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Post by Callimpsest on Apr 2, 2011 16:28:04 GMT
[OOC: Continued from The Only Way?] *Callimpsest walks through the village, pondering his dream of the night before. It would seem he has a quest ahead of him. He cannot conceive of anything he stands to lose by believing his vision; but he is no knight, and cannot see himself scouring the land for a building that may only have existed in the mind of one senilescent wizard. His books aren't helping - and, being books, quite literally so. Some are refusing to open, and others quickly swing shut. Is it that he is asking too much of them, or that, in their wisdom, they are trying to protect him? The most obliging of his tomes is the Iliad, but it presents him with accounts of rashness, death and fate at its least mutable. Now more than ever, he needs inspiration and courage, and unable to find it on his bookshelf, he must try something else. Callimpsest has spent enough time around monks to appreciate their beliefs. He is heading for the village church. He hopes that a visit there will, at the very least, take him no further away from the answers he seeks. It gives him answers before he is even through the door. And they come so strikingly that he has to steady himself against a passing old lady.* ...It cannot not be. Passing Old Lady: Ooh but it can! If you wish to woo me further, I'll be in the Crazed Heifer at sundown! *POL departs with a spring in her shuffle. Callimpsest doesn't notice. He is staring up at the clock tower.* [OOC: To be continued.]
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Post by Callimpsest on Apr 6, 2011 18:17:55 GMT
* The clock tower. The legend rings out in Callimpsest's head. A towering instrument of time, from a different time, courtesy of Merlin: how could this not be the object of his quest? Callimpsest rushes for the church - almost bumping into a seller of candles and crucifixes. Deciding that a candle could be needed, he requests one of the self-lighting variety [OOC: as we saw a couple of times on Knightmare.] and fumbles for a coin.* Seller: Just a candle, my man? You were in a mighty haste to reach the church. One of my holy roods would serve you well. Made from the twin pines of the Dunn Hill, and used by everyone from Sister Lu- *Callimpsest puts a hand up.* Where I'm going... I don't need roods. *The seller is left scratching his head with the coin (and, once no one's looking, other less salubrious areas). Within minutes, Callimpsest has found his way unnoticed into the tower. Callimpsest climbs the narrow stairs until he sees a door set into the wall. He can't see a lock, but nor can he see a handle. He pushes the door, and something starts to happen.* Oh no, no, please. *Something unwanted and really too familiar.* Not NOW! Merlin, you- Doorson: Oh no! Ah woe! To dusty death all will go. Tomorrow is to sorrow, and yesterday is no better! Be quiet. True or false, false or true, open up and let me through. Doorson: I hear, I fear. Seventy truths will open me... *Callimpsest clenches his fists and hops about. This is appalling. Then he remembers: he still has something from KMBS, something all staff were given to help discipline disagreeable students. It's about time he used it.* Spellcasting: T, R, U, T, H! *Doorson fades. There is a small scraping sound. Callimpsest smiles. The spell should hold for a while - maybe even until he dispels it, given that the creature is already spellbound. As he pushes, the door opens with an awful noise. Shuddering at the awfulness of Doorson's creak, he ventures up the steps beyond. [OOC: To be continued.]
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Post by Callimpsest on Apr 9, 2011 11:04:43 GMT
*He is surprised by what he doesn't find at the top. The back of the translucent clock face dominates the far wall, but Callimpsest had been expecting a room full of workings and mechanisms to support it. These are absent. Everything else - the desk, the crate, the stove and kettle - seems like miscellaneous paraphernalia by comparison. In this quiet space, Callimpest tugs his ear lobes, instructing his earbugs to work themselves looser. Trying to instil patience in himself, he starts to investigate. Touching the crate, he is taken aback by its temperature.*
Crate's hot!
*But if this indicates magic, it is encouraging. The crate seems to have '50th' scratched on one side, and contains an array of hourglasses. They must be failed experiments of Merlin's: the sands will not move.
Away from the crate, the room is cold. The stove has a little wood and some cups on the floor nearby. Remembering that he has a flask of water and some tea, Callimpsest decides that a drink will help him focus. He fills the kettle and lights the stove with his candle. The wood is hardly alight but the water seems to be boiling. As this happens, light fades from the room, emphasising the clock face. Callimpsest watches as rainbow vapour snakes from the kettle and curls around the clock. When it completes a thin circle, a shade passes across the face, like the phases of the moon.*
It runs on steam?
