Session 12

From Arispemage

Storyteller: Last we left, Brian had gotten strong drinks, and Adler and Peter just had, almost, an enlightening moment.
Storyteller: Did I forget anything?
Peter Pan: roll 4#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 1, 4, 3, 7
Peter Pan: roll 6#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 10, 7, 2, 10, 10, 9
Peter Pan: roll 3#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 8, 10, 3
Peter Pan: roll 1#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 10
Peter Pan: roll 1#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 3
EMP: roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Raiden rolled --> 9, 4, 10, 1, 9, 10, 2, 2, 2
EMP: roll 2#1d10 Plentimon: Raiden rolled --> 8, 7
Adler: roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Adler rolled --> 8, 1, 4, 8, 6, 2, 5, 7, 2
Adler: roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Adler rolled --> 6, 6, 1, 6, 2, 10, 7, 10, 3
Adler: roll 2#1d10 Plentimon: Adler rolled --> 4, 8
Peter Pan: roll 6#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 4, 4, 6, 4, 8, 2
Peter Pan: roll 10#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 6, 2, 7, 5, 6, 8, 3, 8, 3, 9
Peter Pan: roll 5#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 9, 1, 7, 7, 10
Peter Pan: roll 1#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 6
Storyteller: So, Peter, I assume that you're waiting for the delivery?
Peter Pan: Until 3:01, Peter sat, looking pnet-up and over-excited in the tower, constantly using brief time magic to know the time. Come 3:01, that was it, and he was out the door!
Storyteller: Hrm.
Storyteller: Mail seems late.
Storyteller: It's 3:09 and still hasn't gotten here.
Peter Pan: Peter sighed and grimmaced a little, sitting outside Abuelo's office.
Storyteller: Finally, at 3:13, you see a mail person, carrying a long package come down the stairs.
Storyteller: Clunk, clunk, clunk, down the stairs.
Storyteller: The wheel squeeks as he goes into the office.
Storyteller: Then he walks out.
Peter Pan: Peter eagerly scrambled up and went to knock on Abuelo's door
Storyteller: Secretary answers, and points out the package, leaning against the far wall.
Peter Pan: He grinned. "Thank!" He grabbed the package and hurried off back to the tower, he couldn't wait to try them out.
Peter Pan: Once he got back to the tower, he happily opened the box, remoing its contents carefully and laying them out on the table
Storyteller: The blades are shiny.
Storyteller: Very shiny.
Storyteller: And you know how to make a point with them.
Peter Pan: Peter took one of them and gave it a swish through the air, fewncing a bit against an invisible foe
Storyteller: You strike the invisible foe, and draw invisible blood.
Peter Pan: He smiled, then slowly, and carefully, he picked up the second blade, a little akward in his off-hand. He started slowly going through motions, striking with each of them as he tried to start getting a feel for the two of them.
Peter Pan: After a while, eh put the one from his off-hand back into the box, he'd practice more later. Right now he needed to begin the process of dedicating his new favored Rapier as his Magical Tool

• Obelisk is meanwhile, in the Cabal's Sanctum, chanting prayer and supplication of the names of the dead, that they may never be forgotten, and how their sacrifice will help pave the way to victory over the Lie. Mourning is given in the ancient High Speech, as she implores the blessings of the Watchtower of Lead for protection from harm.

Peter Pan: roll 4#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 10, 6, 8, 8
Peter Pan: roll 1#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 5
Peter Pan: roll 4#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 1, 2, 8, 5

• Obelisk holds up her lead cartouche, as a symbol of Ma'at - rightousness and cosmic law.

