The Power of Ten

The lads stacked up the Disk The Mick had brought up with books and various sorts of bric-a-brac that got someone’s attention, and we got out of there after thoroughly looking to see if there were any hidden chambers or trap doors or something... which I blew another Detect on making sure were non-existent.

Master Fred took the GPD, and as we walked back to where Bone Marrow was parked, he dialed up Gregorigori and handed the phone to me.

“Sum it up, lass,” the gnome told me in anticipation.

“Vylstrigroi plague-spreader, dead. Reclaimed, anti-Div necklace, Einz-level Dagger. One Cursed Scroll designed to turn Powered into undead, the cause of his Vampirization. Sixty-two different Tomes or equivalent sources of knowledge, several random objects of macabre inspiration, individually unreviewed, assumed to be of dark knowledge. Destroyed, ten shingen gaki,” I glanced at The Mick, who held up eight fingers, “ten shikken gaki, two aswang, and two jiangshi, all under the control of the vylstrigoi. The Cursed scroll uses Daoist Feather Script, among its other languages, which include Aklo and Necrus. Assumption is the Chinese trade delegation sold it to him, anticipating on starting an undead eruption in this area.

“Debts owed: local Ghoul Baron Gillcrukx, for providing the name of the probable vampire; The Mick, aid in killing the undead. I believe The Mick will be willing to assume the debt to the Baron, and move our debt to him.”

The Mick once again looked startled, and gave me a thumbs-up.

“The Mick confirms. Also, a minor debt to a driver who gave us a ride at a key moment, but The Mick has subsumed that debt, too.”

“You do not miss a damn trick,” the gnome on the other end hissed. “Okay, what are the plans with the lore?”

“If you can get a forensic team to the man’s house, there may be something that Master Fred overlooked, and then, considering what went on in the basement, it should be burned to the ground.

“We need a fill team dispatched here to fill in this tomb. Master Fred baked the whole thing in wrathfire, so unless you’ve a need for a hidden cache point, it can be gotten rid of.”

“Ask The Mick if he’s willing to misdirect where the tomb is.”

Said person had exceptional hearing. “Och, you know how Boxer gets, burning down everything of value in his zealous desire to purify the world from foul malefactors and other upstanding citizens, ya wee sprite!”

“We can use it as an emergency safe house. Take note, ya milk-wearing leech!” Gregorigori riposted.

The Mick beamed. “Aye, and I will, knee-licker!” he called back cheerfully.

“What’s the proper dispensation on the lore items?” I asked The Mick, who narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“Well, realistically, the pyromantic tendencies ol’ Boxer and his self-righteous hardarses mean that if they have to share the interesting bits with the vampires or the ghouls and contribute to our libraries, they prefer to be burning it all.” Master Fred just nodded.

“How wide is your personal knowledge, and do you get merits for recovering such tidbits for the clan, and do you care?” I inquired calmly.

He was Tome-Tainted. He probably did not have the clan’s best interests at heart.

“Hmm.” His dark eyes wandered towards some of the other ‘inspirational items’ we had recovered. “If I could be to copying an unknown tome or two, they’d mark me up as a clever young lad who has more between his ears than meat for killing.” He stroked the dark beard he’d grown in but a day thoughtfully. “As for personal knowledge... I’m a student of The Lore, so there’s never enough.”

“Do you keep a blank book or journal or something for hastily copying proscribed information into?”

He grinned again. “Boxer, where DID you find this lass? I want one for meself!” His gloved hand went inside his coat, and emerged with a book that would have done service as a telephone directory. “Not me personal Libram,” he noted.

“Naturally.” I waved it away, and he put it back, where it did not cause the slightest bulge. “Gregorigori, I’ll need a quiet and reserved area I can do a rapid forensic read-through on these books, determining if they have magical value, lore value, collector’s value, or are just a bunch of insane shit.”

“The local temple to Sylune has a nice chamber made for careful study and disposal of questionable materials,” he informed me promptly.

“If you would be so polite as to make us an appointment? Once I’ve got them categorized, we can determine their final dispensation, right?”

“That sounds quite reasonable,” the gnome agreed.

“If you’ve no urgent business, Lord Mick, we would be happy to have you join us.”

He grin was big and white. “Oh, I wouldnae miss such a fine opportunity to steal precious dark secrets and wondrous hidden truths of the universe from under the noses of the close-minded and uptight silver nuns!” he agreed happily.

“Do you need to stop by and see Gillcrukx personally?” I asked. Because we were going to have to put all this stuff into Bone Marrow’s trunk.

“Such delicate negotiations between upstanding citizens such as ourselves are best done in person,” he agreed sagely.

“And having the Silent Warlock waiting out in the parking lot might put some pressure on him,” I reasoned.

“Tch, would a wise and lofty Ghoul Sage possibly have anything to fear from a puritanized flaming ruin-leaver like Boxer?” The Mick scoffed, and I just shook my head. Master Fred just smiled faintly.

----------

Our sidetrip to The Pauper’s End rest home didn’t take long. Master Fred parked in the driveway, The Mick pulled up, and as those inside were freaking out, he wandered inside sans Sword, and came sauntering back out a few minutes later.

