I appreciate the kind words, as always. The story hour is still a couple of years (and about 35 runs) behind where the game is now, so there's lots still to come. Writing this competes with a bunch of other things for my scarce time, but my intent is still, as it always has been, to chip away, one update at a time, until I've told the entire tale.
As for the campaign itself: I think I'm still on track to finish it up in the next couple of years. The PC's are one good boss-fight away from reaching 20th level, they're festooned with epic and near-epic magic items, and they have only a couple of loose plot-ends to tie up before effectively triggering the end-game. It's a strange feeling.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 297
Cloaks and Hoods
The sun has now set over Chiswick's farm; the Company has been awake for 20 hours straight. They set up the Lucent Tower on the old diviner's front lawn and are woken the next morning by the crowing of a rooster.
Belinda is extremely eager to get back to the Guild, and as the Company doesn't wish to wake Chiswick from sleep (even would his servants allow it), they leave him a note of thanks and plane shift back to Abernia. At the Diviners' Guild, Belinda strides through the halls, knocking on doors and shouting.
“Up! Wake up! We're trying again!”
Various diviners in their pajamas appear sleepily in doorways. It's five o'clock in the morning.
“What makes you think it's going to work this time?” asks Ragmir, rubbing sand from his eyes. Belinda just smiles and beckons.
As the diviners file into the ritual room and start to prepare the spell, Belinda details her meeting with Chiswick, eyes flashing with anticipation. She almost seems possessed, though without losing her innate sense of rigor. They carefully step through a trial run – just as well, with some of the diviners still groggy at such an early hour.
They start the ritual. Once again, near its conclusion, the Tome of Deceit appears in the circle. The ungainly pendant around Belinda's neck starts to glow, and sweat beads on the diviner's brow. Her face contorts for a moment as though she's engaged in a great mental struggle; Morningstar readies another revivify. But Belinda smiles suddenly, closes her eyes, and in a voice several registers lower than her own, intones:
The tree is hidden in the woods, disguised as a treatise on cloaks and hoods. Follow a seamstress, a maid or tailor, discover the truth, and her words will fail her.
Her eyes snap open. “Yes!” she shouts with glee. “What did I say? Did someone write it down? Tell me you wrote it down!”
Then she sits heavily, her strength spent.
“From what Chiswick told me,” she says, “Praska still doesn't know we're onto her. She may have other divinatory protections beyond this book, but this is the key – her main line of defense.”
“Thanks very much!” exclaims Kibi. “That was well done.”
* *
The Diviners, the exhausted Belinda included, go back to bed. The Company stays in the ritual room for a few minutes debating their next move. They can think of three immediate courses of action at this point: continue their current pursuit of Praska; go to the Necromantic Forge to free Califax's soul; or investigate the recent death of a member of the Great Pack. They decide to go with what's most current – Praska.
There is swift agreement that Belinda's little rhyming riddle means the Tome of Deceit is hidden in a library. There are two such likely places right here in Hae Charagan – the library at the Temple of Delioch, and of course the Vault, the largest repository of written works in the Kingdom.
“Time to look for books about cloaks and hoods!” Dranko exclaims.
“Yeah,” Aravis says wryly. “Maybe for once in our careers it'll be that simple.”
They first try the library at the church. Dranko and his friends are let onto the grounds without question, and they march straight to the repository which is housed in some basement rooms beneath the main courtyard. Most of the collected works are religious in nature – there's a separate wing for holy writings and scripture – but there's a small room with a few dozen books and scrolls on a variety of topics. There is only one book about tailoring and sewing to be found, though it's not about cloaks and hoods specifically. Half the book concerns the creation of church robes, and the other half to the tailoring of courtly finery.
Just to be sure, Dranko makes a small tear in one page. He gets raised eyebrows from his fellows.
“If this is a powerful tome of the Black Circle, it's probably indestructible. Tell me I'm wrong!”
Leaving the library, Dranko seeks out the priest who does most of the odd domestic jobs around the grounds, including the mending of robes.
“Say,” he says. “If you needed a book on cloaks and hoods, and we didn't have it here, where would you go?”
