The scholar rose from his weathered chair and extended his hand. "Well, Miss Freebird, despite your rather unique resume, I believe that you'll be a valuable addition to our research team." His wrinkled face shifted around, a facsimile of a smile forming somewhere underneath a thick, snow-white beard. "Thank you very much, sir," Madison replied respectfully, taking his hand in her own and giving it a firm squeeze. Deep down, the cursemage was incredibly relieved. A quick check of her funds earlier in the week showed that she was nearly broke--again--after frequent trips away from Dunnstads to Astorea and Stokbon. Taking up small quests for the adventurer's guilds that dotted the landscape weren't cutting it anymore. She needed a steady gig, something she could really sink her teeth into. Something that would let her learn and grow not as a player, but as a person living in the world of Terrasphere. And she was sure as hell not going to work a retail job. Madison was a bookstore manager in real life--why the hell would she do the same thing in her spare time? Speaking of-- "My odd schedule request isn't going to be an issue, right?" The old man laughed, "No, no my dear, not at all. Science never sleeps, and it will be good to have someone process samples and continue research while the rest of campus sleeps. And truth be told, your willingness to travel to locations where our research requires you to helps me out quite a bit indeed." Over the next half an hour or so, her salary and expense account details were hammered out over a scones and tea brought in by a secretary. Madison resisted every natural urge to be rude about being low-balled for pay, but decided she was better off not wasting this opportunity. And while the region considered teaching the next generation how to fish and farm more important than sending them off to a (small) (really small) medical university, she certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance to gain access to a place where she could advance her own study of the world and its tiniest, most dangerous inhabitants. The scholar, one Dr. Packenham, showed her around campus. He took her to the lab where she'd be spending most of her time, introducing them to her new coworkers. She immediately forgot their names the moment she was back out in the hall. Madison was then shown to the small boarding house just down the road where she'd be put up until she could save enough money for her own place--but, honestly? For the time being, the witch just needed a place to stash some gear and a pile of notebooks. Before seeing her off, Packenham scribbled down a few titles on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. "I'd like for you to either check these books out at the library in town, or buy them from a bookstore. I'd suggest the latter course, as they will be incredibly useful and you'll want your own copies down the line eventually anyway." Madison took a glance at the paper, saw nothing but a jumble of unnecessarily long and complicated words, and shoved it into her pocket. "Sure thing, I'll get right on that." They exchanged another round of handshakes and farewells, and she was on her way. For someone who had to start at the bottom once more, after investing years into her research in another VRMMORPG and keeping a running folder filled with Wikipedia links, Madison had to admit--she was pretty excited. Not quite spring in your step the entire way back into town excited; but definitely big goofy grin that won't go away for a few minutes excited. Normally she would have found something else to do with her evening, but she decided to take the scholar's advice and pick up those books and crack 'em open. Making her way through town, ignoring the grumbling of her stomach and depleting food meter, she arrived at one of the bookstores Packenham spoke of. It was a relatively decent-sized place in the commercial part of town, one that was busy even as the orange light of the setting sun cast shadows up and down the cobblestone street. A tiny bell announced her arrival, and she was immediately assaulted by the familiar musty odor of old books. It felt like home. It felt like work. The witch shook her head to clear her mind of the familiarity, and made her way across the otherwise unremarkable and ordinary bookstore to the counter. Sat hunched over a book of his own was a yladian, bald, tall, and handsome. Madison cleared her throat to get his attention before tossing the crumpled piece of paper in front of him. "S'cuse me. I'm looking for these titles, if you happen to have them." The cursemage glanced around, taking in the countless shelves packed to the gills with hardcovers, leather-bounds, paperbacks, scrolls, sheets, journals, folders, and every other kind of item that you could call a collection of paper sandwiched between two protective covers. Given the sizable stock the establishment had, she'd try her luck with some other items on her shopping list. "And do you happen to have anything on the history of Dunnstads? Politics, religion, folklore, merchant's guides--comprehensive volumes or general guides, anything would be helpful." @Nikephoros
