[sblock=Palindrome and Tander]When confronted with Palindrome's claims, Doddoddod listens gravely.
"Yes, yes," he answers, halfway through your exposition, as you pause for a breath.
"Well done. Done us proud. Credit to your teacher. Whatever. Listen, can you replenish the chocolate cupboard? I'm very nearly out of the little caramel ones with the bows on top." With an airy wave, he waddles out of the room, humming something that is probably intended to be a bawdy tune.
Palindrome quickly exits to his room.
[/sblock]
[sblock=Tander]After Doddoddod ignores Palindrome's latest outburst, Tander cleans up a bit and wanders out in search of more information.
Life as a fugitive is not as familiar and comfortable to Tander as to some of his companions, and each constable he passes distracts him more and more, to the point where he finds himself taking wrong turns and having to backtrack, drawing even more suspicion. Soon he gives up and returns to the relative safety of Doddoddod's tower. His many minor injuries, and his body's general weariness, combine to thwart his efforts at research as well.[/sblock]
[sblock=Atreus]Trusting your disguise, you make your way boldly back to the mansion. Fortunately, no one takes notice of you; everyone is too busy watching the house in the process of burning to the ground. There are a few worried-looking constables talking in low tones and gesturing towards the fire.
There is no sign of the elf. A few well-placed questions win you the information that several acolytes of Juna carried him away on a litter, under the direction of a senior priestess. They went in the direction of the temple of Juna.
Shortly thereafter you slip away from the crowd and hurry toward the temple of Juna, but you reach the temple without spotting your quarry.
ooc: Not sure how far you want to pursue this; let me know how to carry on. I'm going to advance time anyways; we can backfill this if needed
[/sblock]
[sblock=Woe]You and Arnest carry Tsasha to Phredas Lindenfall, a middle-aged battleaxe of a priestess who has provided discreet medical services to you in the past, usually after a blurry night and an unpleasant burning sensation. She starts to give you one of her usual lectures, but when her eye falls on Tsasha's mangled foot, she becomes instantly professional, ushering her into a private room and laying out reagents immediately. Then she kicks you out of the room, brooking no argument. When you leave the inner room, you notice that Arnest is gone.
[sblock=if you stick around and wait]After about two hours, Arnest returns, fully healed, wearing a clean doublet of fine velvet, and flanked by three competent-looking half-orc bodyguards. One of them gives you a gold-capped tusky smile that really isn't very friendly.
"Thanks for your help. I'll be taking it from here. I'll meet you tomorrow at the insane wizard's tower," Arnest says coolly. His tone invites you to wait elsewhere.
[/sblock]
[/sblock]
[sblock=Palindrome]While going through the contents of your magical overalls, your eye is once again drawn to the vexing blank spot at the bottom of your now-battered copy of the Screamer. Having nothing better to do, you take the time to review all the information you've gathered so far.
[sblock=links]Original non-hidden text:
here
Summary of arcane analysis and Dod*3's library:
here
From Yarg's notes:
here
[/sblock]
Haflod's writings make it clear that any hidden message is meant for specific recipients. Some are intended only for those who already know the secret of revealing them, such as Yarg's communications with Liras. But it's also possible by means of clever choice of encodings to make messages visible only to the intended recipients without any prior knowledge on their part, by keying it to a token that only they possess, or conditions that only they are likely to encounter. Haflod claims that he once saw a grimoire stolen from a powerful devil, that could only be read by someone whose skin was on fire. He does not explain how he discovered this.
Vaithe cautions against this method, recounting the tale of Harazed the Bow-legged, who gained that epithet by penning a secret love letter to his beloved that would be visible only to those possessing hair like spun gold and eyes like winter ice. It was pure bad luck that his courier happened to be accosted by a band of burly blond warriors from Valhyr, fresh from a successful round of pillaging, and still worse luck that they could read. In one of his few moments of bare practicality, Vaithe suggests augmenting such personal or environmental restrictions with further restrictions based on signs that only the intended recipient would be likely to notice or interpret. Such a message could only be read by one who both met the necessary condition, and understood the signs accompanying the message.
Your eye cannot help drifting to the eye-like markings on the non-hidden text of the Screamer.
[/sblock]
