Leirbag's Staircase - Chp 1

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[Heh, take a beat.]

The door opened to the startle of a hooded figure that had been standing behind it - having been caught looking over his shoulder. He was dressed in robes and a cloak. But as soon as he turned to face Halsing, the orc recognized him as Telemachus Rotano, Dean of Prospero's branch of the Academy, and by extension Halsing's de facto boss.

"Professor Halsing!" he whispered with a haunted look in his eyes, the fifty year old human carrying a large tome in his hands, one thicker than his arms. "I've been trying to contact you all afternoon!"

"D-dean Rotano!" The orc was so surprised he almost dropped his towel. "I-I wasn't expecting you. I'm so sorry, please come in! Allow me to dress myself and I'll be with you immediately!" The orc fidgeted with his covers before standing to the side, to allow the man to walk in. Immediately he closed to the door and rushed into his room to put on some clothes.

Once dressed with a spare of his regular attire, he walked into the living room and offered the visitor some tea.

"Tea?" He said, setting another cup for the dean.

[Take a beat.]

"Yes please," he said without a second thought.

Laying the tome on the nearest available space, he took the offered cup in both hands. A sigh of relief escaped him after a long sip.

"Thank you. I truly needed that. I apologize for the lateness of my visit - but as I said, I've been meaning to speak with you on a matter most urgent."

Halsing sat down on a stool next to the diminute table where the tome rested. He eyed it momentarily then looked at the dean.

"Please, tell me." He said. It was strange to see the dean in town. Normally he'd be sitting comfortably in his office back at the capital. Something important must have happened for him to travel all the way from there.

[Take a beat]

The human pulled back the hood of his clock, revealing a bald scalp flanked by two horns of what curled, grey hair remained.

"What I tell you must remain in the strictest of confidence," he warned. "Normally this wouldn't leave the walls of the capital, but that is no longer an option."

Taking a deep breath, the dean closed his eyes.

"There has been a robbery. Someone has stolen Irba's key-rune from the Academy."

[Roll Intelligence + Science, with a +1 from Mathematics specialty, and 9-again rule for being an asset skill, but a -2 from difficulty.]

5,4,2,5,3,10,8

then

10-9-10-3

5 successes

Irba's Key-rune is an ancient artifact believed to have been the creation of an archmage arithmetician. One part elaborate key, one part puzzle box, the device was coupled with a grimoire containing spells and treatises on theoretical mathematics that, to this day, baffle the greatest of scholars and practitioners. Unfortunately, because of this, its significance has waned over the passage of time, being seen as now more of a curiosity than something worthy of dedicated study. Despite this, it remains a treasure of the old world, and rumors abound that, if one can unlock the secrets found within the key-rune, it would expand the field of arithmancy by centuries!

"This...This is Irba's Key-Rune." Said the orc, hovering his hand above the old grimmoire, not daring to touch it. "How...?" Halsing seemed speechless for a second, as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. After a few long seconds of silence he finally spoke.

"Why is it here?"

[Take a beat.]

"You're half-right," said the dean. "This is the Irba's grimoire. As for why I brought it, that is precisely why I'm here."

Rotano took another sip of his tea before setting it down on the table, getting back onto his feet to approach Halsing.

"Without the key-rune, Irba's grimoire is impossible to decipher, its matrices appearing as a convoluted mess if they even appear at all. Yet, the two artifacts are interconnected by the magic of their shared creator. In that hands of a fellow arithmatician, the grimoire can be used to locate the missing key-rune. Roughly, mind you. The closer they become in proximity to one another, the stronger the arcane resonance they will give off."

The wizened human took hold of Halsing's arms, turning the orc to face him squarely - though it was more a suggestion, given the two's difference in strength.

"Both of Irba's belongings were in my safekeeping when the robbery occurred, Professor Halsing. I had to spirit away the grimoire from the capital to track down the culprits. If word of this debacle reaches the Academy board, my career is finished - and by the time the bureaucracy is taken care of, the thieves will have likely gone to ground."

Once more, Rotano began trembling in place as he spoke such urgent whisperings, his eyes near bulging from their sockets.

"You are the only one I can trust," he said. "I know you to have neither the inclination nor any political gain to be had in this conspiracy. If the thieves were working for a fellow arithmetician, the only people who can know about this must be you and I, understood?! Help me recover the key-rune, and I will be in your debt!"

Halsing shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the dean corrected him.

"Oh, right, sorry- Irba's grimoire." He glanced at the door nervously. "I'm a bit distracted lately. Festival and all."

When the dean explained the details of his troubles, the orc listened intently- fusions and lust- suddenly all to far away from his mind. While the prospect of delving into orc magic interested him, he had not forgot his duty to the institution of the academy itself.

"I see. Of course I will help you, Rotano, sir."

[Take a beat]

"I knew I could count on you," said the dean, almost dropping to the floor as he sighed in relief. Steeling himself, he pumped his fists as he continued. "Alright, my resources and by logical deduction have led me to believe that the culprits will attempt to deliver the key-rune during the Bizarre Bazaar. I've also concluded that someone within the town's academy is involved. It could be a member of staff - excluded yourself, of course - or even one of the students."

"So am I to look around the bazaar? I'm not exactly low profile. I stand out in a crowd, not to say I'd imagine there is a big chance the thief might recognise me as a member of the academy. If they themselves are acquainted with the institution, that is."

Pondered the orc. He grew worried at the possibility one of his students was somehow responsible. But that couldn't be, could it? None of them would dare to cross the academy in such a way, not to speak of the ability necessary to break the academy's safeguards in order to steal the key itself.

"I will keep an eye on the bazaar. Rest asured I will do everything I can to see the key returned safely to the academy." Said the orc with a confident nod.

[Take a beat]

"Rest assured I will be making discrete inquiries of my own," said the dean. He then began rummaging through his robes, pulling from a hidden pocket a teardrop stone of polished turquoise with a ring of gold around the midpoint. "If you find anything in your investigations, contact me through this speaking stone. You need only need only say my name while holding your thumb on the gold ring to activate it. Like so."

The human demonstrated as he held the stone with its base upwards, the soft hum of magic catching Halsing's attention as Rotano pressed his thumb against the golden ring. Satisfied, the dean handed the stone over to the orc, before pulling out an exact replica from another of his pockets.

Ideas and plans were already broiling inside Halsing's head. One of which seemed to get his attention. With Garm comming over for fusion, the orc thought maybe he could deal with both situations at once. He took the speaking stone and carefully made sure to understand the instructions.

"I'll keep you informed." Said the orc getting up to see Rotano to the door. "We'll catch these thieves, Dean, Rotano sir." He gave the man a polite bow.

[Take a beat]

The elderly human shakily nodded. "Thank you again, Professor Halsing," he whispered, as he donned his hood again. "And remember: not a word of this to anyone!"

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the night without a second glance.