The overwhelming aroma of leather and lilies filled the store. A tinge of vanilla, clinging to motes of dust that danced in the ephemeral light that filtered through old wooden shades which had been opened to invite scholarly eyes to peruse the shop's interior. The insides were lit not by candle, for this place was filled with so much priceless tinder, but rather by magical crystals which filled room and hall with a rich orange glow, muted enough that it ought not to strain the eyes. A hand turned the aged page of a small tome that the elven man was regarding, the quill in his main hand jotting down numbers as he went through the day's accounts and put the numbers in the ledger. He did not glance up as @Madison Freebird entered the establishment, despite the small chime of the bell above the door. Rather, he continued working the column he was on, letting the woman look about and conduct her business in peace until such a time as he was needed. Apparently, she was rapacious when it came to the attention of staff, because it was scant moments before she was before him and setting a list of titles down. As she spoke, he set the quill aside and picked up her list of required reading, making a mental checklist of what would and wouldn't be in stock. He pursed his lips, playing the part of the non-enthusiastically helpful scholar, and slid his seat back with noticeable passive aggression as it took him ten full seconds to stop sliding it loudly across the wooden floor. 'Eeeeeeeerrrrgh-errrrrrggggggh-err-errrrrrrgh... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. Ergh.' the chair went, his eyes remaining locked on the paper for the short eternity it took him to stand. He continued to stare. Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten. "Yes... I believe we have some of these available," he responded and promptly closed the ledger that was on the desk, sliding it out of view and locking whatever drawer it had been confined to. "I won't... be.. but a moment," he drawled, and then did an about-face to march off to the stacks of books, rooting around for what Madison had desired. It took several minutes, minutes in which any query or call from Madison elicited only a vague mumble in response form his side of the shop, a stack of books slowly forming as he found title after title in the organized chaos of the shop interior. When he had finished, he approached the desk once more, a full seventeen volumes set down with a hardy thud, as many were not quick reads. "The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads. All six volumes. A detailed account of the history of the Dunnstads region, its notable settlements, cultures, customs. This should satisfy your historic curiosity." He removed a bill of sale from a drawer and began to jot down each title, individually, writing out the entirety. The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume I. The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume II. The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume III. The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume IV. The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume V. The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume VI. A frustratingly slow process, but any growl or sign of indignation from Madison caused him to pause, stare at her a moment, before continuing at his same calmly indifferent-towards-her-valuable-time pace. It was almost as though he had decided to torment the poor dear on the basis that she had given him something to do. When he finished with those six books, he indicated the next in the large stack. "Louse, by Edward Tannhauser. An account of the folklore of vampires within the Dunnstads region. The Cannibal Czar, by Ingrid Schooner. A historic detailing of occult practices prominent in the Dunnstads region. Vagabond and Bombastius's Bestiary, by Nicholas Bombastius. Two works which are accredited as the most notable summaries indicating dangers within the region, particularly that of the history of bandits in the area and the cataloging of dangerous wildlife. Very useful for merchant work, or travel." He added each title, in elegant hand, to the bill of sale, before continuing. "For religion we didn't have The Elysid Court, One-Hundred-Thousand Holy Passages or The Court of the Cosmos. I'm afraid we just don't get much call for them, when you can typically acquire them at any temple for a nominal donation. However, we do have Ars Deorum. That's 'The Art of the Gods' in laymen's terms. It is a detailed account of the creation of the cosmos, focusing more on the physics of the universe rather than the metaphysics of divinity. For an interest in religion itself, I've selected The God Gambit, Introduction to Invocations, The Chime of Celebration, and King. Each goes into concepts regarding mortality, divinity, morality, ethics, and so forth. King in particular focuses primarily on Ys as the patriarchal head of the universe. Quite the interesting read." These, too, he added to the bill, leaving two books remaining unaccounted for. "These final two," he explained as he gestured to them in a dismissive fashion, "are journals kept by physicians some years back. They kept detailed notes of their practice and procedures, as well as sophomoric lessons they wished to review time and again. I'm afraid most medical knowledge isn't commonly printed, but is rather taught through the church or special tutelage. These sorts of journals themselves are rare, particularly because so few people take the time to scribe copies. But if you have an interest in the medical, they can provide you with some insight. Though really, you're better off finding a Spirit Healer or White Magician at a temple, if you've been injured. Now... I'll just tally that bill for you." He began to do so, the sum... not insignificant, as there were no printing presses in common use to mass produce books, and each had to be hand-scribed.