Peter Pan: roll 4#1d10 Plentimon:
Peter Pan rolled --> 6, 9, 4, 10
Obelisk roll 9#D10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> error: malformed expression
Obelisk roll 9#1D10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1
Obelisk roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 7, 2, 5, 9, 3, 3, 9, 8, 9
Peter Pan: When he noticed someone following him, Peter turned around, hefting his fencing bag a little, one hand resting near the slightly unzipped side, just wide enough to get a hand in, and a hilt-guard out. "Do you need somthing?
Storyteller: Said person, gasps, and turns tail, running like the wind.
Peter Pan: Peter stood there, blinking in surprise. "Wow...I'm not even that fast..."
EMP: Brian gave a small burp. His chest and gut was full of warmth, and the crate of brown bottles he sat on wasn't hurting too much either. "To the good stuff." He poured down another glug, letting the bite fill his throat.
Storyteller: You know, you might be drunk, and more paranoid, but it feels like you're being watched, Brian.
EMP: Brian looked around, his hand clumsily slipping along the edge of the crate. "Eh? Pere Muvjerich? You there?"
Storyteller: No answer.
Storyteller: Just silence.
Storyteller: Then a rat squeaks by.
EMP: Brian stood up from the crate, his staff jingling in his right hand, a half-full bottle in his other. "Pere Muvjerich! I told...I payed yer bet, ya slinky gutter spike."
Storyteller: Said rat sees you, and then gets the hell out of Dodge, metaphorically.
Storyteller: SQUEAK!ing all the way.
EMP: Brian threw the bottle at the rat, taking pleasure in hearing it break.
EMP: "Oi! 's vhat ya get, ya rat bastard!"
Storyteller: You hear light chuckling.
EMP: Brian's head turned in the direction of the laughter. "'ello?"
Storyteller: You're pretty certain that you see Tax walking away from you.
Storyteller: Perhaps you had too much to drink?
Storyteller: Naah.
EMP: "...oi, Tax! Vat're ya doin' 'ere eh?"
Storyteller: "Paying tribute to the real dead man." is the answer you get.
Storyteller: And then the figure disappears.
EMP: Brian raised an eyebrow. "Real dead man? What..." Brian shook his head a bit, clearing his head somewhat of the haze. Tax was supposed to be dead. He wasn't. He was right there. Something's not right...
EMP: He rested the diamond of his staff against his forehead, allowing the Aether to enter his mind for only a second of a second, enough to drain power for his Supernal Vision.
Storyteller: There's signs of a spirit of some sort, but little else.
EMP: Brian walks in the direction of the spirit, his staff continuing to jingle with its keys and jewelries.
Storyteller: It's heading back in land.
Storyteller: Further, further.
Storyteller: It's taking you on a disturbingly familiar route.
Storyteller: It heads back to the library where you first found Tax's Last Work.
EMP: Brian continued to follow, never speaking. His haze disappeared over time as he walked.
Storyteller: It eventually goes back to the very shelf where the book was.
EMP: Brian inspected the shelf, knowing that Tax's book had been taken by Adler. Maybe there was something else there...
Storyteller: Looking at the shelf, you don't see anything special, other than traces of a spirit and a ghost.
EMP: Brian muttered in Russian to himself. Spirits and ghosts. Things he wasn't exactly an expert on.
Storyteller: The ghost notices you.
Storyteller: It points downwards.
EMP: Brian looked down. "The ground?"
Storyteller: Points down more forcefully.
EMP: Brian kneeled down, brushing his hand along the ground, his Supernal Vision still on. "I'm lookink...I know not vhat I'm lookink for..."
Storyteller: The ghost draws a B infront of your face.
EMP: "...bad night for drinkink." He scratched at his chin. "Book?"
Storyteller: It nods no.
Storyteller: It then mimes... something.
Storyteller: You're not sure what exactly.
Storyteller: Pressing something.
Storyteller: Squatting down.
Storyteller: Somthing like that.
EMP: "...Button."
Storyteller: It gestures to say that you're getting closer.
Storyteller: Or that it wants you to get closer.
Storyteller: One of the two.
EMP: Brian moves closer, his eyes darting around in search of some 'button"
Storyteller: Roll perception. Plentimon:
Storyteller rolled --> error: malformed expression
EMP: roll 4#1d10 Plentimon: Raiden rolled --> 9, 8, 3, 9
Storyteller: Right next to "The Turn of the Screw" is a book on buttons.
EMP: Brian took the book, flipping through the pages. "...not much for scholar vurk."
Storyteller: It's not a library book, there's no stamps for that.
EMP: Brian turns to the ghost, holding the book. "This vhat you vant?"
Storyteller: It squats down, and peers at the shelf.
EMP: Brian let out a sigh. Walking over near the ghost and looking at the shelf. "Vhy can't you speak?"

• • • Raiden is now known as Brian_Steffanoskovich.

