Final Preparations ~ Chyril 23rd, late TT

[Adriano Marinetti]

Standing tall among the crowded buildings of the West End, the Lycaeum Library is imposing and serene. Somehow, the stepped entryway has a quelling effect on conversation- whether the effect is magical or psychological (or eerily, both) is uncertain. All that can be assured is that the place has a reputation for mystery- and the marble walls, cleanly polished to the point of phantasmal reflection, certainly add to the ambiance of such tales.

Although the broad entryway, with its widely tiered steps, is impressive- more impressive is the sheer size of the building. Three stories tall, but also long- and surrounded by a clutch of bare trees, seeming to grasp the building within their tangled grip. Regardless of season, leaves never grow upon the trees- but they have stood for long without being claimed by death.

There are rumors of underground archives- larger than even the upper stories- tales of ancient books of power, kept safe here from even the mighty reach of the Purificatio. Shadows have tread this earth- but so has the light. A place of utmost thought and contemplation, it is (more than any other building in the city) the domain of the magi, in all of their shapes and forms.

In the yard of the majestic library once more, Adriano was troubled with certain doubts about this eveningtide's venture. Even with the plan as simple as could be - get in, kill 'em all, get out - there were still too many variables left underdefined. Was it worth to risk the survival of the whole gang for a few books? Was it really a wise move to go after a man who surely had something the Black Heart gang lacked - connections to the power brokers of the city, a man whose organisation would not exactly be easy to eradicate? How exactly did he intend to kill all the members of Scullio and Penna's gang, and would the cost in lives lost be worth the gains?

By the time he reached the gates to the library, he had pondered and dismissed all these concerns. There were rumours that the library contained far more than just books, and that something would potentially prove a very useful boon in the future. Knowledge was power, and this was an opportunity to get it. As for Scullio - he would think of something. It was always best to think on one's feet and adapt to the situation rather than expect it to adapt to you.

He entered the halls of the Lycaeum with a look of determination and proceeded upstairs without saying a word to the clerk. The objective now was to find the curators and arrange the neccessary things with them. He would pick up his robe, and give instructions to the people Gwi'ilen and Milanas have assembled.

[Morg]

Head Librarian Gwil'lien was not in her office. Instead two men were there, having a heated discussion most inappropriate for a library. One was Head Curator Milanas, the bulky man Adriano had met before. The other was smaller, wirier and much older.

"I will do whatever I am needed to do," this man was saying, "but I hope you're aware that it might jeopardise my man's plan. And for the record I think that this way is too risky."

"We're equally guilty here, Durante," Milanas replied. "I was counting on young Lucan here to have told you of what was going on." He gestured to the young, brown-haired man who Adriano had first spoken with, who was sitting in an armchair and looking a little sheepish. "But in any case, the result is that we now have two ways to solve the problem. If one fails, the other might work..." At this point he noticed Adriano and smiled shortly. "Ah, signore Marinetti. We are all here, so I'd better make our introductions."

He first motioned to the younger man. "Lucan you've met. He's one of our sorcerers, as is this fellow." He now indicated the wiry newcomer. "This is Durante Mastropietro, Head Caretaker."

"Salute," the white-haired man greeted him with a brisk nod.

"Caretaker Umbrian is the third sorcerer," Milanas continued. The person indicated was a well-dressed halfling leaning against a dresser, who appeared rather bemused by the gathering, his large blue-grey eyes flitting from person to person. "The two ladies here are Jaline and Mara. They're mindcrafters, like me."

All three seemed uncomfortable with the admission. Jaline was a tiny, frail-bodied human woman with dark brown hair reaching to her waist, while Mara was of average height and stouter. With the exception of Milanas and perhaps Mastropietro, none of those present looked like they had ever been involved in an armed conflict before.

"And this," the Head Curator finished, finally indicating Adriano himself and addressing the other Lycaeum staff present, "is our friend Alfredo, who I told you about."

[Adriano Marinetti]

As he stepped into room 380, Adriano noted the library's mages had been assembled. His eyes moved from one member of the Lycaeum's motley crew of magically inclined employees to another, appraising them. Certain doubts about the venture returned. These people spent the better part of their lives shuffling books from shelf to shelf, and it was not at all sure they would perform well in a combat situation. Sure, they had their powers, but what if they froze? What if they panicked? What if the older ones found it too physically challenging? How would the potential injury - or, gods forbid, death - of one of the staff members be explained to the authorities? The gathered mages would note signor "Alfredo" did not look all too pleased with his newly acquired soldiers.

