Eldritch Guidance

“Cult worship is widely recognized for its detrimental effects on a person’s psyche, but few truly understand the profound physiological consequences it has on the human body. Worshiping a Nameless God could alter one's physiology in ways that aligned disturbingly with the cult's specific beliefs and practices. These changes could manifest as minor anomalies in appearance or behavior, but in some cases, they escalated into drastic mutations that appeared to defy the natural laws of human biology.

“Consider the Endless War cult as an example. If you were ever unfortunate enough to encounter one of their members, you might not immediately notice anything outwardly unusual about them. True, many of them seemed unhinged, but at first glance, there are no glaring physical differences setting them apart from an average person. However, studies revealed that members of the Endless War cult were, on average, significantly taller and more muscular than the general population. The median height of these cultists was reported to be around six foot seven (200.66 centimeters)—a striking difference from the average.

“While the noticeable increase in muscle mass could partly be attributed to rigorous physical training, the unexplained surge in height is far more perplexing. This led researchers to conclude that the worship of the Endless War god induced physiological changes, causing followers to grow taller and more muscular. As though their bodies were being reshaped to become better suited for combat, aligning with the cult's beliefs and violent practices.

“This is an example of what we call subtle physical Nameless God influence. Whereby the changes are not immediately noticeable. Then there's the extreme influence.

“A striking example of extreme physical Nameless God influence could be found among the cult of the Deep Ones, where the changes induced by their worship are full-blown mutation. Unlike more subtle physiological shifts seen in other cults, followers of the Deep Ones typically developed traits that allowed for aquatic adaptation.

“The worship of the Deep Ones are notorious for transforming its adherents into what could only be described as ‘fish people.’ These individuals developed scales, webbed hands and feet, gill-like structures, and other fish-like features that seemed perfectly adapted for life in the depths. The transformation is often so extreme that it resembles the effects of powerful mutagens like the substance ‘Krimson.’

“It is important to note that in both cases—the Endless War cult and the cult of the Deep Ones—the physical transformations do not occur overnight. These changes unfolded gradually, often taking years before any noticeable traits began to manifest.”

—“Physiological Effects of Cult Worships ” By Seth Boork

Alan had just stepped into the imposing, ancient halls of the Arcanium Archive. The air inside was cool and carried a faint scent of aged parchment mixed with something faintly metallic, likely the traces of countless magical tomes within. He was alone, as Sere had somewhere else she needed to be.

He had come with a purpose: to reconnect with his Sleuth-Hawks team and offer his assistance, however small it might be. Joe had been firm about Alan taking time off from the investigation, insisting he focus on his recovery. "You’ve done enough," Joe had said just days ago, his tone unyielding but laced with concern. "It’s all paperwork and bureaucracy from here on out. Nothing you need to stress about."

Alan, however, wasn’t convinced. Healing had consumed his days long enough, and his arm and hand were almost entirely mended. To him, sitting idle while his team pressed forward felt unbearable. Even if all he could manage was sifting through documents or filing reports, he needed to feel useful again. The thought of contributing, no matter how small, was enough to bring him here, back into the fold of the investigation, and perhaps closer to closure.

As Alan entered the reception area of the Archive, his eyes immediately fell upon Sandra, one of the head librarians, engaged in a quiet but animated conversation with Victoria, a junior librarian. Sandra's presence at the front desk struck Alan as unusual—she was typically stationed deeper within the Archive, overseeing restricted sections or handling high-priority tasks.

Then, the realization hit him quickly: Joe and the rest of the team weren’t here. If they had been, Sandra would have been with them, given that Joe still lacked the clearance to access the books Sorin had borrowed. It was a bureaucratic headache Joe had avoided dealing with, brushing off the matter rather than submitting the necessary paperwork for an access level upgrade. Alan had started to notice a pattern with Joe—it wasn’t just a mild aversion to forms; the man outright despised them.

He could almost hear Joe’s voice in his head, grumbling about red tape and “fucking paperwork.”

Alan then began to approach Sandra.

Alan: “Um, Miss Sandra, can I speak with you for a minute?”

Hearing her name called out, Sandra paused mid-sentence, her words trailing off as she turned her attention toward Alan.

Sandra: “Alan, are you here for Joe? If you are, you have missed everyone already. They all just left a little while ago.”

Alan: “I figured. I wanted to know if everything is going well, and if they made any interesting progress.”

Sandra: “It seems that the rest of your team made a very interesting discovery about the investigation. I would tell you, but I think it is something you have to hear from them.”

Alan: “Oh, OK. Um, I’m also wondering if I can still get that tour of the archive you offered me from before.”

Sandra: “Of course! I’d be happy to,” she said before turning towards the other librarian. “Victoria, could you handle that thing for me?”

Victoria offered a quick, understanding nod before closing her ledger with a soft thump. Without a word, she turned and walked away, her footsteps barely audible against the polished stone floor.

Within moments, she disappeared into one of the adjoining aisles, leaving Alan and Sandra alone amidst the quiet reception area.