Storyteller: The ghost takes on a slightly more human appearance, as she opens her mouth and you can see that her tounge was ripped out.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian grimaced. "Vun moment." He turned his head and clucked his tongue, bringing Equan to full awakeness. He spoke to its ear, then sent it flying off with all the speed of a thunderbolt.
Brian Steffanoskovich: He then turned back to the ghost. "I sent for help. Somevun that can speak vith you. Until then..." He kneeled down, looking at the shelf. "Let's see vhat ve can find."
Storyteller: Stuck inbetween a collection of ghost stories, and the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, there's a diary.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian reached in, taking the diary. "Yours?"
Storyteller: She nods.
Storyteller: Oblesk, on the other hand, gets to see Equans in flight for the first time.

• Obelisk strides into the library, a folio of papers under her arm. She nods to Brian, "I came as soon as I could."

Obelisk "What's the situation?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian poked a thumb to the ghost. "She has no tongue. Maybe you could speak in other vays?"

• Obelisk nods. "I may even be able to give her her tongue back. Please, secure the area from Sleeper eyes."

Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian stood, carrying the diary with him as he walked around the area.

• Obelisk looks about, making sure there are no observers. She then pulls out her lead Cartouche that hangs around her neck.

Storyteller: It's just you, EMP, the ghost, and a spirit.

• Obelisk chants in the High Speech, which sounds like ancient egyptian. She respectfully sings a song of inquiry and supplyication, as she makes the gesture of the Great Obelisk - what she saw the Tower of Lead as when she first Awakened.
• Adler trots in, having managed to return the large stack of books she had checked out a few days earlier

Obelisk +roll 9#1d10
Obelisk roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 3, 10, 3, 6
Obelisk roll 1#D10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> error: malformed expression
Obelisk roll 1#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 2

• Obelisk attunes her eyes to Twilight, and sees with the Eyes of Ending, examining the Ghost before her.
• Obelisk narrows her eyes. "The person who this ghost was made from was killed by magic. I'm going to try to restore it's tongue so that it may speak."

Adler: "I wonder how much this actually has to do with Alan..."
Obelisk In the High Speech - "<<By the Obsidian Marker, all souls are healed. By the tower of obsidian, by the ancient goods of the grave, by the tower of lead, restless ghosts are made whole. Let the waters of Stygia flow through me, to you, and give you a voice again, so that you're purpose may be done and that you may know rest." She brings up her reserves of Mana, to buffer any possible Paradox.
Storyteller: Roll 1#1d10 Plentimon:
Storyteller rolled --> 4
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian gave a tight whistle, calling Adler over.
Adler: "Yes Brian?" Adler answers once she walks over to him
Obelisk roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 7, 9, 1, 5, 7, 7, 8, 4, 3
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Got the Vurks of Tax?"
Obelisk She holds forth her Obsidian Cartouche, as she carefully reshape the ghost's mauled corpus back to a form that can speak. That a Mage would abuse a ghost like this!
Adler: "Of course...why?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Ask vhy he's still valking around."

• Obelisk pronounces the Cabal's Shadow Name in the high toungue, as she re-works her Grim Sight to include all of her Cabal mates, so that they may see and hear the Ghost, if they wish.

Obelisk roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 4, 2, 5, 1, 8, 1, 8, 8, 1

• Obelisk addresses the ghost. "Hello. You can call me Obelisk. These are my companions. How do you feel? Can you speak?"

Storyteller: "I feel odd. I can speak now, thank you."

• Obelisk nods and smiles. "Certainly. Please tell me - what is your name?"

Storyteller: "Mary."
Obelisk "Hello, Mary." She takes out her own notepad. "I regret to bring this up, but it seems as if you were killed by magic. Can you tell us what you might know about your assailant?"
Storyteller: "I-it was a strange man, with a rotting.. rotting pumpkin on his head" she says. She's trembling a bit.
Adler: Adler pulls out the book, "Alan?"
Storyteller: Yes, a full sized Alan answers.
Adler: "What's with the walking-around?"
Storyteller: Oh, just a little, parting joke, from me to everyone else. I didn't think I have a chance to use it while Abuelo was still around.
Obelisk As Alan and Adler speak with the ghost, Obelisk makes marks that would look like Egyptian heiroglyphics on her notepad. In reality, she is noting Mary's final name.
Storyteller: Mary Anne Heartford is her Final Name.
Obelisk roll 11#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 4, 5, 5, 5, 10, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 1
Obelisk roll 1#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 2

• Obelisk scowls somewhat, crossing things out and re-writing them as she views the snarls of fate which surrounds the girl.