“He has been thanked for his time and civic duty, and I let him examine the Scroll. Given that dispensing it instantly turns a hapless fool into a rogue undead creature, and is grounds for immediate termination by a great number of annoyed parties, he expressed great interest in disposing of such a threat to his livelihood... although for some reason, he didn’t seem too sincere, and he definitely wanted to keep it for himself.” He put the leaded box back onto the floor of the back seat. “He was also very, very interested to hear that the Merchants of Leng might be involved. For that reason alone, he was very happy to spread word of this item among the ghouls, and its source.”

“Debt discharged?” I had to ask.

“Aye. He almost dripped on the Scroll, he were salivating on it so hard. Then he saw Boxer there on the vid, and decided that keeping it might be counterproductive to his current existence, and he returned it most graciously, he did.”

“So, you’re saying you should have brought your Sword.”

“Meh.” He waved his gloved hand as he started Bone Marrow. “A mere ghoul shall not make me envious of Boxer’s pyroclastic reputation. After all, I am well-known for my ability to leak secret information to the silent disaster and manipulate him into killing this or that meritorious citizen who is politically untouchable, all the while making it seem I am doing him a great favor!” His smile was even wider, and the loudest snort this time came from Sleipner.

“In other words, you’ve got an excellent idea of who wants who dead, can play them to advance your status, and have a Heavenbound knock off who you need to while keeping your hands pristine.”

“Everyone knows we have such a beautiful working relationship!” he grinned, following after Sleipner and pulling out of the funeral parlor’s lot. “They cannot understand how I can tolerate working with a Heavenbound, or a Heavenbound to work with me...”

“And the fuckers have no idea of how hard it is to be Tome-Tainted, either.”

His broad grin evaporated instantly, and became a lethally thin line. “No, lassie. No, they don’t at all.” And there was a grim, grim humor in that reply...

----------

Pittsburgh wasn’t exactly a city of higher magical education, so the church to Sylune wasn’t all that impressive. The Mick gladly punched it up, and we found out it had once been a Lutheran church, Our Lady of Fatima, taken over, repurposed, decorated with lots of silver, crystal, and twinkling things, floating in air as often as not, and the grounds turned into a magical meditation garden.

Without a doubt, most of the female non-Divine Casters in the city probably called this place a second home, and if the Uruthimi were disgruntled over it, they were also all smiles in the face of it. After all, women tended to be slightly better at cross-Class Theurgy than men were, and could certainly get just as powerful...

In the end, they got back by making more money, as they really didn’t care about the ethics behind those they did business with as much. As far as trust went, however, in terms of magic, the Sylunar were as trusted as the Harsites... which really annoyed the followers of Uruth, but since they were hardly servants of Heaven, there wasn’t much they could do about it.

There was a Moonsister waiting for us as we parked, leading us along the outside of the Church to a room in back, which she opened with a wave, and we and their Disk full of things that shouldn’t even have been brought on the grounds were hauled within.

It was now time to do some serious studying.

The Sylunar had even provided writing materials, assured by Heavenbound Hall that they would also have access to the materials after they were properly reviewed.

-------

The first thing was to identify the titles of all the works, who had authored them, and then determine if they were originals or copies.

Unsurprisingly, The Mick had quite an interest in necromancy, and a fairly extensive knowledge of the subject. He was able to rapidly identify many of the books, then confirm their validity, and offer guidelines on how to cross-reference them and check them.

The first pass identified the most common books, such as Van Selling’s Danse Nacht Macabre, Chevok’s Myashima T’Mas, and Sir Arthur Hoyle’s Interpretation of Cards. These were basically at the level of harmless collector’s items, copies of tomes widely distributed and impossible to do away with, and so were more collector’s items and base references than anything. It was easy to allow The Mick to trade such things away for whatever they got him.

Things like Abu-Qihlar’s Whispers in the Sands, and Melikitotti’s Imprecations unto the Void were a bit dicier, as they had some really dangerous shit in there. O’Bannon’s I Call Unto Darkness was basically a recipe for damnation, and il-Contruso’s Analects of the Mind was some perilously exposed poetic madness that could really take you down that insanity hole.

The Bibliophile spell meant I could touch a book and basically read it as if I’d spent an hour on it. Comprehend Languages had no difficulty with the base, imperfect human languages of Earth, so reading Arabic, Sanskrit, Egyptian, and whatnot wasn’t an issue, even that quickly. Combining the two spells with Aklo, however, was a good way to go barking mad if you didn’t already know Aklo, as unwholesome connections would be made between word and proper thought...

Every day, I was using my Wisdom or Charisma Slots to download spells if I could, which I could then Write into my Ring. Minor divinatory spells like this were some of the basic ones that were really useful, as you didn’t need them at all, until you really needed them. Fetching them when required was the way to go...

Gregorigori stayed up on Master Fred’s Vaccine. The Warlock was mostly watching stuff and probably taking mental notes.

We ended up with twelve books by humans that weren’t known, mostly individual journals and basically rambling spellbooks who really had to learn a proper arcane nomenclature. There were also four books by non-humans that weren’t known, none of which seemed to be originals based on their construction, but which nevertheless held copies of some annoyingly bad stuff...