“I'd probably go to the Vault, if I could afford it,” answers the man. “They have books on everything there. Do you need me to make something for you?”
Dranko grins. “I might. I admire your work. The clerics here are better dressed than in most of the churches I've visited. Say, do you know if Praska ever visited the library here?”
The man frowns. “Not sure. Don't think so. I don't recall that young scamp having much interest in reading.”
So... to the Vault!
En route they discuss strategy, including the possibility of sending prying eyes into the library. The thinking is that a book immune to divination might show up as a blind-spot.
“Excuse me!” They're interrupted by a street vendor, a young man with a small cart. “Can I interest you in one of these fine dragon souvenirs? Only five silver pieces.”
“Souvenir of what exactly?” asks Ernie.
“Of what?” The man looks incredulous. “From the war! The one where our armies fought off an invasion of dragons in the Greatwood!”
He holds up a carved wooden dragon of middling quality. It looks more like a gold-painted lizard.
“Hey,” says Dranko. “That's the dragon we killed!”
“Can't speak to that, sir,” the young man smiles. “But I have it on good authority that the finest heroes in the Kingdom fought off a small army of dragons. Surely you went to one of the parades afterward?”
“I'm not sure it's worth 5 silver pieces,” says Dranko, tuning over the figurine in his hands. “5 coppers, more likely.”
“Not likely at all!” says the young man easily. “For five coppers I might as well keep it on my mantle.”
Aravis interrupts the haggling to hand the young man a gold piece. “We'll take it.”
Dranko is aghast. “Don't you know to play this game?”
The dragon-carver goggles. “Want a second one free, then? For your kids?”
Dranko rummages around in his bag of holding and fishes out a large claw from the dragon they fought at Verdshane. “Son, I'll tell you something. There wasn't an army of dragons at the battle. Just one. But it was plenty, trust me.”
The young man nods, mightily impressed.
“Off to the library then!” says Dranko, dropping the claw back into the bag.
“To save the day?” asks the vendor. “Is the library in trouble?”
“No,” says Dranko. “But sometimes to do great deeds, you have to read boring books.”
“Ah. So you're sort of a bunch of warrior poets.”
* *
The Vault is unimpressive from the outside, but the party knows from experience that its subterranean expanse of rooms is without equal on Charagan. Not even the Sages' Consortium in Hae Kalkas can boast such a collection of written works.
They know the drill: you pay an entrance fee, and then an additional fee to have a “walking curator” lead you around. No one is allowed to wander freely in the Vault. A man at the front desk inquires as to the subject of their researches, and assigns to them a nice old lady named Jenwha to take care of them.
Weapons are left at the door, though security seems lax – most of the group manages to secret backup arms before heading into the library. Dranko makes small talk as Jenwha leads them down a flight of stairs and into the Vault's labyrinthine interior.
“Out of curiosity, what was your profession before you joined the staff here at the Vault?”
Jenwha looks pleased to be spoken to. “That was a long time ago,” she says in a cracking but lively voice. “Did you know I was a seamstress to royalty?”
The party exchanges glances; it's looking more and more like Chiswick's bauble did the trick.
“Really!” Dranko exclaims.
“Yes, really,” Jenwha answers, taken aback by Dranko's enthusiasm. “Would you like to hear about it?”
“We sure would,” Dranko says amiably.
So she tells them all about her time spent in the court of Duke Nigel's father, while she leads them down more stairs and past many small rooms, each containing books and scrolls on some specific subject. They pass some labeled “livery,” “armorsmithing” and “winemaking” before Jenwha stops beneath an archway labeled “sewing and tailoring”
“The Vault sections on crafts are not large,” she explains almost apologetically. “If you have the subject matter narrowed down this shouldn't take long at all. Do you have a specific book in mind, or are you just looking for general information?”
“We're looking for a treatise on cloaks and hoods, specifically,” Aravis explains.
Jenwha nods. “We have one of those,” she says. “It's my specialty, don't you know. I'm not in charge of a very large section of the Vault, so I know it all pretty well.”