Obelisk "Mary, I know this may be hard for you, but so that this doesn't happen to anyone else, we need for you to describe exactly what happened to you."
Obelisk "Can you help us?"
Storyteller: "I-it was that man with the pumpkin on his head. Last I remembered is that he chased me in here, and strangled me..." she's shaking as she squeaks this out.
Brian Steffanoskovich: While Adler spoke with Tax on why he was walking around, Brian was flipping through the pages of the diary.
Obelisk "Shhh, shh. It's ok." She takes the ghost's hands, her spell enabling her to touch the ghost. "Were you carrying that book on you? Did the pumpkin head take anything from you? Do you have any idea of why it attacked you?"
Storyteller: "I, I don't know why it was after me."
Storyteller: Brian, the diary has her last moments written in it.
Storyteller: It's a quick-ish will, and rather sloppy.

• Obelisk nods. "That's all right, sweety. Now, you're here. Is there anything you need to have done? Any family members who need to be helped out? ANy other reason why you're still here, instead of having passed on?"

Storyteller: The will has some of her stuff partitioned out, and then some rambling about how the thing is breaking down the door.
Storyteller: "I, I don't know."
Obelisk "I'm here to help dead people, and make sure they're not forgotten. It's my job."

• Obelisk scowls, as she steps back.
• Obelisk holds forth her Cartouche, as in her minds' eye the burning tower Obrimo and the Obsidian Obelisk superimpose.

Obelisk roll 6#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 7, 3, 3, 7, 1, 2
Obelisk roll 3#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 10, 1, 10
Obelisk roll 2#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 7, 8
Obelisk She finds her control slipping! Prime magics are new to her. But, she bears down and exerts her will, and the perceptive powers of the Watchtower Obrimos blaze to life in her mind.

• Obelisk waves her Cartouche - and lines of force and atlantean sigils blaze to life along the floor, to her sight. She takes her notepad and scribbles furiously. "Someone here tried to work some kind of necromantic rite. They failed, and all the spell is now doing is keeping ghosts trapped here. I suspect that this is a flawed version of the rite used to create the pumpkin heads, but I'm not sure."

Obelisk "Please, if anyone else with Supernal vision can look at this for me, and use Mind Arcana to memorize it. I don't want to lose this."

• Obelisk carefully examines the spell remnants. She scowls - while she recognizes the matter sigils and the large Death anchors are easy for her to understand, the Spirit sigils are almost incomprehensible in their vibrancy. "These are the remnants of a flawed spell. Unless anyone objects, I'm going to clean it up. It's like a roach motel for ghosts."

Obelisk "Brian, I can undo most of it, but if you can check and make sure whatever I miss gets cleaned up, I'd be grateful."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian nods, looking at...what he's supposed to be looking at with his Supernal Vision.
Storyteller: What Brian sees is a train wreck of a spell.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian raises his eyebrow. "...this hurts my eyes. Such...a horrible presentation."

• Obelisk walks widdershins, around the site of Mary's death. She walks counter clockwise, tracing the path of the river Lethe around the lead watchtower Moros. <>

Obelisk roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 3, 4, 8, 4, 2, 6, 6, 10, 6
Obelisk roll 1#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 2
Storyteller: Mary fades out, looking indescribably grateful.

• Obelisk smiles, as she bows respectfully.

