Ravenwood Tree itself, jutting
into the sky like a twisted fist. The sound of laughing crows echoes down from
the treetops, a harsh sound for the ears below. The atmosphere vibrates with a
palpable power. The Master Ravenwood Tree towers over everything here, pulsing
with an immeasurable yet dark power.

Characters: The scholar, the Shadowdancer herbalist, the Shadowdancer healer

Costumes:

The scholar:
Unchanged

The Shadowdancer herbalist:
Unchanged

The Shadowdancer healer:
She is an older Shadowcaster faeling, with very fine lines around the eyes. Her
features are fine and her skin, with an olive complexion overlaid by shifting
shadow, is flawless. She is clothed in a dress made of dark grey cloth and a
phantasmal shroud of shadows.

**************

The curtains open and the stage lights, revealing a clearing shadowed with dark
trees. Overwhelming all the others is the Master Ravenwood Tree. Widowriders and
other guards stand ready around the great Tree. The Shadowdancer herbalist and a
Shadowdancer healer are also here, conversing. Crouching nearby and gibbering to
himself is the scholar.

SHADOWDANCER: Can you help him? He is rather far gone, I fear. Night alone knows
how long he was up there.

S.HEALER: (eyeing the scholar thoughtfully) I should be able to. It will be
difficult.

SHADOWDANCER: It must be done. He's useless as he is.

SCHOLAR: (looking up and grinning vacantly) Sometimes. Times are some. Something
things think. I'm hungry.

S.HEALER: (shooting the Shadowdancer herbalist a small grin) Yes, I see what you
mean. Well, let me get started then.

The Shadowdancer healer reaches out and begins draining the insanity into
herself. Soon her hands fall away from the scholar and she falls
back, giggling manically.

SCHOLAR: (looking astonished) She fixed me.

SHADOWDANCER: Well, it wouldn't help you to do your work in our Library if you
couldn't hold a coherent thought, would it?

SCHOLAR: (looking like he might cry) You'll take me to a Library?

SHADOWDANCER: (offering a small smile) Of course. I said I would, did I not?

SCHOLAR: But, why?

SHADOWDANCER: (shrugging) You visiting our Library helps us as much as it does
you. Only a fool would squander that resource.

The scholar laughs at her pragmatic explanation.

SCHOLAR: That's quite alright, Madam. Quite alright. Please, can we go now
though?

SHADOWDANCER: Of course.

The Shadowdancer herbalist loops her arm through the scholars and leads him
away. She stops along the way to instruct a passing member of her Coven to
assist the healer to a more private place to recover from her efforts.

The stage darkens until nothing can be seen and the curtain closes.

Fin