Given the glacier's pace that the yladian was moving at, apparently time wasn't an actual construct created to get him out of work faster. The bald elf took his sweet-ass time making sure each i was dotted and t was crossed, his handwriting more of an art form than anything. Passive-aggressive sonofa-- Madison paid just enough attention as each of the numerous volumes were read back to her and their contents described in enough detail. She watched as her total climbed out of the range of "somewhat manageable" and into the stratosphere of "ha, fat fuckin' chance". She discreetly opened her palm menu and checked her gold reserves. Yep, some of those books were going to have to wait for another time. But which ones? Well, the journals would be necessary, for starters. While she learned enough from casual studying in the real world, they'd be helpful for her to discern any holes in her studies and what might be different about the systems used in-game. So those could stay. The book on vampires? Nah. The Cannibal Czar, however--the cursemage had an obvious interest in the occult. She'd cut several other volumes and probably a finger off to afford that one. One of the Bombastius books could stay--Vagabond sounded more relevant than the bestiary. She made a quick note in her UI of the three titles that she could get at a temple, and decided she could swing the other four. Even if it meant eating ramen and bread sandwiches for a couple weeks; hey, just like in real life! But that meant that each of those volumes of The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads would have to wait. As much as the history of the region would be very neat to learn and all; she needed more practical information. She had a lot of time to consider all these options, of course. Madison had her mind made up long before the clerk tallied up the total. She was starting to get restless. Fingers tapping on the counter in rapid succession, legs getting stiff as she shifted her weight around, eyes desperately trying to find brand new and interesting things to look at. Two could play at that game, though. Madison waited until the yladian was just about finished with the total when she stuck a finger in the air. "Ummmmm..." She traced the inside of her low lip with her tongue, dragging out the moment as her sapphire eyes danced up and down the parchment. "Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to afford all those books tonight. I just moved out here to start work, and I'm a bit strapped for cash." She glanced at the clerk while slowly cutting through the air with her gloved finger. "So, I'm going to need to take this, this, thiiiii--wait, no..." One by one, she indicated various books on the bill that she would be buying that night, undoing a fair portion of the bald elf's fine work. Maddy would throw in the occasional thoughtful pause and indecisive groan, dragging out her choices even more than necessary. Maybe next time he won't make awful, dramatic creaking noises with his stupid chair.
It appeared as though the woman was also a connoisseur of the cantankerous arts, for as the elven man worked through each volume and their mounting financial figure, the saccharin scholar lashed back. Sweet at first, but with a bitter aftertaste, the woman was. Her nails began to impatiently rappa-tap-tap upon the desk's top as he collected, announced, and tallied each volume for the woman's purchasing pleasure. But wait, what was this? Apparently she was incapable of affording so much, and had to select which books would be most immediately necessary for her work. One by one, she appeared to weigh the pros and cons of each volume, Nikephoros patiently standing with a blank stare and thin lips pressed into what managed to almost not be a frown. He waited for the woman to slowly, tediously, arduously move through each of the books one by one and inform him of which she would and would not be taking. By the end of it all, he'd made a mental list of the handful she planned to keep and, blinking in understanding, turned to wave a hand at the large stack of books beside him. "You mean... you don't want The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume I. Or, The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume II... Or...The Encyclopedia of the Dunnstads, Volume III..." One by one the man went back through the entire list that she, herself, had just gone through, indicating which she would and would not be purchasing. At each book she chose not to purchase, he took the time to dip a quill in a nearby inkwell and neatly scratched a line through that title on the bill of sale. One by one, the wheat was separated from the chaff, and after several more long minutes of drawling, Nikephoros had managed to repeat exactly what Madison herself had told him: which books she would and would not be buying. But that was simply not enough. Lips quivering, straining not to smile, he took the edited bill of sale and seemed to consider it carefully before tearing it slowly in half. "We'll need a new... bill," he explained slowly, rolling each syllable off his lips as though it were a carefully considered nail upon the chalkboard of her sanity and reason. "Let me just fill that out for you... and then, I'd be... happy... to wrap those up for you. Shouldn't take... long." Removing a new ticket from the desk, he began to write in elegant hand each of the titles she would be purchasing, then tallied the total and slid the bill towards her to sign and submit payment. The figure was still not small, the medical journals being by far the most expensive works out of everything available.
