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((Here. Since I got bored, and am easily distracted.

http://the-royal-library.enjin.com/home There you go. Tell me which you prefer, make an account, and I'll add some moderators.))

((I've signed up for the Enjin one! If you make me a mod I can start toying around with the forums tomorrow. See if we can't get a nice, orderly set-up going.

I do so love orderly forums.))

((Mod status was given right after you signed up. Go nuts. It's likely that the extent of my involvement will have been making it, so once Morg and Beni sign up, they'll get mod as well.))

((Whoo I'm signing up right now!

[ Thank you thank you, Fasty. You people are so fab it hurts. ]

((The Enjin site should be up and reasonably functional at this point. Go ahead and start using it for anything you like, and let me know if there are layout changes we need to make.

Forums are here:

http://the-royal-library.enjin.com/forum

I haven't done too much with the other Enjin functions yet. I'll bow to more game-mechanics savvy heads on most of those. But at least we have a place to talk that won't clutter up this thread any further!))

She had an hour or so while the children napped.

It wasn't meant to be like this, of course. She had come here as a diplomat and had been treated with utmost decorum by the nearest village: a suite at the mayor's mansion, silk gowns, strands of jade beads and pearls, and an entourage of able bodies to keep her from harm and perhaps even actual work.

Yet, a fortnight into the venture, the archivist found herself acting as a matron for the makeshift orphanage. In lieu of silks, jewels, and immaculate coiffures, she wore sensible cotton gowns, sturdy boots, and her hair in a simple braid down her back. She looked even younger as she mothered a houseful of children.

Construction was still underway, so she had no room of her own in their temporary quarters, only a cot amidst the children's; her office was the neat stacks of papers and stationary arranged under her bed. She sat on her cot now, leaning against the wall, going through some papers. The archivist started and set down what she'd been reading as a boy climbed into her lap.

"Sister Dawnsong?" whispered the toddler, blinking sleepily, "Why do you look so sad?" He reached up to cup his tiny paws around Benoite's cheeks. The child was rewarded with a brilliant smile and the sweet lull of her voice.

"I'm not sad at all, Bo. Quite happy. I'm reading letters from..."

But that word would not come. Home.

"...From friends. Back in the Eastern Kingdoms. Here, you must try one of Miss Fizzlesprocket's biscuits." Before the child could ask any more questions, Benoite dangled a fresh biscuit before Bo's nose. The boy nearly bit Benoite's fingertips in his eagerness.

While Bo munched on the biscuit, the archivist returned to sorting through letters and packages. Some she couldn't bear. Not just yet. A glossy postcard from the Darkmoon Faire distracted her. As she turned the card over, Benoite beamed to see the sprawling cursive of Charmian Sarasri Haleshorn.

Hi Archivist Dawnsong!

I was bummed that you didn't come visit us last Sunday with Dr. Emberbane, but she told us how positively swamped you are in the boonies of Pandaria.

The Faire has come around again, and I know how you hate to miss it, so Nightsworn and I pooled our allowances to splurge on tokens. We're doing positively EVERYTHING this year.

I'm SO nervous about leading a salon but I wanted to write you to thank you for the opportunity. It means a lot that you and Dr. Emberbane recommended me for the job.

Everyone misses you loads. Nightsworn says hello!

Charm x

"Don't be sad, Sister Dawnsong!" Bo smooshed his paws on the corners of Benoite's lips and pushed them upwards. "Smile!"

Benoite gently swatted the boy's paws away and opened the biscuit tin again. "One more biscuit then back to bed with you, Bo."

"Yes, Sister Dawnsong."

The Royal Library presents a discussion of Wilmur Shakyspear's famous play "King Lich." Props from the original production at The Big Round Theatre will be on display.

King Lich: The Nature of Man
5pm, Sunday, November 10th
Shields of Silver, Bazaar, Silvermoon

Admission is free and refreshments will be provided. Dress code is business casual. For more information, please contact Intern Charmian Sarasri Haleshorn.

The war machine sat in his room, toiling slowly over a cauldron of madness.

It had taken months to complete, his room. Archivist Dawnsong's specifications were extra-ordinary, requiring the master craft of artificers, carpenters, and a very well-paid magician. She scythed into Liore's personal coffers, facilitating perfection.