Sandra: “Now then, if you would follow me.”

Alan complied and followed closely behind Sandra as she led the way. They passed through the same towering enchanted doors that had greeted him on his first visit to the Archive. The doors shimmered faintly, their runes pulsating with a quiet energy.

They stepped into a long corridor lit by floating arcane candles that emitted a soft, steady glow without producing any heat. The ethereal light cast flickering shadows along the intricately carved walls as they made their way toward a massive chamber filled with rows upon rows of towering shelves. Each shelf was packed with tomes, scrolls, and bound manuscripts.

The sheer size of the area took Alan’s breath away. It dwarfed the university library he had once considered vast. His awe deepened when Sandra casually mentioned that this particular chamber was dedicated solely to enchantment magic. She explained that similar chambers existed for each school of magic, each one just as expansive. The realization left Alan speechless. He had known the Arcanium Archive was the continent’s largest repository of arcane knowledge, but no description or rumor could have prepared him for the overwhelming scale of it.

They continued their tour, moving from chamber to chamber. Each room showcased the incredible depth and quality of the Archive’s collection. Along the way, Alan noticed the occasional researcher seated at one of the many sturdy oak tables provided for visitors. Most were deeply engrossed in their work, poring over massive tomes, some so large they dwarfed the reader. Notes were being feverishly jotted into journals or ledgers, their contents almost certainly groundbreaking—or so the intensity of the scholars’ focus suggested.

Alan’s eyes were drawn to their attire. Some of the scholars wore the distinct robes of the university, each from one of the seven colleges of the university. Yet, a significant number were dressed in more varied garb, likely independent researchers or representatives of other organizations. The diversity of those present underscored the Archive’s status as a hub for arcane scholarship, drawing in minds from every corner of the magical world.

Eventually, Sandra led Alan into another expansive room. This one was markedly different. Partitioned into sections, it featured reinforced walls and an assortment of alchemical and magical equipment. The air here had an undercurrent of energy, as though the space itself braced for the experiments that were conducted within.

Sandra gestured towards the area.

Sandra: "This is the experimental wing. In the past, some overly eager scholars, impatient after weeks of research, would rush to test their theories immediately outside the Archive’s premises. As you might imagine, this led to... issues. Explosions, wild magical discharges, and other mishaps often resulted in damage to the surrounding area. So, the Archive established this wing. Each chamber is enchanted and reinforced to contain any accidents, ensuring both the safety of the Archive and the preservation of the work within."

Alan nodded, taking in the details. The foresight and practicality behind the experimental wing made sense to him. It was clear that the Archive was more than a mere repository of knowledge; it was a living, breathing institution that balanced scholarship with safety.

BOOM!

Sandra's explanation was underscored by the sound of a muffled explosion. The sound was accompanied by a faint tremor that Alan could feel beneath his feet.

Sandra

Alan: “Um, is that OK? That sounded really loud.”

Sandra: “Don’t worry. That’s quite normal in this part of the Archive. So, let us continue our tour.”

Sandra continued guiding Alan through the Archive, her explanations as thorough as they were fascinating. She pointed out each wing in turn, detailing the specific schools of magic and types of research housed within. From conjuration to transmutation, illusion to healing, each section revealed a new facet of the Archive's immense scope.

Eventually, they arrived at an imposing structure that immediately drew Alan's attention: a massive, reinforced vault door. Its surface gleamed with intricate carvings of runes and sigils, each one pulsing faintly with magical energy. It exuded an almost palpable sense of foreboding.

Sandra came to a halt before the door, her tone shifting slightly as she began to explain.

Sandra: "This," she said, gesturing toward the vault, "is the restricted area. The Archive doesn’t just collect common magical knowledge; we’re also entrusted with tomes that contain forbidden or highly dangerous information. These are texts that, if misused, could pose a catastrophic threat to everyone. By government mandate, any institution housing such works must secure them with measures that meet or exceed level ten security standards."

Alan raised an eyebrow, the mention of "level ten" piqued his curiosity.

Alan: "And what exactly does level ten security entail?"

Sandra gave a faint smile.

Sandra: "It means that even an Archmage—someone with unparalleled magical expertise—wouldn’t be able to breach this door. The enchantments and wards woven into the vault’s design are formidable. Every inch of it is fortified with the most advanced protective magics, and some of the measures on the inside are... well, let’s just say they’re designed to be deadly."

Alan: "Deadly, how?" he asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Sandra: “I’m not at liberty to say. But, let me warn you. If you intend to visit the Archive regularly, be sure not to accidentally touch this door. It will zap you pretty bad if you do. We’ve had other visitors accidentally bump into it or lean against it without thinking. Every single one of them was rendered unconscious and sent immediately to the hospital.”

Alan: “That’s, um, good to know,” he said as he instinctively took a step back away from the vault door.

Alan felt a chill run down his spine. He had always known the Archive was a place of immense power and knowledge, but seeing this vault—and hearing Sandra’s description of what lay behind it—made him realize just how serious that responsibility was.

