RP:Detectives Linn and Josleen, Amateurs

Part of the Agitation Arc

Summary: In Xalious Village's town square a crowd has gathered around Farmer Delicate who lost his carrots, turnips, parsnips, and cabbage that morning to a strange and dark magic that has turned them to porous stone with inky black ooze in the orifices. Linn recognizes Josleen in the crowd and together they try to puzzle out what is happening to the village. Josleen recognizes the ooze as the same she (and Ansel) discovered in the valley. Their conversation draws attention from the crowd and many turns to Linn as likely hero and investigator of these dual tragedies.

Josleen leads Linn to the valley to collect a sample of the ooze, but when they get there, the valley has been terra-formed, poorly, to cover up any signs of misdeeds. Josleen suggests they visit Delicate Farm to collect some stony produce as samples, but when they arrive they are informed that three black-robed men (one tattooed with strange runes and symbols) had arrived just before Josleen and Linn and taken every single last spoiled vegetable with them by the barrel load. They carried the seal of the Mage's Guild. Mrs. Delicate cannot remember what the runes or symbols looked like, and Josleen and Linn take off to the Mage's Library to collect symbols to show Mrs. Delicate to see if it jogs her memory. On the way, they discuss a mutual bad feeling about all of this. Two tragedies, two cover-ups, and somehow the Guild's name is being dragged into it all.

They spend hours that evening in the library doing research, mostly for the investigation, but Linn can't resist researching personal pursuits as well.

Xalious Village

Josleen lingers on the outskirt of a huddled crowd just outside The Dancing Destrier. She pushes onto her tippy toes and cranes her neck to get a better view at the spectacle. “I’m ruined!” A male voice wails from the center of the crowd. From the center of the crowd the gossips ripples through the villagers and the veracity and detail of information dilutes with each retelling. By the time the gossip reaches Josleen, all she knows is that Farmer Delicate’s parsnips, turnips, carrots, and cabbage have undergone a strange affliction. The work of evil, no doubt! A witch? The drow? Theories abound. Somewhere in the middle of the pack a woman cries out, “First the birds in the valley, now this!”

Linn was passing through Xalious looking for someone with a certain intent. It looks like he might just be stumbling on to something quite different though. The first person to catch his eye was the one he met at the tavern here, out on the edge of the crowd. He approached curiously, mirroring her stance to see what was going on at the center. “Any clue what this is about?” he asked Josleen. He would be immediately recognizable from their last meeting by the mithril armor he wore.

Josleen drops onto her heels and leans slightly away from Linn to appraise him from head to toe. “Oh! Linn, right?” Her voice lilts with the song of recognition. She smiles disarmingly then pushes back onto the balls of her feet and squirms this way and that to land a better view of the day’s horror. Linn benefits from his height and has an easier time that the 5’ 2” half-elf at stealing a peek at the farmer’s wagon of petrified wares that resemble pumice stones carved to look like carrots, parsnips, and so forth. A mysterious inky black goop fills many of the porous stone’s orifices. “Well, I need to get a better look to be sure, but they say Farmer Delicate’s crop has been hexed. A few days ago the most horrifying curse befell the birds of the valley. Did you hear about that?” Her attentive gaze lifts to his expression to gauge how little or how much he knows.

Josleen didn’t even have to try to read his expression to tell he hadn’t heard about what happened. “No… I just got back around to here” Up on his own toes he managed to find a view through the sea of heads for a glimpse of the contents of the cart. “What the…” He looked confused for a split second before turning back. “What happened to the birds?” he asked quickly with an inquisitive look.

Josleen bounces back up at his ‘what the?’ “What, what?” say asks. Her eyes widen as if doing so will help her see more. “What did you see?” Her head cranes up towards him to try and mimic his vantage point. His question is temporarily ignored. A large man and his grown son shove through the crowd, cutting between Linn and Josleen and forcibly pushing Josleen onto her backleg to catch herself. “Hey!” Josleen calls after the pair, but they ignore her. The older man shouts, “This is the work of Cire, the God of Chaos! He is angry with our village for not revering the gods! We have forgotten our traditions, and the gods will not be ignored!” Josleen gives Linn a meaningful look that without addressing the doomsday prophet makes it clear that Josleen isn’t buying what the religious man is peddling. She whispers to Linn, “Last year the tomatoes didn’t properly ripen and they blamed the village women for not sewing enough mantles to Xalious. What does Xalious need mantles for?”

