Mordecai poured over the mystic tome while sitting in the forecastle of the Crimson Snake. The group and their vessel had encountered some oceanic doldrums and weren’t making much progress back towards the Sword Coast. They had weighed anchor off a small island they’d encountered on their way to the Isle of Dread and Smee had sent crew ashore to fetch provisions in the event the doldrums dragged on.
It was evening now and Mordecai poured over the text of the libram they had found in the temple by the light of a small hurricane lamp. He looked skywards to the rising moon, it was a crescent and the night was somewhat dark. The air was nearly completely still and the silence on the water was profound. A few of the crew were milling about the deck attending to chores. Smee was ashore with the provisioning party along with Harndur and Thamar. Erza and Algares were on the wheel deck playing some dice game on a barrel.
Mordecai closed the book he had been reading and took another from his pack. It was a black tome he had received many months ago in the court of Tal Afaya for payment from the Emir. He opened it and the pages were blank. It was one of few made by Mordenkainen himself and it served as a repository for arcane casters to archive their knowledge within. Mordecai had always taken the more intuitive approach to magic that his lineage had given him, but these past few months with the group had shown him that path may have been too narrow. They had a growing need for more options and utility in some of their trials and Mordecai knew this was a way to expand that for himself and by extension the rest of the party.
Mordecai then made his decision. He took an ornate looking bottle from his satchel along with a quill and the ivory scroll tube from the temple. He removed one of the arcane parchments from the tube and began to murmur an arcane chant under his breath. He simultaneously started to copy the symbology from the scroll to the book.