Sorana

The Missing Report

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Hello and welcome!

This is a little side plot set in the TUBA archives. Our goal is, to find a report that has gone missing and it is our quest to find out what happened to it, secure it and transport it safely back to the surface.

The thread will work like that: The TUBA archives are like a maze, full of documents, reports, contracts and everything else you can think about. Our idea was, that as our characters advance deeper into them and their rooms/ hallways, everybody participating comes up with an idea or two what is happening in the next one. A short writeup to describe the setting for everybody and then we all deal with the situation and afterwards go on.

If you'd like to participate but don't have a TUBA character, feel free to claim, that your character was hired by TUBA. They will be asked to sign an NDA about everything they see down there, a document detailing, that TUBA won't come up for any damage taken by them or their personal belongings, and of course a general working contract.

 

She was early. Zokora nearly cursed herself for not having taken the time to change into something else but her costume, but it was too late now. She had hurried to the Archives, had only taken the time to stuff her mask into her bag, not bothering to change into something more suitable for work. Her skin crawled when she imagined the looks at her cloths, probably everybody else would change first before coming here – despite being a member for nearly two years now, she still felt a bit left out at times. She knew many didn’t trust her, suspect she was nothing but a spy, when she was only looking for a place where she belonged, where she could live in peace and do something that was worth her time.

The report. She didn’t know what it contained, probably classified. Or she had simply been left out as happened so often. Let her find out on her own, she was just an unwelcome addition and there were times when she wondered why she was even here. She could have stayed, done her job, it couldn’t have been worse than this. But it had been. And so, after long conversations with Althea, after deciding if it was worth the risk she had left. Had sworn an oath to keep silent about what she knew and had left. And surprisingly nobody had removed her so far.

Her eyes moved over to the thick, Aon covered door that lead down into the Archives was, that whatever was waiting down below was dangerous. Dangerous enough that they had decided to call her in to that mission. A stoneward  tended to be helpful when facing an uncertain situation. She leaned against a nearby wall and crossed her arms. As soon as the rest of the team had arrived they could start their descent. She had been told that they would need to pass by the first three floors. These were the ones that were used most regularly.

Everything below though. She had heard that it was a maze, staircases and huge rooms, leading deep into the soil beneath the city. If there had been a map, it was lost, or at least it hadn’t been shown to her. She had never been down there before, only heard the stories about weird things taking place down there. About creatures and secrets that had been hidden for so long they had forgotten they even existed.

Excitement rose like a flower inside of her chest. Excitement and hope. Maybe she could finally prove herself, show them that she was trustworthy.

Edited by Sorana
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John walked through the chamber leading to the Archives, grumbling to himself and rubbing bleary eyes. Just when he thought he would finally get a good night's sleep, this happened. What exactly was in this report anyway, that they had to put out a general alert? Probably something along the lines of a request to make it official that water was wet. And it would doubtless get denied. But still he came. He was, after all, getting paid to do this sort of thing.

He brightened considerably when he saw there was another person there. He liked talking to people, and since he was thinking about settling down, it might be a good idea to invest in some actual friendships for once. The person appeared to still be in their costume, albeit without the mask. Once again he felt relieved that he decided to come to the festival without a costume. It seemed like a trivial thing at the time, done only to stick out, but he got the feeling he would be thankful for having his equipment with him during the next few hours.

He walked towards the woman and stuck out his hand in greeting. "Hello! I'm John."

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“I swear, he returned down the left hallway. I was guarding it that day, I remember smelling the burnt cookies on him.”

“That was the guy before him. You were on the right that time and sent him down the wrong way.”

“Did not. I always check-”

“Look, a customer!”

Discarding his costume as he went, Kingston rounded the corner of a lovely brick alleyway to come across a dead-end. A pair of ramshackle, wooden doors was recessed into the wall that blocked his path. They were cobbled together out of pieces of old crates and sections of plywood. Hanging over-top of them was a hand-painted sign, reading TUBA Fire Exit No. 4*ꟸ̽**, under which was an absurd amount of legalese disclaimers in fine print. Simultaneously, an eye-level hatch in each door was slid to the side to reveal the faces of two disheveled men peering excitedly back at the Smedry. Under their overgrown beards, they appeared to be twins.

“Hello! Welcome to the twenty-first reserve-”

“-distribution point for baked goods! May we take your order?”