Linn recomposed himself after the bump, ignoring it. He shrugged at the question of mantles. “This isn’t going downhill from tomatoes not ripening, this went right over a cliff. His crops look like they were turned to stone. Other parts of them got turned in to this… black ooze.” He couldn’t find anything better to call it. He hesitated for a second before putting his pack down and laying it across the ground. “See if that can give you a better view, the stuff inside won’t mind.” It might give her two, three inches if she stood on the right spot, though it would feel kind of like standing on coarse gravel, dampened by the leather of the pack.

Josleen startles at the mention of black ooze. “You don’t say. Yes, thank you.” She stands on the pack and grips Linn’s inner elbow for balance, right on the soft material that that connects the mithril and lets his arm bend more freely. Anytime she slides or rolls a fraction of a centimeter, her grip on his elbow tightens; her fingers blanche. Gods forbid she fall three inches. She doesn’t even look at her human crutch, but the trick works and she manages to steal a glance at the oozing stone produce. “Yes, it’s as I feared,” she says as she climbs off his pack and releases him. “A few days ago I was in the valley when the strangest thing happened. Birds’ beaks were fused shut and they lost their senses. They started flying strangely, hitting themselves, and then dropped out of the sky and trees. Parts of their bodies collapsed into that black ooze. I reported it to the Mage’s guild, and they say they’re investigating, but nothing has come of it. At the time the birds fell, storm clouds rolled overhead but it didn’t rain. The strangest lightning, silent and black, filled the sky.” A woman in the crowd who has been eavesdropping on Josleen and Linn’s conversation turns to face them both and adds that she heard the delicates farm suffered a similar storm. She waits to hear their reactions. The duo is now a trio, it seems. A couple other heads turn towards the three.

Linn had taken a stance to resist the pushing and pulling at his side, helping to keep her standing, knowing exactly how uneven the ground under her feet was right now. He looked more and more perplexed as the situation was explained, retrieving the pack. “I have no clue how that would happen. I’d have to see it firsthand to know.” He turned his head to find the Xalious tree in the distance. “The tree hasn’t been touched by it though has it?” His mind was racing, spitting out more questions before he could even get the first answered. “It doesn’t sound like these storms have been very big though. Just the valley, now one of the farms…” It was all coming out in an attempt to lay the information before him. He would need some time to put all this in notes to decipher it.

Josleen shakes her head at the question. “No, The Tree so far hasn’t been in—” He’s onto the next question; she listens. “Right, not very bi—” A fourth man, dressed as a merchant, cuts off Josleen and interrupts Linn’s train of thought. He says to Linn, “The storms are definitely not natural. Very localized, brief.” Slowly the crowd splits between those listening to the doomsday prophet, and those interested in the mithril-wearing seemingly-heroic man puzzling through the problem. Josleen’s lips part again as if to add something, but she is cut off by a fifth man who says to Linn, “Those who have touched the ooze suffer no ill effects either.” Now Josleen turns a peeved, toothless, extra-wide false smile on the men who interrupt her. Great.

Linn looked around at everyone beginning to interrupt. Looks like they were attracting a crowd. Great. Well, they were at least giving him scraps of information to piece together. He paused for a second. Deciding whether or not it was a good idea or not to bring up the ring he had been using to take notes. It might bring the interest of someone that could help him with it later… Screw it. He addressed the whole crowd. “One second.” He gave Josleen a sideways glance, muttering something out only she could hear. He held his hand out before the mithril wires unwound themselves to allow the loop of diamonds to expand. A brief image of some kind of hole with a massive crystal bridging it appeared before it vanished with a turn of the loop. After some other manipulation of the diamonds he began again. “One at a time now”. The first few notes written themselves rapidly in the air, recording what was just said.

Linn whispered to you, "This crowd is about to get much worse, sorry.”

