Talanor, the Last Haven (Table #2)

Game Master Valjoen_KC

Sautekh will keep to the front. Trying not to interfere with the workings of those tasked to make their passage as safe as possible

The group gathers in the upper hallway as Randall makes short work of the locked door. It opens to a small room with book shelves on either side. The shelves are full of leather bound journals. The bindings are marked SS vol.1 and number sequentially up to SS vol.414. The room is very clean with little sign of wear.

As Randall and Muraisa begin to enter the archive room, a voice shouts out from the bedroom, "Son of a b#$@%!! Máire!? Ah... what in the world happened to ya, girl?" Sautekh and Titan are able to make out a figure in a dark purple shirt with a long shirttail and black pants standing in the bedroom looking down at the dead mandrill.

IF no-one stops him, Sautekh will approach the figure

Hearing the unfamiliar voice, Kayin stops almost in mid-stride and then turns to face the doorway leading to the bedroom, his crossbow coming up to cover the entry. He says nothing, but does direct slightly worried looks to the rest of his comrades before nodding toward the bedroom, wordlessly asking what they should do.

Rand's mouth opens once, twice, then clamps shut, and he shrugs, resting his spear against his shoulder as non-threateningly as possible and stepping into the bedroom. He catches the longspear on the doorframe and he grunts irritably as he maneuvers it into the room. He then leans against it as he regards the figure.

"Evenin', gent! You, uh. You the owner of the zombie monkey?"

"The undead curse that's torn much of the world asunder happened, alas." Muraisa looked at the monkey for a moment, but was diplomatic enough not to shout, and then I happened! BWAHAHAHA! although the urge was terrible. Instead she looked over at Randal. "Should have known it was a woman, the way it fought. Kicked arse it did."

Sautekh, followed by the others, steps into the bedroom to see a rotund man with blonde hair and rather bushy muttonchops standing over the mandrill. His hazel eyes glance towards the doorway before quickly returning to the dead monkey.

"She made it clear that I didn't own her. But we were friends. I suppose you're responsible for this, eh?" His voice was calm but his eyes told the story of his grief. His features were a little off for most of the Broanin. His ears were slightly elongated and his eyes more almond shaped. Elvish blood had found its way into his family generations ago. He, more than most, bore the unmistakable signs.

Titan leans into the doorway with his bow lowered but clearly at the ready.

"Who are you?" the hunter demands. "I assume you're not with the forces clearing the undead from this block."

Sautekh stretches his hand out "I am sorry for your loss. It was not our intention to cause a scar in another's soul. We are simply trying to make the world... less dangerous"

Calming Words: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about your friend. Even as a zombie she was dangerous, fierce and very nearly eviscerated me." Muraisa pulled her shirt up to reveal the part healed wounds the creature had inflicted. "If it wasn't for this damned plague she'd have been a real help to you. But she was dead when we found her. All that was left was the disease, and hate, and violence." Which wasn't far off Muraisa, when you got right down to it.

"If you want to buy her I'll help you, but let me carry the body. Her blood is probably still infectious. It's not something I'm concerned with, but we can wrap her up and put her to rest. We'll be dealing with the other folks we've had to put to rest once we're sur this building is safe." And it's probably his friends and family downstairs...with gaping axe wounds. This might get...testy.

While his companions engage the strange man, and apparent friend of the undead mandrill--and Kayin can't help but wonder if they were friends before or after the whole undeath thing--the oracle stay silent and eyes the man intently. A naturally suspicious sort, Kayin doesn't trust that this man is here just because, especially not with the mandrill in tow. And so, he looks for any clues in word or demeanor that might provide a clue as to his goals... or a warning of danger.

Casting Sense Motive, aided by guidance to see what Kayin can discern about this fellow.
Sense Motive Check: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 1 = 9

Effects: Resistance (+1 saves, 1 minute duration), Fatigued (25/40 minutes). Weapon Cord (left): Yes; Weapon Cord (right): No. Encumbrance: Medium (-3 ACP, 20 ft.).

