9.06.2006
The Master Speaks
Moth, alas, the four books are held under magical lock and super magic glass. They are, at present, untouchable.
Moth and Dave FoO approach the Master.
"Yes, come here, closer." The stench and appearance disgusts you. CON checks at +3 bonus to avoid nausea again.
"I am Master Meeks, Librarian and Archivist of Greyhelm Castle. Or the mockery that was once this castle. You must be rather strong and quite stupid to have proceeded this far." The Master begins to cough, wheeze, choke, or maybe laugh at this.
"If you have half a brain between you, you'll turn and flee this place. Better to seek your fortune outside against the Knights than to rot away here and let the others eat your flesh. This is a house of madness now... look around, death and madness only, you will see that it is true." An awful cackle at that.
"I'm half-tempted to feast on you myself... I'm out of books to eat. But you bested my demon, so maybe it's best to let you live. Of course, a swift death might be the only option left to me."
"Speak up lads, 'lest I think you nothing more than shambling piles of meat. Why have you come to this godforsaken place? Why seek a fate worse than death? Look upon me... look, damn you. You've seen some of the others... you've seen the... rot, the rot and decay that infects this place. To go further is to invite it on yourselves."
The Master falls silent, wheezing some more. Giant cataract-enrusted eyes slowly drift your way, but it's hard to tell what, if anything, the grotesque giant actually sees.
...
Moth, you ask about the history of the library.
"The library? MY library? Look around, fool! I've eaten it! All of it, all the books, all the spines, each drop of ink, blackbound hide, and scrap of parchment. If you're here to look for books, son, you needn't go any further than my innards. Mathematics? Stuck on the left side of my stomach, where I'm still digesting some of the formulae and geometricians' tricks. Ancient history? Impacted in my small intestine, rotting in a giant clump of shite. Poetry? Bottom of the colon, where the tripe belongs." The Master laughs horribly again, coughing up a thick wad of yellow bile, which slowly oozes down his stained shirt, settling somewhere in the middle.
"I was born here, and by god's sweet mercy I'll someday die here. Stuffed with books! Haugh... hmpf. The finest collection, first editions, unique volumes, magical tomes, ancient secrets. The sum of knowledge, the pinnacle of technology and innovation, black magical secrets. What good did it serve, I ask thee? WHAT GOOD. No, just the opposite. Ha, lad, if you want to know the real secrets... If you want true understanding... Just head on upstairs. It's rather obvious on retrospect. Follow the narrative, know this castle by its structure, same as anything else. So obvious..."
Moth and Dave FoO approach the Master.
"Yes, come here, closer." The stench and appearance disgusts you. CON checks at +3 bonus to avoid nausea again.
"I am Master Meeks, Librarian and Archivist of Greyhelm Castle. Or the mockery that was once this castle. You must be rather strong and quite stupid to have proceeded this far." The Master begins to cough, wheeze, choke, or maybe laugh at this.
"If you have half a brain between you, you'll turn and flee this place. Better to seek your fortune outside against the Knights than to rot away here and let the others eat your flesh. This is a house of madness now... look around, death and madness only, you will see that it is true." An awful cackle at that.
"I'm half-tempted to feast on you myself... I'm out of books to eat. But you bested my demon, so maybe it's best to let you live. Of course, a swift death might be the only option left to me."
"Speak up lads, 'lest I think you nothing more than shambling piles of meat. Why have you come to this godforsaken place? Why seek a fate worse than death? Look upon me... look, damn you. You've seen some of the others... you've seen the... rot, the rot and decay that infects this place. To go further is to invite it on yourselves."
The Master falls silent, wheezing some more. Giant cataract-enrusted eyes slowly drift your way, but it's hard to tell what, if anything, the grotesque giant actually sees.
...
Moth, you ask about the history of the library.
"The library? MY library? Look around, fool! I've eaten it! All of it, all the books, all the spines, each drop of ink, blackbound hide, and scrap of parchment. If you're here to look for books, son, you needn't go any further than my innards. Mathematics? Stuck on the left side of my stomach, where I'm still digesting some of the formulae and geometricians' tricks. Ancient history? Impacted in my small intestine, rotting in a giant clump of shite. Poetry? Bottom of the colon, where the tripe belongs." The Master laughs horribly again, coughing up a thick wad of yellow bile, which slowly oozes down his stained shirt, settling somewhere in the middle.
"I was born here, and by god's sweet mercy I'll someday die here. Stuffed with books! Haugh... hmpf. The finest collection, first editions, unique volumes, magical tomes, ancient secrets. The sum of knowledge, the pinnacle of technology and innovation, black magical secrets. What good did it serve, I ask thee? WHAT GOOD. No, just the opposite. Ha, lad, if you want to know the real secrets... If you want true understanding... Just head on upstairs. It's rather obvious on retrospect. Follow the narrative, know this castle by its structure, same as anything else. So obvious..."
