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Logfile from SamingaMU.
Imogen actually sort of looks anticipatory in the way of most young women on dates.
Roderick pages: It's safe to assume that at Roderick's Credit Rating, he has a membership to the Library, yes?
You paged Roderick with 'Indeed he does.'.
Roderick smiles, as they pull up. "Quite the place, eh?" He nods. "I have a membership, of course. I would be interested in aiding your... readings, Lady Faville-Smith. Perhaps I can direct you to some suitable archaeological monographs? My own, perhaps?"
Catherine gives Roderick a quick, admiring look.
Timothy stolids. Stolidly. And awaits any instructions.
"I'd be delighted," Imogen says, "though I'm afraid I've taken the liberty of reading a great deal of them already."
Keeper rolls 1d100 for 47
You paged Timothy with 'You notice that another carriage, a rented hansom cab it appears, has come to a stop nearby. Interesting that they seem to have chosen the same 'shortcut' through the slums that your carriage took.'.
"You flatter me," the Viscount replies. He glances up towards Timothy. "Timothy, my good man, wherever will be good, and then if you would be so kind as to accompany us? If I judge the Lady's appetite for knowledge correctly, we will most certainly require all the arms to carry books that we can muster."
Timothy nods slowly, watching a nearby hansom cab. "As you say, m'lord."
Keeper rolls 1d100 for 76
You paged Timothy with 'The cab, or its driver, seem unaware of your watching, and idle nonchalantly in the pouring rain.'.
Timothy stops the carriage beneath an awning, hands over the reigns to one of the waiting boys, and steps down to open the door for m'lord and m'lady.
Roderick steps down first, and extends his hand to help out the Lady and her governess.
A young man, probably about 12, his clothes slightly less scruffy than the average urchin, steps smartly up to take the reins, handling the horses with a calm assurance.
Imogen allows Roderick to help her out of the carriage.
Catherine waits for Imogen to get entirely down before slipping gracefully down to ground. She holds the parasol at the ready, awaiting her Lady's pleasure. And gives the touching a gimlet eye.
Imogen says "To the archaeology section then, Viscount?"
Roderick holds Imogen's hand a second longer than appropriate, before lowering it. "As you say, my Lady." He offers his arm.
Imogen takes the arm, icily, in recompense.
Catherine nods in approval of Imogen's manner, and falls in to the Lady's other side, walking three steps behind.
Roderick leads on, into the library.
Timothy follows along at an appropriate distance, hands in his pockets.
The main room of the Library opens up into a wide vista of marble, wood, and polished brass. The smell of books fills the air, even over the rich, organic scent of a wet London morning. There are various patrons moving in singletons or pairs, and severe-looking librarians pushing carts across the floor. One of the librarians, a middle-aged man with greying hair and gold-rimmed spectacles approaches, and bows to the group.
Imogen favors the librarian with a smile.
Roderick nods to the gentleman. "Ah... Simons, is it?" He frowns momentarily. Even if it's Peterson, it doesn't matter. He'll look like he remembers a name. Whatever. "If you would be so kind to refresh my memory as to the archaeology section?"
The librarian, thusly dubbed Simons, regardless of his actual name, smiles and after a moment of hesitation says, "Of course, my Lord." His voice has the smooth edges of the Oxford-educated man of the middle class, the lower accent not gone, but polished to inoffensiveness. "Right this way." He bestows another, warmer, smile on the ladies, and gestures towards the stacks, leading the four through the maze of books to the appropriate area. "Will there be anything else I can help you with? Would you like to reserve a private research room for the nonce?"
Roderick nods. "Absolutely, a private room would be most desirable." He smiles.
Imogen /smiles/ at Roderick. And broadcasts YES, YES I WOULD.
Catherine, for her part, seems rather intimidated by the Library, and falls back a couple of paces, sneaking peeks at the surroundings.
'Simons' bows again. "I shall see about it right away, Lord. Lady. Please enjoy your browsing, and I shall return most promptly." He turns and glides away, his shoes not making even a whisper of sound against the polished floor.
Imogen wanders toward books that might vaguely look useful. Histories of African spiritualism, and such.