"The name is Árón... Árón of the clan of Cairbre... and this is my shop," he murmurs without looking up from the mandrill. He raises his right hand towards the head of the bed and closes it as if gripping something floating, invisible in the air. He drags his clenched fist down, and the heavy winter blanket folds upon itself and covers Máire's corpse. "At least, it was my shop before everyone starting turning into the undead minions of Kiravor!" He spits on the ground, before slumping his shoulders and using his overgrown boot to wipe the phlegm from the wood flooring. "Dam!"

"Did everyone at the shop turn into one of them... undead?" Árón asks with a slight hiccup. Covering his mouth, the scribe looks a little flushed with color in his cheeks. "Sorry. I've been stuck in there for several weeks, since the whole place started shakin'... which, by the way, what day is it?" he scratches his chops with both hands. "And what in the world happened anyway?"

@Kayin - Árón looks honesty and forthcoming to you. You don't notice anything of concern.

"Seventeenth of Selefis, friend. And yeah, everyone we've come across here has been recently reanimated. Er, sorry for yer loss." He coughs awkwardly before continuing. "We can escort you to safety, if you'll give us a moment to finish clearing the Scribe of danger. I don't think you wanna stick around just now. The whole region has been overrun with undead. You'll probably be safer behind the barricades."

Not great at Diplomacy, but I'll roll it in case he doesn't seem convinced.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Muraisa looked impressed that Randall knew the day. She'd never paid much attention to things like that before the world had ended. "We found three other people who'd been turned, but it might have been customers or other people. If you come back to the camp you can look for anyone who might have made it." Some of those books had lucked heavy enough to bludgeon the undead...

@Valjoen: Not noticing is, of course, not the same as there not being anything. Thanks, lousy dice :D! Anyway, is there any chance that Kayin has heard of the Cairbre?

@Kayin - You'd have heard of Árón, but don't know him personally nor have you seen him. You knew he was a scribe and dealt with local and long distance correspondence.

@Valjoen: Okay, but nothing about the Cairbre as a whole then, perhaps from back home?

No, He's a long time resident of the Vale. He doesn't hail from your hometown.

Seventeenth of Selefis! Dam... two months to the day." Árón says shaking his head. When Muraisa describes the bodies in the main hall, he just sighs. "Likely my apprentices... that's terrible. Go ahead and check the rest of the place. I'll get my things and follow you back." He ducks through the opening back into the hidden room beyond the concealed panel. "And who made the hole in my floor, dam it!!" he yells back.

With Árón apparently not a threat, Kayin relaxes somewhat. "Well, I suppose a survivor isn't a pretty bad find, not after this long," the oracle says with a thoughtful expression. "Don't think that we'll be laying claim to this place though, and we'll probably have to return anything we've already found." As he speaks, something occurs to him, and Kayin turns to Muraisa with a wicked smirk. "And you get to explain why that one book is nothing but a scattering of ash."

Randall's ashen skin manages to get a little pink in the cheeks at Aron's exclamation, and he does his best to look as nonchalant as possible somewhere else. "Might as well finish those rooms," he grumbles, nodding at Muraisa and Sautekh. "Shall we?" He steps into the small room and takes a look around.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 (+1 vs Traps)

"I think it was the book that made the hole. I put one in a wall though. But it was an accident." She didn't remember finding anything interesting in the place, frankly, but the man was owed what was his.

Sighing, Muraisa headed for the slightly open door in the corridor and pushed it open a little more so she could see past.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Sautekh will follow Muraisa, best be two at a time, dont want any of the group to be ambushed separate from the others

Randal peeks into the archive room to find copies of more journals and records stacked along several bookshelves. The bindings of the books are finely crafted and numbered sequentially starting with the year then volume number. The tiefling quickly surmises that at least 300 volumes are stored here.

Just down the hall, Muraisa pushes open the door to the far room. She and Sautekh can see a pair of beds with small foot chests on the southern wall. A large reddish rug sits in the middle of the room. The unmistakable stains of dried blood tint most of the rug and a portion of the floor deep crimson.

Grunting at the sight of blood, Muraisa raised her weapon before moving inside. It wasn't impossible that the monster that had done this had wandered off, but then it wasn't impossible it was behind the door or something either.