Nevertheless, he took off his hat and bowed politely.

"Buon giorno, ladies and gentlemen. I am sure signor Milanas has briefed you on the circumstances and the plan of action. I'm just here to ensure all is going well, make the final consultations, and proceed to accompany you to the show.", he said, "But first, a couple of questions."

"First, I'd like to know approximately what you all are capable of. By that I mean the effects of any sorcery or mindcrafting or what have you. The execution of the plan will have to be adjusted based on your relative capabilities.", he continued, and turned his stern gaze towards Mastropietro, "Second, I want to know who 'your man' is, and just what he's been hired to do. We might have a rather unpleasant clusterfuck on our hands if you managed to drag other parties into this."

A part of Adriano worried about the possibility of Mastropietro's man being Alvero, which would significantly complicate the situation and weaken the gang's position in the West End. Still, it was unlikely the merchant prince/gangster would draw attention to himself so soon after disposing of Hart in a spectacular fashion.

He awaited answers to his questions with his hands in his pockets, trying his best to look determined and menacing.

[Maeve]

OOC: dragon sailing in. Please be patient as I might not grasp the intimate details of everything. Feel free to PM me or find me in chat to point out any changes in atmosphere you found not fitting!

IC: Milanas raised an eyebrow. "Mindcrafting takes many different forms Alfredo," he cautioned, aware that his staff was not about to give the man great detail of their abilities "Think of it as minor adjustment inside a persons head, or simply reading their surface thoughts and emotions. It sounds simple, but really it is one of the most intricate and difficult arts. I'm a master myself but Jalina and Mara are passable talents as well. Our sorcerors will be able to create the more traditional magickal effects. Can I propose you tell us the plan and we'll tell you if we are capable of producing the wished for results?"

Mastropietro gave Adriano a long hard stare "I fail to see why you need the name of my man. He's in deep, and keeps a low profile. You can rest assured he will do his job, though how succesful he'll be we have yet to discover. It too may result in the death of Scullio and this suits our purpose just fine."

[Adriano Marinetti]

Never a fucking straight answer with these people... Fucking eggheads. Adriano reflexively rubbed his temples, frowning. This has clusterfuck written all over it. He began to doubt whether the librarians' advice would do more harm than good. The mystery man could jeopardise the entire operation.

"Alright then, don't tell me the name of your man. But please do tell me just what the fuck is he supposed to be doing, because if we act without cordination, not only could his plans screw up my plans, but my plans could end up screwing up his plans, or both, and then you'll have a pissed off Scullio and no allies to save you.", he hissed at Mastropietro, focusing on him with an equally stern glare, seething with frustration, "I don't know if you realise this, signore, but may ain't good enough. Do you people realise you've got one shot here, one fucking good clean shot at Scullio and Penna which has to be a success, or you, me, and your mystery man are all screwed. Capisce? It's a fucking all or nothing gamble, so please, I do NOT want any of this undetermined, nebulous merda from you. If you want my organisation to do some work for you, you come clean, capisce? Am I getting through here? You need all of them dead. All. One man can't do it, so that's where we step in. We're pretty much your only shot at getting free of blackmail, so you perfumed bookish finnochios better show us a little bit more respect and courtesy, seeing as we're risking our asses for you people."

He took a few nervous paces around the room and turned to Milanas.

"The plan, as it is, is quite simple. Go in, kill them.", he said, "That's the strategic part. Tactics will depend on the values of a very large number of unknown variables connected with this, but in general your magic types will be backing up a brute force attack. When it comes to mindcrafting, I suppose you could help turn the tables a bit by somehow lowering their morale or something. And your other people could do the standard stuff. Now, you tell me how much exactly are you capable of, and I'll see what the ratio of stealth to shock will be during the attack."



[/i]

[Morg]

(OOC: Since the dragon's temporarily sailed back out again, you've got me for a tie-over.)

As Adriano demanded to know what "Mastropietro's man" was planning, Milanas seemed to direct a pointed glance at an obviously irritated Mastropietro. However, the Head Curator was the only one present who managed to keep the shock from his face at what the mafia man said next. Straight-talking was an art little practised in the Mouth, and Adriano's words, for all that they had the ring of truth to them, were hard for the assembled librarians and caretakers to take.