The cursemage worked at her own bookstore in the real world long enough to know she wasn't going to break this yladian, especially once he doubled down and started listing off each individual volume of The Encyclopedia of The Dunnstads. She recognized his devilish tactics, for she had treated customers the same way for nearly a decade (and still managed to snag that assistant manager promotion!). Customers who pushed through the doors five minutes 'til close, immediately asked for a pile of crap without so much as knowing what they were even looking for, expressed their impatience that their demands weren't met five minutes before they even showed up, and picked nits about their total *after* everything had been tallied-- All color drained from her face as a wave of dread suddenly crashed over her, drowning her in shame and regret. Oh my god, she thought to herself. I've become what I hate. I've become one of them. She swallowed the lump in her throat. I've become a customer. Madison's fidgety fingers tied themselves in knots as the clerk droned on and on, listing and re-listing each of the tomes she would purchase on a fresh bill of sale. The elf's words started to bleed together and mixed with the buzzing in her ears. Another migraine was setting in, she just knew it. How could she have been so fucking stupid? As much of a bitch as she was to everyone else, the best villains always have to have a code! Her's was to always tread others in retail with kindness and respect! The witch stocked shelves and rang register for enough of her life to know that everyone in the business has just the shittiest, most miserable time. The last thing they needed was some paste-eater with the "I'd like to speak to your manager" haircut come up and be and dump all over them to give their own lives a false sense of superiority and value. The yladian's words cut through the thick, tense silence. Something about... gift-wrapping? Madison snapped back to reality, her voice as flat and firm as she tried to stuff this storm of self-loathing back into the dark, dusty box in the shadowy corner of her mind. "No, that's quite alright, I'll be fine carrying them back home." She flashed a quick smile that looked more like a sneer than anything. The cursemage dug through her inventory and depleted it of all but a handful of coins. Enough to get her through the next few days, provided she didn't waste it all drinking herself to death right after she left the bookstore.
It seemed as though the woman chose to finally concede defeat, accepting the books and paying for them rather than trying to antagonize another bout of 'retail wars' with Nikephoros. Which was probably the right move, since his next ace in the hole was to apologize and let her know that the shop was closing for the evening and he couldn't complete her sale until the morning. That would have probably caused the place to be burned down, but... what did he care? He didn't actually work here. He'd entered through a broken window in the rear of the shop, which he had quietly smashed in to gain access to the owner's office and study. He had been looking for the sales ledger, to try and removing some incriminating evidence from it. Something about a clerk that worked in the store actually being a money launderer for some criminals, fudging the prices of things in order to clean coin for his clients... He couldn't risk doing the job himself, and so he had outsourced to Nikephoros, who was only too glad to make some coin and familiarize himself more with the game's setting and mechanics by infiltrating the bookshop. The owner, in the back of the store, hadn't had time to put up a fight before falling asleep as poisonous spores lulled him into a deep stillness. He would live, but his memory of who had broken in or what had happened would be fuzzy if not gone altogether. Even so, the man's actual money-laundering clerk had a solid alibi for the evening, and so if questioned would be safe from suspect. Really, the only problem would be if Nikephoros himself were discovered, but he was a good enough actor to lie through any uncomfortable situations, or to keep his mouth shut if caught. And so the elven man had set to work looking for the ledger, and found it, and was cooking the books and adjusting the numbers to cover his client's tracks when Madison had entered. It had been his intention to scare her off with terrible customer service, but she had been a hellion in her own right, and fought right back. But it was too late to try and quickly push her out the door, or she'd get suspicious of the sudden change in attitude... Still, he didn't have all night to waste, playing librarian with the woman. So he had gone in search of the books she wanted, made up some prices for them which she hadn't even TRIED to haggle down, and written up a bill of sale for the ones she wanted in the end. And she'd... paid him the astronomical sum? Well, there was his bonus for the job. He'd promised not to rob the store, but he'd said nothing about customers. "Indeed..." he intoned with a questioning edge as he looked at her scrawny arms and she mentioned she planned to carry them all on her own. It was almost like he didn't believe she could do it. But surely he was too polite to imply such a thing. "I hear that the Rotten Oyster is hiring, near the pier. Or perhaps The Gilded Girdle. For work, seeing as you're new in town. And strapped for cash." Both were whorehouses within the city's limits, one on the water and with a terrible reputation and pox-riddled tramps. The other was an elegant establishment full of bountiful buxom beauties and only the richest clientelle. But judging from the way he rolled his eyes when offering it as a choice, he seemed to be saying 'if you think you could make the cut...' He took the payment of gold and set it carefully under the desk, to collect later on.