Kingston was momentarily stunned by their exuberance and hedged. “Oh, I don’t have any money on me at the moment.”

“That’s okay! We don’t have any baked goods!”

“The supply runs stopped months ago. It’s just a thing we have to say.”

Right. He assessed the doors. If the directions he’d followed to get here were correct, this was one of the quickest ways for him to get into the TUBA headquarters. Trouble was, he had no key-card, password, or any form of identification that would mark him as a guild member. So he was going to have to bluff his way through. “My name is Drakon He'Stan, under-secretary to Chief Chocolatier Stormrise. I assume you received the memo regarding my business here?”

The twins snapped to attention. “A pleasure to meet you, sir!”

“Though no memo was received! Nothing’s been received since that friendly courier dropped off a set of death threats last week, but that seems unrelated, sir!”

“Ridiculous, I’ll make a note to sack the man in charge of the inter-office mailing system. I say, the backlog problem in the North stacks just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?” He sighed dramatically while the guards behind the doors bobbed their heads in agreement. One of them surreptitiously brushed the cookie crumbs out of his mustache. “Well then, on with the official inspection then. I just need to sign off that the passage through to the main hall is in good condition. Which door leads there?”

The twins looked at each other. “Well sir, if you don't know, we’re really not supposed to say…”

“We can tell you that one of our doors leads to the main floor while the other-”

“-leads to certain death! For security purposes.”

Kingston sighed, for real this time. “Can I at least have a hint before I take a fifty-fifty chance of dying on my way to drop off these forms?”

“Yessir! Rule Seventy-four dash Nine, Subsection Cee clearly states that in the event that a member forgets which passageway is the correct one-”

“-you may ask us one of us guards a single yes or no question pertaining to the matter at hand.”

Kingston tried to peek past the men for any hints of what was in the hallways behind them. “I knew that, yes, I definitely did. And just to jog my memory, which one of you will only tell the truth and which one of you will only lie?”

They blinked in unison at him. “We’d never thought of doing that.”

“Seems like it would make the whole process a trifle bit trickier, wouldn’t it? But then-”

“-it would be more secure. That’s a good plan, Mister He’Stan!”

“We’ll do that from now on.”

Moving up the door of the left, Kingston inspected its handle. It was well worn, its metal shined by the touch of hundreds of hands over the years. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, you know. Here, step out and I’ll give you a necessary demonstration.” Obligingly, the guard cracked open the door and traded places.

“If you want to lock it, sir, I keep the key in my boot.”

“But we usually just leave it open, in case there’s a fire.”

Kingston waved off their concerns. “That won’t be necessary, lock inspections are completed by outside contractors these days. Now, despite my usual candor, I’ll play the liar and you be the truthful one.”

He watched through a window in the dividing wall between the two hallways as the other man nodded. “Ready, Tim! Ask away! I’m the honest one, just so you’re aware!”

He received a thumbs up. “Thanks Tom! Now, tell me, yes or no-”

“Is this the right door? No it’s not!”

“Well that settles it then, I’ll use the other.” Tim opened up Kingston’s doorway and shook his hand. “Thanks, mister, you’ve been a big help. I reckon this will significantly decrease the number of assassins we mistakenly let through. Not that it’s more than one or two a week, it’s just, you know. A bit embarrassing.”

“Just doing my job. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to do a furnace inspection before I clock out for the day…”

“Oh, no problem. Main kitchens are just down this path to the left, then right. Can’t miss ‘em.”

Smiling, Kinston nodded to the two of them and set off down the hallway. As he strolled, he could hear the men resume their bickering.

“Tim, I thought the kitchens were to the right, then left?”

“They are. But I’m the lying guard now, aren’t I? I have to practice. Wait, wasn’t it right, then right again?”

“No, there was a left in there somewhere…”

Void it. After a few minutes of confused wandering, Kingston ended up in a room with a grand door decorated in scores of aonic symbols. As he tried to gain his bearings, he sidled in and tried to look like he belonged.

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As John introduced himself to the woman, he heard another person walked in. He turned around to look and found that it was Kingston. If he was upset when he first walked in, he was practically beaming now. He'd been dying to ask the man some questions ever since he heard his name.

He waved at him energetically. "Hey, Kingston, over here! We met at the festival, remember?" John realised he was being quite rude, but he couldn't bring himself to care, Smedry Talents were apparently very rare, and he was not going to waste his chance to study one. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your abilities?"