"The truth of the matter is that I do not know what he is planning," the Head Caretaker finally replied with resignation in his voice. "But whatever it is, none of us are involved. He preferred to keep me out of the loop. Plausible deniability." The man's white moustache twitched. "Now, as for our powers, I am an adept manipulator of Aetheric energies. I can use the elements against our enemies. Solidify the air in front of their faces, cause the ground to rise up against them, that sort of thing. Lucan, my apprentice, has similar abilities, but is less experienced. I'm not sure of the extent of Osco's capabilities." He gestured to the halfling who had earlier been referred to as Caretaker Umbrian.

Osco's large, liquid eyes swivelled to Adriano as he took a cookie out of a small embroidered pouch at his belt and placed it delicately in his mouth. "Thuffice it to thay," he spoke while chewing, "that I can blow people up. With fireballth."

Mastropietro nodded in approval, and was about to say something, but was forestalled by Milanas. "I think it's safe to say," the big man's voice boomed out, "that none of us like the plan. But I at least agree that it is our only option," now that we've come this far, "and it seems feasible, in principle. Durante, Lucan and Osco can provide what you might call fire support, and we three mindcrafters can use a variety of techniques to deter, distract and misdirect those we see." Provided, of course, that they have no magickal support of their own. But we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. No use worrying the others. "And unless anyone has any objections, I suggest that we get to it and get it over with as quickly as possible." He picked up an androgynous white robe, similar to those worn by most of the others present, and tossed the bundle over to Adriano.

Not everyone seemed to share Milanas's determination, however. Jaline and Mara in particular were looking dubious.

[Adriano Marinetti]

We're doomed. We're all doomed. As the curator explained the magickal skills of his colleagues, Adriano breathed heavily, feeling less and less certain about the whole thing. The librarians certainly didn't look like people capable of killing - though looks may be deceiving - and he was not sure if they'd have the guts for the job, even if they had the powers neccessary. The mystery man and his equally mysterious plan confounded things further. Catching the robe, he tried to dispel any doubts about the operation from his mind. Confidence mattered a lot in life, he learned, and a surefire way to fail in something was to feel nervous about it.

"Alright then, let's organise this. You, you and you... Put on some plain clothes and go to the Lost Elf Inn. Ask for Rusty and say Snookums sent you. They'll tell you what to do.", he said, pointing at Mastropietro, Lucan, and Osco, and turned towards the hulking Milanas, "You, signore, will come with me."

He turned towards the two women, giving them a stern appraisal.

"And you two, stay here. The last thing we need is some jittery stronza to jeopardise the whole thing.", he remarked dismissively and began to put the white robe on over his regular clothes.

[Arnholt]

Quite unaware of the presence of 'Signor Alfredo' within, Arnholt had wandered into the Lycaeum in his usual carefree manner. More or less. Even after having spent a mark or so drinking at the Lost Elf, despite his own best intentions, the big man had more than enough presence of mind to be quite impressed at the sight of the great library. It was by far the biggest and grandest such building that Arnholt had ever seen... and, indeed, the only. Somehow they'd never thought to build libraries in King's Court. Or rather, they for damned sure hadn't built them in the poor quarter.

If he could find a librarian lurking around, Arnholt addressed him or her in the soft tones that he felt appropriate for such an august building. "Pardon me," he said, "but I'm in need of some assistance. I'm an amateur religious scholar, you see. My particular area of interest is in comparative theology. So I was wondering... do you have a particular area of your collection devoted to books on the pagan religions? I'm particularly interested in those deities worshipped by the adhiel. In foreign parts, I mean."

Anyone who'd heard Arnholt at the Lost Elf... or indeed, hung around with him in his old gang in King's Court... might have been surprised to hear the thuggish looking man speaking in such a manner. But then, Arnholt hadn't been a thug all his life. He for sure hadn't been raised to be one. And he did have some vague inkling of how to speak among men of letters.

[Morg]

Mastropietro inhaled sharply at Adriano's dismissive words, but Milanas simply nodded in understanding. The two young women themselves, although evidently disliking the man who spoke to them thus, seemed more relieved than offended. "I would have phrased it differently," he stated, "but think signore Alfredo is right. Anyone whose heart is not in this can leave now and forget that any of this ever happened." Whether magical in nature or not, the air of solidarity the Head Curator projected was impressively reassuring.

Jaline and Mara glanced at one another, then slipped out. Of the others, only Mastropietro showed any sign of unease. "We've come this far," the grey-haired man eventually said with conviction. "I will see this through. Lucan? Osco? To the Lost Elf, then." The three sorcerers departed, leaving Milanas and Adriano alone in the office.