Oh. Ha ha ha. Neat. She should've known better than to assume the sass would've ceased with the completion of the transaction. She wasn't aware of The Gilded Girdle, but she spent enough time by the shore to have passed the Rotten Oyster a few times, seeing the sore-riddled skin, bloated midsections, and looks of defeat in the baggy eyes of the women who "serviced" the shithole's desperate patrons. Madison tried to stifle a sneer. She was lucky enough to resist every urge to skip casting spells and just slicing the corners of this bastard elf's mouth back to his ears with a tarot card. "I already have a job at Dunnstads Medical North, studying diseases. But if there's anything new you'd like to pass on to those whores at the pier, let me know and I'll hook you up." Despite the not-insignificant weight of the stack of leather-bound journals and thick hardcover books, the witch was able to scoop them up with ease and keep the tomes steady as she cradled them. Without so much as a "thank you"--as if the clerk even deserved one--she spun on her heels and let the door slam shut behind her as she left. The crisp, cold evening air bit the pale skin of her face while a soft breeze coming off the ocean tousled her jet black hair. The sun was setting behind her, the dark blues and violet hues of dusk blanketing the village. Activity along the cobblestone streets was dying down as fishermen returned home to their families and the warmth of their fireplaces. Madison only had a mile's walk back to her new quarters, but her stomach politely reminded her that it was in desperate need of some food. Madison recalled seeing a tavern along the way. That meant greasy-ass chicken, over-salted chips, and cheap ale. But it was all she had the money for, and it wasn't any worse than anything she ate in the real world. And so, she made her way towards dinner.
Finally, that was taken care of! With the woman gone, Nikephoros set back to work completing the job he had come to do. First thing being first, he took the coin that the woman had paid with and carefully tucked it away with his own purse, so that he could enjoy the profits of the job and perhaps invest in greasing a few palms and making some new connections. He would get paid for this job well done, and garner some small reputation among the underworld as a freelancer that could get simple work done, so that one not ought to have to go to the Aristocracy for such simple requests. Eventually they'd consider him competition, but that was tomorrow's worry, and it wasn't as though he hadn't considered them already. With what he had in mind, he might very likely have to crush them, to get what he was after. A pity really, considering how useful they could be at times... What with their agents all over the place, and... and? And then it struck him. What would a woman working for a medical center need medical journals for? The information was there in that place, she wouldn't need to go looking for more when that same information, or better, was already at her fingertips. And what had her other interests been? History. Politics. The occult. Bandits. "Studying diseases, my ass," he hissed as he slammed the ledger closed and set it away, then went back to the owner's office. The man was still out cold for the moment, but that wouldn't be for much longer. The window had been smashed in for Nikephoros to break and enter, and the man put under for some hours. An explanation was required, and so the elven man reached into a pouch and removed a child's ball; wooden core wrapped in catgut and boiled leather to make it easier to catch, but it was still sturdy and hard. Hard enough to break through a window and clock a poor old bookkeeper in the head. Dropping the ball on the ground, Nikephoros used the base of his ranseur to hit the man in the temple, careful not to snap the neck or cave the skull in. The man would have a nasty bruise, but he'd live. Well, in as much as any non player character lived in this game, that was... The tracks of Nikephoros would be covered, however. Satisfied with this, he exited the shop through the broken window, careful not to leave sign of his passage or disturb the 'crime scene' before walking calmly off into the coming night. There was no reason for him to sneak about or act suspicious. Nobody had the slightest idea he'd done something wrong. He moved through the streets, looking for his destination, smiling when it hove to in sight and appeared. As he neared the entrance, a small waif of a nurse seemed about ready to lock things up, and so he set a foot in the door to prevent her closing it on him. "Terribly sorry, but we are closing for the evening," she muttered. "...if you require healing, please go to the triage center on the other side of campus." "Actually, I have an appointment with a..." he checked the receipt for the sales of books, smiling warmly at the nurse. "Lady Madison Freebird. I believe she's new here, and studying diseases? Bit of an odd duck? Wheres dark clothing, keeps strange hours?" "Oh yes! Yes I did see her about earlier, but I hadn't realized she'd be conducting business so late... Ah... do come in, but please watch your step. The servants will be polishing