Josleen flashes a defensive, wry smile as Linn leans in to whisper. She watches the crowds’ faces for the stories they’ll invent and draft in their expressions. Small village, big gossip. The spectacle of magic detracts from whatever transpires between Josleen, known villager, and Linn, stranger. When he asks for details, Josleen again is cut off by a succession of men. Notably, none of them were present during the birds’ affliction. Josleen was, but alas, she is very short, young, and fair. After half the village has offered bits of information, some of it true (the storms have no thunder, the ooze feels like ink) and some of it false (the birds were plucked and had no feathers, two drow were seen lurking the burrows, a black jackal moved into the meadow), Josleen finally clarifies “The birds did have feathers, save the parts of them that were turned to black liquid which resembled ink.” As for the jackal and drow, well, she simply cannot confirm or deny.

The blitz of information was indiscriminately listed in to the space in front of him, the moment the space looked to be filled, he turned a diamond to make everything vanish and begin writing new information. “Sort this later…” he muttered under his breath. He figured at least half of it was utterly unfounded, but that could be handled pretty easily. Even Josleen’s interjection found its way into one of the pages. Eventually everyone that would talk had made their contribution, after which he closed the ring and gave a halfhearted bow for the display. “Thank you for all of the input, but I need some time to work through this.” He looked up to the sky with a sigh. “I want to get a good look at what exactly is happening as well.” With that he turned back to Josleen. “You know a good place where we could sort through all this?

Josleen is about to speak when yet again she is cut off by the merchant who says, “The Foxburr is quiet this ti--.” Josleen cuts him off right back and says with a peeved, fake smile, “Really, Terry?” Terry looks at Josleen very confused as if he has no idea what she is mad about. Without explaining herself further, she addresses Linn, uninterrupted this time. “I can take you to the place in the valley where the birds died. You may be able to get a sample of the black ooze there.” An older woman, an old farm hand by the look of it, croaks out a final question to Linn. “Who are you, young man? A new acolyte in the guild?”

Linn completely ignored the merchant while trying to disperse the rest of the crowd. He nods briefly to Josleen, though his eyes were lit with a great anticipation. This was something he wanted to see. Before he left he managed to get out an answer to the woman’s question. “Just a traveler that’s too curious for his own good.” It almost sounded like a jest, though there was a certain sincerity behind the statement. Finally disengaging from everyone else he motioned for Josleen to lead the way with a wry smile at the chaos they just dealt with.

Josleen had started this encounter on the outskirts of the crowd, and now finds herself at its heart alongside Linn. The two push their way out, or to be more honest about it, Linn pushes his way out and Josleen uses him like a human plow that carves a path before her southbound. Once they break the throng of people, the bard takes a deep breath as if breathing for the first time after a deep dive. “Good lord, you’d think we were in the heart of Cenril during a riot!” She laughs softly and leads the way at his side, her body language suggesting when they should turn without any vocal cues. “The Guild took all the birds, I’m afraid, as part of their investigation, but some moss was affected as well. Hopefully some of that remains.” It’s a short walk, but long enough to be awkward if traversed in silence. As so she asks, “How do you make your living?”

Valley of Trees

Linn couldn’t help a steadily growing laugh as they left the town. “I try to avoid displays in front of big crowds for that reason. The things I do tend to be very conspicuous.” He had steadied down to a somewhat self-conscious chuckle. He looked up a bit at the question about making a living. “I find little projects here and there to help with and get paid. If things get tough I have a fair collection of things people find valuable. Fortunately some people pay through the nose for basic enchantments.” He ended with a smile, it really was funny just how people could get wrapped up in the novelty of magic. “Well let’s see what we can find here. I doubt they could get rid of all of the ooze.”