*Enthralled, Callimpsest can scarcely believe how much has happened since he was outside the church mere moments ag- he jumps back as the face changes colour. He has never seen a blue like this before, so deep and brilliant that it is as if he is looking straight through the realm itself, behind the world, beyond the edge of forever.*
I have found it.
*The door creaks. No. He should've locked it. He gasps for air. They're coming to stop him. This cannot happen. He can't have this taken away from him. It isn't fair. He can't hide. He looks at the blue and knows it is the only way. He doesn't turn back. He steps in and he vanishes.
The time gate fades back to a clock face, giving the room back its light. The fire in the stove has gone out and the kettle has gone cold. All is as it was.
But only at first glance.*
[OOC: To be continued. Unless it already has been...]
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Post by Callimpsest on Apr 13, 2011 17:45:16 GMT
*Callimpsest opens his eyes. He has a headache and earache but they are fading. His candle is still in his hand. Mumbles* 'If your heels be nimble and light...' *He is sitting against a wall, which he soon recognises as the back of the church. Did they catch him, try to wipe his memory and then eject him? Or has he turned back to an earlier page? He stands up and listens. He can hear a seller, the one he dealt with before entering the Tower, hawking his crucifixes from the lone pine of the Dunn Hill. Village life sounds louder than usual, but nothing looks different from the last time he saw it. In a place where progress is so painfully slow, how can he tell when he is? He could try asking someone. The two closest at hand are Iain and Del. Not known for their intellects but maybe they'll come up with enough detail to help. Which to try first: Del or Iain? Brushing himself down, Callimpsest approaches.* Hallo, Del. Del: 'Lo, mister. I've had a bump on the head and I'm a bit muddled. What date is this? *Del looks pensive. No, make that vacant.* Iain, have you the date? The day of the week? The hour of the day, even? Iain: Soon as I learn to read and count, I'll tell ya. Well, has anything special or unusual happened of late? Del: *Grinning* I got a new spoon. Only it's got points at the end. Iain: Sure it's your spoon? I saw you borrow it off Elizabeth-Anne. Del: And she said she wants it back? Iain: As I heard it, aye. Del: So... it's not my spoon. Iain: No, LIBBY-ANNE'S! *Callimpsest jumps. Exasperated and embarrassed, he leaves the men to their contrived banter and makes for the church entrance. If he didn't travel back, then his evictors will still be in the Tower, and he can explain, beg them for another chance, pay them. If he has travelled back, maybe there is an instrument in the Tower that can tell him more. Again he enters the Tower unnoticed and reaches the door. Finding it ajar, his heart pounds. He pushes it slowly, closing his eyes against the enduring horror of Doorson's creak, and creeps up the steps with his eyes still closed. He gulps as he nears the top. No one is waiting for him. The room is as he first found it. Then he sees something on the floor. He closes in on the white shape. Picked up, it dances around his finger and crawls up his arm. His right earbug. If it was already here, he was already here. He was the one that almost caught him. He did it.* I did it! Yes I did! I'm having that tea now! *He looks at the kettle.* Oh, best not, not just yet. *Callimpsest realises how lucky he was: to have used the device with no idea how it works and to have returned, unharmed. He goes over to the desk, where sits a row of books, propped up by figurines of Saturn and Pluto. There should be instructions. But how can he be certain, when there should have been-* Clockwork. *He pulls out a slim volume, untitled, orange, densely embossed with cogs and gears. Stroking off dust and gently tapping on the cover, he opens it. The pages are blank. All blank. But the librarian won't be fooled. Special books have a right to do this sometimes. He shuts the book.* I know you are hiding. You are entitled. Pardon the pun at your convenience. You need to safeguard the Tower from being misused, and yourself. Be not afraid. Please trust me and aid me. I need to journey back, to save many books. I need you. *Whispering* Iamiam veritas, libelle.*The clockwork animates itself. The orange hue begins to disappear from the cover, like the adding of milk to tea being played out in reverse. Soon Callimpsest is holding a grey almanac.* Thank you. *Reopening the book, he finds the pages scattered with notes and diagrams. Some is illegible, some untranslatable, but Callimpsest proceeds to learn what he can. He discovers, among other things, that he must have set his destination by thought: before entering the time gate, he had contemplated how much had happened since he was outside the church mere moments ago, hence the device sending him there. He also finds out what the frozen hourglasses could be for. As daylight fades, he realises that he risks being caught leaving the Tower by evening worshippers if he lingers any longer. Slipping out, he retires to the Wolf's Howl Inn, where he continues poring over the almanac until sleep pours over him. He will awake ready for a most excellent misadventure.* [OOC: Callimpsest is now up to the present, and open to interaction with other characters from his next post on.] [ModNote: Callimpsest is next seen in Waking up.]