the floors soon, and they will be quite slippery." "So warned. Though I take solace knowing you're nearby should I stumble and need some healing." "Actually," she blushed, "...I'm about to head home, myself. But there are nurses on the night shift that could assist you. Ah! Should you fall, that is..." "Indeed? Thank you. The hour does grow late, and this city is not so kind at night... are you walking home all your own?" "Y...yes. You're more than welcome to ac-" "Well you'd best be off before the night gets too dark." And with that, he was off and down the hall, looking for the name "Freebird" on a door, or any sign of disease research. "Ahh...aaaaaaw..." he heard as he rounded a corner, the soul-crushed nurse locking the door behind her as she left. He found the disease research center and tried the door. Locked. But a few minutes of fiddling with it using some roots from his naturamancy forced the lock and he was able to enter, careful to remove evidence of his tampering, and started to cast about. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork... the solution was always in the paperwork. A lie from the lips could get you through the door, but it was the printed word that people trusted most. Just look at the internet... Finding the personnel records, Nikephoros smiled and began to grab some spare parchment and ink, setting to the task of producing a doctored doctorate for himself, and the credentials necessary to find employment in the Disease Research wing of the Northern Medical Blah blah blah whatever it was called. He made sure to keep references vague, or chose men and women that the personnel files showed to be dead. A few disciplinary warnings here and there as no record was truly clean... annnnnnd... done. Setting the faked file away, he then began to root through the existing research, to get the most vague idea of what they were studying, to help pass whatever lies he needed to pass. But the night had grown long, and he was tired... and it was time to log out so that his character could rest and restore. He yawned and left the room, locking the door behind him in the same way he'd originally unlocked it, and then went to find a spare cot in the campus dorms where overworked nurses and physicians might nap between long shifts. He'd be back tomorrow... hopefully when the Freebird was around, and one of them, oh one of them, was going to wind up in a cage.
Madison knew that it was foolish to assume that the job would be exciting to start, but good grief was this first day especially mind-numbing. There she sat in the lab, alone save for a pair of other researchers burning the midnight oil, replaying the events that led to her remaining utterly silent with eyes glued to a dead cat. Clearly, her first mistake was blathering on about her studies in "another time and another place". For once, she found her research into various kinds of fungus a detriment. Rather than give her some low-effort work where she could at least be doing something, anything, rather than sitting on her ass as the sun set over the horizon; Packenham instead dropped her off in the lab and excitedly showed her a strange strain of cordyceps that had been infecting some of the smaller animals in the surrounding farmland and forests. It definitely wasn't as interesting as keratitis, where she could at least gouge someone's eye out and dissect it for further study; nor was it some new strain of blastomycosis that mutated after this great cataclysmic event that happened 4,000 years ago in the game world. Nope. Just a dead cat stinking up the room with a bunch of orange mycelium stalks bursting out of its skin. Probably already shot off its load of ascospores long before it was dragged into the lab and thrown in a sterilized cage. Looked harmless enough; but the reason it had been brought in in the first place was because cordyceps usually sticks to smaller things like insects and arachnids. Madison was told that it was going to be her task to try and figure out why and how a cat was infected. But first, that involved a lot of sitting around and doing nothing. Watching. Waiting. Wondering if this were some sort of rib, some initiation from the other researchers in DMN. Given the way she caught the others lingering in the lab casting glances her way, it was pretty obvious. The pages of her notebook remained blank, the pencil resting in the crease of the binding. Madison long ago grew accustomed to the odd smells of the room, the swirling mix of damp and chemicals and rot becoming just another charm of the place. Next to her, bolted to the wall, a tall crystal shard of some sort glowed with a soft white light, giving her ample ability to sit there and observe nothingness. Inhale. Exhale. Don't get so bored that you forget how to breath, now. Minutes dragged on into hours dragged on into centuries. The cursemage was sorely tempted to break out her tarot cards, strip them of the Major Arcana and the Pages, and play some fucking solitaire or something. Anything to keep her mind busy; because the contents of the cage certainly weren't going to throw her a bone. She cursed herself for not bringing one of the books she purchased the previous evening with her.
