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unfinishedlibrary2026-01-23 06:56 pm
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2026-01-23 06:56 pm
Entry tags:
- arcane: vikor,
- blade runner: kd6-3.7,
- claymore: cassandra the dusteater,
- dead boy detectives: charles rowland,
- devil summoner raidou kuzunoha: raidou k,
- legend of zelda botw: link,
- maidensong magica: claire ryland,
- persona 5: sumire yoshizawa,
- the murderbot diaries: murderbot,
- the wonders of mundus: hikaru aozora,
- the wonders of mundus: siobahn greenwood,
- tortall: hisako godsup,
- warhammer: roboute guilliman,
- ~moonlit rivals
perhaps you have learned it without a book - MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 1
Who: Readers and Actors galore!
What: The Story begins- and so do preparations for the Masquerade!
When: The three days prior to the Masquerade [ooc timeline: 1/23-2/5]
Where: The city of Montica
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers!
First Quarter Moon
Now that most of the Editors know what to expect, the draw into the Story is likely more obvious this time. There’s a subtle urge that encourages their feet to turn towards the Stacks; a slight shimmer in the air that thickens the closer they get to the book laying open on an innocuous library cart.
Those who resist the Story’s pull will be drawn in eventually. Whether the compulsion is successful, or whether the Librarian passes by to sweep them in - all Editors will enter, and all will experience the Story’s start together.
(Editors who have gained the skill Ex Media Res will be able to resist the Story’s pull and hang out in the Library. Drop us a note if they’re using this skill!)
In particular, at the hour our Readers arrive, there is a clean-up going on at the centre of town. People are grumbling as they sweep debris from the streets, and those who are familiar with supernaturally-powered fights will recognise this scene for exactly what it is: the aftermath of some powerful entities having had at it. Hang around too long and you may find yourself with a broom or hammer thrust into your hands, the expectation that you’ll help having been made clear.
Those who leave the clean-up will find themselves welcome in the city’s inn, where visitors hover by the windows, chattering excitedly about the fight that had just broken up. Some people think they’re lucky to have seen it - others think they’ll be luckier if they go the next few days without seeing another one.
The inn is warm, full of gossip, and by some marvel still has private rooms available to rent. Readers will find themselves with enough coin in their pocket to afford quite a bit, this time around - but don’t go spending it all at once. Those who are astute will hear the talk of a masquerade going around, and if you want to attend, you’re going to have to dress appropriately.
The city is almost evenly bisected by loyalties, a hard divide running clearly through the centre of the town. Only a small ring in the centre is considered to be neutral territory - though that’s becoming more and more disputed with each passing moon.
To the north, buildings seem to have a fondness for silver. It seems they’ll take any excuse to work the precious metal into everyday items, from cutlery to window fastenings; and some particularly zealous citizens proudly don silver jewellery and pins in their day-to-day wear. In this section of town you will find the dwellings of the old vampire clans, littered with antiquities and casual opulence.
To the south, the people are fond of spices. Garlic flowers pepper garden beds and the dried bulbs hang from doorframes, and there’s hardly a meal cooked without it. Some industrious workers are busy building small moats of flowing water through this half of the city – you’d better mind your step, lest you get in their way. Located amongst these homes are the dens of the werewolf packs, warmly furnished and brimming with life.
No matter where you are in town, whether you’re surrounded by silver or dodging moat diggers, whether it’s day or night or nebulous twilight, there’s one topic that’s on everyone’s lips: the Umbra Masquerade.
It’s a once in a human lifetime event, and the city is abuzz. Some of the elderly may have been once before, in their youth - but likely at an age where they were too young to remember. There are stories about these masquerades, of the favours that can be won and the deals that can be made. More than one wealthy family attributes their successes to parties of the past, and while the werewolves shouldn’t be there – who’s going to stop them?.
Behind the fuss of the market, astute observers will note the broken and boarded-up windows hidden by the bold stalls. Some buildings are outright abandoned, damaged beyond repair. It becomes even more obvious as night falls and the number of stalls thins, the night vendors setting up with wary looks in their eyes.
Right now the market is bustling with vendors sending goods up to the Umbra Clan's mansion. There is a constant stream of traders passing back and forth, hurrying to get their contributions in place before the ball. Regular goods are still for sale, but the busiest stalls are those selling - of all things - masks with varying levels of decoration. They’ve cleverly set up outside of stores selling clothing; beautiful dresses and tailored suits visible through the cracked and dusty windows. Editors will find they have enough local currency to afford something modest. If their tastes skew toward the more extravagant then, well – they better get to work.
