Dashil sighs inwardly as they rush to read the books and pick the locks. "OK, kid, remember: you unleash it, you own it. Don't come crying to me if something sucks your soul from your body."
Dashil raises an eyebrow at Aduard's message; it's a bit soon for him to be asking for her trust. She does, however, see the point in keeping Kendra away from any potentially harmful books. She's also pleased that he had the wit to put the others down and concentrate on the "read me now" book; most people would fail to do something that obvious.
Dashil is about to act to move Kendra away when Radag pre-empts her. If Radag succeeds in leading Kendra away, Dashil will join Aduard in reading the "read me now" book; otherwise she will ensure that Kendra is suitably distracted.
Knowledge of the Ages re-roll
Wakati looks over the older volumes in the Professor's collection.
I recognize a couple of these. This first one is a treatise on the Dark Tapestry, and it is also known to contain instructions on several arcane spells of an unusual nature. And this second volume, this is a nasty bit of work. It deals deeply with the philosophies of the dark god Zon-Kuthon, and includes quite detailed instructions on torture. It was thought that all copies of this book were destroyed, but that's apparently not the case. I don't know how the Professor managed to get a hold of this one, but I imagine it wasn't easy. By the way, it's bound in human skin. This third volume I don't know, but this fourth one....
Wakati intensely examines the fourth volume. Anyone watching closely would swear that his face changes as he stares at the book, becoming more gaunt and drawn. When he looks up, though, everything appears normal.
No, I don't know what this one is. But it is capped by a brass scarab. There was also a scarab on these badges you sent to us, Ms. Lorrimor. Is there perhaps a connection here? Is there any particular meaning to these little pins you sent us?
He recognised the 'other' book - the one Wakati isn't mentioning. He knows what it is, and doesn't want it discussed in front of Kendra.
He's dismissive of the idea of knowledge being dangerous, this is more "not a book you want your kid to know you have" type vibe.
Also, he's nervous about people saying inappropriate things about the Professor from these books in front of his grieving child. Especially Irefist.
Also, he's very uncomfortable that it seems like Irefist is trying to use the death of Petros to flirt with Kendra. Every time Radag says "ladylove" Bookman gets a little more angry.
He seems to genuinely want to help/look out for Kendra. Almost paternalistic.
On the other hand he's obviously telling himself Kendra is full grown woman and doesn't need some friend of her dad's telling her what she can do and think (glancing at Dashil).
As regards the "Read me first" he wants to look through that book. He's been on edge about something all day. He was nervous during the reading of the will, then relaxed, and was nervous again as soon as he saw the "Read me first" book.
I think Dashil could probably work out he thinks the Professor knew something that Bookman is worried the Professor will be revealing to others. Bookman does not want it revealed.
Also: the whole "dark tapestry" and "zon-kuthon" thing Wakati has started spouting doesn't seem to be phasing him as much as Petros being embarrassed in front of his daughter.
He does tense when "zon-kuthon" is named, then relaxes when Wakati says it is about torture.
Dmitri kind of looks over the books, scratching his head. "Mostly gibberish t' me. Oh well," he says, shrugging, before moving to help Dashil keep Kendra distracted.
Kendra reproaches any attempt to get her to leave gently. "I am no child and I am under no illusions as to my father's work. I would like to stay and see if I can be of some help. I think it might be helpful to stay focused on something." Despite that, she does appear a little queasy at the thought of a book bound in human flesh.
She turns to Wakati. "That is interesting. The scarabs were included with my father's will. I'm not sure if they're related, but I can tell you that my father was always fascinated with ancient Osirion. Perhaps it was simply an aesthetic, although I've never known him to do something like that without purpose."
The book Aduard holds turns out to be the Professor's journal. It contains page after page of the professor's concise hand-writing detail mostly mundane interactions within Ravengro and inconsequential experiments.
Radag shrugs I suppose I can find my quarters. You kids put your toys away when you're done.
"Kendra, I apologise. It would be hypocritical of me to try to stop people from acquiring knowledge. I suppose it is that, in my head, you are a little girl."
"I know by the time I was a teenager I was wrist deep in the guts of metaphysics. I will attempt to treat you with the respect a fellow student of the arts deserves."