The morning came, and Nikephoros woke unmolested by any doctor or nurse upon the grounds stumbling upon him and inquiring about his presence. That was good, as it afforded him much needed rest, and also prevented any manner of scene being made before arriving to introduce himself. Smiling, he sat up on the edge of the cot he had slumbered in, then equipped his character's more professional and formal clothing options. It wouldn't do to march around in plate, looking like some sort of ruffian, so he switched to some simple unarmored unadorned starter gear that made him appear a well to do knave rather than a foot soldier. He glanced in a mirror that was thoughtfully hung upon the wall, to make sure there was no sleep in his eyes or signs of fatigue or unkempt standards, and summoned up a bit of magic to clean and sanitize his teeth and tongue. A little more magic, and a sprig of intertwined mint and thyme appeared in his hand from some seeds he carried. He set it in his lips and began to suckle on it gently, giving his breath a nice clean smell. Thus armed and armored for the scholastic world, Nikephoros left the room and began to move about the grounds, heading for the disease research center he had broken into the night prior. First thing being first, he ought to introduce himself to the man in charge, which records showed to be a doctor by the name of Packenham. An unfortunate name, to be sure... but he knew better than to snigger or make mention of it. Knocking on the man's office, Nikephoros entered when given permission, and explained his situation. That he was new to the area, and had been assigned to the project. That scholastically he was a master of no particular area of research, but his jack-of-all-trades background made him a valuable resource as he had a unique perspective and could thus provide insight others might not have. That, and his willingness to get his hands dirty and put in the hours needed, made him a competent assistant that wasn't going to mix up documents or misplace specimens, or cause any of the other myriad problems that typical assistants were often notorious for. The disciplinary section of his forged documents was brought into question; Nikephoros had given himself a fondness for going above and beyond the call of duty, and at times not asking permission in order to engage in research or make use of resources. It gave men like Packenham something to micromanage and keep an eye on, which typically made upper management happy as they felt more relevant. After about an hour's length of interviewing with the man, he was cleared to enter the department and go and assist one of their other latest arrivals with her research. A woman by the name of Madison Freebird, who was apparently engaged in some rather fascinating studies on cordyceps. Nikephoros only knew what that was from the games he had played as a child, but nodded as though he understood perfectly well. Shaking Packenham's hand, he left the office and moved to the research room that his newest comrade occupied, where he found her staring at a dead cat, back to him. Closing the door behind himself, he glanced about at the other studies going on, disappointed at how drab and droll it all seemed. The cat seemed to be the highlight of the room, which said something about the place... "I'd bet you couldn't swing a dead cat in this town without running into me," he announced with a straight face, as though he hadn't realized what a dark pun he had made and was above the concept of humor. He slid into a seat near the woman, focusing on the dead animal and the life that proliferated up and out of it. "Friend of yours?"