Sautekh follows the barbarian into the room. Their weapons raised in anticipation of battle. But nothing stirs in the room. The half-eaten corpse of a dwarf lays upon the far side of the rug. A handaxe rests in the clutches of his right hand while a shortsword lays near his left. His chain shirt ripped open by savage claws, is stained with the same blood. A small tattoo can barely be made out on the back of his neck. A portion of it eaten away by the undead that roamed the shop.

Quick note since its been a few weeks. You had a zombie attack during the first battle from the stairwell leading upstairs, and this room's door was open.

Kayin peers past Randall's shoulder with a curious expression on his face, but the cramped confines of the room discourage him from crowding the rogue; if there should happen to be any more trapped volumes like the one that they'd already found, being able to move fast might make all the difference. Instead, the oracle continues along behind Muraisa and Sautekh, crossbow held at the ready (though he does take a moment to restore the beneficial magic on Randall before he moves on).

The dead dwarf doesn't draw any worry from the young man, since it's clearly dead-dead and not the other sort that they've had to deal with today. Instead, he simply moves over and gathers up the unneeded weapons, tucking both into his harness to store them temporarily. "Shame about that armor," Kayin remarks as he inspects the body, most of his attention on the ruined chain shirt. "I'm sure someone could have used that, if it weren't for the damage. Might be that there's somebody with the means to repair it though, so I guess we'll take it." With that, he sets the crossbow aside and begins to divest the body of the aforementioned armor.

@Valjoen: If Kayin notices the tattoo, does he recognize it at all?

Effects: Resistance (+1 saves, 1 minute duration), Fatigued (25/40 minutes). Weapon Cord (left): Yes; Weapon Cord (right): No. Encumbrance: Medium (-3 ACP, 20 ft.).

Looking at the dead Dwarf for a moment to make sure it didn't stir - and agreeing that it was a shame that the zombies had torn through the poor sods armour - Muraisa rummaged through the rest of the room, to make sure there wasn't anything too interesting. "Is that it? I don't think there's anywhere else in this place, right?"

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

Stilling as his mind begins to make connections, Kayin stares blankly at the tattoo for a few moments, then gasps and looks to the other two in the room. "Quickly, get that satchel from Titan and bring it here, I need the stuff inside it." Excitement ringing in his voice, he points at the corpse. "This tattoo? It's a map, of this district, and I think it might be a good idea to make a copy of it before anything else happens to this body." Almost the moment he finishes, something occurs to the oracle, and he frowns. Padding over to the door, he looks down the hallway before continuing in a much quieter voice.

"Uh, and I think we might want to keep this quiet around Árón. I mean, nobody just inks a map into their own hide for fun, especially not one that they can't even see. And if this fellow is known to him, then either Árón knows what this map is about and might have problems with us knowing, or he doesn't and we don't need anyone poking around before we have our chance." Not surprising to those who know him, Kayin's self-interest in the matter of this uncovered secret is foremost on his mind, though he's rather proud that he didn't actually have to remind himself to include the others in his planning.

Muraisa looked at the man for a moment, before shrugging. A treasure hunt seemed a bit silly, but it wasn't impossible. She headed back down the passage and waved to Titan. "Kayin needs you in the bedroom." She paused for a moment, realising how that sounded. Then decided she didn't care. And it was funnier this way.

Titan flashes his ursine companion a 'stay' gesture and follows the barbarian further down the hallway.

"What's this all about?" he asks the oracle. "Did you find something important?"

Seeing Titan, Kayin does another check down the hall before answering the hunter. Once satisfied that Árón isn't around, he points at the dwarf's body. "Yep, sure did. That dead fellow there has what very much appears to be a map tattooed into his neck. And it looks like a map of this district, based on the position of various parts of the design. I need the ink and parchment I stashed in that satchel you claimed, I want to make a copy of the design while I have the chance to do so."