Roderick follows along, politely pointing to a title or two that might sound vaguely useful, or simply to say something vague about it's author, whether it has any basis in truth or not.
Imogen mostly ignores him. Petty trumped up faux scholar.
There's lots and lots and lots of books. Many of them have names vaguely relevant to Africa, although most seem to be referencing military campaigns and colonization attempts, as well as missionary's reports. And, thankfully, card catalogues not far away, in huge, oaken drawers.
Imogen beelines for the card catalogs.
Catherine hangs back even farther, pulling even with Timothy.
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Imogen rolls 1d100 for 1
Timothy looks down at the shorter woman near him, and maintains a reliably blank expression.
Roderick is looking, though his attention is diverted by the military books. Maybe they mention him! Or his unit!
Roderick rolls 1d100 for 52
<
Despite having not perused this section of the catalogue before, Imogen's impeccable research skills serve her well. The very first drawer she opens seems to hold exactly what she's looking for: "'Darkest Africa: Myths, Legends, and Dangers of the Interior' Author: Alexander McCollough Summary: A comprehensive look of the little-known tribes of the Interior, particularly their magic, rituals, and religion." Scribbled in the margins of the card is the word, 'N'gnwe'. Only one small problem...it seems to be in the Restricted Section of the Library.
Imogen fishes the card out of the catalog and carefully writes down the call number on the provided slip of paper. ... and then slides the card up her sleeve and out of sight.
Imogen also finds several other cards that reference books which are, likely, less relevant, but still useful, but at least in this area.
Imogen just writes those down.
The Viscount replaces the book he was idly thumbing through and turns towards Imogen. "How goes your search, Lady?"
Catherine seems to be stunned by the books. She peers around Timothy's lanky body, blinking owlishly.
You paged Imogen with 'At this moment, a wave of dizziness, a rush of chill, sweeps your body.'.
Timothy shifts slightly out of the way. And says, very quietly, "First time in the library, ma'am?"
"Most excellently, Viscount," Imogen says. She displays her set of slips of paper, and slides her arm through Roderick's, leaving the stolen card in his palm. "Get me in there," she says, sotto voce, hardly more than a whisper. Louder, "Look at --" She stops, blanches, and shivers, her hand going limp and boneless in the Viscount's.
Imogen pages: ... ooo, dramatic timing.
Catherine nods, slowly. "Cor, but I ain't never seen this many books all in one place. Who could ever read them all?" she asks, in a hushed whisper.
Long distance to Imogen: Keeper hee! The chill is brief, then passes, leaving you feeling quite normal.
Lord Roderick's eyes go wide. "I say, Lady... do we need to get you sitting down?" He peers closely at her, lest she faint.
Color returns to Imogen's face. "No. No, I'm quite all right," she says hurriedly, and takes her arm back.
Timothy attempts to sound informed. "Only the librarians," he whispers back. "Or great scholars." And stops to watch Imogen's not-quite-collapse, in case he should be called in for assistance.
Catherine follows Timothy's gaze, then gasps, and scuttles forward, smelling salts at the ready.
Imogen waves Catherine off, annoyedly. "I'm fine, Catherine."
Catherine tuts, throwing the Viscount a Look. "You should not tax yourself so, my Lady. All this learning overheats a woman's brain, me doctor says," she chides.
"I'm sure he does," Imogen notes, to no one in particular.
Roderick rolls 1d100 for 61
"Now, now. Still, let's get you to a seat," the Viscount says, leaning in. In a low hiss, he says, "And I shall see what you have and get it." He stands up, still smiling.
Imogen allows herself to be seated appropriately, as it's too much trouble to object.
Catherine pulls out a fan, and fans her lady briskly. "All these books," she mutters just within hearing range of Imogen, "it's unnatural for a lady."
Imogen ignores. Valiantly.
Once he's seen Imogen seated, the Viscount looks towards Timothy. "If you'll come with me, my good man -- let's see about that private room, and then we can get the Lady and her aide there." He nods firmly.
About this time, 'Simons' glides back through the stacks, holding a shiny gold key in his hand. He moves towards the group purposefully. "Good afternoon. Terribly sorry for the delay, m'lord."
Timothy nods briskly. "As you say, m'lord." And presents an air of being ready to follow wherever m'lord might lead.
