Candlekeep

"Well, runemagic is not my area of expertise, you know, but I have read a couple of books on the matter. But there are ways to enhance weapons and armor with magical stones if you have the right tools and know what you're doing. It's the sort of thing that I expect the Gondsmmen in Baldur's Gate would know more about. You must go and see all of their inventions, and ask about learning some runemagic."

"He started it!" Wirrow defends, shrinking inward behind her hair, a couple of crimson stains dotting the white strands. "It sounded like the only thing he was Avowed to do was 'end my life', or something. He said so himself, and then he tried to stab me."

"Or no... it was the other way around. First he tried to stab me, and then he announced that. He also told me not to worry about it, but umm... I didn't really follow that instruction." She gestures in the direction of the body, a sort of 'what-can-you-do?'

Shelur picks up Wirrow's swords and hands them to her. Her eyes are serious and hard as she looks the other girl over once more. Still finding no injury, she magically cleans her friend of blood and squeezes her hand reassuringly.

"Hurry and get your boss, Mesen," Aiwë says, voice low. She turns to face him. "Then get Sir Chief Keggruk. I'll guard Wirrow and the body. Go!"

"I am already here."

Keggruk arrives, his large frame a stark contrast to the two young women. "What body? Where?" He steps into the reading room and glances around at the mess, noting the damaged furniture. Then he kneels by the corpse and examines its wounds. "Shelur. Go and find all of our party. Tell them to go immediately to our rooms. No. To the House of the Binder. Go now, please."

After Shelur has gone, Wirrow and Keggruk are left alone for a time with the would-be assassin's body.

"That is likely, hmmmmm let me try something else. If you'd be so kind, place the two of us together so we touch. Perhaps I can draw it out through some innate magic."

Ulraunt gingerly moves the torch to touch Ossein.

"Ok, let's give this a try."

At physical contact with the torch, Ossein does feel something from it. A telepathic connection. No real words are shared by the torch, but there is a rush of emotions. It would seem that Ulraunt's guess about its intellect may be correct; the torch, though sentient, is not particularly smart. One might even compare its intelligence to that of a dog or cat. What it lacks in the brains department, however, it more than makes up for with its abundance of personality.

This torch is Happy. The more joy it feels, the hotter it burns. Sadness, on the other hand, causes its flame to dim and die.

What makes Happy happy? Most things. The torch is very optimistic and tends to focus on the bright side of life. What it doesn't like, though, is being kept in an ice-box. And what's more, Candlekeep's magical wards have been oppressing it for being a flame in the middle of a bunch of irreplaceable books. But Happy isn't in charge of where it goes, so it's feeling rather resentful that the mythal over the library-fortress would try to smother it so vehemently. Take it up with the Archmage!

Oh, to be free again, burning as bright and Happily as possible!

Shelur thumps her chest. "Chief!" She obeys immediately.

"There's been an attack," Aiwë announces, barging in without ceremony to whatever the various party members are up to. "Keggruk calls us to meet at the House of the Binder." Clearly expecting immediate obedience, she walks away to find the next member of their group. Any questions for her will have to be asked on the go.

Only for Rift does she vary. About to head off, she pauses, remembering that Rift is rather young, and definitely not orcish. "If you don't come now, you might be left behind."

"well that’s not good at all" dieter says coming immediately

Kay feel a little guilty but was excited to hear that something interesting was happening. She was enjoying candle keep but she had come out to adventure, not to sit around.
"oh! we best go right away before too many people stick their noses into where they aught not!"
She quickly follows Aiwë out of the room and towards the house of binding.

Ossein begins to chuckle.

"..haha. HaHaHaHa. OH HAHAHAHA..
eeeeheeeeheee..... Oh that's hilarious. It's ignoring you on purpose. It's mad that the anti-fire wards kept here to prevent accidents to the library are suppressing it's flame. And it doesn't like that so it's exacting it's revenge on you my good sir. You were quite right about the intelligence, it's a bit animalistic. More feelings than words. I'm sure you know the type.

So, knowing that what are your plans for this magnificent item?"

While Ulraunt was exactly what Rift had expected, this new... person... was definitely not. How does one address a floating, talking light ball? Why does he even need to talk to... it? Her? He watches Imoen leave and can feel his hands shaking, although it is hard to tell if that is from nerves or from the cold. He doesn't want her to go. He doesn't want to feel like a child left alone in the dark. He is a dragonborn for crying out loud! Most things in the dark should fear him.

"Um, hello." His voice cracks and he swallows. "I am Rift. Imoen told me that you have been down here a long time. It's very... nice." The cavern reminds Rift of his mother's favorite cave. Mixed emotions there.

The Keeper of the Tomes can't keep a deep frown from his face at Ossein's explanation. "Ignoring me? On purpose! I assumed having sentience would also mean it would have some measure of respect for its betters. Who would have created such a wretched thing? Well, I suppose I'll just put it out of both our miseries."

Ulraunt puts his hand over Happy and begins casting a spell.

Stella chuckles. "Indeed! Farewell, and thanks again!"

"Alright..." she tells herself, examining the materials before her with determined eyes. "Let's figure this out."

...

On the day Aiwë barges in with news of an attack, Stella is busy, magically copying text from a book onto a sheet of paper at her workstation. Luckily, she is already at the House of the Binder. "A-attack?!" Stella exclaims with wide eyes, losing concentration. "Who...? What—?" she turns to ask for more details, but Aiwë has already left the room. Stella scrambles to gather her things and follows.

"Wait wait wait wait. Let's not be too hasty here. It very much doesn't understand who's it's better. It's more like a puppy that's been stuck in a cold wet pond. Unhappy and whimpering it's not listening to the person who it sees as the reason it's there. If you would be willing to do a little experiment with it, I can take it along for a bit of adventure, draw it out of it's shell so to speak, and return it to you outside these wards and 'fix' it so to speak. It'll be in very safe hands. We are both rather difficult to destroy, and my bearer, while easy to destroy, is very difficult to keep down. So, what do you say boss?"