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Wendall makes a mocking and triumphant face at Varas behind Lug's back as he slips the bloody armor over his robes.

Nihilius ignores Wendall and his outbursts, responding to Lug. "I spoke truthfully to you when we were in the grove of Jarban trees... you know my true age and it is unwise to judge books, or wizards, by appearance. This book was from my library, and was taken quite sometime ago. Recovering them is the reason I am here, and this book is of utmost importance.... the mere sight of it restores me. Numen may have claimed it, but it was not his. Wendall can have his own spell book back, as he requested, but has no claim upon this third one. It is important that I protect this book and also discover what has been done with its knowledge."

"You got a whole library of books?" asks Lug in wonder. "Wow. What're you doing slumming around with us?"

He looks down at the book and back up at Numen. "So it's yours because it used to be yours before anyone knew you who could verify that it's yours, is that what you're saying? Gotta say—and here's what a screwed-up day it's been, cause I can't believe I'm saying this—what Wendall says makes sense."

"Dorvar? You know Niles better'n me. What do you think?"

I'll pause the conversation here on my end until Dorvar gets a chance to chime in.

"You see, Lug, it is signed." he points to the sigil on the cover. "In times past, there would be no doubt who it belongs to. I suggested that you give Numen's personal spellbook to Wendall, as well as his own, so he can offer them through the tower. Wendall and I both agree that this book is too dangerous for such consumption. It is true that none here recognize the symbols of my Order but me; there is little I can offer you but to assert that this book belongs to me. Your choice is to return it to my hands, or entrust it to Wendall so he may study secrets that I never intended for his eyes." He looks patiently at Wendall. "He is not ready nor is he responsible. As I said, this book will not belong to him, nor Numen, while I live."

Dorvar shakes his head. I recognize the armor as having been Wendall's. I am very surprised he would allow someone else to wear it. Same goes for his spell book- a wizard without a spell book is nothing. A warrior without his sword still has strength and can turn any object into a weapon, but a Mage with no spells is just a man, and a weak one at that. I cannot see Wendall giving up his spell book to anyone for any reason short of death. I have never seen this third book, but Niles... Niles isn't exactly as he seems. I have heard him speaking, and he has mentioned he is much older than he appears. I don't know how. I know little about how magic works. But his reaction upon seeing the book seemed genuine. I believe this book used to be his, before... when he... I don't feel Wendall should have it. I still consider Wendall a friend, but he is too much a hothead to have access to powerful, ancient magic. I think it should go with Niles.

"Niles gets the book. If Wendall isn't charmed, he is doling out spell books to all comers. If he is enchanted, who knows what he'll do? Either way, he can't be trusted. Take the book, and whoever wants to come back to Vaul, let's make haste" says Varas wearily.

Lug tilts his head to one side, raising an ear to the air as if listening for something. "Does anyone else hear that?" he asks, turning his head to look around, but never setting eyes on Varas. "A whiny, annoying buzzing? It sounds almost like that murdering thief who killed my friend Numen. But it can't be him. He was leaving. Smart move, too. If he was here, I might still try to avenge my friend's death."

He looks down at the book that's the current object of controversy. "Niles, you talk like you're this powerful ancient wizard, but I've fought next to you. One spell, and you're done for the day, just like almost every other elf and wizard around here. And yeah, you're an old man, like most elves, but you're not ancient or nothing. Heck, The Wendall here probably is still the most powerful wizard in the land."

Lug stares at the book for a moment, then looks at Wendall and Niles. "I dunno, Niles. Your story is really vague. The book was yours, someone stole it long ago but you don't say who or how or how long ago, but you won't let anyone else have it. I'm not saying you're lying, but it don't sound right. I believe this thing is dangerous, though. I just gotta figure out what to do with a dangerous spell book I can't destroy. Maybe if you told me more about when you had this book, what's in it, and how it was stolen from you? Tell me a story, Niles."

"By the way," he adds, "What the point of a sigil no one knows, anyway? Names are good enough for most people. Even I can write my own name! A smarty-pants wizard has to use a symbol? Why? That's just dumb."