Josleen grins at what she assumes is Linn’s polite, but false, modesty. He seemed to enjoy the attention, not that there’s anything wrong with that in the opinion of a bard. “Mhm,” she teases, lightly skeptical, but not at all critical or judgmental. His profession is met with equal approval. “I imagine so,” she muses. “And I suspect the people of Xalious will pay handsomely for wards of protection after these strange going-ons. Ah, here we are.” They are paces away from a large boulder which is covered in a blanket of vivid green moss. Josleen’s smile fades, and her steps slow then speed up. She circles the boulder twice. “What?” she asks herself in surprise. The moss and surrounding grass have regrown. It looks almost as if nothing happened here — almost. “This is impossible! No way could the moss and grass have regrown this quickly. I--i think...” Her nose closes in inches from the moss as she inspects the tiny leaves. “It isn’t even the right species!” She jerks away from the boulder as if she found a venomous spider. Circling the area behind the boulder, she points at some near-invisible perimeter. “Look, look. If you look carefully you can just make out that the grass is wrong too. The new grass has a slightly different blade.” If Linn were to judge the area of effect of the strange bird-curse by the carpet of new grass, it’s roughly an area of twenty feet in diameter.

Linn watched with curiosity as Josleen was nearly flipping out. She certainly didn’t find what she wanted to here. He brushed over the moss gently with his hand. “Maybe something’s left over?” He pressed the edge of the plate on his arm hard into the moss, looking to pick up whatever might be hidden deep under it. A drop of clear water dripping off the end was all he got for the effort. What a bust. Following her out he found the edge that divided the grasses. He began to follow it around in a circle until he very nearly bumped into a tree that interrupted it. Looking up with a grin at another lead he asked. “Anything happen to the leaves of the trees?”

Josleen shakes her head and shrugs at the same time. “I didn’t take a good look. Not that I noticed, but…” Following his example, she looks up at the trees. “Maybe?” She glances from Linn to the canopy expectantly like she expects him to shimmy up a tree, no problem. She gives him an encouraging thumbs up placed just before a cheshire smile.

Linn set his pack down and breathed an anticipatory sigh before jumping up to grab one of the branches of the tree, pulling himself up on top of it to go further up. After a while he got in to the canopy. He definitely lacked the grace of an elf, stopping after each move to plan the next, but he managed to make his way up with a great precision that kept away the idea that he would fall out soon enough. Crawling out on one of the branches above the circle that had been changed he tugged at a branch, which wouldn’t come free. He steadied himself against another one while he drew something from a pouch on his belt. A field of blue light suddenly sprung from inside his hand before it began to fold in on itself to form an edge. Closer inspection would find it to have a strange black rim that seemed to absorb light just as the rest gave it off. The small snap and rustling of leaves signaled his success at freeing the branch, with it falling out of the tree down to Josleen. “There’s one sample!” came from above. Just like that the field pulled back to his hand and vanished as he began to make his way to the other side of the tree, outside of the storm’s influence.

Josleen is cool as a cucumber down on the ground. She peers up through the leaves at Linn’s ascent. Her hands juts against her forehead like a visor shading her eyes from the midday sun that beats down on them on this unseasonably warm autumn day. She shrieks as a branch comes tumbling down despite the fact that at no point was she in danger of being hit. This fact dawns on her a second too late and she burns bright red with embarrassment. “Great job!” She calls over with confidence, as if she isn’t the same girl who freaked out over nothing. As Linn risks life and tree limbs outside the circle of influence, Josleen’s already inspecting the fallen sample. Just as the spell blade cuts loose a second branch, Josleen announces, “The leaves are all wrong,” thereby making his second efforts completely useless just moments after the fact. When it comes to botany, Josleen is quite knowledgable thanks to her naturalist father. “Whoever terraformed this flora is quite an amateur,” she shouts up at Linn.

A similar small snap and “aha!” came from the other end of the tree. Just as the announcement another, bigger snap came with an accompanied crackling as something much bigger than the little twig just broke. “Too far! Went too far!” came a shout from behind the tree. Coming to look what happened she would find Linn hanging off of a half-broken branch quite some distance out from the trunk. He wasn’t heavy, even with the armor, but that wasn’t going to help with how far he went. What was funny about the situation was how low the snapping branch brought him, he was maybe only three feet above the ground right now, gripping the branch and regaining his composure, unaware that he could just jump off at this point.

