Post by K Man on Dec 22, 2014 16:22:32 GMT -5
Wit moves upstairs, followed by Thorin. You leave the pile of oddities behind you, curious as to the source of the voice. It sounds human, almost childlike if you had to put a quality to it. Definitely more frightened than forceful, more inquisitive than angry. The last stair up opens into another strange antechamber. This one must be near the roof of this tower as the diameter of the room is much smaller than the one before it. The same oblong sources of light are at pointed intervals around the room, set into the stone to give ample light for yet another odd chamber in this bizarre tower...
You freeze in place.
In the center of the room is a pedestal, about waist high, made from the same stone. Atop this pedestal is a crystal cylinder - octagonal in shape and opaque in color. It glows with the same strange light as the oblong sconces you've seen thus far. Scattered about on the floor is a myriad of books; perhaps a hundred or more in total. Each book is atop a stand that props the book open and faces it towards the crystal cylinder. Each book stand itself is a wondrous little wind up automaton, tiny gears and mechanically jointed arms softly turn pages every few seconds. When a book has reached it's end, a second arm flips the bulk of the pages to the side again and the process repeats. A silent, continuous reading of a hundred books or more...simply amazing. You have a hard time taking your eyes off the odd orchestra of literature.
The only other thing of note in this room is a second set of metal doors across the way, similar to the ones at the base of the tower. Gleaming metal, octagonal depression...nearly identical.
"Who....Who are you?" The voice comes again, meek, timid. You scan the room looking about - there is no place for such a voice to hide. It speaks again, "What happened to Tok?"
You freeze in place.
In the center of the room is a pedestal, about waist high, made from the same stone. Atop this pedestal is a crystal cylinder - octagonal in shape and opaque in color. It glows with the same strange light as the oblong sconces you've seen thus far. Scattered about on the floor is a myriad of books; perhaps a hundred or more in total. Each book is atop a stand that props the book open and faces it towards the crystal cylinder. Each book stand itself is a wondrous little wind up automaton, tiny gears and mechanically jointed arms softly turn pages every few seconds. When a book has reached it's end, a second arm flips the bulk of the pages to the side again and the process repeats. A silent, continuous reading of a hundred books or more...simply amazing. You have a hard time taking your eyes off the odd orchestra of literature.
The only other thing of note in this room is a second set of metal doors across the way, similar to the ones at the base of the tower. Gleaming metal, octagonal depression...nearly identical.
"Who....Who are you?" The voice comes again, meek, timid. You scan the room looking about - there is no place for such a voice to hide. It speaks again, "What happened to Tok?"