The mansion's front doors open to a foyer that is connected to an upstairs level by two grand staircases. A gilded chandelier hangs down between them, casting rainbows across the wooden floors as the sunlight strikes its crystal ornaments.
Those wide, curved staircases lead to a mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom below. Doors to private rooms branch off from here; all of them locked.
During the daylight hours, the mansion sports large windows covered by thick curtains that are drawn firmly shut. Those who try to peer through them will find an additional layer of security in the form of tightly-fastened metal blinds that block any slivers of sunlight from eking through.
On all three days the mansion is crawling with people setting up for the masquerade. Over there, someone’s hanging strings of lights. Over here, a florist is carefully arranging flowers. The kitchen is busy, human cooks overseeing the production of hundreds of canapes – and on the third day, over in the ballroom, are a band of musicians getting prepared for the night.
Security is lax everywhere except the underground floors, where the clan sleeps. The doors that lead to the underground complex are barred from the inside, and human guards keep watch outside of them to redirect any wanderers.
[The info/plotting post can be found here!]
What: The Story begins- and so do preparations for the Masquerade!
When: The three days prior to the Masquerade [ooc timeline: 1/23-2/5]
Where: The city of Montica
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers!
First Quarter Moon
Now that most of the Editors know what to expect, the draw into the Story is likely more obvious this time. There’s a subtle urge that encourages their feet to turn towards the Stacks; a slight shimmer in the air that thickens the closer they get to the book laying open on an innocuous library cart.
Those who resist the Story’s pull will be drawn in eventually. Whether the compulsion is successful, or whether the Librarian passes by to sweep them in - all Editors will enter, and all will experience the Story’s start together.
(Editors who have gained the skill Ex Media Res will be able to resist the Story’s pull and hang out in the Library. Drop us a note if they’re using this skill!)
Our Beginning
The Story begins as night makes its transition to morning. Montica is a city that never sleeps, and some Editors may find themselves taken aback at how the absence of sunlight has done nothing to deter the nightlife.In particular, at the hour our Readers arrive, there is a clean-up going on at the centre of town. People are grumbling as they sweep debris from the streets, and those who are familiar with supernaturally-powered fights will recognise this scene for exactly what it is: the aftermath of some powerful entities having had at it. Hang around too long and you may find yourself with a broom or hammer thrust into your hands, the expectation that you’ll help having been made clear.
Those who leave the clean-up will find themselves welcome in the city’s inn, where visitors hover by the windows, chattering excitedly about the fight that had just broken up. Some people think they’re lucky to have seen it - others think they’ll be luckier if they go the next few days without seeing another one.
The inn is warm, full of gossip, and by some marvel still has private rooms available to rent. Readers will find themselves with enough coin in their pocket to afford quite a bit, this time around - but don’t go spending it all at once. Those who are astute will hear the talk of a masquerade going around, and if you want to attend, you’re going to have to dress appropriately.
Welcome to Montica
Montica itself is a city built from stone, with the buildings packed closely together along cobblestone streets. Flowering vines creep along trellises, their gentle fragrance perfuming the air. The sky is clear and smog-free, the water flows cleanly, and a sense of magic drifts comfortably in the breeze.The city is almost evenly bisected by loyalties, a hard divide running clearly through the centre of the town. Only a small ring in the centre is considered to be neutral territory - though that’s becoming more and more disputed with each passing moon.
To the north, buildings seem to have a fondness for silver. It seems they’ll take any excuse to work the precious metal into everyday items, from cutlery to window fastenings; and some particularly zealous citizens proudly don silver jewellery and pins in their day-to-day wear. In this section of town you will find the dwellings of the old vampire clans, littered with antiquities and casual opulence.
To the south, the people are fond of spices. Garlic flowers pepper garden beds and the dried bulbs hang from doorframes, and there’s hardly a meal cooked without it. Some industrious workers are busy building small moats of flowing water through this half of the city – you’d better mind your step, lest you get in their way. Located amongst these homes are the dens of the werewolf packs, warmly furnished and brimming with life.
No matter where you are in town, whether you’re surrounded by silver or dodging moat diggers, whether it’s day or night or nebulous twilight, there’s one topic that’s on everyone’s lips: the Umbra Masquerade.
It’s a once in a human lifetime event, and the city is abuzz. Some of the elderly may have been once before, in their youth - but likely at an age where they were too young to remember. There are stories about these masquerades, of the favours that can be won and the deals that can be made. More than one wealthy family attributes their successes to parties of the past, and while the werewolves shouldn’t be there – who’s going to stop them?.
