[University-Wright Library] Professor Stonemiller (Mod)

[Isikais]

11th Day of Spring 510 AV To most the library would have seemed quiet. No vibrant conversations buzzed; the room was insulated enough to keep away the rhythmic wash of the ocean outside. Even the hum of the morning crowds of Zeltiva did not ruin the tranquility of this quiet bastion of knowledge. For Isikais, is was still a room full of sound. The erratic rustling of a students clothes as they shifted in their seats, the echo of pages turning, and always the asynchronous monotony of inhales and exhales. Few were those in Zeltiva who would know silence as deep as that of Sahova, and the unique focus it brought. Winding his way through the room, Isikais eventually found the man he sought. Centuries in Sahova had colored his expectations. The most powerful mages were always touched by madness in his mind; dress and demeanor dictated the extent of humanity lost in the manipulation of the worlds fundamental forces. It was much to his surprise therefore that Stonemiller existed in such close proximity to so many others, and that they in turn, were not overwhelmingly distracted by him. "Excuse me, sir." Voice barely above a whisper, and even. Isikais breathed deep, careful to maintain the charade of being among the living. "I have been sent to find you regarding training in the art of manipulating djed." He paused, deciding how much he wanted to reveal. "I am moderately well versed in the art of morphing, and have a beginners knowledge regarding the use of glyphs." He displayed the runes carefully lined in his palms, the purpose clear to any who practiced the arcane arts: one a focus that meant simply "change", the other a command to "return". They were incredibly simple glyphs, but impeccably drawn.

[Liminal]

Professor Stonemiller was an older man; when Isikais found him, he was seated in a plush chair, deeply engrossed in an old, thick book. He did not stir until the Nuit spoke. Then the man looked up, his eyes tired, as if he had been there for a long, long time. He listened as Isikais gave his explanation -- and then didn't immediately say anything at all. The silence, made even more pronounced by the library's vast stillness, might have been awkward, though perhaps not to one of the undead.

"You draw well, my friend." He placed a velvet bookmark in the volume he had been reading, and then closed it. He seemed unfazed by the presence of a Nuit, though as a wizard in Mizahar's east, he had undoubtedly dealt with them many times before.

"I must ask you a question, my friend -- I'm afraid I didn't catch your name. Magic is a powerful, powerful thing, and both morphing and glyphing are powerful manifestations of it. Something, intense indeed must have pushed you to study and practice it. Do you yourself know what it is, sir?"

[Isikais]

Isikais looked upward, as if searching for the answer somewhere in the back recesses of some mental filing drawer. Settling on his answer eyes dropped again to the man in the plush chair. "Nader Isikais RozatNader Isikais Rozat is a phrase in the Ancient Tongue that translates roughly to "Our Faithful is dead."" He rattled the phrase off in response, the thick Eypharian accent coating the Ancient Tongue thoroughly. "I am just becoming accustomed to the social expectations of...your...city." Isikais tried to find a nice way to explain how much the living confused him after nearly five centuries of living among the undead of Sahova. "I came to practice the art of shifting some time ago, without formal training, after an experience with a practitioner along the Great..." he paused, again hedging his comments to keep from revealing his age "desserts of the Eyktol." "I learned the modicum of knowledge I have acquired about glyphing from a tutor on Sahova." He knew he could not avoid revealing what he was, anymore. "Where I...lived." He grinned at the odd paradox of the statement. "As to why..." He had never been asked such a question before. It had never even occurred to him to consider "why" he would practice the art of Morphing, only to consider how better to apply it after the shock of his first experience. "I seek to know myself better. If djed is identity, and morphing is the manipulation of the nature of that identity...then you might say I seek to master control of that which I am, and may yet be." It was a carefully crafted half-truth, not a bit of it untrue, but only the bare shell of the whole story. It would have to suffice, though, as Isikais finished his comment with a tone of finality that belied an unwillingness or an inability to speak to any further detail on the matter.

[Liminal]

The Professor listened, tapping one finger on the cover of his book. When Isikais had finished, he stood, and motioned with his left hand. "Follow me."

Silently, he walked further into the building. There was a door in one wall; he pulled it open, revealing a staircase leading down. It was dimly lit by strange blue lights that didn't appear to be burning anything.

He walked down at least two floors before pulling another door open. This one revealed a long corridor, lit by the same blue globes. Into this hallway he went, going perhaps twenty feet before he reached a door on his left, which he also opened.

This one showed only a bare room, empty except for a single chair. The Professor sat down in it, then turned his head toward Isikais. "All right then, Nader Isikais Rodat. I want you to show me what you have learned thus far."