She walks over to a shelf that contains about a dozen books of various sizes, and pulls down one made of black leather. Clearly printed on the spine it says Cloaks and Hoods. It's about the same size and shape as the book seen in the diviners' ritual.
“How long have you had that book here at the Vault?” Morningstar asks.
“Since I got my job here, and that was over a decade ago.”
“Do you recall anyone else wanting this book in the last several years?” asks Dranko.
“Yes, I do. Last time someone wanted that book was about four months ago. A very respectable tailor named Jonas, who comes here from time to time. His shop is only about six blocks from here.”
“One of my old friends may also have come here looking for it recently,” Dranko says. “A nice girl, on the short side.”
Jenwha shakes her head. "Not that I've seen," she says.
Dranko takes the book. It's not suspiciously heavy, or throbbing with malign magic, or unusual in any way. He turns his back to Jenwha and surreptitiously makes a small tear in one of the pages. It tears.
Morningstar meanwhile casts a silent, still detect evil and gets no pings.
Aravis turns to Jenwha. “Are we allowed to cast spells in here that will help us read better?”
Jenwha hesitates before answering. “I don't see why not.”
Aravis casts detect magic. As he does so another walking curator walks past their room and stops short in the hallway at the sound of casting.
“Miss Jenwha!” he exclaims. “What are you...?”
Then he sees her clients and goes a bit red. “Oh, sorry. My mistake,” he mumbles before hustling away.
Jenwha looks sheepish. “That was nothing. You're fine.”
When Dranko presses her further, she leans in and whispers. “Most folks aren't allowed to cast spells in here, but we make an exception for you. Your description is unmistakable; folk of your stature are allowed a certain latitude.”
So saving the world has some perks after all!
Cloaks and Hoods doesn't detect as magical, though another book does – a short, fat book describing how one might modify the unseen servant spell to do complex sewing. Dranko tears a page of that one too.
“What's the point of having a magic book if the pages tear?” Dranko complains.
“Because most people don't want to destroy books,” Grey Wolf says dryly.
Kibi casts prying eyes and has them do a quick sweep of the room, but they report nothing different from what they see with their own eyes. The dwarf takes Cloaks and Hoods from Dranko and thumbs through it. He makes three observations.
First, it's a boring book about cloaks and hoods, and how to sew them. It has some nice drawings of patterns in the back, along with sketches of finished garments, but for the most part it's exactly what it claims to be.
Second, he finds it odd that there is no author's name written anywhere, inside or out.
Most notably, Kibi finds that there are no tears in any of the pages. The book has mended itself.
“Dranko will be crowing about this for months,” Grey Wolf whispers, as Dranko continues to chat up Jenwha.
“Gods, we'll never hear the end of it,” Aravis agrees.
Dranko overhears, sports a huge grin, and instinctively lights up a cigar.
“Sir!” Jenwha exclaims. “Is that necessary for your investigation?”
“No!” answers every single other member of the Company, in unison.
“I can't really say 'yes' now, can I?” Dranko grumbles.
“May I ask you to put it out?” Jenwha asks, careful to keep her tone neutral. “We prefer not to have open flames in a room full of books.”
Morningstar casts true seeing but Cloaks and Hoods seems no different to her under the spell's effect. Grey Wolf opines that it would be worth trying to dispel the thing, but worries that it might have countermeasures.
“Is there any way we can just borrow this book for a while?” Kibi asks Jenwha.
“Especially if it's a horribly evil book?” Dranko adds.
“For you, we can make an exception to Vault policy,” says Jenwha. “Do you have a discreet way of removing it from the premises? And how soon might we expect its return?”
“Probably no more than a week,” Aravis answers. “Assuming we don't need to destroy it for the good of the kingdom.”
Morningstar adds a request. “If anyone else inquires about this book, can you let us know?”
“Of course,” Jenwha answers.
“Thanks,” Dranko says jovially. “You've been extremely helpful. Can we offer you any additional.. compensation?”
The old curator peers at him. “You did save Charagan, didn't you? No further payment will be required. Good luck with any additional tailoring you need to do.”
Dranko slips a few gold pieces into her pocket anyway.
