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[Twinwolf]

((I'll second that.))

[SeriousConcentrate]

(No argument here.)

[Dwarmin]

((But first!))

Arvin put out a hand to warn everyone back.

"...ah, let me take a closer look at that. I realized this entire scene seems awfully inviting. A trap for the curious, maybe. I also note it's surprisingly free of dust. I do recall the old story about the death of King Oltest. He loved his books...so his enemies gave him one where the ink was a deadly poison that was contracted by touch. It never hurts to be safe, in any case.

You may also wish to sense if there is a magical aura about it, Kala.

Can I borrow your knife, Logan?"

Action: Arvin uses the knife to do a short inspection of the book, checking between it's pages and under it-he tries not to touch it himself. Also, do a quick sniff test of the pages to see if anything is...off. He knows the smell of ink, he'd know if something was wrong.

Specifically, he's checking for hidden pressure traps underneath the book, contact poison in the ink and blades hidden in the lining of the pages.

[SeriousConcentrate]

Logan lends Arvin the knife.

[Dwarmin]

Arvin chatted amiably while he went along with his investigation.

"...It strikes me how inventive our species can be when it comes to murder, you know. King Oltest killed by a poisoned page, because he loved to read. Queen Westfall was struck down from below, by a assassin who hid in her privy. Lord Andara, never chewed his food-who ate a whole sausage with a live venomous snake hidden inside. Genera Odlimarra, shot in the eye by a miniature crossbow hidden in a womans bosom.

Makes you wonder what the Gods really made us for."

[SeriousConcentrate]

"Makes ME wonder why you're so interested in murder," Logan teased, going back to his favorite pastime of blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.

[GiglameshDespair]

Kala frowned at the scholar.
"You might have mentioned that before I touched it. And yes, it's magical.

It'll take a while if I try to read it. We could take it back and I'll read it in town, I suppose, but it might have information pertinent to our current adventures. I'll give it a go."

Once Arvin has finished manhandling the ancient magical tome, attempt to read it.

[Dwarmin]

((Huh? Ops. I didn't think you physically touched it yet...like I was careful not to...like I noted in my action...the Gm is evil, you have to be specific!))

"...you touched it? Oh dear...well, nevermind. It takes time for any poison to work. A person reading a page for a length of time, by touch, would be much more likely to take a fatal dose. It's what caused me to wonder. The Queen would want anyone who entered here to read this book, probably. We don't know if she wanted to kill them."

"Makes ME wonder why you're so interested in murder," Logan teased, going back to his favorite pastime of blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.

"...Emperor Valorian loved smoking, so his enemies hid an inhaled poison in the neck of his favorite tobacco pipe..." Arvin comments idly, with a grin.

[GiglameshDespair]

"I know magic, remember? If I die because of a poison now I'll return as a ghost and haunt you, being telekinetically irritating until the end of your days." Kala scowled playfully at Arvin.

[Dwarmin]

"It could be handy to have a ghost. Just stay away from the cliches, keep it fresh-no rattling chains at night or rearranging the chairs every time I leave a room..."

[SeriousConcentrate]

"One problem with your plan there, Arv, is that I don't smoke a pipe. I gave it a go for awhile. It's too annoying to keep up with cleaning it and remembering where you last put it and all of that. Better to just roll as you go." Logan flicked some ash from the end of his cigarette into his palm.

[bahihs]

(( My plan to make everyone so paranoid that they suspect everything,  is coming to fruition. Hehee))

[GiglameshDespair]

"I'm sure I've heard of poisoned cigarettes. And alright, no moving chairs, but you'll never find your keys where you put them down."

[SeriousConcentrate]

"Someone would have to poison my tobacco or my papers, and there's not many opportunities to do that. And I doubt I'm important enough for someone to go to the trouble and expense of, say, poisoning a store's entire product in the hopes I would buy from it."

[bahihs]

((But first!))

Arvin put out a hand to warn everyone back.

"...ah, let me take a closer look at that. I realized this entire scene seems awfully inviting. A trap for the curious, maybe. I also note it's surprisingly free of dust. I do recall the old story about the death of King Oltest. He loved his books...so his enemies gave him one where the ink was a deadly poison that was contracted by touch. It never hurts to be safe, in any case.

You may also wish to sense if there is a magical aura about it, Kala.

Can I borrow your knife, Logan?"

Action: Arvin uses the knife to do a short inspection of the book, checking between it's pages and under it-he tries not to touch it himself. Also, do a quick sniff test of the pages to see if anything is...off. He knows the smell of ink, he'd know if something was wrong.

Specifically, he's checking for hidden pressure traps underneath the book, contact poison in the ink and blades hidden in the lining of the pages.

The book doesn't try to kill you.

Kala frowned at the scholar.
"You might have mentioned that before I touched it. And yes, it's magical.

It'll take a while if I try to read it. We could take it back and I'll read it in town, I suppose, but it might have information pertinent to our current adventures. I'll give it a go."

Once Arvin has finished manhandling the ancient magical tome, attempt to read it.

Success! (Combination of Arcanist, Linguist and Creativity) The words have been surprisingly well preserved, must be the magic. At first your finger smarts from touching the paper, but soon the pain lulls into a kind of passive warmth, like putting a finger in a bowl of warm water. It takes you a couple of passes to translate the page, your magical aptitude helps, but your linguistics training really comes in handy. Otherwise you never would have guessed that the language is read in a zig-zag fashion (right to left, then left to right, then right to left, etc.). The words are archaic and some phrases are awkward to translate. It seems to be some sort of journal.

Here is what it reads:


The day's are endless between hall and hall. My entertainments grow dull. The birds are dead, I have no more food for them. Poe lives and keeps me company. I can no longer count his deaths upon my fingers and toes. I could release him, it would be kind - I have forgotten what it is to be kind.

How many years since my brothers entombed me? How many eons since my words with Sabi, the [a very rude word, meaning roughly, a person who fornicates with rabbits] of hell? I despise being hidden away. Is my charm the charm of gems, or is my beauty of stones? When will I arise again, fair and terrible? How will the earth welcome me?

I shall strike down my captors, and their progeny. Time does not confine me, millenia I have waited, what's a year to me? A decade? A century? Patience has been burned into me.

But can I trust Her? Ha! Trust Her? The Serpent? The Double-Tongued? But the word of a god is immutable, always. It is within ourselves that we fall; but I shall not fall.

I read it daily, hourly, it lies neatly in my memory.

"Reason well my subtle rhyme
You are free from time's confines
Unworried by cause and consequence
Unbound by death, from this point hence

But time alone, is not a life
Life in boredom is worse than strife
You shall curse what I have given
Sometimes hell is better than heaven

Nine and Nine shall pine and pine
One of them will betray you
Brothers six shall dine and dine
All six shall slay you.

Many shall come
for your gold.
Some shall die, and some grow old.
Then shall come two and two,
Four to you, not for you.   

Wait and sit
Drip by drip
Drink the chalice
And you die
If they drink,
Four and four
On sixteen lips,
Then you fly

Or is it
All a lie?

The last, unnerves me. Frigid bitch, always speaking in tied tongues and riddles. I have considered it from all points, all angles. When will those four come to me? I would drain all the coffers in my kingdom to feel the sun upon my flesh. To taste tree-begotten air and lips other than mine own.

Thoughts as these keep me from the chalice. She challenges me, saucy whore, She knows not what will is. She shall learn.

What do you do?

((EDIT: Also, 1 turn has passed, in case it wasn't clear ))