The room was spacious, open. A hard arc-shape, sprawled imperiously over the second floor of Gideon's Cathedral, above the common wing. Clean and modern, pale white and silver walls adorned by sweeping curtains and sheets of black and violet. It was like being enclosed by the sails of a fleet, barricaded against the tide of the world beyond.

Hanging linens concealed massive glass double-doors, leading to a balcony which overlooked the Dawnsong Gardens. The wall adjacent was hewn from marble and granite, with a near-mute waterfall bubbling gently down its stone surface. Illuminated by in-wall lighting, to cast a tranquil golden glow room-long, to trace ghostly patterns across the dark carpets and the sheeted walls.

The ceiling was high, invisible. She'd gathered thousands of tiny motes of light and cast them high into the air, where they would hang and mirror the constellations. Thick clouds of inky night swirled like black mist high amongst them; as the evening drew long, he could peer at his ceiling as if at the twinkling sky, drifting along with the slow ease of the ages.

A spartan bed brooded in the far corner, its taut linens untouched. A reclining, white leather sofa had been arranged beside it, now dragged before the waterwall. A single stand supported a tiny table with a tiny bowl. A sha-infested goldfish mouthed at the single strand of sea grass plopped indifferently in its center. Its many eyes swivelled and searched with demoralized apathy.

His room would be a place of repose. No distractions.

Inquisitor Bloodwing was seated on his sofa with steeped fingers, wearing his ring, his tattoo, and a sock. The harsh points of his acid stare shimmered back at him from the rolling ripples of the waterwall.

I need to find something to blame for a long lost time I am running from something that I don't know I am searching for something which way to go I am trying to separate what's real I'm running in a wheel isitdarkorisitbrightwhat'sthelatestonthescreenpleasetellmemynameIhaven'tcheckedittoday

There was the soft blub of water, and there was a tiny knock on the silverite doors. His fine ear flicked at it, the flicker of a dandy's wrist shooing away a peasant.

Parasite ultra-violent porthole fasten straps helmet frigid wormhole DEATH in you deja vu mammoth view time will twist your soul you spin your blood goes thin your marrow burns your veins begin to burst the speed it hurts and hurts and strains your brain as you spin forth through time you meet yourself for one brief moment in an eclipse and WATCH YOU DIE your guts explode as you erode you broke the code theriddlessolvedyoumadethetripyouhaveevolvedyouretheeclipseyouareagod

Knock, knock.

“Hells below, WHAT IS IT.”

The constellations above flickered, the enslaved night roiling overhead.

The doors gliding open, a vision breezed gently into his sanctum with the rustle of skirts and the click of heels.

“Your pardons, Inquisitor...”

“Distinguished.”

A hesitation at the door. A hand smoothing skirts. “Your pardons, distinguished Inquisitor. I have your letters.”

Liore Bloodwing shifted on his sofa, languidly crossing one leg over the other. He did not look at the door. He affected a straighter posture, more chaste. He offered no reply; the slender figure in the doorway continued in a demure whisper.

“The weekend's salon will present a discussion of King Lich.”

Wilmur Shakyspear. Harsh points of poison flickered down to the carpet, where a first edition of Vennice and Adonic had been cast against the wall. It was face down, pages ruined.

“Yes. Good. Thank you,” Liore growled. He put a great deal of effort into sound surly, but the figure by the doorway knew better. There was a private smile, veiled behind a lofted hand.

“If you are needing nothing else, distinguished Inquisitor...”

“No. I am fine.”

The skirted vision swept into a low curtsey, before retreating. A tattered voice from near the waterwall halted it mid-heel click.

“Curly.”

“Yes boss.”

“Your wig.”

Curly frowned and reached up to adjust the dark curls, which had drifted askew during the exchange. He licked his lips with a cheesy grin and affected another curtsy. A soldier's fingers smoothed his borrowed skirts and dead man's cackle whisked him out the door.

Bloodwing stared intently at the rippling marble wall, turning his silver ring over and over and over.

((Sadly not going to make this, still traveling home from the con, it sounds like a good one!))

The Royal Library presents a charity auction of rare books and artifacts. All proceeds will be donated to the Kun-Lai Joy Luck Orphanage.

The Royal Library Charity Auction
5pm, Sunday, November 17th
Top Floor, Main Hall, Fairbreeze Village

Admission is free and refreshments will be provided. Dress code is formal. For more information, please contact Archivist Benoite Dawnsong.