Josleen jerks up like a prairie dog at Linn’s shout. “Linn?” She scrambles to her feet and circles the tree to see what’s the matter and immediately bursts out laughing. She doubles over, red in the face, trying to speak but unable to get a word out between the belly laughs. “Stay-stay” Huehuehue “Right there” “Hahaha. “I’ll s-s-sen.” Hohoho. “For help.” She exhales several times to catch her breath then adds, “Why don’t you jump down and have a seat and wait for rescue.”

Linn managed to open his eyes right as the laughing began. What was she laughing about? Couldn’t she see that he was… oh. The leaves rustled again as he curtly tossed the unaltered branch down to the ground. “Welp. That just happened” was his only response before he slid off the branch to the ground. He looked back up at it, seeing where it broke and checking the heights. “Yeah…” he trailed off, blushing with embarrassment. He was already heading over to pick up the branch he just cut, looking to change the subject now. He sat against the trunk of the tree he just climbed and sighed. “So someone tried replacing everything here?

Josleen bites on her bottom lip to try and stop herself from laughing. One more laugh catches in her mouth, cheeks puffing slightly until she finally lets it go in shuddered exhales through her nose. Graciously, she pretends not to notice Linn’s embarrassment and clunky subject change. With only the ghosts of a smirk (at his expense) she says, “Yes, that’s what it looks like. The question is, why? To beautify the valley, or to cover something up? But.” She walks over to Linn and offers him a hand to help him stand. “I have an idea. The trouble at the Delicates Farm occurred just today. If we pay a visit now, perhaps we can get our hands on some stoney tubers.”

Linn couldn’t help but smile at his own expense, shaking his head at the silliness of where his near-fall left him. Taking her hand he got up. “Best get going quickly then. See what we can find.” He circled around to grab his pack before taking the lead back to Xalious village, looking to get there before the scene wound up like it did here. “If they covered this up they did a bad job, they should have used samples of the stuff around here to keep it the same. Either that or magic growth just doesn’t work in quite the same ways.”

Josleen whistles low as Linn takes off to the north. “This way. Through the burrows.” She nods her head to the south. That’s the trouble with rural living. Nothing is ever centrally located. She nods at his observation. “I agree, unless the people who covered it up aren’t druids.” Beat. “If this is a cover up.” Another thoughtful pause. “Could be really bad illusionists at work here. For reasons sinister or benign, I do not know. But as I understand it, illusionists must take a lot of time and care to get miniature details right. Or maybe this is bad transmutation, from some other substance to a poor mock up of grass?” As they reach the delicates farm, she asks, “What school of magic do you specialize in? For the most part. I know mages dabble across disciplines.”

Linn stopped dead and turned around before following her lead. The embarrassments wouldn’t stop now it seems. Once they got going and talking about the potential reasons behind the reproduction he nodded in agreement. “I certainly hope it wasn’t a cover-up. If it was I’d be disappointed in more ways than one.” Staring forward in thought he continued. “I don’t think an illusion could be sustained like that though.” He looked towards his ring and the layers of enchantment and work he had on it. “Unless there was some kind of focus to carry it on.” A shake of his head dispelled that thought. “Too much work to keep it going. Just growing new life is what they would need.” The question of his school of magic caused quite a hitch though. His experience from magic wasn’t through any particular training or school. That was a very different topic altogether. He shrugged. “Never thought about it to be honest. I do a lot of enchantment, but the actual magic I use is something I never tried to define.”

Delicates Farm

Josleen doesn’t seem to think less of Linn for not knowing the way. She was born and raised here. He is brand new to the village. “Disappointed eh?” His choice of words elicit a smile. “Seems you’re already invested in the welfare of the village.” She nods along with his thought experiment regarding illusions, then his explanation of his ad hoc magic style. “My husband was like that at first. He wasn’t sure what his magic was.” Like the first time they met, talk of her husband is cold and matter-of-fact, like a how-to manual. “Here we are. Let me,” she says as she knocks on the door and opens it at the same time before being welcomes in. “Rooose!” She calls across the farmhouse. “Rose, I heard what happened. I’m here with a man named Linn. He’s looking into these strange occurrences and hopes to find a solution.” Rose recognizes Josleen by voice, “Coming, Jos!” and meets the visitors at the door which opens into a small storefront. The woman looks as though she has been crying and Josleen embraces her tightly. “The village will provide. It always does, dear,” says Josleen as she rubs Rose’s back. Mrs. Delicate presses a crumpled-up handkerchief against her nose and sniffs loudly. Josleen asks, “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those strange vegetables around, would you?” Rose gawks from Josleen to Linn then back to Josleen and shakes her head. “Wh-ho-. Why no! Three men came from the Mage’s Guild. Three young acolytes, new, and said they needed them for their investigation. When you said this fellow was investigating I thought…” She looks to Linn now and addresses him directly. “I thought you were with the Guild! Are you not?” Josleen’s brows knit and she regards the older woman keenly. “Are you certain they were with the guild?” “Why, yes! They had the seal.” “And they took it all,” Josleen insists. “By the barrel-loads.”