* *
Back on the streets of Hae Charagan, Morningstar sighs.
“We have another artifact. Yay.”
“Let's lock it in a trunk in our basement,” Flicker says.
“And forget about it,” Morningstar adds.
They cast locate object to see what happens when they try to find the original copy of Cloaks and Hoods, and find to their surprise that it indicates their recent check-out. When Dranko jogs away to get the book out of the spell's range, it detects nothing at all.
“You know who can probably help us crack this thing?” Dranko says. “A bunch of really powerful diviners.”
Back at the Guild, Aravis hands the Tome of Deceit to Belinda. She thumbs through it, frowning.
“You're sure this is it?”
“Watch this,” Kibi says, reaching out to tear a page of the book.
“Now casts detect magic,” Aravis prompts. Belinda does so.
“Nothing,” she reports.
“Now find your tear,” Dranko says. Belinda cannot.
“Who would make a self-repairing book that doesn't detect as magic?” Aravis asks. “Plus, it matches the name and likeness of the book we saw during your ritual. And, we followed a seamstress to find it.”
Thinking that they might be able to detect Praska just because they're now in possession of the book, Belinda casts scry, but she still sees Praska sitting on the park bench. That doesn't change when the book is placed in a bag of holding.
Dranko turns to Aravis. “You're a sort-of God. Can't you just smite it?”
Aravis does his best, trying greater dispel magic on the book, twice. It fails. Morningstar does the same, with the same disappointing result.
* *
Dranko spends the remainder of the afternoon and evening on the rooftops, spying alternately on Jonas' tailor shop and the Diviners' Guild itself. After Jonas closes up shop and leaves for the night, Dranko breaks into the store and scouts around. He does find a rack of hooded cloaks near the back that were clearly made from one of the patterns in the book.
The wizards, meanwhile, read Cloaks and Hoods cover to cover, combing it for hidden codes, cyphers, or any other disguised messages. With their mighty combined intellect, they conclude that there's nothing, unless you want to learn how to make a decent hooded cloak.
The next morning, having exhausted nearly every other approach, they decide to get heavy-handed. Belinda grants the Company a nearly-vacant stone room to work in, and Morningstar urges the others to stand back. Placing the book on a table in the center of the room, she casts anti-magic field. Her magic items grow a bit heavier and her Ioun Stone plinks on the hard floor.
Aravis, who has been casting scry and timing it so that he finishes as Morningstar casts, still cannot locate Praska – but this time the spell simply fails, instead of showing the image at the park bench.
Morningstar gingerly picks up the book. It looks no different from the outside. She opens it up... and the inside is completely different! Tiny, foreign characters fill almost every page, and it's written upside down and back-to-front. The wizards, casting comprehend languages, can't get close enough to Morningstar to read the cramped letters without stepping inside the anti-magic field. Dranko solves that problem by walking over, picking up the book, and carrying it to the very edge of the field. He holds it open while the mages engage in speed-reading, and the trick works because comprehend languages is cast upon the reader, not the writing. Aravis reads out loud so the rest can hear.
Cloaks and Hoods turns out to be a biography of Praska's life. The early material is accurate to the tiniest detail as far as Dranko can tell. It even includes some episodes that feature him, and he's amazed at its fidelity to events he remembers. When the narrative of Praska's life reaches that fateful dinner with Mokad, it says that she left with no lasting ill-effects, and then continues on to describe her life, as they've heard described, at the church here in Hae Charagan. It's all there – the friends she's made, her plans to explore Kivia, her actual travel to Kivia – even a description of her meeting members of the Church of Heros, and how she spends much of her time reading on a park bench inside the Heros church grounds in Djaw. The next-to-last page ends the story: “...she expects to split her days between Kivia and Charagan, and to become a bridge of good will between the churches of Delioch and Heros.”
The Tome of Deceit is part truth, part fiction, and every divination aimed at Praska has been redirected to the events contained therein.
Dranko turns to the final page, which contains a single, curious three-word sentence.
“Mokad is dead,” Aravis reads.
Dranko blinks for a second before comprehension dawns.
“Aaaaaargh!”
...to be continued...