The song trader

The following filecase was stored in a shelf storing information on members of the Library. It contains several official documents and newspaper reports, and was entitled "Song Trader".

Official report: Gallery incident

Event date: Thymmer 15th, 5432
Report date: Thymmer 17th, 5432

Estimated time of event: 15th quadrant, 16th rotation

Location of incident: Second Circle, Third layer

Event description: A manuscript retrieval mission was organized and led by Researcher Marius Kirkengraph, from the General Musicology Institute tribe. Expedition was authorized and accompanied by three members of the Common's deep exploration crew.

Upon descending into an unmapped but expected pit, abnormal darkness engulfed the group. The expedition gathered along a cliffside, when Marius claimed he heard a music coming from the depths. The researcher repeatedly complained about the music increasing in loudness and changing in melody, althouh no other member could hear it. Marius declared he was called by the music, and tried to pursue his descent. Attempts at restraining the researcher were made, but failed and ended up in explorer ████████ falling deeper down. Marius escaped into the darkness.

After an unknown amount of time, the expedition managed to climb back to the top of the pit, in a place of relative safety. Although the pit appeared no deeper than a few dozen steps before it was engulfed by darkness, it took several rotations of constant pulling to get explorer ████████ to safety. After that extraction, the rope they were attached to was ██ times longer than it intially was. The explorer is physically healthy yet mentally scarred, and is currently under close psychological supervision.

by Pouaseuille

by Pouaseuille

Total casualties: 0 dead, 1 missing
Final status: Case closed due to any follow-up judged impossible

Among other documents, you find a Librarial identification card.

by Pouaseuille

Name: Marius Kirkengraph
Species ██████
Physical description: ████████████████
Birth: Winter 29th, 5395
Tribe and known associated organizations:

Born in the Librarial Institute for Education;

Studied in the Institute for Theoretical Musicology;

Researcher in the Deep Musical History tribe.

Status: Unknown

Little South Street Days: incident in the Festival

Tricksters spoiled street chants by spreading unplanned songs; crowd movements ensued.

by Pouaseuille

Last Soulday marked the third and final day of the famous Little South Street Days, biggest yearly musical event in the district and one of the longest of the city. Festivities were in full swing, and rhythmic chants filled every street. Here and there, an additional pipe, a hammercord, or some drums accompanied and enhanced the chants.
At the end of the 40th rotation, an unexpected music started to spread through the crowd. Though it was not included in the official schedule of the festival, nor was it arguably a part of the Southerner chanting music tradition, the song quickly caught on. The phenomenon lasted for one to three rotations varying on the streets, effectively derailing the entire night.
Eye - or rather, ear - witnesses seem to disagree on the nature of the chant, although most agree on the fact that it had a similar rhythm to that of more traditional chants, and that once sung, it produce a dramatically different effect than that of the previous musics. Most interrogated witnesses claimed the melody was still stuck to their head. However, most couldn't distinctly sing it when asked, and the few extracts that were sung to our investigation teams didn't match with one another.
To the dismay and the frustration of the festival's organizators, the exact origin and perpetrators of the disturbance remain yet unknown. While a few witnesses mention they noticed a few entranced singers first humming the odd song before most of the crowd, nothing points at a single person starting the debacle.
As of yet, the Merinian Guard did not comment on the situation. The festival's organization comittee, however, did unprompted. Kolios Archon, schedule supervisor, noisily voiced how "symptomatic" the Guard's behavior is. To quote them, "Had a cultural event from the Sheherp village or Minastershire that had been disturbed in the way the Street Days was, thrice as many Wooden would have been dispatched, and the place would be swarming with private detectives!".

— Extract from the Merinian Household - Summer 1st, 5498

The next document stored appears to be a transcript from an interview. No date or authors clearly indicated.

Skafos

... Okay. D'you really think it'll help if I tell you everything?

Detective

Eh, it depends. It'll help me, for sure. Would it help you? That I don't know. Some find it somewhat... therapeutic.

Skafos

(scoffing) How would telling some random detective about a traumatic experience from eight years ago be therapeutic?

Detective

It might?

Skafos

Ah, fine. How do I start?

D̵̲͙̝̝̋ė̶̞̄ţ̴̆̈̀̀e̴̝̗͛̔̾͠c̷̹̣̪̤̑̿̓͑̊t̷̍͊̎͌͌ͅį̷͓̪̘͙͊̇̍̐v̶̡̰̭̀è̷̡̝̟͝

You can answer this question: What caused the Little South Street Days incident, eight years ago?

Skafos

I'm... Not sure of what actually caused it. By the spirits, I'm not even sure of what I saw.

I was setting up near a small pub in Sparusan avenue: I was to start playing from the 40th rotation on, was pretty excited for that (chuckles). I mean, who wouldn't be? It was my first Street Days, and, well, every drummer knows that being allowed in the festival basically means you're officially recognized.

I didn't notice them until I was ready. They were sitting in a poorly-lit table, and were staring intently at my instruments, almost unmoving. I'm not one to notice much, quite frankly. They were Human, fairly tall, long brown hair. Black eye-liner, black lipstick, neck covered with music notes tattoos. Male presenting, so not a Southerner either: we don't really have that here. Still, plenty of foreigners were around during the festival. What struck me a bit, though, was that it seemed they had been watching me for quite a bit, and didn't look like they planned to stop.

