Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
libraryassistants) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
She pats his shoulder, sits back down, and just before he mentions repayment she takes the largest possible bite she can of one of the scones, putting a serious dent in her appearance as the wise and otherworldly mystic. "Mmph." She chews quickly and with focus and washes down that mouthful with now-lukewarm tea. "Well, keeping me fed is a start."
When she'd first been brought home, carried wild-haired and wild-eyed in Lord Guildulf's arms like a stray, Jadis had had trouble recognizing food, or thought it was rotted, and couldn't tell she was hungry. Now the former issue is pretty well resolved but she still doesn't quite seem to have a normal cycle of hunger and satiation. It's not ideal.
no subject
"I will take that as a solemn duty, Tante Jadis." Is it fair to use his wolf speed to swipe food? No, but Cook isn't going to rat him out, beyond chasing him with a ladle, but that's normal.
"I'm surprised Father hasn't summoned you for some advice about, well, the Umbrans."
no subject
"That's good. Just think how it embarrasses the family when I faint from hunger," she says, as if it doesn't bother her that it's only been a year or two since the last time and could happen again.
"Oh, I have his ear whenever I need it." Jadis is deferential to but not fearful of Roberte, which likely contributes to him treating her a modicum more gently than most. She pauses. What's safe to say... "He's having to intervene so the young wolves don't run too wild on the night of the big party, while the vampires are occupied."
There! Very neutral, easy to imagine and predict, nothing about ambitious hotheads breaking into mansions and seriously escalating the conflict, not about what Sigwulf is getting up to. Jadis really doesn't like to draw attention to her visions.
no subject
"I suppose this means I will have to stop by every day. You will be bored of me." And that will cure her! She will eat only to avoid him checking up on her!
"I do not know why they cannot make the most of the peace--however fragile--that we already have. Is it not enough to hunt with relative freedom? To study things beyond our animal nature?"
no subject
Probably, she thinks, Sigwulf would be happier living outside of his father's house, even if that did mean she'd see him less. However, just now she doesn't think either man would agree to that.
"They're young. Most of them have only just been cleared to go out unsupervised and they don't know how to handle freedom. Few can really stop to think about consequences on their own." She pauses in a meaningful way. "Of course, not all of them are so innocent about it, or so young for that matter."
no subject
"The older ones are the ones who concern me. They do not respect Father's guidance." Despite what it might seem, Sigwulf believed his father to be an absolute authority, and Roberte had kept the clan, and the city beyond it, at peace for decades.
no subject
When she'd been brought here she'd hardly felt human herself, the visions savaging her at every turn. The presence of the twins had been an impetus to reach up from rock bottom. How solemn-eyed Sigwulf had been as a boy or a pup both, already the less-favored. At some point he'd submitted to let her hug him - had he been helping her cross a room, back when she'd needed to feel the walls? she can't remember - and she'd felt real for the first time since becoming soulcracked.
So, maybe it rhymes. Maybe they'll always be entangled and saying no, let me help you.
"Of course they don't. They wanted to take the spot Amalia's parents had, and they think Lord Roberte coming out on top and staying there has been luck." Jadis really likes the thought that her insights and other assistance have made a crucial difference, but also that sounds so unbelievably arrogant she can't just say it. "Backbiting is just part of politics, I suppose. We're well clear of that."
no subject
The things he had done to aid her didn't even rate compared to all she had done for him. To the fact that he still felt safe here, like this was the only place in the palace he could draw a full breath.
"There is always luck, and the stars' favor. But he has stayed on top because he has earned it." Sigwulf can read the stars, but he has zero skill at politics. To him, things are as they are, and these invisible undercurrents are distractions at best. Distractions that threaten not just his father, but the city.
no subject
He'll find his way. Despite knowing that it like every other star is indifferent, she prays regularly to Arcturus, the guardian bear-star, the emblem of reaching out past fear, that he'll find his way.
"Mm." She is finishing the scone, give her a minute. "Poor Sigrid. She's sharp, but it'd be daunting knowing you were in for all that someday. Far in the future, I'd hope." Jadis has a hard time imagining Roberte just handing over control and stepping back out of the way.
no subject
It was why he had leaned so hard into books, and studying, as if being as far away from animal in his human form was protection against getting stuck again. Or if the stars held any wisdom.
"She will be a worthy successor to Father when the time comes. And I will, hopefully, be at her side to do what I can." They could be a team, working together to secure peace and their family legacy, with no envy between them.
no subject
If Amalia does marry in, which she knows is her lord's desire, she'd make an excellent third point with the twins. If only the three can work together. Jadis... doesn't know if it'll ever come to that.
A change in subject: "What are your thoughts about this masquerade?"
no subject
"The masquerade?" Oh that's a loaded topic. "I feel the portents point to something happening there."
no subject
One that's more risky and quite probably dreadful but, she's betting, her presence will encourage a better outcome. Hopefully. The future is always written in water; ever changing, but there are consistent points and patterns.