Roderick smiles at 'Simons.' "Ah, excellent. I was just preparing to go find you, my good man. If you would be so kind as to show us to the private room?"
"Of course. If you will follow me?" He turns to lead them away, and Catherine offers Imogen a supporting arm, continuing to fan with her other hand.
Imogen sighs and takes the arm.
Roderick looks back towards Imogen and Catherine. "Is all well, ladies?"
Catherine supports! Gives Roderick a stern eye, but doesn't answer for her employer.
Imogen says "Indeed, Viscount."
Imogen is resolute and maybe a biiiit annoyed. At herself, most likely.
Roderick nods firmly and flashes a Reassuring Smile, before turning to follow Simons.
'Simons' leads them to a room along the wall, unlocking the door and escorting them inside. A richly appointed reading room is revealed, with a subtle masculine bias, from the dark wood and rich, deep colors. There's a velvet 'fainting' couch, several overstuffed chairs, and a wide oak table. "May I get the Lord and Lady anything else? A light tea, perhaps?" he asks, quietly.
As they walk, the Viscount drops a step back and glances down at what is in his hand, skimming the card. When they reach the room, he nods approvingly. "Tea would be excellent, Simons."
The librarian bows, and silently removes himself, as Catherine leads Imogen to the couch.
Imogen insists on snagging a book before being led to the couch.
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<
<
Roderick nods at the card, and looks at Imogen, and nods again. He paces about, waiting for Simons to return, skimming the titles of whichever books they had picked up before arriving at the private room.
Imogen skims for useful bits.
Keeper rolls 1d100 for 27
It would seem that the Souleaters are mentioned directly once, as it catches your eyes. A squad was sent to escort a pair of missionaries on a medical trip to an interior village, were waylaid on the way, and all found flayed, their chests opened and hearts removed. The local natives would have nothing to do with the bodies, or even remain in the same area as them. Even after they were buried, that spot was avoided. It would take a much more thorough reading to piece out if anything else was relevant.
Imogen makes detailed internal notes of precisely /where/ these Souleaters are...
They appear to be mainly concentrated around one particular section of unexplored jungle, based on this account, and the other books Imogen read. It's still a large territory, a roughly formed blob of several hundred square miles, but they're rarely seen outside of it. Although their artifacts have popped up in Egyptian tombs, a culture that also has a habit of removing organs, although not in the same way...
Imogen blinks. She /knows/ Egyptian art. Crossreferencing time.
Imogen half-rises from her seat, and then recalls a salient fact. "Viscount? You've written so much on Egypt. Can you check something for me?"
Roderick turns his head. "Why, of course, my dear." He smiles. "Ask away, and I shall answer, or locate a suitable book."
Imogen reels off a quick list of books on artifacts found in tombs in the indicated portions of Egypt.
Roderick nods his head. "I think those are some excellent choices, yes." He frowns momentarily, committing them to memory, and then sets off back into the library to fetch them.
Keeper rolls 1d100 for 79
The titles of the books, alas, mean nothing to poor Roderick, but he does manage to locate most of them with little difficulty. A couple appear to be missing from their places in the shelves.
"Curiouser and curiouser," Roderick muses as he collects them in the crook of one arm.
Back at the room, the librarian soon arrives with an attractive English tea, served on china embossed with the Library's logo. He lays it out quietly, and smiles to Imogen. "Is there anything else, my Lady?"
"I'm afraid," Imogen says politely, "that in my perusal of the card catalog I came upon a book marked 'Restricted'. I was not aware of a restricted section here -- perhaps you could enlighten me?"
Simons pauses. "Ah." His expression is politely regretful. "I am terribly sorry, my Lady. Certain books have been removed from the circulating collection for various ways. Some are too delicate to be allowed into the main room, some are reserved for particular scholars, some...well, some just aren't appropriate for the public," he says, and clears his throat.
Imogen ever so politely blanches. "I /see/. Thank you."
Simons nods, and asks, with an apologetic air, "Could I get you anything else?"
Imogen says "No, but thank you very much."
By now, the Viscount is returning, books in his arms. "I do believe this is what you asked for, barring a few that it seems other scholars have taken to...