Niles looks at the book and Lug for a long time, then sighs. "Ancient, Powerful, Knowledgeable, Wise... we use all these words but they mean different things." He rubs his hairless chin, thinking. "It is difficult to explain either magic or time, but I shall do my best to answer your questions in layman's terms."

"I was born from my mother well over two thousand years ago, as near as I can tell," he begins. He holds up a hand, "I know, Varas already objected to such a thing in Xavro's grove and he is correct that most wizards do live a century at most. It is a rare thing... I am sure Veles awaits those of us who evade him. But... all wizards learn magic in certain idioms..."

He trails off, furrows his brow, and starts again. "We have striven together and you have seen me and the limits of my power, the evidence of my body's youth, the weakness of my arms and the uncalloused flesh of my feet. If you judge me by when I was born, how many years I've experienced, it is indeed millennia. If you are looking at the power of my body and self, I would have to say I am doing pretty well for someone who is not fifteen or seventeen, but someone who is roughly ten weeks old." He considers a moment. "I spoke the truth around the evening fires as we took this journey, and in the tavern when we met. I told you all I am older than I seem and I came to this land to seek an apprentice I once had. My magic is one of longevity, among other things, and I mastered many ways to slow the process of aging, to extend my life and time to study and learn, to gain knowledge and wisdom without leaving this life. But even at a snail's pace, time is inexorable, and eventually I reached a venerable and decrepit state. I sought a way to restore my youth, to return to a young healthy body... and I succeeded." He motions to himself, head to foot. "I awoke, young and hale, on the floor of my tower feeling like I had imbibed a barrel of Arkthalian wine, which to my dismay no longer exists, but no matter." He nods to Valorei, taking a moment to acknowledge him respectfully. "Youth itself is sometimes intoxicating, and I was invigorated setting out with Valorei on his journey east as my first true endeavor with my new feet beneath me. Fresh feet that have never known walking, I have learned and adjusted much since I met you." He smiles to Val, Varas, Lug, then others. "More importantly, experimental magics require refinement. I slipped further in time than I wished and awoke with my tower decayed, my library ransacked and raided, and memory of me faded to legend in the towns below. My newly youthful self, without the benefit of my resources and books, struggled. I set out for here to find my apprentice...."

He pauses, his brow knitting as he tries to simplify things further, finally looking to Lug and continuing. "I arrived and sought knowledge of my apprentice... I diligently recorded these tales as well, sharing them for all. But let us go to what Xavros said to help explain further. He told you a bit of wizards, as well as apprentices and masters." He pauses to glance at Wendall. "As his tale told you, Helflock is the most powerful wizard in this land. He had two fellow apprentices, each of whom is gone for their own reason, all three of whom, as Xavros said, have lived centuries and desperately sought the full knowledge of their master, Gervan. Gervan, in his tale, ruled this land as a benefactor, the Warden of the West, for a thousand years, in which time he never judged his apprentices ready for his full teachings. It was when these unwise apprentices acted without his advisement that the evil came to this land and the ruins we now explore came to be ruins instead of kingdoms." He draws in the dirt with the end of his staff as he continues, illustrating lineage and symbols. "You see, every wizard learns to understand magic in a specific way, an idiom, passed through teaching and comprehension from master to apprentice, and when they become master, to apprentice again. The magic of Heflock and his apprentices is linked in its nature to that of their master, Gervan, who learned it from his master. The longevity of their lives, rare among wizards, was passed to them, master to apprentice as well." He pauses, looking Lug in the eye to seek the glimmer of comprehension.

"I said I had a library, and this was my book -- that is true. I said this book was stolen, but not that it was stolen from me. My knowledge was entrusted to my apprentice, who refused these secrets to apprentices he found unworthy, thus this book was stolen from him."

"Gervan was my apprentice, born in my southern province and tutored by me, the Archmagus Nihilius, from his time as a boy until he came here." He lets this sink in. "I taught him what he knew, and I came to find him, my apprentice. The lineage of my magic passed to him, the records of my library and lifetimes of work, will allow me to restore myself to what I was, and again will be. It is imperative that I find the history of what happened here, and what wrongs his erstwhile apprentices have wrought, that I might correct the ill use that my knowledge has been put to."