Bookman looks contrite, and tries to talk quietly to Kendra
"The book Wakati has so politely failed to mention is Serving Hunger. This is a holy book of the Urgathoan faith, and thus is reflective of her beliefs. I believe I saw, in my glimpse, notes in the Professor's hand."
"It is not that I fear your corruption or somesuch, so much as attempting to spare you from seeing potential comments from your father on... relations with the dead."
"I see now that it needs to be your decision, but I urge you to consider it carefully."
Turning away with an apologetic bow to Kendra he stalks out a chair
and starts quickly flipping backward through the journal
Kendra shakes her head. "Of course, Radag. Where are my manners? Let me see if we can find you a room. Come with me, please."
She takes the ranger to a second floor bedroom, richly-furnished with a separate washroom. "Will this suffice?"
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don't have time to update my will, so I'll leave this in the chest where it'll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
The entry the day before that is also circled in red.
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation — hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Another passage, dated twenty days ago is circled.
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something — no, strike that — someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
It is likely that more passages are similarly marked, but the journal would need to be combed over in more detail.
Radag takes a moment to look at the room, "Suffice is a dry spot removed from the weather and preferably not far from a branch to tie a bear bag. This is more than sufficient, thank you Ladylove. I wont keep you long, I'm sure you are more than curious to know what those brains are up to with those books." Radag says as he drops his backpack to the floor near the door. "If anyone needs me, I'll be settling in this evening. Tomorrow I'll head into town and look for the old man I saw hiding in the graveyard."
Radag unbuckles greatsword from his back and removes the sheathe holding his mace setting both of them on the nearest console to the bed before un-donning his armor.
It will be a rare treat sleeping without this on.
After a moment of standing there without armor, Radag goes back to donning it.
Maybe another time...
When Kendra leads Radag to his room, Dmitri sighs heavily. Plopping down into one of the house's comfortable chairs, he runs a hand through his thick black hair. "I think it's time for me to call it a night. Today's been... yeah..." the cleric trails off.
Dashil narrows her eyes: it's blatantly obvious to her that Aduard is trying to hide something. He has managed to make her extremely suspicious, and her normal instinct would be to grab him and have Radag hit him until they knew what he was up to. She frowns and thoughtfully sips her chilled wine - the others would doubtless not take well to such an act, and she doesn't think that the Professor would have welcomed violence in his own house.
Besides, Radag has left the room.
Adopting a more friendly (well, marginally less chilly) attitude, the blue-haired woman sidles over to Aduard as he studies the book and murmurs for his ears only.
She hopes to at least strike up some sort of conversation so that she can glean what information she can without resorting to violence.
Perhaps this book originated in Osirion. Well, unless we find a key somewhere, I'm afraid we can only speculate.
Wakati goes back to studying the shelves of the Professor's library, every now and then pulling out a particularly interesting volume and flipping through a few pages. After a brief time, he glances over at Aduard as he reads the book that was laying on top in the chest.
So what is in that volume? Why did the Professor want us to read it first?
"But we have other, larger, problems"
Aduard sighs, and speaks to the room
"This book is the Professor's Journal."
"It seems there is a small chance those ruffians were right. The professor may have been using necromancy - white necromancy - in the days just before he died. Listen to this..."
"Twenty days ago:
"Two days later:
"Then a day later the last entry:
Aduard pauses for a few seconds, then continues sadly
"Damn you old friend. You always did act like you were immortal."
Brogol listens attentively as Aduard reads from the Professor's journal, cupping his hot tea in his calloused hands, enjoying the warmth the mug sends through him. As the Bookman finishes, the apprentice looks around the room to his new - for the month at least - companions. "Perhaps we should pay the Pharasmans a visit, then?"
Dmitri shakes his head, the combination of fatigue, loss and frustration finally getting to him. "Yer damn right we should. I don't know why the Professor felt he needed t' stick his nose into this, but if this Way killed 'im, then we're gonna need to thank 'em for their hospitality." The way the cleric is gritting his teeth shows that even this outburst was an attempt at controlling the roiling feelings in his chest.
Dashil listens, appalled. "Wait, wait - Kendra, what's going on here? You said nothing about how he died; now might be the time."
She had no inkling the Professor had died from anything other than natural causes. Turning to Aduard, she demands "So how long ago did he start writing this? Why didn't he tell us what he was doing? I'd have come running -" Ustalav, she reminds herself "-well ok, not running but..." She trails off.