Before the Smedry could answer, John pulled a notebook and a pen from one of his pockets, and quickly scribbled a picture of a crown and a diary at the top of the page. He didn't actually need the notebook, but he found writing things down helped him think. He also wrote it in several different codes, alternating every few words. He admitted to himself he might be a little paranoid, but it barely took any time to create, and it was well worth the peace of mind he got from it.

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Kingston felt like a man at a party who’d lost the friend he came with. He pounced on the opportunity to engage John in conversation; it made him look like he belonged. He reached out his arm for a handshake, but the other man pulled out a notebook and started scribbling, so he not-so-smoothly pretended to smooth out his hair instead. “I don’t mind talking about myself at all! Would you like to hear about my juggling skills, amateur chess playing, or, and I’m especially proud of this one, expertise in ballroom dancing? I’ve trained with some of the best traditional box-steppers of my home planet…”

As he rambled on about his made-up dancing ability, he peeked at John’s notebook. It was a mess of symbols with no immediately discernible pattern. He was about to dismiss it as the scribblings of an eclectic when he spotted one set of lines that bore some resemblance to the shorthand his librarian trainers had drilled into his mind when he was a pre-teen. It was a heavily modified version, but it was definitely language, or at least memory prompts.

He could tell John was tiring of his intentional misinterpretation of the question, but not enough to give up. Shame. They both knew what he really wanted.

“And that’s why I never got into ballet. Besides, my Smedry powers probably would have interfered with my aspirations to join the competitive circuit. My abilities first manifested at about the age of two. I inherited them from my mother, who was also a Smedry by birth. She had a knack for dropping things. My talent is different, I have the gift of being bad at improvisational comedy. And yet, it is my passion.” He stared longingly into the distance for a moment. “Pardon me, I’ve just noticed your interest in my Smedry powers, what more would you like to know?”

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John smirked as Kingston started rambling about dancing, it was frustrating, to be sure, but also wildly entertaining. At one point he caught him peeking at his notebook and he was suddenly very glad for his paranoia.

Bad improvisational comedy? It certainly made him laugh. Was that the flexible nature of the Talents that had drawn him to them in the first place? Or was he being dishonest? Something felt... off about that. But he couldn't say for sure, not with his limited knowledge about how Smedry Talents worked. But at this point, even a lie by someone who knew what he was talking about was better than what he had at the moment.

"Well, I've heard that the Talents meaning can be twisted, relying on perception. Some even describe tricking their Talent, as if it were a living thing. Did you have any experiences like that? Can you give me some examples of how your Talent helped you? How would you describe using lenses? Do you actually need to wear the lenses? Or even for the glass to be in the shape of a lense?" He opened his mouth to ask another question but realised he didn't have any more off the top of his head, so he closed it again with a soft click.

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“I’ve known quite a few Smedrys in my time, we tend to attract each other. Remind me to tell you about the one I met who later became an Epic. He had a talent for being bad at metaphors, if my memory serves. Lovely fellow, we were in the same comedy troupe for a while.” Kingston considered trying to tone down his power to give the researcher some chance of learning something. He could do that, if he concentrated. Otherwise his sentences naturally twisted to become the opposite of what he was trying to say. He could also embrace it, upping the effect, but he liked to use that sparingly. It made him uncomfortable to manipulate people like that. “Anyway, Talents are easy enough to wrangle once you get the hang of it. The horror stories you hear about people using them accidentally are mostly among amateur practitioners. I’ve had mine under control for years; I hardly ever act out a scene based on an audience prompt when I don’t intend to these days. Its just something I keep in my back pocket for when I want to impress my friends with my cool powers. Its like being a piano player: a great crowd-pleaser, but only usable in certain, highly-specific circumstances.”

Kingston took off the pair of glasses he was wearing, revealing a second pair beneath them, their frames cleverly designed to make them stackable. He cleaned them on the hem of his shirt, polishing the dust off ritualistically. “As for these, they’re not necessary to access the full spectrum of powers, but they make a convenient focus. Their tint is what’s important. I know it sounds contradictory, but invisible light comes out of our eyes and is bent by the lenses to create the desired effect, be it an external area of effect beam or a modification of our own auras. It’s quite easy to pick up, especially when you’re on a roll and stack a few of them to up your power. It’s an interesting field of study that I keep meaning to study in depth sometime, what’s your interest in it?”