Returning to the body, the oracle positions it to fully expose the design--allowing for the damage its taken, of course--and directs Titan's attention to it. "I don't know how familiar you are with this area, but these bits line up exactly to places around here, in both distance and relative location," he says while pointing out the particular parts that caught his eye. "And, as I told Muraisa and Sautekh, nobody gets something like this put on them, especially when they can't even see it themselves, just for fun."

@Valjoen: Can Kayin read this well enough to actually name the most probable landmarks that the tattoo lines up with?

Yes. The runes share a single, spine with the R reversed. The spine starts at the bell tower, runs through the Mother's Rest and ends at the Tower Gate. The top upperward sloping marks of the F rune connects the Bell Tower and the Constable's Príosún ending at the Griffon's Beak, a rugged cliff in the mountains. The lower mark of the F rune connects the Mother's Rest and the Old Market ending near the walled off pass to the Estates. The upper portion of the reversed R runs from the Bell Tower to the Cracked Barrel Brewery to the Mother's Rest. The lower arm of the reversed R runs from the Mother's Rest to By Hammer and Hand. The three links of chain in the tattoo run from the Bell Tower to the Tower Bridge. These eight stone structures are the only ones to have survived the great fire of 6922 E.C. I've updated your larger map to reflect how the tattoo's geometric shapes spell out the letters.

Satisfied nothing in his immediate vicinity is about to blow up, Randall steps into the bedroom and peers curiously at the corpse. "Poor bastard," he mutters. Seeing everyone's faces, he frowns. "What's up?"

(Assuming someone fills him in...)

Rand rubs the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Mm. That is definitely weird."

Does this sound like something possibly used for illicit means? Like a smuggling map or something similar? Could I roll a Knowledge (local) to find out?

@Randall: There is a local "protection" service in the district, or there was before the Shaping, rather. While Valjoen didn't explicitly say as much, I got the feeling it was very much a Broanin-run affair akin to the Mafia. Kayin is dimly considering a link between this ink and that group; the potential connection hasn't quite gelled enough to raise IC.

Does this sound like something possibly used for illicit means? Like a smuggling map or something similar? Could I roll a Knowledge (local) to find out?

Sure. When in doubt, feel free to give me a roll. I'll disregard if it is irrelevant or not applicable.

"Well," Muraisa said, tapping her own ear - which was covered in glowing fire tattoos - with one long finger, "There are reasons on occasion. Not this occasion, I mean. But other occasions." She really hoped that she was cured before this disease could affect the tattoos that covered her body. That would be...problamatic.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Ooh not bad!

Rand rubs absently at the back of his neck. "I've seen this before," he says quietly, nodding at the map tattoo. "My... friend... used to trade goods of a, uh... illicit... nature with a guy for medicine and these strange scrolls. Never learned what the scrolls were for, but they all had something very like this tattoo drawn at the top."

He shakes his head. "So, yeah. Probably this guy was a fence, or something similar. And if he worked for Aron..." He shrugs. "I mean, this place does--er, did--message running too, right? Not a bad front for a fence."

@Valjoen: Will any sort of check be required to (accurately) copy the tattoo?

Looking up from his painstaking copywork of the tattoo, which he's trying to make as accurate as he can manage, Kayin shakes some the ache from his hand. "Interesting. Then this map might be what we need to locate their various hidey-holes and storage caches throughout the Points. And it's definitely something we shouldn't share out with Árón." The oracle sighs and, with obvious reluctance, continues. "Much as I'd rather keep this for ourselves, we'll have to at least inform the Constable, if only so he's aware that we're out and about. And if we recover anything worthwhile, I'm sure that the refugees could probably use it. We could probably put in for first claim on some stuff though, for our part in recovering anything."

Something occurs to Kayin then, a memory of when he first arrived in the district, and he shares it with the others. "You know, there was this group that came by pretty regularly to collect a fee from me for the little stall that I ran before the disaster. Nothing official, mind, but they made it clear enough that paying was not an optional thing. I'll bet those folks and whoever this map belongs to are probably either really closely linked, or even the same group."

Randall plucks a handful of ashes from the small bag on his pouch and shovels it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he watches Kayin work. At the oracle's words, the old paranoia creeps in for a moment. He asks, as nonchalantly as possible, "These folks with their 'collection agency.' One of 'em didn't wear a bearskin cloak by any chance, did he?"