Maddy couldn't believe it. Here she was, ass firmly planted in a restricted area meant for researchers employed by the university and their interns. The one place she thought she could finally find some semblance of peace, order, and routine in this world. The one freaking place where she thought she'd be able to ply her craft in a constructive way instead of a destructive way, for once in her life. And along comes this smug-ass Middle-earth Mr. Clean motherfucker. The skeezy yladian who wasted so much of her time at the bookstore the previous night, taking out his frustrations at losing his crusty sock collection on her by being an total weapon. Madison would've immediately clubbed him over his shiny noggin with the cordyceps-infested cat if he hadn't already called that shot. Her sapphire eyes immediately narrowed as bile built up in the back of her throat. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Nikephoros regarded Madison with much less disdain than she showered over him. Though not particularly happy to be in her presence, something that just barely failed to be a smile did play at the corners of his mouth, as he regarded her with a mixture of open hostility and polite, professional workplace calm. "I am here to assist in your myc-raculous research," he punned quietly from across the table, gesturing at the dead cat and then dismissively to the working lab all around them. "Or rather, I'm here to investigate what it is you're investigating... Because there's no justifiable reason to read up on the occult and bandits when studying disease strains, infection vectors, proliferation rates, and other terms I don't actually understand but can smile and nod to well enough to get a B in biology." He picked up a quill and tapped it against the tabletop, and found that it didn't have the same affect as a real world pen would have had. So he stopped, obviously disappointed he couldn't appear more ominous and coy. "What is it you're really after? Calmly and patiently; or others might hear, and then we'd have a very awkward time explaining things to them. Remember, I still have your bill of sale, and there must be a reason you went across town to buy books rather than checking them out from a faculty library. Hiding something?" He smiled, and began to lean across the table, before remembering there was a dead cat. Sitting back down on the stool, he instead picked at a torn corner of a page. "I want to know what."
Madison couldn't help but to let a thin smile crawl across her face. "I like how you say you still have my receipt as if it's some kind of threat." The witch threw her hands up sarcastically, her face twisting in mock horror. "Oh no, the weird new girl is reading weird books about weird things! Surely, she's up to no good! We must ambush her and put a stop to her probably really evil schemes before she kills us all! Bring your own torches and pitchforks, it'll be a blast!" A couple of her labmates overheard her dramatics and shot the two chatty individuals some foul looks before returning to their own work. She glanced over at the cat to make sure it wasn't showing any signs of suddenly springing to life and dancing away. Turning back towards the yladian she continued, "The archives here have an awful lot of crap in them. Old studies, academic papers, and sure; a fair number of medical tomes and journals from prominent doctors and healers. But if they had them don't you think I would've signed 'em out instead?" She let out an exasperated huff. "Small university like DMN can't have everything. "As for the other stuff, the occult books and religious books?" The cursemage offered a playful shrug. "Everyone has their hobbies. Mine just happen to be very morbid. I like reading up on the darker, more desperate side of worship. Rituals, sacrifices, chanting to gods long thought forgotten... The things people hoped to gain from them... Fascinating stuff, really." Madison consciously left out the part about her striving to unlock the deepest secrets of Black Magic. Turns out, people jump to the worst conclusions if you casually toss that out in everyday conversation. "Anyway, if you think I'm here for some big secret project or dark ulterior motives; I hope you're not terribly disappointed." Maddy made a grand gesture towards the cat. "This is it. They currently have me looking into a strange strain of cordyceps that popped up inland. Some farmer's wife brought in their dead pet, and they dumped it on my lap." She poked at one of the orange lengths of fungus with the tip of her pencil. It shifted slightly, soft enough to bend without breaking from the slight pressure. "Normally this shit infects smaller insects. Ants, wasps, grasshoppers. Arachnids too. Tinier ones; not the ones you find in caves with fangs that you could break off and use as a dagger." Madison held her thumb and forefinger inches apart for emphasis. "They haven't seen anything like this yet, and as I have experience researching this stuff elsewhere, they decided to give me the task." She poked the dead animal with her pencil once more. "So once I give this thing a day or two to make sure the cordyceps isn't going to reanimate the cat and suddenly we have a zombie apocalypse on our hands--since that's what happens and all; cordyceps infects and controls the host, moving them to an optimal location so they can... um..." Forgetting the technical term for it, Madison opted instead to make a couple wanking motions. She always found that practical explanations were the best. "Anyway, once I'm sure the thing is well and truly dead, I'm going to detach some of the mycelium and start testing it to make sure it isn't some new mutant strain." She shot the yladian a steely glare. "If that's alright with you."