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Post by Callimpsest on Dec 31, 2011 18:13:48 GMT
[OOC: Continued from Waking up.] *Callimpsest is back in the Tower of Time. He wishes he'd tried asking Dreslin for his habit: it would have made moving stealthily around the church a lot easier. In truth, part of him hoped that the elf might accompany him and support him - but Dreslin was clearly in no state for that, and perhaps it is for the best not to share the secret with anyone. Although there is more he could learn from the almanac, deciphering and translating could take days and Callimpsest is too impatient. However, there is plenty he has learned that he is putting into action. The water in the kettle has been carefully measured and purified to ensure a secure journey, free of travel sickness. He has also equipped himself with one of the egg-timers: it turns out that their purpose is to enable a return trip. Callimpsest has chosen one of the smaller timers: his plan is to make a successful journey to his desired time and place, observe and document for a short period, then return and prepare fully for a longer journey during which he will accomplish his mission and save the Boarding School library. He has yet to work out exactly how, but regards that as a minor detail the he will not worry about until he has to. He examines the timer: it is oddly designed with two upper chambers forming a Y-shape with the lower one. He assumes that the capacity of the flux will be magically regulated by the Tower: when one chamber is empty, he will know that his trip is half over. He looks up as the steam from the kettle activates the time gate, which is soon shining with its amazing blue. Callimpsest picks up his knapsack and takes a deep breath.* I wish to return to a time after the Knightmare Boarding School was opened but before the explosion destroyed the library. *He hesitates. Will the time gate read the details he hasn't spoken aloud? To reinforce his request, he adds,* When I was needed. *The frozen sand in the egg-timer glows blue for a moment, then begins to trickle down from one of the chambers. It is time. Like so many people before a journey, Callimpsest has a last-minute attack of packer's doubt. It's too late to go to market now! He lets the blue fill his vision and lungs and steps in. A few seconds pass. Then Callimpsest falls back through the time gate into the room, his lifeless body hitting the floor. His knapsack spills open and the egg-timer slips from his hand, its sands frozen once more. For Wolfenden and its time-travelling librarian respectively, nothing and everything has changed. Here's what happened.*
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Post by Callimpsest on May 29, 2012 17:55:09 GMT
[OOC: Continued from Journey's End?] *Callimpsest opens his eyes. The air is still, as are the sands in the egg-timer that is lying in front of him. He feels numbness subsiding and taps his fingers - and they are his fingers, with neatly dressed paper cuts in place of grubby callouses. He raises his head to the clockface, through which a new day, the present day, is dawning. Callimpsest speaks aloud, relishing the sound of his own voice even more than usual.* Well, I believe I have earned my spurs of squiredom. I hope I am now worthy of pursuing my own que..ehh.... *Callimpsest is yawning. He is eager to return to his room, to decrypt the almanac's remaining secrets, to snap his imp net in two - for which, if he is not strong enough, he would gladly employ an ogre friend of his. But here and now, he is too exhausted. In defiance of an unusually rowdy town and an uncomfortable floor, Callimpsest soon falls asleep.*
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Post by Callimpsest on Jul 19, 2012 18:32:19 GMT
[OOC: I'm setting this post a few hours after the events taking place on the Path to Wolfenden (and in Marblehead). I'm also assuming that the travellers on the path are a few hours' walk away from town; so if and when they make it to Wolfenden, they will have 'caught up'.] *The morning is well advanced by the time Callimpsest wakes. His body is still weary - strange, as it never went anywhere - but his mind is effervescing, and he knows further rest is impossible. He gets up, puts the room back in order and makes his way down the staircase, to slip out of the church and back to the Wolf's Howl Inn for a late breakfast. But this won't be as easy as he expected. The church is full. Callimpsest darts back into the stairwell. There isn't usually service at this time. What are they all doing here? He has no choice but to step into the nave. One of the monks, Brother Beyond, looks curiously at him.