@Valjoen: Will any sort of check be required to (accurately) copy the tattoo?

Why don't you give me a Dex check.

Returning to his copying, Kayin answers Randall's inquiry with a shake of his head. "Nope, never saw anyone dressed like that swing by to collect my "tithe." He pauses momentarily to direct a sharp look at the rogue, suspecting that there's reasons for Randall's rather specific question. But it's not the oracle's business--Ealintaine knows, he's got his own things to keep quiet--and he doesn't ask. Instead, however, he shifts the inked quill to a section of the parchment well away from his copied tattoo and draws, as best as he can recall and recreate with his lack of actual artistic skill, the rune that he saw periodically in the company of his local protective association's representatives.

@Randall: What Kayin drew is a circle, with two intersecting lines inside of it.

Hoping that it's a reasonable effort, he points to the rune. "If it helps you any, I saw that quite a few times when they'd swing around to collect from me. If your bearskin cloak fellow was in any way linked to my payment fellows, he'd have probably had that around somewhere."

Titan wouldn't voice it but he was impressed by the collected bits of streetwise lore assembled by the party that seemed to point at some kind of rogue's cache. He lowers his bow as he watches the oracle's careful work.

"Well, damn. Once Kayin's done we can report to Marcusic that this building is clear and then try to track down whatever sites are illustrated on that map. We should bring Árón with us when we report in. He shouldn't be wandering the city like that."

Sorry Valjoen, missed your response about the check! Here you go.

Dexterity Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Oooo, I hope that that's a good result. Too bad guidance doesn't apply to ability check rolls.

"One last thing to check," Muraisa nodded to Titan. "You boys finish up here." Heading back down the corridor, she called out Árón. "I don't suppose this place has a attic or basement, does it? If not then we're done, and can take you back while we report in." Any lives saved in this time were a good thing. Unless a miracle happened people were going to be a scarity in the world soon.

In midst of the copying, Kayin suddenly stops, then groans and presses a hand against his face as something that Randall said finally registers with the oracle's fatigue-fogged mind. After another check at the door to make sure that Árón isn't within earshot, he explains to the others what just occurred to him. "Gods, if it was a snake, it would have bit me, it's so obvious. What use does an honest scribe have for a hidden room," he asks his companions, the question of Árón's unexpected survival suddenly becoming quite relevant. Returning to his work, which he tries to finish quickly without distorting--Árón has been conveniently absent, but that certainly won't last--Kayin's mind goes over what he's previously missed, and he doesn't hesitate to share his thoughts.

"Okay, I mean, a small space for particularly valuable or sensitive work, I can kind of see that. But that room is probably as big as the office below it, what would require that much storage that wouldn't be better off in someplace actually built for that very purpose?" Shaking his head, Kayin frowns but keeps drawing. "No, no, I think Randall pegged it just right," he says before flashing the rogue a faint smile. "Árón is probably up to his bushy cheeks in whatever this map is part of. The question is, do we mention our suspicions to the Constable," he finishes with a thoughtful expression.

Kayin takes a long look at the copy of the tattoo he drew upon the parchment. It looked close enough to the oracle, and a smile krept upon his face as he examined it. His mind spins with thoughts of conspiracies and secrets, but at least his drawing looked like an exacting copy.

Further down the hallway, the barbarian calls out for Árón. Turning the corner and looking into the scribe's room, Muraisa sees him neatly making the bed. The black stained sheets now clean and the mandrill no where to be found. Árón looks up at her. "Oh, sorry. What?" he says, his thoughts else where it seems. "No... no. There is no basement, and just my storage room up here," Árón points to the still open hidden panel.

He pats the bed one last time and picks up a sack lying on the floor next to him. He walks over to the panel and closes it with an audible click. "Let's go," he says to Muraisa and heads down the hallway to join the others in the back bedroom muttering to himself. The barbarian takes another look at the concealed door that Árón closed. It is barely visible, she notes. The same natural wood color as the well preserved floor.