Randall mutters to Kayin and Titan in the bedroom as Muraisa gathers the old man, "I'm pretty quiet. Want me to slip in there and take a look around, then catch up to the rest of you in a few minutes? See what there is to see?"
After ensuring that the ink is totally dry, Kayin carefully folds the parchment and tucks it safely away in the pouch where his various components are stored. He considers the corpse of the dwarf for a moment, then looks up at Randall and hums thoughtfully. "Well, I don't mind, but consider that if something happens, you'll be totally alone. It'll likely be some time before any of us can get back here." His attention then returns to the body at his feet, and he groans in frustration. "You know, I'm not sure if we should take this corpse along with us to see that it's disposed off with no attention, or leave it and risk someone else noticing that tattoo there."
Muraisa looked where the hole had been in mild confusion. Well, the ways of wizards were odd indeed. Or whatever kind of caster the man was. Muraisa didn't remember if she'd been told. She'd have liked to look in the secret room, too, but assumed it lacked zombies as the man was still there with his legs on.
Heading to the other room, she murmured, "Árón is ready to go. No other areas, so this place should be safe. Also, he magicked the sheets clean and I think he buried the zombie monkey in the floor where the hole was. Both are gone, anyway."
Randall makes a face at the idea of fighting zombies alone, especially after the last couple of bouts. "I mean, the old man survived in there without a problem, so probably no zombies, but..." He sighs wistfully. "Yeah, maybe best not to risk it."
At Muraisa's words, he grunts in exasperation. "Wizards."
Árón comes into the bedroom behind Muraisa. The rotund man takes one look at the dead dwarf and rubs his chin, "How in the hell did he get up here? Looks like he's been dead a while, probably right after this whole cataclysm thingy..." He looks at Kayin, bent over the body. "How did this happen any way? I couldn't divine anything of its origin, and certainly nothing coming from the Tower."
In response to Árón's questions, Kayin shrugs. "For the first question, I'd guess the stairs just like the rest of us," the oracle replies, unable (and, honestly, unwilling) to stop to himself from going with the answer such a question practically requires. "For the second, not a clue. I was minding my business not too far west of here, and suddenly everything went tits up and someone snuffed out the sun. I've heard a fair bit of talk from other survivors who seem to know a bit more, though, that Kiravor's grasping hands are involved somewhere in this mess." All the while, Kayin is watching the man closely, trying to discern if he shows any particular interest in the dead dwarf or the tattoo.
"Ayuh. I was underground when it happened. I came out of Eastgate and it was just straight-up chaos. I don't think anybody's got a real bead on what happened just yet." He waves a hand at the bodies. "We should probably clear the zombies outta here at least, and haul the bodies back to the Tower. I dunno if they'll get a true burial, but the priests can at least give them last rites or something." He shrugs lamely.
Randall scans the bedroom one more time for anything of note before they head off.
"Something broke the world. I was too busy dealing with things to hear if anyone explained it more than that." Muraisa shrugged and got ready to head out.
Árón cocks his head to the side at Kayin. "Well, of course, he used the stairs. It would have been foolish to come in through the window... I meant, that it's curious he's up here in my apprentices' room. I left him in the shop with his partner when I came up stairs, just before the earthquake." Kayin notices that the wizard's eyes scanning the dwarf's body but looks unconcerned that the oracle is holding the dead dwarf's weapons.
Randall looks around the room. Each of the three beds in here are covered with wool blankets. At the foot of each is a locked chest. A pair of old candles sits on the wooden table along the west wall. The dead dwarf is wearing a thick cloak with a furred collar and leather armor. A belt pouch hags from a sturdy, black leather belt, which also supports a sheath for a small sword and an iron loop wrapped in leather, meant to hold an axe or other similar weapon.
Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, Randall says to Aron, "Uh, I don't mean to belittle the memory of your apprentices or anything, but... Supplies are pretty scarce these days, what with the world ending and all. Would ya mind terribly if we sorted through these chests for supplies? Those who survived this chaos would probably appreciate it."