Linn gave a slight smile. “Some things are just easier to leave undefined.” As the two arrived at the farmhouse he kind of hung back while the introductions were made. A look of concern came across his face at the fast response that the Mage’s guild supposedly made to retrieve the affected crops. Jolted back to the current situation by being addressed he gave a quick response. “I am not. I’m from out of town, but what happened here is… strange. I want to look in to it myself.” He furrowed his brow as the identities of those who retrieved the crops were called in to question. “They shouldn’t need every last bit of it for an investigation.” He began to rub his forehead. Something certainly wasn’t right, and not just crops turning to stone.

Josleen doesn’t like the suspicion blossoming in her gut. She looks to the north through a small window that frame the Mage’s Tower in the distance. “They carried the seal, but you had never seen them before today?” the bard asks. “No, never, but there’s always new acolytes coming through. I didn’t think anything of it.” Josleen sends Linn a meaningful glance over Rose’s shoulder. Her lips are drawn in a taught line, and cheeks slightly hollowed by the suspicious purse of her lips. “How were they dressed?” “Black robes, a little facial hair, two elves I think, and a mixed race one. One of those gray elf types. Accents in red, and strange runes, or symbols, I don’t know, tattooed on the grey one’s hands.” Josleen arches a brow at this extra bit of information. “Could you draw one of the symbols?” As she speaks she pulls away from Rose and circles behind the register to fetch paper and a pencil which she places on the counter beneath Rose’s hands. The farmer’s wife closes her eyes as she tries to recollect a symbol, but after a minute of stumped silence she gives up with a sigh. “I can’t remember for the life of me. If I saw it again, maybe I could remember it, but…” Josleen nods quickly and says, “I’ll come back with a book of symbols and runes.” Rose laughs for the first time today. “Honestly, dear, I thought Mr. Linn was the investigator, not you.”

The expression on Linn’s face never changed throughout the conversation, his mouth slightly twisted and brows furrowed in perplexion at each next bit of information. Just barely lagging behind every event was beginning to get to him. He wanted to see something actually happen for once, not just pick through the pieces afterwards. He smiled at the idea of who exactly was the investigator. “We’re all trying to figure out what’s going on here. I guess that makes all of us investigators.” He was about ready to go back with Josleen before a thought hit him. He turned around and spoke seriously. “If they come back and ask about us while we are gone, we were never here.” A single nod concluded his statement before he was ready to leave for the book. “Let’s go.” A nervous tension was building in him. Whatever it was he hoped it was all unfounded.

Burial Mounds

Josleen smirks at the idea of Linn roping her in as co-investigator. The duo quickly snags on a bit of friction on how to approach the case, as it were. Her brows knit into a ‘what the heck?’ look behind Rose’s back as Linn instructs the woman not to reveal they were ever here. By the time Rose looks back at Josleen, the bard’s all sweet smiles and comfort again. “We’ll be in touch about the farm. I’ll check in soon. Be well.” The women embrace and exchange cheek-to-cheek air kisses. Outside, and some distance north from the farm, Josleen looks at Linn and asks, “What was that all about? Why so cloak and dagger?”