(Author’s note: If you haven’t read the Alcatraz series, please remember that this is all a heap of lies.)

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Posted (edited)

Zokora watched John turn away nearly immediatly the moment someone arrived that he knew. It hurt, the way he greeted him, how they launched into a discussion about the other one's, Kingston's powers, John taking notes eagerly.

"I'm Zokora." she still replied, wanted to avoid to be called impolite by not replying. She doubted one of the two would even hear it, wrapped up in  their discussion as they were, but at least she had said something. Sera buzzed slightly in her pocket and Zokora stood up, unwilling to be the only one sitting around. She was tempted to ask if they knew how many would be coming apart of the three of them, but she kept quiet. No use to ask. She would learn soon enough anyway.

Instead she opened her bag and checked its contents again. She had enough spheres to ensure she could use her surges for a while and yes, she still had to practice with them, but they tended to come in very handy anyway.

"And this is Sera." she added when her spren climbed up her arm. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you." So much for politeness. She nodded to herself. Consider that part done.

Edited by Sorana
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Posted (edited)

Comedy troupe? He never mentioned a comedy troupe until now. And if he was bad at improvising, why would anyone want him in one?

The colour of the lense was the important part? Rust and Ruin! He thought it was the structure of the sand. "So you can just throw some paint into the sand to create lenses? The type doesn't matter at all?"

He was still writing in his notebook, but his heart wasn't in it. Something about Kingston's Talent bothered him, more than how he found it funny, that could be explained by saying it's in bad taste, not that it was actually unfunny. Suddenly, something clicked, and he realised what it was. Even if his humour was bad, in taste or otherwise, it wasn't magically bad. It wouldn't make someone attacking him stop and gape at how horrible it was. It wouldn't make an angry mob calm down and stop to appreciate just how unfunny it was. In short, it wasn't a Smedry Talent, just a normal talent.

John realised that the woman, Zokora, was talking. He gave an internal groan. He completely forgot about her. This was a new level of impolite, even for him. He decided to make it up to her later, after he dealt with Kingston.

As nonchalantly as possible, he added, "What's your actual Smedry Talent, anyway?"

Edited by The_Archivist
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KanMien and Kumiko walked through the hallway, talking to each other. "Why did we have to help with this?" Kumiko complained, not quite understanding why both of them had to get called in just to find some missing report.
"Does it matter?" KanMien asked her. "I'd say it's a nice bit of paid vacation, where we don't have people shooting guns or fireballs at us. Besides, the archive is supposed to be kind off weird, so it's probably not nearly as boring as you'd expect." She thought for a second. "Maybe that's the reason you got called in? You're fairly well suited for dealing with weird investure things, after all."
"Um, maybe," Kumiko said, having calmed down a bit. "Besides, you're probably right about using this to relax a bit. No matter how weird that place is, it won't be any worse than a firefight with some criminal gang."

Together they walked into the room that led to the archives, and found three more people there. For a second they stood there, looking. "Are you kidding me?" Kumiko said with a sigh, while KanMien just scratched her head with an embarrassed laugh.

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17 hours ago, The_Archivist said:

 "So you can just throw some paint into the sand to create lenses? The type doesn't matter at all?" As nonchalantly as possible, John added, "What's your actual Smedry Talent, anyway?"

"I have a Talent for misspelling things," Kingston answered instinctively. "I have a terrible time telling people about it because I don't actually know how to write the word 'misspell'. I know there's at least two G's somewhere in the middle, but I can never remember if they're before or after the L."

He paused to nod at Zokora and his companion. "Nice music spren! I expect she'll sera-nade us later to keep our spirits up while we... bake? I'm sorry, Ko from the ovens told me to come here and help out, but didn't quite specify what I was to be doing. By the way, has anyone seen my keycard? I think I dropped it somewhere around here, or maybe it was at the festival."

He turned back to John. "My grandfather had a Talent for losing things, I think I've inherited some of his bad luck. He eventually lost his mind and was declared certifiably insane! Poor fellow, he was the first Smedry to ever show any signs of craziness. The rest of us spend our time more intelligently, engrossed in academic pursuits like glass tinting, as I mentioned before. To answer your previous question, the sands make a very specific colour that's almost impossible to replicate with paint or pigments, although I suppose faking it's worth a shot in a pinch. I just keep a decent supply of lenses on hand at all times, ordered in from the homeworld."