* Hah. You'd think I'd know where the privy was by now. *Brother Beyond responds with raised eyebrows but pursues the matter no further, turning away to comfort a woman nearby who appears to be in some distress. As do many of the congregants. Callimpsest needs to bring himself fully into the present and catch up on current events. He seats himself next to two other monks he knows, Brothers Matt and Luke, to get 'the goss'. [OOC: Enough '80s pop star/monk references for now. Any more and it would sound contrived. ] Brother Matt: Callimpsest! Thank Heavens for your good health. None has seen you since yesterday and we feared... I'm quite well. I was travelling overnight and it seems I am still behind the times. Brother Luke: You were not at the inn then? No, I have just returned and was drawn here. What, pray tell, have I missed? Matt: Fire and brimstone! Luke: No brimstone. The fire by itself was enough. A building caught aflame? Luke: Many buildings, Callimpsest. And not by accident from within. As dawn broke, fire fell in great balls. Goodness gracious! *Realising that Luke mentioned the inn, Callimpsest starts to panic. His room. His books. No, not again. Please. He jumps as a hand touches his shoulder. Dal Marx the Wolf's Howl innkeeper has seen Callimpsest across the church and sat down behind him.* Dal: The protective charm on your room worked, Cal. It is safe. And thankfully so are you. *Callimpsest calms down. The expensive charm in which he invested had not let him down.* Dal, forgive my selfishness. How is the inn? *Dal explains how the inn is in disarray. Several rooms have been ruined by the flames and numerous patrons are missing, with other patrons and staff having left in fright. Callimpsest buckles under a memory of acquaintances walking out as he grappled with catastrophe; then he wrenches himself back into today.* I will not leave, Dal. Unity in the face of disasters is crucial. Dal: *Smiling weakly* Bless you. *Dal and the monks tell Callimpsest of the other fires that broke out in Wolfenden [OOC: with smoke seen from a distance here], most of which have been exstinguished now, and reports they have received of fires elsewhere. Areas of Dunkley Wood and the Forest of Dunn have been scorched, and Dal's half-elvish daughter Ann-Marie has returned to check on her mother's people; a huge fireball, some say two, slammed into the Brinkatores' land near Greenshades, razing the estate to cinders and raising rumours that neither the Count nor his retinue has survived; and the ramshackle goblin housing in the province of Kobalt were no match for the flames. Within Wolfenden, particular concern surrounds the fate of faded trader Catherine Barter, whose shop bore the brunt of one fireball. Some claim that she is out of town; some are certain that they heard screams from within the shop as the fire gripped it; others swear they saw her fleeing the flames with a bundle. Whichever, her shop has joined the list of uninhabitable buildings, and she the list of missing townsfolk. Callimpsest joins the trio in a prayer for those who have been lost in the fires, temporarily or otherwise. He has studied too many religions to believe truly in just one; but when no magi or Dungeon Masters are around to protect humble folk against calamities such as this, faith in a higher and more ambiguous power feels right. While his head is bowed, Callimpsest considers using the Tower of Time to prevent what has happened, but suspects that stopping an attack of this scale would be beyond his capabilities. The disaster is still unfolding, and taking action in the present is no less noble. Everyone is thankful that casualties have been so few.* Luke: It's as if the fires weren't meant to take away lives, merely to take away courage. Many escaped because the fires burned so slowly. *He sees scepticism in Callimpsest's face.* Truly, there was a slowness to the burning that many witnessed, not just me. *Callimpsest recalls his knowledge of Dungeon fire, on bomb room fuses and such, combusting more slowly than fire normally would. This onslaught, then, might have its origins in the Dungeons. But who or what could be responsible? No dragons were sighted during the attacks; the likes of Mogdred and Morghanna are presumed to have returned to the Old Realm; Lord Fear, though a connoisseur of the fireball, is said to have left his post and has not been heard from for an age. There was a fire wizard who visited Wolfenden some time ago, Pyron, but he was small fry.* Callimpsest: *Quietly to himself* Pardon the pun at your convenience. Matt: Begging your pardon? Oh, ah, this is the hardest of plunges to inconvenience. And no one knows who perpetrated this? Dal: Never mind who did it. They'll get their dues when Lord Dunshelm returns from Dabun Gallow. What's important for us is rebuilding. You are right, Dal. Shall we return to the inn? Tell me how I might help. Dal: Where do I start? *Bidding Matt and Luke farewell, Callimpsest and Dal leave the church, heading back to the Wolf's Howl Inn via the Marketplace.*