The Head Curator folded his arms across his broad chest and glanced at Adriano. "Where next?"

[hr][/hr]
A slender achadhiel girl was seated behind the front desk of the Lycaeum. Her long black hair hung down in waves parted by the pointed ears that revealed her heritage, and she was reading a pamphlet whose title read Reflections on a war. Although she flinched slightly but noticeably at the word "pagan", she still managed to give Arnholt a tentative, professional smile. "The first floor is where we keep our religious collections," she replied. "Reference material on non-orthodox beliefs is towards the north front... although I'm afraid it's somewhat limited." By necessity.

"But if you're after something more specific, I might be able to help you," she added, in a slightly lower voice. "Were you interested in the Father and Mother, or Illuminatus, or perhaps Pan...?"

[Arnholt]

Despite his own best efforts, Arnholt found himself momentarily distracted by the librarian's pointy ears. Another elf? No, this one's a half-blood. But what a city! Within the span of a couple days, the big man had already met more non-humans than he had in his entire life up to now. Though that might just have been because he'd grown up in an extremely human-centric neighborhood in King's Court, and had rarely ventured very far from it. His life really hadn't been one that allowed for much travel.

In any case, Arnholt was not unused to the kinds of timid looks that the librarian was giving him. He knew that he looked like the kind of guy who only came looking for books because he wanted to burn the ones he disagreed with, or maybe just tear out a few pages to wipe his ass with. The half-elf needn't have worried, though, because nothing could have been further than the case. The big man stroked his beard thoughtfully as he considered the woman's question.

"Pan?" he repeated, also softly. "No. I already have adequate, mmm, sources on him... for my thesis," he added, just for the hell of it. Who knew? Maybe one day he actually would publish an essay on theology. "Earth Mother, I suppose. Although come to think of it... have you ever heard of such a thing as a deity of justice?" Because if their was such a god or goddess, that would probably be the one old Carminello had been referring to with his Righteous talk.

[Morg]

"Justice..." The dark-haired girl furrowed her brow. "I've never heard of a deity for justice, but it might be one of the aspects of the Father. I'm not sure, though." She frowned apologetically, shrugging. "I don't really know much about that field. You'll find books on the Mother and Father right up against the north front, by the windows on the first floor." She pursed her lips. "If you can't find what you're looking for there, one of us could look through the closed stacks for you. But good luck with your research." Unless anything further was asked of her, the girl would turn to the next customer, an academic-looking middle-aged man in a beige doublet.

The first floor was easy to reach by any of the building's many staircases. Although the section for 'non-orthodox theology' was indeed up against the windows, neatly fitted blinds prevented any light from filtering through and bleaching the pages of the Lycaeum's tomes. The light in the area came from curious light blue lanterns mounted on the ends of the bookstacks.

The section on the Mother and Father certainly left much to be desired. Intermingled with useful and legitimate books on the two deities were theological propaganda pieces of the sort exemplified by How the Two are One: Reconciling the Mother and the Father within Our Lord Dominicus. However, The Cult of the Mother, Worship of Atara Arda in T'aquar and Western Halfling Folk Festivals of Mother Earth all seemed to be slightly more promising, at least by their titles.

[Arnholt]

"Yes," Arnholt agreed, "the Father was my first guess, too. Red Warrior and such. Anyway, my thanks to you."

Privately, the big man was intrigued by the mention of closed stacks. What sort of stuff might they have back there? Magic grimoires? Secret treatises on forbidden religious sects? Probably just books that are old enough or rare enough they don't want guys like me messing them up. He didn't bother to ask, however, lest the librarian start to wonder again about his motives. Next thing I know they'd be throwing me out of here for plotting to rip off their secret collection. The thought of being summarily ejected was a fairly common worry for Arnholt whenever he was somewhere where he felt out of his element, for in fact he had been thrown out of more than his fair share of places in the past. But he'd been younger and stupider then. At least now he knew, or thought he knew, what sort of behaviors to avoid.

How the Two are One was actually the first book that Arnholt pulled off the shelf. He had a great interest in the bizarre mental gymnastics used by his fellow Oneists in order to deny other faiths. Some of their arguments were truly ingenious; most were at least good for a laugh. The amature theologian's next choice, however, was the Worship of Atara Arda in T'aquar. He had a whole new curiosity about elves, now, in light of recent events. Perhaps this book will teach me something about the adhiel people, as well as the goddess.

With books in tow, Arnholt set about looking for someplace to sit down and read.