"This one's made with aluminum frames to counter any allomantic attacks." He handed his pair of Shamefiller's Lenses to John for him to inspect. They appeared to be just glass and plastic. 

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Allence went into the dark corridor late. She wasn't sure if her insubordination was deliberate or no. She put off the mask, with feeling, that it would only disturb her. She patted her tin, gentilly knowing that this is the only way to avoid shadows. She hated their whispers, the wailing voices in the darkness so terribly black that it might as well be emptiness. She stared at tin, her only escape from Shadows with reverent reverence. Squeezing the bottle, she drank the contents and the darkness receded, leaving a well-lit, spacious room, similar to a library. Allence started toward one of the corridors without her earlier fear.

While walking she was thinking, what he was actually searching for. Yes, she knew, that it was kind of a report, but nobody told her what it contained. Maybe a real historical stuff, so TUBA would know, what really happened though the ages. Or it could be a map to a powerful weapon. No, it was a raport, not a map. But anyway it could be a report about a powerful weapon...

Her speculations were disturbed by voices, which she Suddenly suddenly head, coming from one of the corridors. She knew they were coming from a farther place than she thought, but she hadn't felt metal in her for so long that she shuddered at that moment. However, she turned into this one, walking and searching for the report. This could stabilize her position in TUBA. Yes, she needed to find it!

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9 hours ago, Archer said:

"I have a Talent for misspelling things," Kingston answered instinctively. "I have a terrible time telling people about it because I don't actually know how to write the word 'misspell'. I know there's at least two G's somewhere in the middle, but I can never remember if they're before or after the L."

He paused to nod at Zokora and his companion. "Nice music spren! I expect she'll sera-nade us later to keep our spirits up while we... bake? I'm sorry, Ko from the ovens told me to come here and help out, but didn't quite specify what I was to be doing. By the way, has anyone seen my keycard? I think I dropped it somewhere around here, or maybe it was at the festival."

He turned back to John. "My grandfather had a Talent for losing things, I think I've inherited some of his bad luck. He eventually lost his mind and was declared certifiably insane! Poor fellow, he was the first Smedry to ever show any signs of craziness. The rest of us spend our time more intelligently, engrossed in academic pursuits like glass tinting, as I mentioned before. To answer your previous question, the sands make a very specific colour that's almost impossible to replicate with paint or pigments, although I suppose faking it's worth a shot in a pinch. I just keep a decent supply of lenses on hand at all times, ordered in from the homeworld."

"This one's made with aluminum frames to counter any allomantic attacks." He handed his pair of Shamefiller's Lenses to John for him to inspect. They appeared to be just glass and plastic. 

John decided Kingston was most likely lying again, but he chose not to call him on it this time, since it didn't seem like it would work.

John frowned. What keycard? Only a few hours ago he said he was looking to join TUBA, why would he have a keycard? He listened as he claimed his grandfather was the only insane Smedry, and gave a light snort of disbelief, the book he found on the Free Kingdoms didn't give much information, but it made it very clear the Smedrys were completely nuts, not to mention Kingston himself being a prime example for the that.

That was three obvious lies in less than a minute, and John was getting a rising suspicion as to what Kingston's actual talent might be. He made sure to watch out for any further lies, if he was right, he needed to take a long look at his interview with him.

John accepted the lenses and inspected them with a magnifying glass he pulled from one of his better padded pockets. Other than their odd colouring, they looked like perfectly normal glasses. He did note, however, that the frames appeared to be regular plastic, not aluminium. He put them on and blinked. He expected the room to be tinted dark maroon, like the lenses, but the room looked exactly the same. He pulled them off and handed them back. "What do they do?"

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Eiran stepped inside, careful not to let the sword scrape the floor tile--damage to guild property required more forms than he had time for to fill out. He'd considered tossing it aside earlier on, but no good moment had arisen. That proved to be the right decision when he saw who else was there.

The man no longer was in costume, yet still recognizeable. That sword vendor. 

He walked up to him, ignoring the fact that the man appeared to be mid-conversation, and dropped the sword at his feet.

"Swords are not for kids," he told him sternly before turning away.