"Ah! A true scavenger," Árón smiles at Randall and nods. "They have no use for them now. And you may keep the things you took from my room," he continues, looking around at the others. "And from downstairs... Freedom without having to put down Máire is my reward and punishment I suppose... and the intact archives!"
Randall nods gratefully and checks the chests for traps before opening them up.
As Randall moves to inspect the chests, Kayin is ready to aid in his own manner, channeling magic into the rogue in a steady cycle. In between these casts of minor magic, he resumes his rotation of bolstering everyone within reach, even Árón. It's time-consuming, to be sure, but who knows little bit extra might make the difference if trouble occurs.
Muraisa nodded. "That's pretty fair." Perhaps it was to distract them from something else, but it was decent enough of the man to let them keep what they could for useful items. "What was with the fire book then?"
Randall quickly unlocks the chests. Each contains some clothing and an additional blanket. In the bottom of one chest, hidden in the clothing, is a small leather bound book. It is tied shut with a small cord but otherwise has no marking s on the binding or cover.
Árón laughs, "I see you found my client journal... wait! Did you open it? It didn't go off, did it?" he exclaims.
Muraisa tilted her head. "Is that why the fire happened? But, yeah. It's why there's a scorch mark on the ceiling downstairs. And some of us."
Without looking up from the lock he's currently picking, Rand points vaguely behind him and says, "Not a word, Sautekh. Toldja that one wasn't my fault." He returns the hand to the pick currently jutting out of the keyhole, never taking his eyes off his work.
Randall stuffs the clothes and books into his satchel. Paper will be in short supply very quickly, and he has no doubt someone can use the clothes. He nods to the others. "Alright, let's mosey." Despite his apparent eagerness to be underway, he waits until everyone is ready before heading out. He knows they have to return here eventually, but for now he wants to get Aron back to base--and get away from the building that almost killed him twice... and is still trying to kill him, now that he thinks about it. You better survive this disease, Randall old boy, he thinks sourly as they descend the stairs. No sense dying yet. You'll find your time.
Once the group is on their way, Rand returns to his usual shift of following a bit away from the party , skulking in nearby shadows, keeping an eye on their flanks.
The group leads Árón back to the bridge. The wizard looks utterly astounded at the carnage and devastation. Seeing few people h recognizes, he looks to the group, "So, um... is there anyone in charge here? I'd like to make sure that my shop is kept safe until I can get back in there!"
The bridge is rather quiet, although a loud ruckus can be heard to the south. Singing and loud voices are heard rather clearly. Marcusic thanks the group and advises them to visit the priestess of Teysura for some healing. "They will also lay the bodies of the slain to rest... and destroy the undead's corpses," the Constable remarks.
Randall nods. "Good idea. Maybe they can help with... whatever I got in me." He can't suppress a shudder at the thought.
Muraisa shrugged. They probably couldn't do any more harm, at least.
With Randall pilfering the chests of anything useful, Kayin himself snags the small journal for momentary inspection. Though, mindful of what happened the last time that they just opened up a book, he waits until for a better time to actually peruse the contents, such a time being after everyone is fully healed up. "It's unlikely, of course, that it has such expensive protections," the young man thinks to himself as he considers the book. "But I feel, and I think that the others would agree, that we've taken more than our share of chances today." With that, he returns the journal to Randall for storage before getting on with the business of leaving the Second Scribe.
Answering Árón's question, the oracle explains a bit, to the extent of his own knowledge on the matter, of the current power structure among the survivors, noting that the Constable is generally the one that most people deal with on a daily basis. Once they've arrived at the bridge, he helps with unloading the two bodies that they've brought along, then finds a place to simply sit and relax, that still allows him to participate in any conversations. Catching the Constable's attention with a weary call, he asks a few questions that are on his mind. "So what have today's efforts actually accomplished out here? And have those efforts perhaps earned us a place to squat that won't require us to share bunkspace in shifts? Speaking for myself, I'd also appreciate a proper workspace for my lab. Be a good bit easier to make useful things if I the room to do so."