When the clock rang the 40th rotation, the previous chant stopped to a halt. I stood up behind my drums, ready for the start. Unexpectedly, my silent stood as well, and produced an instrument, a sort of pipe of their own making. It caught me a bit off guard, for sure, but eh. You want to play along? Sure. As long as you follow the rhythm, Street Days are a time of communion and sharing.

As the first notes reached us and we started to play, I was pleasantly surprised. My surprise co-musician was, in fact, pretty good. The pipe was producing a light, yet warm and round sound. They definitely knew the melodies, and perfectly lined with my rhythm. A bit relieved, I let my self sink into the music.

After a few quadrants, I had gotten really used to that pipe player. I adapted my drummings to let them take their deserved space. Noticing they were still watching me, I turned my own gaze upon them. I really, really wish I didn't.

It was like music had transfigured them. They still looked human, sure, but there was something... very, very wrong about them. That gaze of their, I've never seen something quite like that since. It was like... hunger. And delight. I tried to look away, but I found myself transfixed.

I think that was about the time when the music started to change. It was small, at first: a few notes, here and there. An additionnal silence. A riff to complement the main theme. Then, it got further away. Some people started to sing along the piper, like they wished to follow their melody. I myself was following their rhythm.

As more people sang along, the music shifted further. The song of the piper was darker, deeper. It was compelling. Besides, it played with your senses: I could've sworn that as I watched them, my own surroundings were changing. As if the colors, and the lights themselves were dancing along.

Soon enough, the struggle between the scheduled music and that of the piper was over in our street. Every choir, every drummer had been entranced, and were playing along that awful, dark melody.

(sigh)
I don't know what happened after that. My vision was blurred, shifting in the music itself. When I found myself again, I was in my bed, dehydrate, and it was Builday. Since then, well... I got fired. Had to move north of town to get hired in a workshop near Middel door. Doesn't matter, really. I don't want to have anything to do with music anymore. Not like I can, anyway.

Detective

What do you mean?

Skafos

I've... not been able to appreciate music ever since that day. Pinching a cord, tapping a drum, blowing a pipe... All just noise to me, now. Repetitive, annoying little noise that you want to scratch away.

Detective

Have you tried to play again?

Skafos

'Course. Countless times. It all just sounds the same to me. It's like I don't have it in me anymore! In fact, there's only one melody I can still sometimes hear... That of the piper.

Detective

I see... Thank you for that, Skafos.

Skafos

Just so you know, that wasn't therapeutic. Not even a little bit. But, well - I still hope it'll help you.

The last document you find consists in a series of scribbled notes.

Personal notes on the creature known as the Song Trader Merinos - Spring 42nd, 5507
I had a hunch a monster tied to music was lurking around for a bit now, though I wasn't looking for it: I had been rather busy. When I saw that article from the late nineties... Well, let's just say it changed my priorities. If such a creature could derail an entire music festival eight years ago, who knows what it might be capable of now?
According to medical reports of the time, the Little South incident was followed by many instances of people suffering from tinnitus whenever music was played. During the following two workdozes, hundreds of people reported persistent auditory hallucinations, music fragments they kept hearing days after the end of the festival.
No real source of the disturbance was clearly identified at the time, though, and I was losing hope I'd ever get a proper description of the monster. That is, until I met Skafos. Hearing them recall their story made me S̷̡̏e̶̜̊ë̸̞́ what they saw at the time. I don't feel great about it, but it did help in my researches.
Following the breadcrumbs trail, I found a few other instances of the manifestation. Though on a smaller scale, the pattern was the same: some individual was tricked into playing with or listening to the monster's music, which entranced them. Over the course of the music, the victims lose themselves to the music. In the worst cases, they purely disappear melting away in a blur of senses and emotions.
In most cases, though, they manage to escape, and remain scarred: victims typically lose memory of most songs they heard in the past. They also often lose the ability to understand new musics as such, though this loss often proves temporary.
Manifestations of the monster in public reports or news events seem to have stopped abruptly about five years ago. However, I doubt it is because the creature stopped its activities. On the contrary, I fear its power is still increasing. In fact, it seems it is already becoming tied to an urban legend in musical social circles. "The Song Trader", they call it. Concerning.

---

Merinos - Spring 48th, 5507
I pursued searches regarding the identity of the monster. I had a hunch that it was related to the Library: I mean, people always say they come from here, don't they? In any case, I found some stuff. A researcher, who disappeared more than 75 years ago. Portrait looks just like the one I E̵̝̔̈́x̸̬̅͂t̵͕͛̎r̶̨̽̎a̸̤̍c̵̝̏̓ţ̶̡̉̓ẽ̸͙͋d̴͓͛ from Skafos.
The following morning, I was greeted with an "instrument" dropped in at my desk, as shown below. It was accompanied with the words:

"L̷e̸a̴v̵e̸ ̷m̸e̵ ̸a̷l̶o̶n̶e̸,̶ ̶D̵e̷t̴e̴c̴t̷i̴v̸e̴.̷ ̶."

I don't know what to think of this. I don't know what to do. I don't even know why I keep being called "Detective" like that.
I just - If it comes to that, I hope I'm strong enough to take that one on. Or that - if I'm not - I won't have to listen to its song for too long.