Alan: “Ah, hypothetically. Is there anything stored in there that could help someone become an archmage?”

Sandra's eyes narrowed, her sharp gaze fixing on Alan with a hint of suspicion. Her usually composed demeanor shifted subtly, the faintest furrow appearing on her brow.

Sandra

Alan: “U-um, I'm not planning anything nefarious. I just wanted to know if there are methods to gain enough power to become an archmage.”

Sandra: “Quick ways to gain power often lead to disaster. But, yes. There might be ways for someone to acquire a great deal of power sealed away in here. However, those methods would come at a great cost to yourself and those around you. The kind of magical knowledge locked away in there is stuff that requires blood sacrifices, or will erode your sanity if you attempt them. You can’t read them with your access level anyway. The only reason you and your Sleuth-Hawk team have been allowed to read what you have from Sorin records is because you're sharing my access level. And normally you are not allowed to do this, with anyone, but the extraordinary circumstances allow me to make an exception for the police.”

Alan nodded thoughtfully as Sandra spoke. He hadn't been planning anything involving the restricted section of the library—not seriously. The allure of forbidden knowledge had always been more of a curiosity than a true temptation. But as Sandra described the perilous nature of the ancient tomes hidden within, her voice tinged with both caution and urgency, his resolve solidified.

The tales of curses, madness, and devastation tied to black magic were chilling enough to extinguish any lingering flicker of intrigue. Alan found himself more adamant than ever about steering clear of such forbidden paths. The idea of tampering with forces beyond understanding seemed not only reckless but utterly foolish, and Sandra’s vivid warnings only reinforced his conviction.

Sandra: “Anyway, that concludes our tour. You're free to walk around and read any of the documents outside the restricted area, or if you're looking for a specific book, I can assist with that.”

Alan: “Um, how about something that deals with archmages and the magic they employ?”

Sandra: “You're really obsessed with gaining power, aren’t you?”

Alan: “It’s… because I’m trying to be an archmage someday. So, I’m looking for ways that I can go about doing that.”

Sandra: “Well, you're half right about that. Coming here is the right course of action if that's your goal. Almost all mages in the west that became archmages have at some point come here to the Arcanium Archive. But, I think you might have a slight misconception. There’s more that goes into being an archmage than gathering power. It’s an academic pursuit. A path of a lot of research. Every Archmage is a master of a very specific area of magic and is supposed to be peerless in that area. If you're planning to research the magic of archmage to become one, that means, surpassing them in their field. Which is a tall order, I wouldn’t recommend.”

Alan: “What should I do then?”

Sandra: “Focus on a specific area of magic, the more obscure, the better. If you're trying to excel in an arcane field to the level of an archmage, it would be easiest if you went for one where there is no recognized archmage of it. When I was working with Dakka, the Grayscale headmaster, he became an archmage from his study of suspension magic. An obscure subcategory of enchantment magic. Much easier to be recognized for his achievement in that narrow field, rather than if he became an archmage of general enchantments.”

Alan: “Oh, really? So, even archmage Dakka had to go for a subcategory of enchantment magic to be recognized. Who’s the current archmage of general enchantments, then?”

Sandra: “That’s… complicated. Let’s not worry about that. Anyway, you should ultimately pursue what type of magic interests you. Back in the day, I was really talented when it came to alchemy, and might have tried to become an archmage. But, my passion for reading led me here instead. So, Alan, go where your passion lies.”

Alan: “I’m not sure… yet”

Sandra: “Well, that’s fine. There’s a whole archive for you to explore and find out,” she said with a smile.

After their conversation, Sandra offered a thoughtful recommendation. She suggested Alan start with a foundational book on general magic, a comprehensive guide covering the principles and practices common to all schools of magic. Alongside it, she recommended him a second tome detailing the remarkable achievements of Archmages throughout history. The latter delved into their groundbreaking contributions across various arcane fields, designed to inspire and perhaps help Alan discern which path might align with his own talents and interests.

Taking her advice to heart, Alan wandered through the Archive until he found a quiet, secluded corner. The private study area was furnished with a sturdy oak desk and a high-backed chair, surrounded by towering shelves that seemed to absorb sound, leaving the space steeped in tranquil silence.

He settled in and opened the first book, its crisp pages exuding the faint scent of parchment and ink. For hours, Alan immersed himself in the dense text, forcing himself to focus despite the occasional pull of fatigue. The general magic tome was rich with insights he had overlooked in his earlier studies, while the accounts of Archmages’ accomplishments ignited a spark of curiosity and ambition within him.

As the Archive’s enchanted candles began to dim slightly, signaling the approach of evening, Alan finally closed the last book with a sense of accomplishment. Though his mind was heavy with information, he felt a newfound clarity about the possibilities before him. With quiet resolve, he returned the books to their proper places before stepping out into the cool evening air, ready to head home and reflect further on his future in the arcane arts.