"I have a tent," Muraisa said cheerfully. "It's a nice big one too. Should fit most of us without too much trouble." She eyed up the large bear. "Bjorkus would make things a bit cramped."
Looking over at the Constable, she added, "Food is what I'm interested in." That the animals were also affected by the undead was alarming. The situation wasn't going to be sustainable without some kind of magic.
At Muraisa's offer of a tent, Randall says through a mouthful of dirt and ash, "Shur. Uh en't pickeh." A few smoking embers drip out the side of his mouth.
The group settles down in Muraisa's tent just north of the barriers protecting the bridge. The sunless morning comes with shouts from the City Command. Peeking out of the tent, Titan spots two guards finishing off a lone zombie that had come upon the refugee encampment. Hiding behind the barricades, the guards poke the undead with longspears until it combusts in a violent explosion of blackened flesh.
Not long afterwards, the patrolling groups begin to muster and a plentiful array of provisions is brought down from the tower. After a hearty meal, the group heads to inn where Marcusic and the City Command have their temporary command center. The constable hands the group six flasks of antiplague and a hard leather scroll case sealed with red wax and an insignia bearing three letters, A.O.C. "Árón came by late last night. He left this for you," Marcusic says while handing over the scroll case.
Randall takes the case with mild surprise. "Huh. Weird. Didn't think the old man was the type to be grateful. Maybe I misjudged him?" He glances at the others. "Who wants to do the honors?"
He checks over the scroll case for booby traps, arcane or otherwise. Old habits die hard.
Slightly confused as well, Muraisa kept her distance from the potentially lethal paper.
Once everyone is settled in Muraisa's tent--and Kayin remebers to take a moment to thank her for its use--the oracle seeks out Marcusic, his drawn map in hand. Upon finding the Constable, and ensuring that he's not otherwise occupied, Kayin explains what he's found on the dead dwarf's neck, showing the copy he's drawn of the tattoo and how the various elements of the design match up with actual locations within the district. "The others are agreeable to exploring these places, which we believe may hold things of use," the oracle explains as he makes a painstaking copy of the tattoo on a fresh sheet of parchment for Marcusic to keep. "But simply wandering off into the Points to explore them would be very foolish on our part, and we might need members of the guard to secure them depending on what we find."
The oracle then offers his thoughts on the matter of Árón and the man's unusual bolthole in the Second Scribe. After a bit of thought, Kayin begrudgingly admits that his thoughts are purely supposition on his part, but feels that mentioning it would be better than not, just in case. After, he returns to the tent and settles to properly catalog what they've found so far by way of loot. It's disappointingly scanty, in his honest consideration, and hardly worth the suffering that they endured to claim it. Oh sure, he reminds himself, they did clear the shop for whatever use it could be put to, but that doesn't make up for the beating that they took in the process, never mind the exposure to that weird undead rot that a few of them now suffer from. Sighing, Kayin turns his attention to perusing the journal found in one of the chests at the Second Scribe, which occupies the remainder of his waking time.
Having refreshed himself and slept off the effects of the fight the previous, erm, day--Kayin rather misses knowing what time it actually is--the oracle prepares himself for a day of... well, he's not entirely certain. He knows what he'd like to be doing this day, but the Constable may have other ideas.
The various deliveries to the party are met with a raised eyebrow from the oracle, the case moreso than the antiplague. "Who knows, might be a bill for damages," he offers with a broad smile. "I mean, we did kind of wreck a few things in there, and we also spanked his monkey good and hard."[/b] With a slight grin, Kayin lays a hand briefly on Randall's shoulder as the latter inspects the scroll case. Once the rogue has given the nod, the oracle cracks the seal on the case and inspects the contents with a curious expression.
Marcusic carefully studies the drawings. "Interesting! I would not have recognized the connection to the landmarks... So, who is the dwarf? Did Árón know him? What was their connection? Why was the dwarf in his shop?" the constable begins to grill the oracle with a multitude of questions.
