(okay then, assuming we sell everything and that the scroll of ID is bought with "party funds" here's the skinny on loot. 326gp resale, minus 100 for the scroll, split 4 ways (is that right? Whisper, Seria, Johan and Midian?) comes to 53gp and 4 sp per person. If Johan keeps the breastplate, our individual dividend drops to 9gp 6 sp. Since I'm assuming Whisper does buy the scroll, I shall post accordingly
)
After strolling through the crowded downtown shopping district, Whisper finds what she was looking for; a musty old corner shop with the word TOMES engraved in the sign over the door in flowery, embellished letters and flaking gold paint. The masked mage spends a few minutes peering over the shelves at the collected books of interest to those of...esoteric mindsets. The smell of thick, dusty parchment was curiously nostalgic, reminding Whisper of her days in the university. Days spent not -learning- magic; for spells came as naturally to her as breathing. Rather, studying it. Discovering WHY spells worked, and HOW. There were deeper secrets there, she was sure. The changeling paused for a moment, her hand poised over the spine over a book titled "Prophecy vs Prophecy; Studies on the Effect of the Draconic Prophecy on Omens, Soothsayings, and Divinations."
The Draconic Prophecy. Now THERE was a deep mystery. There had been a time when she'd envied the Dragonmarked races. Men and women so clearly chosen by the great Prophecy to affect the world. Then she'd realized that in being chosen, they became part of it...and they could never hope to truly GRASP it then. Their part was chosen for them, doomed and destined. It was the folk who were NOT Dragonmarked who's courses were not determined. The folk who stood -outside- the Prophecy, and could thus hope to one day realize its fullness. No. The Dragonmarked belonged to the Prophecy.
The Prophecy would belong, one day, to the non-Dragonmarked.
Still musing, Whisper approached the old wooden counter and touched the small bell there. A silvery chime rang in the air, and a grizzled gnome appeared, complete with monocle that Whisper was positive the gnome didn't need, but rather carried some kind of magic.
"Yes yes," the gnome said impatiently. "What is it? What do you want?"
"A scroll," she replied. "To unlock the secrets of objects imbued with magic."
The gnome squinted at her through his monocle and nodded slowly. "A simple spell. Primary level, really. I'm surprised you haven't mastered it."
Without answering the gibe, Whisper placed ten platinum coins on the counter, followed by twelve golden wheels, and a smaller stack of five silver pieces. The gnome grunted, eyed the stack, and nodded. "Right then." He swept the coins into a pouch in his jacket and pattered off into the back rooms.
Only a moment passed before he was back, pressing a curled tube of parchment secured by a runed ribbon and a bit of wax into which was pressed the sigil for the store Tomes. Whisper nodded.
"My thanks."
"Don't mention it," the gnome said jovially. "Come again miss...ah..."
"You may call me Whisper. Good day." She whirled and stalked out of the store, unrolling the scroll as she did, and inspecting the runes therein. Good. It was indeed the genuine article.
On meeting the others in the inn, she informed them that the spell would take at least an hour to cast, and that she needed to be alone during that time. Upstairs, she produced Brelloch's cloak and laid it out on the floor. She sat before it crosslegged, and began to read.