The Market
At the centre of the city are Montica’s most dreary buildings. Markets are held here during the day, bright banners and exuberant stallholders calling out their wares. People of all kinds shop here, and it’s the best place to find quality goods. Some patrons give each-other hearty side-eyes, some sneer and mutter insults under their breath - but by and large, this a neutral zone, and the regular citizens treat it as such.Behind the fuss of the market, astute observers will note the broken and boarded-up windows hidden by the bold stalls. Some buildings are outright abandoned, damaged beyond repair. It becomes even more obvious as night falls and the number of stalls thins, the night vendors setting up with wary looks in their eyes.
Right now the market is bustling with vendors sending goods up to the Umbra Clan's mansion. There is a constant stream of traders passing back and forth, hurrying to get their contributions in place before the ball. Regular goods are still for sale, but the busiest stalls are those selling - of all things - masks with varying levels of decoration. They’ve cleverly set up outside of stores selling clothing; beautiful dresses and tailored suits visible through the cracked and dusty windows. Editors will find they have enough local currency to afford something modest. If their tastes skew toward the more extravagant then, well – they better get to work.
The Umbra Mansion
The sprawling building stands tall, overlooking the city of Montica. Vines budding with fragrant flowers grow up the sides of the building, curling around windowsills and balconies in a curated fashion. A large hedge maze sits at the rear of the mansion, behind the grand ballroom; and the gardeners are in top form today, brandishing tools at anyone who looks like they're about to enter it. It's one of many things being tidied up and decorated for the ball, so you'd better not get in their way.The mansion's front doors open to a foyer that is connected to an upstairs level by two grand staircases. A gilded chandelier hangs down between them, casting rainbows across the wooden floors as the sunlight strikes its crystal ornaments.
Those wide, curved staircases lead to a mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom below. Doors to private rooms branch off from here; all of them locked.
During the daylight hours, the mansion sports large windows covered by thick curtains that are drawn firmly shut. Those who try to peer through them will find an additional layer of security in the form of tightly-fastened metal blinds that block any slivers of sunlight from eking through.
On all three days the mansion is crawling with people setting up for the masquerade. Over there, someone’s hanging strings of lights. Over here, a florist is carefully arranging flowers. The kitchen is busy, human cooks overseeing the production of hundreds of canapes – and on the third day, over in the ballroom, are a band of musicians getting prepared for the night.
Security is lax everywhere except the underground floors, where the clan sleeps. The doors that lead to the underground complex are barred from the inside, and human guards keep watch outside of them to redirect any wanderers.
[The info/plotting post can be found here!]
no subject
no subject
"Was it on the board with all the writing?" he asks, frowning. The maester librarian had given him something to read things for him, but there was so much writing and Dunk hadn't had time to go across nearly the whole thing, nor the book he'd been given.
no subject
He thinks. An illiterate sellsword, then. How to begin to explain.
"...have you ever been to the theatre, watched a play?" he asks.
no subject
"I've been to a puppet show," Dunk offers, thinking of Tanselle Too-Tall. (But she wasn't too tall for me.)
no subject
"The Librarians are like puppeteers, and some of us like the puppets with our lines. If they had need of a sorcerer, I would likely be on the stage here, puppet-like, an Actor," he says. "Such people, for a time, forget they were anything but their Role until they return to the library... as I found out last time."
"And some of us are both audience and editor. Since we are both speaking of it, in this story, that's us. Here to watch the story... and to ensure it reaches, or avoids, certain endings. Comedy before tragedies, if possible. Does that make sense?"
no subject
Dunk nods. "It does, milord. Luke," he corrects himself. The honorific just slips out, but can he help that the sorcerer is so obviously highborn?
"There was strange coin in my purse earlier that I did not recognize," he goes on. "Was that given to us so that we could get lodgings? I'm used to sleeping under hedges if need be, but..." But he hadn't yet left the city to find any likely ones.
"And we have to find stories to tell people about why we're here too, don't we?" Dunk adds after a moment, frowning. "Because if we told the people all that, they'd think us daft at best." He eyes the sorcerer thoughtfully. "Mayhaps I could claim to be your bodyguard?" he offers.
(Dunk may be a pure of heart and dumb of ass and he may be illiterate, but that doesn't mean he's stupid.)
no subject
Dunk is shockingly quick on the uptake, actually. Hikaru is reminded of Ace Striker: frustrated by her shortcomings, entirely ignorant of the lore, but no one's fool and able to put two and two together - and surprise everyone missing the forest for the trees who are therefore engaging in pointless numberwang.