THe former rogue gives the scroll a thorough inspection but doesn't find any fiery runes or other traps. Receiving it from Randall, Kayin cracks the seal and unrolls the scroll. His eyes widen as he sees the flowing script of ancient draconic spelling out an arcane spell. Scrawled in new ink in the upper corner of the parchment is a note:
Randall blinks. "That is... not what I was expecting."
Muraisa looked over at the scroll, and while she could read the flowing draconic script it meant nothing to her. "Well, it was nice of him to think of us, and I admire his optimism. Maybe we can work something out."
The oracle answers all of the Constable's question with a shrug. "The answer to all of those is, 'I don't know.' It's not as if I really could press the man with any sort of authority." The oracles expression becomes thoughtful, and then shifts into a faint frown as he considers some things that hadn't previously occurred to him. "I will say that he seemed just as surprised to see him as the rest of us, which was odd considering that the shop was locked up tight, not to mention those zombies inside as well. And that he somehow didn't hear the fight that resulted in that dwarf, or the other fellow who I now realize must have been the dwarf's companion, dying." Frown still in place, Kayin shakes his head as the various oddities of the happenings at the Second Scribe go through his mind.
Kayin eyes the scroll with an intent expression before digging into the pouch at his side for a moment. He soon finds what he's seeking in there, a bit of clear crystal, and he mutters under his breath and makes a few odd gestures while clutching the stone. After a brief pause, the oracle casts a second spell, one that Randall at least should have some increasing familiarity with, and invokes the aid of his patron in his examination of the scroll's contents. "Now then, let's see what this is about," he mutters half to himself as he begins to carefully read the scroll.
Marcusic sighs and nods. "Might just be my cautious side coming out. There has been few survivors here and some haven't been that hospitable," he says rubbing his thigh as though he was soothing an old wound. "Well done, today. Get some rest. There's more to do tomorrow."
Kayin stares at the scroll for several minutes before turning the page upside down to see if that might help. In the end, the identity of the arcane scroll proves incomprehensible to the oracle.
With a soft growl of disgust, the oracle winds up the scroll and puts it back in the case. "Well, it's a spell of some sort. Unfortunately, I have no idea what kind of spell, the formula wasn't anything that I recognized. Maybe I can puzzle it out later, or find someone to translate it for me. Unless one of you would like to make an attempt," he asks while offering the case.
Marcusic looks up from the city map sprawled on the table in front of him. "Well, I have a few groups headed down the Lake Road to continue clearing the west side. I could send you either to the Cracked Barrel Brewery or the Screaming Timber... have a preference?"
Considering the map, Kayin frowns in thought, then taps the location of the brewery. "This should be our destination." Looking around to make sure that nobody who doesn't already know is within earshot, the oracle lowers his voice and explains. "This is one of the locations marked by that tattoo, so sooner is better than later as far as clearing it goes. If goes well, we might be able to hit the Timber too, but I wouldn't plan for that." Speaking at a more normal volume, the oracle continues. "We should visit the Second Scribe on the way, see if Árón is up and running and what he wanted from us. Though I doubt he'll back in any sort of business this quickly, it's not that far out of the way. And, if nothing else, he can tell us what that scroll is."
Rand shrugs. "Sounds good to me, friend. I'd love to see what this guy had stashed away. We need all the resources we can get."
Provided you don't die and turn into a zombie on the way, he thinks to himself. He does his best to swallow the lump in his throat surreptitiously.
Randall nods to Kayin. "Say, you mentioned something odd about the journal. Mind if I take a look?"
"I can read the scroll if you want. It's in Draconic, right?" Looking around for a moment, she added, "Coi ui bvecko svabol wux shilta yor shafaer vi gogetoi." Grinning, she continued, "Just tell me the bits you need to know so I don't set off whatever's on here."
Unable to decipher the journal, the group returns their attention to their next target.