@Archer

A woman seemed apart from conversation, though wanting to join, and he approached her. It would be good to make a decent impression with someone since he'd already conflicted with the sword man twice, not realizing he was a fellow TUBAist. 

"Hello," Eiran said, adjusting his glasses nervously. It felt great not to have them balancing precariously upon a mask. "Am I late?"

@Sorana

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Allence was walking trough the corridors, looking at encountered stuff. Books and scrolls were everywhere. From the top to the ground almoust every place was take by some kind of writings. Tons of tons of knowledge were within reach!

The voices were coming louder and louder and finally Allence spotted a group of people. They were walking though the corridor, talking loudly while doing it. She moved faster to join the people. 

As she did it, she realized, that there are three mans and one woman talking together. Allence didn't know then, but anyway she thought, that she can join them. It will be much easier searchig for the document in five.

"Hi, I'm Allence" She said when they were close enough to see her.

Quote

I hope that I understood correctly, that Sorana, The Archivist, Silva and Archer are together

 

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Kingston accepted his Shamefiller's Lenses back from John. "They're memory aids. Nostalgia's Lenses, they're designed to make anyone they're targeted at remember-"

Eiran interrupted, depositing a blade at his feet. "Swords are not for kids," he told him sternly before turning away.

The Smedry was the picture of genuine confusion. "Then why in the Survivor's name are you giving this to me?" Allence chose that moment to show up too. Kingston kicked the sword with his toe to slide it towards him. "You're late, but I snagged you something from the armory. As we all know, this mission is going to be dangerous."

He directed his remarks to the entire ensemble. "We are gathered here today to make TUBA history! I have been assured by some rather worried looking technicians from the third floor that what we are about to do has never been successfully attempted before. Therefore, we must keep our wits about us and our guild-issued swords at the ready. To quote the company manual on inspiring pre-event speeches, 'A good cook makes cookies! Have each other's back or be baked! It is better to die than to diet! Release the pineapples!'" He scratched his head of curly brown hair. "I have no idea what that means either, I kinda skimmed the manual while looking for a page with a map last year."

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Posted (edited)

Allence came in, and John gave her a small smile and a wave. Her abilities would be very useful down here.

Kingston started speaking, and John frowned. He didn't care if someone lied to him, but pretending to be a TUBAist in front of a large group of people, and a high ranking one at that, was crossing some lines. Once he finished his speech, John tapped him on the shoulder, a fake smile plastered on his face. He started speaking, making sure the others could hear him. "Hey, buddy, I was wondering, how did you read the manual a year ago if you're not even a part of TUBA yet?"

Edited by The_Archivist
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Posted (edited)

"Are you kidding me?"

Zokora flinched when she heard the words, felt the eyes of the two who had just arrived move over the three of them. No, she replied wordlessly. I'm not kidding you. I was sent here as well, and you will have to deal with me. She shot them a defiant glance, nothing but a spark of rebellion against the years of mistrust piling up on each other, against the barely hidden glances and the whisper that followed her through the hallways.

Gritting her teeth against the familiar feelings, she lowered her glance unable to confront them, or anybody about it. She couldn't risk loosing her place, not now, not ever. John and Kingston continued to ignore her either, so she stayed where she was. There was no use to try to convince the other two that she was worth the air she was breathing, not after this greeting. So better stay back, imagine a day when she finally, finally belonged.

"Hello," a boy said, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Am I late?"

Surprised Zokora looked up to find him standing close to her, pushing his glasses back. "No, you are not." she made a vague gesture towards the closed doors. The were shivvering a little, slowly starting to open. "I would say, you are just on time." It would take them a while, but she could already feel the cool air streaming out of them, bringing with it the musky smell of masses of paper.

"Hi, I'm Allence." A girl joined them, greeting her as well. "My name is Zokora An'Inera." she replied and forced a smile on her face, hoping they wouldn't start making fun of her any second. People tended to do that. Be nice at first and then discard her, make fun of her.

The discussion between Kingston and John appeared to get a little heated but she kept most of her attention on the two talking to her. Better not get involved unless there was no other way. She would only end up being the scapegoat anyway.

@kenod @Silva @Emi

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@Emi Kenod's characters are there as well, albeit standing a little separatedly.