[Morg]

At the end of each bookstack was a small desk under the lamp, with a skeletal chair next to it. In addition, one corner of the floor was set aside for reading, with a few exceedingly threadbare armchairs and a small table on which rested a leafy potted plant of some sort.

How the Two are One was, as predicted, convoluted and rather theory-internal.

The notion of a bipartite primary governing force - composed of the "Mother" and the "Father" - is both undesirable and unnecessary. Undesirable from the point of view of the principle of simplicity, since why posit more entities than are strictly necessary to explain the empirically observed phenomena? Unnecessary because all so-called manifestations or aspects of the individuality of these supposed "deities" can in fact be subsumed into singularity.

Take life, for example. Fundamentalist pagans often consider the great miracle of life to be a gift from Mother Earth, and a demonstration of her sovereignty over this domain. However, this analysis does not stand up to rigorous methodological cross-examination. Even the most dedicated Motherist would be hard pressed to deny that one of the stimuli necessary for the inception of plant life - namely the presence of sunlight - is in fact a direct reflection of the domain of the Father of the Heavens (and arguably also of Illuminatus; see Appendix 1). Likewise, human procreation (and that of the pagan races, or so I am told) relies in fact not on a singular aspect, but on the union of multiple aspects, in order to conceive life.

It is, in fact, my contention that no natural or unnatural phenomenon can truly be explained as due exclusively to one of these "aspectual" deities, and that all, in fact, require a binding principle of Union and Unity. Since the One encompasses all these aspects, in addition to embodying Union and Unity par excellence, the pagan thesis is unnecessary to explain the world in which we live, and fails on the criterion of simplicity. My analysis will be further elucidated and exemplified in later chapters.

Worship of Atara Arda in T'aquar was a completely different kettle of fish. It appeared to be the work of a single scholar, Geoffrey of King's Court, who had been a part of King Dorian's retinue when he travelled to woo his adhiel bride in T'aquar and then remained to study the adhiel people and their religion. Although the author was a self-confessed Oneist, the book refrained from making any great judgement on the people being studied, and was simply descriptive. It was a long book, and went into great detail, but it was possible to glean a great deal of information through careful reading, not just on the religious practices of the adhiel but on many other aspects of their culture as well.

[Arnholt]

Sitting in the nearest convenient chair by the library's religious collection, Arnholt couldn't help but feel that the whole set-up seemed a little bit awkward. For such an impressive building to have such scant accommodations for its patrons... either the librarians expected their patrons to check out their books and do the reading at home, or the Lycaeum had just plain fallen on hard times. The big man half-expected the flimsy little library chair to collapse underneath his weight.

He actually found How the Two are One to be rather impressive in some respects, especially for a piece of Oneist religious propaganda. It was for sure several steps beyond the gibberish and wild allegations found in the sort of religious writings that Arnholt was more familiar with, those being cheap folios distributed by the run-down little chapels in the Poor Quarter back home. Still, Arnholt remained far from convinced that there did have to be any single unifying force behind everything in order for the world to make sense. In his own experience life just wasn't that simple; pat explanations tended to make a lot less sense than they seemed to on first glance. When it came right down to it, who the hell even cared whether more than one god was "strictly necessary" to explain the way the world worked? Not Arnholt. It would be enough for him to find a deity who could manage both to give a damn about the lives of his followers and not be a raving self-righteous prick.

After a while, Arnholt lost interest in the words of Luigi Bartolomei, and turned his attention to the book on Worship of Atara Arda in T'aquar instead. Now, that was a really interesting read... especially since so many of his new acquaintances here were elves. From what he read, the old elven homeland might well be worth a visit some time, if he could ever manage it. All in all, what he read bore little resemblance to anything he had ever heard of that place on the streets of his old home city.

Far as I can see, most obnoxious thing about T'aquar is you can't get a beer there. Don't see anything here about Daemon-worship. And wasn't that supposed to be what the war was about or something? Just goes to show what a useless asshole old Balthasar was.

(OOC: And that'll pretty much do it for Arnholt's part in this thread, I suppose, unless Adriano shows up with more instructions for him. Otherwise I think it's safe to say that Arnholt just kept reading until he finally fell asleep, to wake up the next day all pissed off because no Black Heart messenger came for him after all.)

[Morg]

(OOC: Sounds fair to me. Once again, apologies for the state WM's in, and thanks for sticking with us.

Since Adriano's been inactive for a month now, I declare this thread locked for skilling! )

[Morg]

Skilled