"How indeed, Ms Dashil. How indeed. Perhaps in a way that has awakened the superstitions of the populace?"
"As to why he didn't ask for help? Because he was a hero." there is burst of something behind the word hero. Annoyance? Contempt? Anger that it got Petros killed?
"Where a sensible man might have made preparations or fled, he faced his fears to save others. Statistically that should have gotten him killed a long time ago. I guess his luck finally ran out."
"As for waiting, my reading is that he thought something was going to happen that would take down this town before help could come. It does rather raise the question of why it is still standing."
"I agree with Mr Stockl that we need to speak to the Pharasmans."
"I also agree with Mr Zorya.
Petros' killers do not know with whom they have 搞砸了"
There is a vicious anger behind this last sentence.
It's been a while since we've had some sound.
While dressing down, and then dressing back up, for bed, you can hear the storm outside the house. The rain pours relentlessly against the window, producing a not unpleasant patter. Thunder rumbles harmlessly in the distance.
*tack* *tack* *tack*
You hear a different noise, a hard tap against the window. Likely, a tree branch, agitated by the wind. But then it comes again, more insistent.
*tacktacktacktack*
Something is rapping on a window somewhere else in the house. And you're sure that it's on the second floor.
Kendra returns downstairs shortly. The colors drain out of her face when she hears the last of the diary entries. She takes a seat and looks down at her hands before responding. "He was found out at Harrowstone. A statue had fallen from the roof. It was a freak accident." She pauses. "The damage was... extensive. So much that the Church of Pharasma couldn't perform a ceremony to let me say my goodbyes."
Dmitri narrows his eyes at Kendra's words, his brow creasing. "Freak accident, huh?" he rolls the words around in his mouth, as if he doesn't like the taste of them. "Can only hope he didn't suffer... poor fella. Again, I'm real sorry 'bout all this, Kendra," he applogizes, a remorseful look on his face.
Radag grabs his belt and mace from the console nearby, and moves to uncover the origin of the sound.
I don't remember a tree set so closely to the house, or do I?
As he moves into the hallway, he refastens his belt around the waist and unfastens the hood of the pouch that holds his axes. Radag will continue searching the upper floor until something unusual turns up regardless if the sound is still being made or not. If nothing turns up, Radag will return downstairs to talk to the others.
Dmitri's words seem to pull Kendra out of the dark line of thought she was going. She smiles slightly. "You needn't apologize, Dmitri. Asking you to stay for a month is a great burden, one that you all assumed easily. My father was lucky to have made so many fine friends."
Brogol's hands twist around his mug of tea, threatening to smash the cup right there. Catching himself, the young man puts the cup gingerly on in front of him on the table, and crosses his arms. Lorrimor was onto something eminent. So was the doctor. One disappeared, one removed from the scene by "accident." Dire times indeed.
"Yer thinking is strong, Mr. Bookman, but aye think the only reason the town is standing is 'cause the plan ain't complete yet. The Professor, he interrupted something at Harrowstone. Or saw something he shouldna of. Yer and Aye, we're the insurance policy, in case of accident. Aye think we need to retrace the Professor's steps." Noticing Kendra's pale state, Brogol pulls his hood tight. "Apologies, Miss Lorrimor. Aye speak too blunt. Wit yer blessing, perhaps we should leave in the morning for the Pharasmans? Oh, and one more question - what is this Harrowstone?"
Wakati listens to Aduard read from the Professor's journal with rapt attention.
What ever the Professor thought was going on, he obviously felt some urgency about it. But you are right, his actions either delayed the end result, or stopped it completely.
This Harrowstone, is a prison, yes? Based on the other details in the journal, and knowing the kinds of things the Professor tended to be interested in, I'm guessing that it is no longer active, and in fact met with disaster of some form? As the Professor did, and as has been mentioned by the others, I agree a visit to the Pharasman church would be prudent.
The Way? Are there any other hints in the journal as to the details of this group?
"Retrace his steps?" Bookman looks taken aback.
"Well, yes, I suppose we would need to."
Dangerous to retrace steps that end in being murdered. Worth trying for weight of numbers if that might happen again.
"Harrowstone, the church, the Way..."
"Kendra: do you perchance have a large sheet of paper, or a room with a Blackboard? In my novels when people are retracing steps and performing investigations they always write them up on the board. Apparently its a quaestor practice."
