“…Torun Fareiss Saruth!”
A middle-aged male voice rings out firmly in the dark, grey stone room; the final incantations of a spell resounding forth, as several brilliant motes of magical energy fade slowly over a wooden desk set against one of the walls. In the dim light of a candle burning on the desk, a feathered quill can now be seen moving rapidly over a long roll of parchment, occasionally pausing to dip itself into an ink well to replenish itself for further recording. The source of the voice steps into the glow of the candle, revealing a balding man clothed in dark brown robes. He clears his voice once as he seemingly addresses the quill darting across the parchment before him.
“Initiate recording, on this second Shadyn of Bahadrius, the Fifth year of the Age of Heroes. Viewpoint dictation established to Andorn Albright, Head Librarian of the Library of Krell, located in the city of Krell on the continent of Tesseril; granted authority to utilize the ‘Narratus Arcanum’ spell, copyright two-thousand forty-three to inventor Farsworth Greensward, under established Library protocols for investigation of current events. Access level to record set at Librarian status and above, with allowances given for direct permission to others.” The Head Librarian recites these words drily, giving the air of having done similar variants countless times before for other recordings. He shakes his head amusedly as he runs a hand through what is left of his greying hair; thinking to himself of all the other things, more important things, that he could be doing right now besides…this. Andorn bends over to check the parchment, seeing the quill just finish writing “…-that he could be doing right now besides…this.” The Head Librarian winces, remembering that the idiotic gnome that invented this bloody spell included third-person thought narration in the spell parameters.
Oh well, he sighs internally/externally-on-paper to himself, might as well get on with this nonsense. Andorn turns to face the only other occupant of this dark room, sitting in a rather hard-looking wooden chair, illuminated by a mote of shining white light hanging a couple feet in the air above it. He clasps his hands behind his back as he strides slowly towards the individual, with the mien of an individual with just enough patience to tolerate only an iota of tomfoolery. As the Head Librarian does so, he has time to measure the creature sitting on the chair before him. It does not take long, for a short lizardfolk is the current occupant of the chair, dangling its legs over the side of the seat as it nervously wrings its claws together. Well…a kobold would be a better description, he thinks to himself as he draws closer to it. Andorn circles slowly around the chair, skirting an intricately carved mandolin resting near the kobold. Confusion and worry seems to grace the scaly snoot of the lizardfolk, as it tries to follow the movement of the Head Librarian in his interrogative-like demeanor. Eventually, Andorn stops before the creature, pausing briefly as if in thought.
“So tell me…kobold,” the Head Librarian says. “What do you call yourself? I am sure that you must have a name of some sort.” The lizardfolk cocks its head at him, shifting uncomfortably on the seat; causing several shiny objects attached to its leather jerkin to jingle slightly, the magical light above momentarily illuminating various tools, pouches, and even a fiery-hued lock of hair.
“Err…Deekin be calledses Deekin, methinkses.” The kobold speaks in a high-pitched reptilian chatter, lisping occasionally as it speaks in Common. “Well…most of the timeses. Deekin has also been called many other thingses, mostly nasty thingses and most of those come from a really mean half-orcses, oh yes!” Andorn rubs his temples as the kobold makes its introduction, trying valiantly to stave off the burgeoning headache that this tangent-spouting creature probably will cause. He waves off the creature’s tangent with a dismissive gesture of his hand, bending forward to look at it seriously.
“Yes, yes, that is well and good…Deekin,” the Head Librarian says semi-disinterestedly. “Do you know why you are here?” he asks the lizardfolk.
“Well…Deekin be not entirely sure. Is it to give Deekin and Deekin’s friendses food and shinies?” it asks, pausing momentarily in its claw-wringing to look at him with hope and curiosity. Andorn slides puts his palm over his face, sliding it away slowly with exasperation in response.
“For the love of- NO, you idiotic half-brai-” Andorn begins to shout, but stops himself shortly. Taking a deep breath, he continues in a more moderate tone. “Deekin, you are here because The Scribe himself wants to know the exact reason why IN-THE-NINE-HELLS three islands, no, three CONTINENTS just BLOODY APPEARED off the coast of Krell!” The Head Librarian’s voice raising towards the end in incredulity of the situation warranting this current investigation. The kobold startles back slightly into its chair, causing a light ‘twang’ from the mandolin resting against it. As Andorn pauses slightly to recollect himself, the kobold chuckles softly to itself as it bends down to grasp its instrument.
“Why, Deekin can tell angry-bald manses about that, oh yes!” the kobold says as it strums a claw across the instrument, momentarily filling the room with the sound. “In fact, Deekin has made a most epic tale about it, oh yes! Let’ses see, how does it startses?” it asks itself. The kobold begins picking out a tune on the mandolin, and starts singing in its reptilian chittering voice.
It had appeared that Andorn’s valiant effort was most certainly in vain.