"I think the coin is to meet those needs, but also... there is a masquerade party held by a prominent family that I suspect is central to the plot here and I think we Readers will need costumes and masks to attend. This city and it's warring houses put me in mind of a play that the Librarians recommended we read, a tragedy of the scions of it's houses who fell in love regardless."
"...But there is something you need to know if you're to pretend you are my bodyguard."
no subject
"At least if I'm to be your bodyguard, then mine need not be so expensive," Dunk says, thinking positively. But then he frowns, finally putting down his finished bowl of pottage.
"What do I need to know, milord?"
no subject
He pauses.
"The house of Guildulf is a pack of werewolves. The house of Umbra here is a clan of vampires. And in order for me to investigate this tale, the Librarians saw fit to make me a vampire for the duration."
He bares his fangs, and points them out.
no subject
"Oh," he says, dumbly.
He's silent for half a minute before he asks, finally, "Does it kill people?"
no subject
Specifically, licking the wound shut, and thanks for that dodge, Rein*Hagen.
"And I hear the Umbra clan are skilled surgeons and apothecaries, and trade a bit of blood now for medicines and care later. So I can trade blood for favors. But, again: I was not in the habit of killing innocent people, and I won't use this as an excuse to start now."
no subject
Dunk is silent again, thinking things over. Then, finally, he says, "You wouldn't have to if you ate me. Disguise anything, I mean. And you've already fed me."
no subject
“As a last resort,” he says, finally. “Only if I am starving. Just because it need not be fatal does not mean it is not literally draining, and also…”
He slowly swirls a glass of wine he’s been sipping, slowly.
“…the works I’m citing euphemistically call a vampire’s bite the Kiss, and I do not want to be in the habit of being so intimate with my servants and employed, no matter how willingly they serve. You are not unlovely, but you only agreed to guard my body. Otherwise would betray the trust you’ve given me.”
no subject
"Ah. Yes. I... I think I understand."
He thinks back to what he saw before, with the man that had fainted (Rin) and the sorcerer and the girls.
"Mayhaps you could ask that girl you were with last time I saw you?" he suggests after a moment. "The, ah, short one. With the golden hair, not the brown. You seemed very protective of her while she was drunk and she was very, er, affectionate."
(The winged girl had been drunkenly cuddling the sorcerer at one point, before Rin had woken up and called himself a Unit.)
no subject
Finally, he manages a long sigh and to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Were my beloved Siobhan in her right mind I would ask her,” he manages to say in a half-strangled way, “but I think it most unwise for a vampire to sup upon the scion of the Guidulf werewolf family, the very Juliet Capulet of the tragedy named for her and her Romeo Montague I would fain prevent.”
no subject
He thinks, though, of the few days he spent in the library before ending up here. And of...
"I found a room with talking pictures on the wall," Dunk says, suddenly. "They acted like mummers, almost? There was this one about street gangs in a very strange city—are the vampires and werewolves like the Sharks and the Jets?"
(He still wasn't sure why the one gang had named themselves after rocks.)
no subject
“Exactly like. In fact, the Sharks and Jets are quite deliberately parallels to my talk of Capulets and Montagues.”
He considers.
“Our Tony is lord Nero Umbra, our Maria the lady Sigrid Guildulf. And I know the Actor playing Nero to be… a good sight better than many alternatives.”
He offers his hand to shake on it.
“And so, Ser Duncan: will you take up my banner for my crusade to change this impending tragedy to comedy, seeing the houses reconciled and the starcrossed lovers happily wed?”
West Side Story spoilers
"If I'm to wear your heraldry while we're here, you should probably tell me what it is and I'll get it painted over my shield," he says, sensibly. He assumes the sorcerer has some, given how obviously highborn he is.
"Don't worry about the one that's actually on it," he adds. "That's not mine either. I just hadn't had the opportunity to get someone to repaint it to my own yet, so I had to be a mystery knight for my last tourney."
(At least Maria had survived, he thinks. That's a good omen, right?)
Re: West Side Story spoilers
“…Guiles, a 13-spoked cog d’or, around an inverted hourglass proper,” he says. “Scienctiae potentia est.”
(Somewhere in the village of Viñedo Reál, Deedee Yeowoo feels a chill up her spine she can’t explain.)
“Let’s get you a suitable mask and costume, and a room at this inn, if you lack one. Well met.”
Re: West Side Story spoilers
Dunk commits that to memory. He might not have learned the magic of reading and writing, but Ser Arlan had been relentless in teaching him heraldry.
"Can you write the motto for me, milord? I wouldn't wish for the painter to get it wrong."
He does brighten at the thought of a room at the inn. Just because he could sleep in the hedges again doesn't mean he particularly wants to.