Ah breadth of Experience my old friend... :)
You said there was more journal to read? Sounds like twenty days is far enough back that this book is "safe" to be read aloud.
I'm happy for you to post more, or even puppet Aduard's reading if you prefer.
"Asking you to stay for a month is a great burden, one that you all assumed easily."
"Ugh, don't remind me." Dashil jumps as she realises she said that out loud - she didn't mean to. Gods, this place is getting to her. She can feel her mind unravelling slightly. She needs to-
Cutting short her train of thought, she apologises "Sorry. No offence meant. I spent too many years on duty in Ustalav - bad memories."
Embarrassed, she leaves the room to find Radag "No sense having to repeat all this to him later; I'll go get him now."
Dashil finds him like this, peering out a window
Kendra answers questions while walking into another room. "Harrowstone is, or rather was, a prison. It was destroyed some years ago... a fire, I believe. It's been a ruin ever since." She returns, rolling a moving blackboard. She grins, sheepishly. "This was my father's, from his time spent teaching at Leipstadt. Getting back to Harrowstone will prove difficult. Ever since I was a child, it was under a local ordinance forbidding people from approaching the grounds. We always shared stories about how it was haunted, but the official reasoning was that the crumbling building was hazardous. Since my father's death, the town watch has posted guards there day and night to keep any thrill-seekers away."
A scan of the journal finds several more passages circled in red.
The first is an entry from ten years ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
Then, from two months ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
The final entry you find was penned only a month ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense — the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I'd rather not let the others know about my curiosity — there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Standing at the far end of the hall, Radag closes the window and turns to see Dashil coming up the stairs. He doesn't say anything at first. He just turns to face her while fastening his pouch and sliding the morning star into the loop where it normally stays.
Interrupting the the rain, "I never thanked you. You've got issues of your own, but you still stuck your neck out for someone you hardly knew; that took courage and speaks to who you are- Thank you."
Now, did ya need something or are you headed to bed too? Radag asks as he walks to stand by his bedroom door.
She eyes his weaponry and armour speculatively: "Worried about that unseen servant? Or just jumpy?"
"Do you mind if I scribe?" inquires Aduard politely.
Brogol fills his teacup with more hot water and lets it steep, listening contentedly to the storm picking up outside. I so love a good storm, or better yet, a brisk, cold day. Everyone bundled up, going about their business - much easier for me to get lost in the crowd on days, and nights, like this one.
"If there are guards, and the people of Ravengro are even less tolerant of... unusual folk like the professor, I'm inclined to avoid the Harrowstone until we know better what we are dealing with. What this Way is, what the Pharasmans have to do with everything..."
The young man trails off, his mind turning over the facts the group knows of, spinning, spinning, spinning, like a wagon stuck on a muddy road.
Before Radag can respond, the sound comes again, this time from one of the windows in Kendra's own bedroom.
*tack* *tack* *tack*
She turns to Brogol. "More answers might be more forthcoming with a bit of research. If this "Whispering Way" were as threatening as it sounds, I'd imagine that my father has some information in his tomes here. There are a few other libraries in town, but I'd imagine that their owners might be loathe to allow outsiders to use them. I think The Unfurling Scroll has some information on Harrowstone, but old Alendru charges a fee."
Dmitri scratches his head. "Sounds t' me like we really should go see the Pharasmans tomorrow, then."
Brogol raises his eyebrow, and his voice, in a question. "This Unfurling Scroll, its another library then? What's the charge for entry?"
Brogol takes a sip of tea and turns to the remaining guests. "Should we each take a book? Aye'd be happy to peruse one of 'em written in Taldane, a little each day, and let yers all know wit Aye find." Finishing his thought, Brogol smiles a small smile, a wan, flat creasing of his lips. "Aye suspect that Mr. Bookman is already wedded to that one."
Radag's mouth hangs slightly open as his eyebrows furrow. He puts his hand just in front of his face with a finger raised to quiet their voices as he turns toward Kendra's room to investigate the cause for that sound.
I'll be damned if I'm hearing things now. So help me, I'll go out in the rain if I have to.
Dashil cocks an eyebrow: So you heard it too, huh?. She realises she left her weapons and armour downstairs and gives Radag a rueful look, before padding behind him into Kendra's room. She does at least have some magic, if required. And without armour, she can run faster than he can, if it comes to it... She does her best to squash that disloyal thought. Radag's a friend, or at least as close to one as she's got. Or deserves. She does her best to squash that thought, too.