 

Edited by Sorana
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40 minutes ago, Sorana said:

@Emi Kenod's characters are there as well, albeit standing a little separatedly

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Oh, ok. Whoops

Allence looked at the woman. She was smiling. That was weird feeling. Be the one, people smile at. Nobody smiled to her ever before, maybe except her mother, when she was really small. She wasn't sure if she likes the change. At first she thought, that her biggest dream is to be accepted. Sure, she still really wanted that, but not, while looking at Zokora's smile, she found out, that she don't know what to do. She scratched her leg nervously and smiled back, hoping, that's a good reaction.

"Nice to meet you. Beautiful name, but sorry, that I'm not able to repeat it." Then Allence turned to rest of the group "Does anyone knows more information about the thing, we are searching for? It would be helpful, if we knew more about how it looks like".

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"It'll look like paper," Eiran joked without thinking, then snapped his mouth shut. Not again. He needed to establish himself as a confident knowledgeable intellectual who knew what he was doing. That was the impression he'd gotten for how to make change around here. Yet he kept failing to live up to his mental expectations for himself.

He considered his next words carefully. "Seriously, though, correct me if I'm wrong please, but it'll be the paper that isn't documented for that section of the archives."

Which, of course, could take years to find given the vastness of the sublevels and the vagueness of much of the paperwork.

He turned back to Zokora, deciding that even an oddly done, stilted conversation would be okay. More polite in this case. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Eiran Sullivan." He looked at the doors. They seemed to tremble from the wealth of information they contained. 

But why keep so much knowledge so inaccessible? Were they afraid of it? Could there be a book of streamlined shortcuts down there, just waiting to be found by someone?

@Sorana @Emi

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"Yeah, that makes sense. And mm... hi, Eiran" Allence greeted up quickly and returned to searching for the report. She took a look on all of the shelves. There were hundreds of thousands, and probably even millions of books up here. Those numbers were scaring even in her head. How long it would take them to find the mysterious stuff, about nobody knew really much? Would days be enough or they need to spend here weeks? Even with her powers this kind of mission was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Suddenly, she felt small infront of all this work. 

Anyway, if they find it, there still was a question; Read it, or no. Allence was really trying to forget about it, but the content was just too tempting. Yes she didn't really knew if she can resist...

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"I suspect this document is either highly important, or we have a habit of storing every single bit of documentation in some ridiculously dangerous place," Kumiko said, a small amount of sarcasm creeping into her voice at that last bit. "That's what I think at least, given the number of people we have here. Other than that, I don't have a clue."
Still, she had a suspicion that the second theory might be more correct, given what KanMien had said about the archives. She didn't really know anything herself, she wasn't that interested in small talk or rumours, but KanMien was, and if they were true, and the higher-ups had decided to send this many people, it did indicate there was at least something dangerous in the archives, or at least something problematic. Then she suddenly thought of something.
"Hey," she said in a curious tone, "Does anyone actually know what this document looks like, or how we would know if we have found it?"

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Kingston took the opportunity to disengage from John's inconvenient observations and raised his hand. "I agree with my buddy Eiran, the first step is getting to the wild section of the archives. Also, don't deep reference materials need to be reviewed every hundred years? If we're meeting up now, that means the orders for this expedition were probably sent out a few weeks ago. So you should keep your eyes out for something dated late Alla to early Newcagus from a decade prior. Easy!" He was proud of himself for having successfully gleaned the purpose of this meeting from the surrounding conversations. He was also intrigued. If I can find this document, they'll have to let me into the guild. 

He approached the door that marked the entryway to the lower levels. "If I'm right, and I'm quite confident that I am, these Aons are here as a reminder to everyone not to carry open flames beyond this point. And that one over there roughly translates to 'write a will before entering'. Then that one below says to file it using one of the three approved cataloging systems. Kelsier's in a kilt! You're all lucky I'm here, this is shaping up to be a dangerous adventure. Oh well, time to get going!"

The Smedry held up both hands and pushed mightily on the two doors. They didn't budge. Had he actually been able to read aonic script, he would have noticed that the glyph in front of his face simply read 'PULL'.

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Archer, with Kingston's Talent, does it automatically make people believe what he's saying, or does it alter reality to fit, or does it do something else?

 

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John rubbed his face with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. It looked like he was right about the Smedry's real talent. This was going to be highly inconvenient. "Actually it's an incredibly detailed disclaimer absolving TUBA of any and all damage incurred to us inside the Archives, including death." He opened his eyes and saw Kingston trying to open the doors. "Try pulling them."

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