"Am I Ancient? Undoubtedly so. With Wisdom that I passed to my apprentice, and which he used to govern these lands fairly for a thousand years. Am I knowledgeable? To a large degree, and to that point, it is easily repairable. The mind grows and matures incrementally, making room for layer upon layer of memories and powers. So many centuries of knowledge jumble in the unsectioned box of a youthful housing all at once..." He sighs heavily, then extends his hand to Lug. "Even seeing the book you hold in your hand restored memories to their proper place; I remember my tomes and more in their presence. It lends hope, truth, to my efforts in coming here. Am I powerful? I have to accept that this, too, will return in time, as my body again matures to what my mind remembers. I journey to bring what I know and what I can do back into unison. It begins, however, here and now. I know enough about that book to know it cannot be in hands besides mine. I entrust much to you in telling you my tale. Please, hand me my book."

I told Marullus that big back stories weren't really a thing here, but he eventually convinced me

His back story didn't really change anything that was in the setting as such, since I didn't want one person's desire for a back story to have too much pull over the environment. Marullus has been a boss in terms of flexibility in order for his back story to be relevant both to him and the setting. The main reason back-story isn't a thing in general is that this format basically makes almost any back story irrelevant in the larger sense once you cross the mountains to Vaul.

Lug listens to Nihilius's tale, first with confusion at the elf's claim to have been born two thousand years ago, then with wonder and fear as the story unfolds. "So, wait," he finally says. "Xavros told us of Gervan. And you're saying Gervan was your apprentice?"

He gives the book another look. "I don't think I understand much more than I did before, but that's my fault I guess. So many more questions. Were you a good man, back then? What I heard of Gervan didn't make him sound that nice. What's in the book? If it restores you, would that be good? Xavros didn't sound like he liked that idea, like he thinks you might restore wrong." Lug's forehead wrinkles with the effort of thought.

"Wendall, you're making out pretty well here," he tells the scrawny mage—well, the other scrawny mage, the one who doesn't claim to be a milligenarian with pimples. "You didn't get killed, thanks to me, and you get your own spell book back. Plus you get access to our friend Numen's spell book if you do what they said about letting anyone else look at it. You gotta make a real pinky promise this time, though, not whatever you did when you told Dorvar and the Assassin they could use this tower all they wanted."

"I don't know where Numen got the book. Maybe it wasn't Niles he got it from. But I guess we can't burn the book with Numen, and whether Niles really is two thousand years old or just thinks he is—sorry, Niles—he's been a pretty good guy so far, even if he did say I'm a pain in the ass. Can't say he's wrong about that."

Lug holds the black book out to Niles. "I hope I'm not screwing up like I usually do."

After Niles takes the book, Lug finally stands up and wipes his face (assuming Niles doesn't turn into a demon that destroys the party or something). "Okay, let's give Numen his funeral and figure out what's going on in Vaul. I'll stay here to put Numen to rest with anyone else that will help me. I still think we should send a scouting party to Vaul first to see what we're up against. Hey—gnomes are really good at hiding, right? Dorvar, would you ask our new friends if any of 'em would be willing to scout out what's going on at Vaul?"

Varas saddles up, seeing the situation resolved, at least as far as he's concerned. "I'm heading back now. Zirina, any others that want to come get moving."

He'll wait a minute, then ride off.

Niles takes the book (and doesn't turn into anything). He nods with solemn respect to Lug, saying nothing further and placing the book into his satchel, one arm clutching it protectively to his side.

"Thank you. I'll help you and Valorei burn the elf."

Since we aren't going to bury Numen, I'll leave you guys to set him ablaze. I'll head back to Vaul now, along with the gnomes and mercs. Dorvar straps his shovel back onto Mustard if Varas lets him. Alright, let's move out.

In Gnomish, the dwarf says, He'll head back with Varas, the gnomes and the mercs, assuming they all are willing to travel with the PCs.

The speaker for the gnomes simply shrugs, and says, in gnomish:
The mercy and gnomes depart with Varas and Dorvar. I think that leaves only Ruwyn to decide on her course, as Baxtaw also plans to stay while Numen receives his last rites.

You are correct--I forgot the talkative yet pathologically-neutral Marge.

No, that list looks right to me.