[This will be a real auction, folks! Tmog and vanity items will be on offer. All gold generated will help us put on even spiffier RP events in the future.

Greatmother Arjah and Okayfather Fastice have set up the Library's own forums! Everyone is welcome to participate: http://the-royal-library.enjin.com ]

A beautifully illustrated pamphlet is sent out to the regular attendees of the Library's salons, granting the select patrons a sneak preview of the auction to come:

One lucky patron will have the opportunity to make a cameo appearance in Quillsy Inkspinner's upcoming novel, The Gentle Breastplate, the highly anticipated third volume of the My You're a Tall One series.

[ Van Winkle will write your character into the next Quillsy Inkspinner book about a certain Goblin Queen! As an added bonus, the winner of this auction can also choose to have their Alliance character included. ]

A sonnet of the patron's commission, penned by none other than the Library's inaugural Sylvia Pathos Writer-in-Residence, Greatmother Arjah of Darkspear. The winning patron will have the opportunity to discuss his or her commission with the Greatmother in person over high tea.

[ The infamous Arjah will write a poem for your character, perhaps even about your character! I would bid on this if I could, but I've been told that's, like, unfair or something. ]

Art aficionados will have heard of Silvermoon's contemporary darling, Fernan d'Orion, a portrait artist who walks the fine line between reality and fantasy, tradition and modernity. The winning patron will have the opportunity to have his or her likeness sketched by the artist at his private studio.

[ This is a chance to have your character's portrait drawn by Moragana. Many thanks to this exceptional artist. ]

Gezelda read the flyer, gasping in shock and scrambling to her room to see if she had any spare gold. If only she didn't buy that deluxe copy of filthy stories! She didn't know there'd be an auction! "Where'd I put my piggy cow!" She said aloud as she searched her room, clothes, papers and snacks strewn about. She finally came across her gold bank, a cute ceramic cow with bug eyes. She scooped it up and shook it "Hmm, come on mooey! Give me da money!" Alas the rattling sound was very feint, only a few spare gold pieces for the auction!

"My Lady." A forsaken servant dressed in a black tuxedo bowed lowly in front of the Sindorei warlock before passing her a parchment.

"What's this?" Armaya reached forward over the table she sat at for the parchment and opened it, reading it's contents. "An auction? How...amusing." The forsaken simply stood there, awaiting his orders.

"Let Lucillius know about this auction, and tell him his presence is required." The forsaken bowed his head. "Lord Van'Trepp will be notified of course, my Lady. Is there anything else you are in need of?"
"Let the rest of Modas know. Just in case they wish to pull themselves from their damned coffins and make our presence known." Her voice was full of aggravation all of a sudden. The forsaken merely nodded again. "As you wish." He bowed lowly again and left the room, leaving Armaya to her own.

Arjah wrinkled her brow slightly. "Someone shall have ta explain what makes a high tea differen' from a regular one," she murmured as she scribbled a swift note to the Archivist:

Benoite Dear,

I hope you set my starting bid extravagantly high. One likes to feel well-paid for one's services.

To whom should I be speaking about a new sonnet? Other than the walls of my study, of course, and do try to reassure the interns that I haven't gone mad in there. They keep knocking to check up on me, and it always wrecks my train of thought.

Your Pet Writer,

Arjah

[ ATTN: This week's salon will be from 3.30-5.30 realm time--because Khromie. ]

The Royal Library presents a casual meet and greet with the working staff and scholars within our walls. We welcome questions about the inner workings of our institution, our current projects, and our vast collections.

The Royal Library Meet & Greet
3.30-5.30pm, Sunday, November 24th
Throne Room, Undercity

Admission is free and refreshments will be provided. Dress code is casual. For more information, please contact Archivist Benoite Dawnsong.

Armaya, I haven't seen you in a bit can you please drop the details of your commission here, just in case I miss you again. I'd like to get started on it soon, so I can make it super awesome!))

(( Yes ma'am! I was just on but didn't see you, and was on last night but didn't see you then either. :-( I will shoot you a letter in game! ))

[ The Library has turned 10! In celebration, there will be some very exciting announcements at this Sunday's salon. ]

((...ten what? o.O But I think I will actually be there for once, at least for the first hour or two! Looking forward to it.))