Simons nods, bows to the Viscount as he returns, and starts to slip quietly out of the room.
Imogen goes straight for the books, lays them out at the table, and /makes use of the index/.
Roderick clears his throat as Simons darts off. "Simons, a word if you would?" He takes a few steps towards the door.
Simons raises an eyebrow, and says, "Of course, my lord." He steps outside where the men could talk privately.
The Viscount smiles, pleasantly. "In the research that I am doing, this afternoon -- for a monograph on African myth and legend -- I happened to note an excellent tome that Lord Arthurson had suggested was not out on the shelf. McCollough's 'Darkest Africa.' Do you think, perhaps, I might have it brought?"
Roderick rolls 1d100 for 5
Simons frowns, starting to shake his head. "My Lord, I am not sure when or where Lord Arthurson got such a tome. It is not," his voice shakes just a hint before he regains his English composure, "it is not scholarly material. It is not anything a gentleman should be reading." He sighs, considering Roderick silently. "My Lord...are you /sure/?"
Lord Roderick nods. "I am not," he says, voice soft, "A gentleman. I am a peer. I am /quite/ sure."
Simons stiffens, and looks at Lord Roderick...not with offense, but with /pity/. "If you are sure, my lord. I will see that the book is brought. If I may, I would like to include another tome? We collected it about five years after the book. It is the diary of the...well, I hesitate to ascribe such a title as 'author' to the man...but the writer of the...of the work."
Roderick nods, and claps Simons on the shoulder. "Most excellent, Simons."
Simons flinches at the touch, like one might shy away from a plague victim. His lips pressed into a thin line, he simply turns and strides away, for the the first time, his footfalls heavy against the stone.
The Viscount's hand hangs in the air, and he frowns, discomfited by Simons's reaction. Certainly, it was unexpected. He takes a step back, and after composing himself and replacing the smile, returns to the room.
Imogen is absorbed in her indexes, even to the point of not noticing Roderick returning.
Roderick slides into one of the overstuffed chairs, and makes a gesture towards Timothy, and the tea set. "We should have two more books arriving shortly," he remarks.
Imogen looks up. "Two? ... ah. How marvelous."
Timothy pours tea for m'lord and m'lady, slowly enough to appear formal while mostly being careful not to splash anything.
Roderick smiles at Imogen. "A charming little tome by McCullough -- and the author's personal notes, as well, which the Reading Room was so fortunate as to have. I suspect his insights may prove... useful."
Imogen nods, happily. "How utterly delightful."
Shortly thereafter, a librarian--not Simons, curiously--arrives with a cloth-wrapped bundle, the bundle tied with a frayed silk rope. He bows, sets the bundle on the very edge of the table, and turns to leave, all without saying a word.
Roderick stands up and steps briskly over to the books, untying the silk rope. His fingers are clumsy, however, and he likely ends up tearing the rope if it's frayed.
The rope frays and snaps between his fingers, the cloth itself heavy with dust, dumping a heap of it onto the tabletop as the cloth slithers away from the two books underneath. Both appear to be handbound, one a thin journal of some sort, and the one underneath it a thicker tome. There is no title on the front or spine of either book, and a faint scent of rot and neglect wafts upwards.
Imogen tries not to look /quite/ as fascinated as she is.
The Viscount's nose twitches at the aroma. He moves the thin journal off to one side, and opens the thicker tome, trying to be careful.
The book opens, releasing more of that rotted smell. A small book parasite scuttles away from the light, running up and over the lord's hand. The text of the book is handwritten, in a very neat, educated hand. "Darkest Africa: An Account of My Travels (Draft)" is written on the front.
Keeper rolls 1d6 for 1
Roderick shakes his hand, grimacing. "It's handwritten," he murmurs.
"Interesting." He pages ahead, a bit quicker.
Imogen hangs on every word.
On first look, it appears to be a travelogue of the manner that many young men heading to foreign parts keep, organized exceptionally well, as if for eventual publication. Some small notes are scribbled in the margins here and there, the author critiquing himself. From a quick glance, there doesn't seem anything worth such worry.
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((though I know if I looked back though your journal I could probably find it... work allows no time))
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(dunno if I spelled squid-face's name right though)
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