Linn sighed. “I don’t like this at all. The responses are too fast, whatever results of what’s been happening has been cleaned up too quickly. If it is someone is trying to keep a trick from being discovered, we might become a target. At the very least they will try to keep us out of these events.” A long silence as they walked. “If it does prove to be nothing suspicious, then that’s what happens, but I want to be ready for the worst. That means having the first move when we are going to need it. And we won’t if whoever out there knows we are pulling at the threads of their plan.”

Josleen nods in agreement that this looks like a clean-up job now. “Yes, the coincidences are too great. Someone is cleaning this up, but who? The way I puzzle it, there’s four options.” She holds up one finger. “The men who approached the Delicates Farm are not truly Mage’s Guild members, but impersonators with false seals. They are responsible and their actions were intentional or accidental. Second.” A second finger extends towards the sky. “These men are indeed members of the mage’s guild, and these were accidents they are clumsily and foolishly trying to cover up. Third,” A third finger lifts. “These men are a part of the mage’s guild and these occurrences are intentional, but they are rogue agents working behind the Guild Leadership’s back, or finally, fourth.” She shudders and drops her hand altogether. “The leadership is aware and behind the cover up.” She pauses meaningfully and stares at the tower. “I hope I am wrong on that final point.” As they reach the town she lowers her voice and stops speculating altogether. Who knows whose ears lurk in the village.

Linn “Let’s hope it’s all a botch.” Was the only thing Linn said on his way into town. He looked up at the tower as well, from the couple times he was there he saw something good in what they did. Here’s to hoping it wasn’t just a mask for something else. He eased himself as they went in to town to make it appear as if nothing was special, but he remained silent as they went to retrieve the book.

Mage's Library

Josleen murmurs under her breath to Linn’s hopeful prayer, “Hear hear.” The massive library houses hundreds of books on symbols and runes. Josleen shares an idea to use Linn’s ring to record sketches of each symbol so that it is easier to transport this information to Rose. Carrying these tomes would be a hassle otherwise, and the librarian isn’t keen on loaning the books anyway. Normally non-members don’t have full access to all the stacks (let alone check-out privileges), but Josleen is well connected in the guild thanks to her father and husband. Using their clout she negotiates with the librarian to permit them near-unfettered use of the library, save for a few so-called dangerous book sections. Even with Josleen’s idea to use Linn’s ring to their advantage, they will be in here for hours. While they’re here, they may as well look through the history books for any sign of occurrences like this taking place in the past. Given all this research, they’ll likely have dinner here too, in the main common area, and by the time they are done it will be too late to visit with The Delicates this evening. Another day, so be it. Most of these evening hours are dedicated to work, but some of her personal life leaks through in unguarded moments of socialization. She studied music at the academy in Cenril, she was Xalious’s version of a girl scout in youth, she is also a nurse and has volunteered in Frostmaw during its last two wars, she loves word games (and tries to engage Linn in a few), and has written a ballet and a play as well as several epic poems. Each of these anecdotes seem an innocuous thread on their own, but weave to form the beginnings of a tapestry of friendship. It’s in the mundane details we know of each other where we cement our bonds.

Linn couldn’t have looked any happier at the opportunity to find and copy the massive stores of information kept here. It wasn’t just that he could find what he needed, but it would also give him a chance to test just how much information that his tool could hold. He had evidently found some books for his own interests, dealing with theories of mana and its flow, some of its effects on the environment, among other metamagical information. Others dealt with subjects of illusionary magic and its applications. Evidently he was taking this opportunity to satisfy a couple of his own interests. Symbols drawn, diamonds turned, more symbols drawn. Pages upon pages of text found their way in to the ring, a seemingly bottomless vessel for what it was made to contain. The fragments of his past that came through during their breaks gave a very different story from her own. He came from a land far to the west, nearly unheard of here. Many of his stories revolved around his journeys that eventually brought him to this section of Hollow. Some about dungeon diving for bits and pieces of treasure, odd jobs and situations people gave him. A lot of reactions to him playing some sudden magical trick as a surprise. Each story seemed to have in common his inquisitive nature, always looking for something more behind the initial appearance. Questions, answers, the unusual, were his life. Even the most mundane of situations housed intricacies and secrets that found his attention. Yet for everything he gave away, he never touched the subject of his childhood, or how he came to know magic as he used it.