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Post by Callimpsest on Dec 30, 2015 19:12:49 GMT
[OOC: Callimpsest's latest departure from the Tower of Time, as narrated in another thread (Lodgings and Planning): *He is in the Tower of Time, focussing his mind before the great blue aperture. For several moments, he hesitates, his foot poised in mid-air. Then like a tide, or the brush of a reassuring hand, the blue sweeps his trepidation away and he is ready. He steps forward, walks through - and goes back. Were Callimpsest feeling pithy and heroic, and appropriate utterance might have been: "Time to go old school..."* This post continues from Before, During, Rafter.] *Callimpsest raises his eyelids. He is back in the Tower, lying on the floor behind the clock. He feels groggy and wonders how long he has been asleep. He sees Theodora is there too, still wearing the school uniform. She looks cut and bruised but she is breathing. Callimpsest is about to wake her and ask her what happened. Yes or no? Then he remembers that he already has a way to know. In the explosion, Callimpsest's favourite quill and inkwell set - the inkwell was in the shape of a dungeon wellway; the feather was from a talking raven and squawked at him when the ink was running out - had been damaged by a falling rafter. He had kept them and before departing on his quest to the past, had brought them to the Tower of Time. He left them on the far side of the room. If the quest has been successful, if the explosion has been prevented or reversed, his stationery will be restored or maybe even back in the library. He just needs to look over and see. His eyes are still bleary and he cannot focus. He crawls across the room with trembling hands. He gets closer. His heart pounds. He can see them. The inkwell has a chunk missing and a black stain down the side. The quill is bent into an L shape. Just as always. History has not been rewritten. Did the potion not spread properly? Did the bottles not break? Did the mixture expire too soon? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how successful or unsuccessful an apothecary Callimpsest was, or a school cook. It was all to be a librarian again, and it's been denied him.* Well, Ringmasterrob alloneword... I hope you're happy. "Oh, let me come to the Knightmare Boarding School, with my lickspittle lackey Bob, and my double so that I can impose myself twice as hard, and never mind that a deadly evil is hunting me across the realms, endangerment of the school be damned, old Scumeye can devastate everything around me and I'll still stand tall." Well I am devastated, Rob. I am devastated still. I came to the school to be a librarian. To help, to be needed. And the poison you brought to its door, from your accursed world, took it away from me. But what was I, what were my whims compared with those of a Netherregions power trip? Bob wanted me gone from the moment I arrived, and you made it happen. You made me fail my books, you made me fail the students, you made me fail myself. Forever. *He raises his head from his hands. He has not said half of what he wants to say, half as many times, but this is not the place to say it. If there is any catharsis to be had, he must say it at the library. He will wake Theodora and see if she is willing and well enough to accompany him. As Callimpsest gets to his feet, he sees Aesandre's device lying on the floor. It is different. Glowing more brightly, it has changed shape. The egg-shaped component is larger and rounder while the protrusion has thickened into a conical formation. Gently, Callimpsest picks it up by the cone. It looks familiar. He has read about such things, albeit with scepticism. Did Aesandre really create an egg that can hatch into whatever creature has mothered it? A droplet is running down the sphere. Callimpsest watches as it falls through the air. It splashes to the floor near his foot and spreads outwards. Wider and wider. It shimmers, it swells... it rustles. Seconds later, it is a book. Callimpsest stares. It all comes together in his mind.* If it... By Eusebius Hieronymous... *Willing Hermes to his feet, and Chronos onto his side just once more, he bolts from the clock room with the plagiaricer in his grip.* ...Sophronius! [OOC: Continued in Book to the Future.]
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