Kendra's room is dark, the only light coming from the lamp in the hallway. The silhouettes of a four-post bed, armoire, and writing desk give the impression of rich furnishings, but the curtains in the corner room are drawn.
*tack* *tack* *tack* *tack*
The sound comes from behind one of the drawn curtains. Something on the outside is clearly rapping on the window.
Radag walks across the room, pauses a moment to see if Dashil is right behind him, and continues to the window. With a subtle nod to Dashil to prepare her, he draws the curtains open in one swift movement to reveal the source of the sound.
I think between the church and the Professor's library, we will have a pretty good start on piecing together what he was worried about. I suggest we start with those two sources. I also suggest we start in the morning. It has been a long and trying day, and I think I would like to turn in. Thank you, Ms. Lorrimor, for your hospitality. The guest rooms are upstairs, yes?
"Not so fast, Mr Nahodha. If there are indeed necromancers working within Ravengro, and they murdered the professor, they may well try to clean up 'loose ends'. By which I mean murder us in our sleep."
"Do any of us - and I include you in this Ms Lorrimor - have access to means of increasing our security? If not, at a minimum I suggest we might want to take up a shift system. Certainly sleeping at night is contraindicated."
Both of Radag and Dashil recognize that the bird is some sort of specter or ghost. Before they get an opportunity to observe it further however, it squawks loudly and takes flight. They trace it through the storm until it flies directly through a tree and out of sight.
She turns to Wakati. "Of course. Would you like me to show you where yours is?"
"Then, ladies and gentlemen, what we have discovered must be kept absolutely secret."
Radag pauses a moment in thought, "Maybe Ladylove has a secret forbidden love aye? Eh... more likely that trouble you were inferring about. Tracking him in the rain at night would be too dangerous but we can look in the morning. Let's head downstairs and see what's brewin here."
Really? You think we need to post a watch? I'm not sure I'd be much use for that, but my hearing is just fine. Although, with this storm raging, it's hard to hear anything else. If you feel it is warranted, I will take my turn. Preferably in the early morning hours. In the meantime, thank you Ms. Lorrimor, I will follow you.
Dmitri wrinkles his nose and crosses his arms as he leans back in his seat. "I don' think we've got much t' worry 'bout here. If they was gonna do somethin' in his home, they wouldn't have waited for the Professor to wander out by his lonesome."
Brogol shrugs. "Aye'll be happy ta stay up a bit. It'll give ma a bit more time ta read one of these books."
Grabbing the Uragathoan text, Brogol kicks his chair back and settles in to read for the next few hours.
"One would assume that it is also possible they were unaware of the Professor's interest until they encountered him at Harrowstone."
"I grant you that it is unlikely that they will strike tonight, as they have presumably no way of knowing of our interest. Nevertheless I must insist on secrecy for now if we intend to maintain what may well be our only advantage."
"I will proceed upstairs and inform our conspirators as well, if I have your agreement as to this course of action."
"I will then return and study with Mr Stockl, here. Despite the long day I find myself bereft of the desire to sleep. Have no fear though, I shall leave strict orders to be woken up at the crack of noon."
"The old man again, huh?" Dashil peers out into the gloom, but can't see him. "Point again to where he was?"
She pauses. "By the way, that Aduard is up to something. Don't know what, but don't trust him and try to keep an eye on him, ok? He's very interested in the Professor's old journal, maybe he has something to hide."
Coming back down the stairs, Dashil's expression is grim; more so than usual. [b]"We're being watched, by that old man who was hiding at the funeral. Kendra, is there another way out? I'm going to try and creep up behind him." Collecting her scimitar, but not her armour, Dashil will try to leave by an exit that he isn't watching, and then use the cover of the night and the storm to her advantage.
Radag comes shortly after Dashil from upstairs and raises a brow, Is that what we're doing? He's not where I saw him last but going alone is slightly more reckless than going to look at all. Radag grabs his cloak I'll be not far behind you.
"We were just..." pause "Don't tell anyone about the Professor's note, his journal or that we suspect foul play."
"Ms Dashil, it has been a long time since I snuck anywhere so I'm not likely to be able to help you. If you like, however, I can provide a distraction or ranged support."