Obelisk She notes that last scrap of magic, carefully studying it, before making a broom like spell mudra to break it apart back into the local Tapestry.
Obelisk roll 9#1d10 Plentimon: Obelisk rolled --> 7, 9, 5, 7, 1, 3, 4, 10, 1
Storyteller: It, best as you can describe, falls into itself, and then into non-existance.
Obelisk "Done and done. I really want to meet whoever cast this spell. It was exactly like someone trying a rote they didn't have the Arcana fundamentals for, seems to me."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "It looks like somevun that tried to build a shack with a hammer and their forehead."
Obelisk "That about describes it. It was grossly like a standard zombie spell, but one where a ghost would be bound into the corpse - presumably, to make it smarter than the typical shuffler."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "And the spirit?" Brian didn't even look up, his eyes buried in the diary.
Obelisk "Spirit? I don't know about any spirits. The ghost has since passed on. The spell was what was keeping it here."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...the librarian thing. Pretty sure it's vhat lead me here. Or maybe it was Alan. I'm not sure."
Obelisk "I don't have a lick of skill in spirit arts."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian let out a sigh, and closed the diary. "The girl vas good. Nice. Pretty smart. But not special. So vhy attack her?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "And...pumpkin heads..."
Adler: "Welcome to the club," Adler frowns. "Maybe...I wonder if the pumpkin-head maker has an apprentice around here?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian's eyes opened wide. He clucked his tongue again, calling over Equan. "Report to Piercing Arrow. Tell him there's been an attack and death. Pumpkin head."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Then he sent off the familiar, moving faster than Brian ever could.
Storyteller: Equans moves like aerodynamic lightning.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Or, perhaps, she merely arrived before schedule."
Adler: "The incomplete spell strikes me as the result of an apprentice, though."
Obelisk "This leads me to suspect even more that the whole Pumpkin Head thing is part of a specialty Legacy power. It's horribly vulgar death magic. Yes, I agree. If Peter can work with me, we can perhaps scry into the past and see the spell being done."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "The Pumpkin Head killed her. Some can use magic."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "A Pumpkin Head using magic is no master of the art."
Obelisk "Now, I've just had a horrifying thought."
Obelisk "Consider. We know there can be ghost Mages, right?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "I saw vun tonight, so yes."
Obelisk "We also know that ghosts can be bound into corpses, and used as revenants." Her eyebrows go up at the mention of a Ghost Mage. "Oh? I'd love to meet him or her."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian thumbs at Adler's Last Works of Alan Tax. "Ask that vun. He vas valking around."
Obelisk "So, if you have a process that can kill a Mage and make her or him into a ghost Mage, and you can bind a ghost into a Pumpkin Head... Voila! Pumpkin Head Mage.
Adler: "Alan?"
Obelisk "Walking around? You mean as a ghost, right?"
Storyteller: Well, more as a Spirit than a ghost, but yes, I can.
Storyteller: Is what appears in the book.

• Obelisk turns to the sound of voice. "What was that?"

Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian pauses for a moment.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...vhy vould Pumpkin Head vomen come to this town?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Alan Tax was her only friend here. Only reason to come back. Yet she comes..."
Brian Steffanoskovich: He stared down at the book.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...Tax ghost vould be...very nice materials for Pumpkin head."
Adler: "Alaaaaaan..." Adler's voice is planitive
Storyteller: Yes? it asks, apprehensive.
Obelisk "Wait. Who is this 'Tax'?

• Obelisk stares at the talking book.

Storyteller: I'm me, it answers, without answering anything.
Adler: "You didn't leave a ghost behind, did you?"
Storyteller: "Not really. I bound bits of my soul to things, though."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Bits of soul of Archmage is still...very useful."
Storyteller: "Yes. The gun did far better than I expected."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian's eyebrow is almost pasted up. He spread his cloak a bit, looking at the shotgun strapped to his leg.
Obelisk "Soul of an archmage? Now, I'm totally lost."
Storyteller: "I'm told that's normal where I'm involved."
Adler: "I suppose we should explain, shouldn't we."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Still haven't figured out all of the shotgun..." He closed his robes over the gun again.
Obelisk "Yes, you should, since all of this sounds extremely dangerous to be involved in."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Vell, ve killed vhat killed the Archmage. So not AS dangerous."
Storyteller: "Technially, I was what killed myself, as at full strength I could have easily fled from the thing forever."
Obelisk "I suppose that makes sense, in a twisted kind of way."
Storyteller: "Well, it lead to the thing being destroyed, and that's a good thing."
Obelisk "I won't dispute that. So, you mean to tell me, in that book, is a peice of an Archmage's soul?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "His knowledge, at any rate."
Storyteller: "I can still do a little bit of magic, as I am."
Adler: "Not to mention a lot of teaching."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Like sober a drunk Russian man, eh?" Brian's voice was a bit...cold at that.

• Obelisk restrains her Mysterium lust, for the moment. "And you do understand how unbelieveably dangerous and powerful that book is, then? It's like the masturbation fantasy of every Mysterium Mage whoever lived."

Storyteller: "Well, this needed some cleaing up, and for certain reasons I couldn't do it myself."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Hence vhy ve don't tell anyone."
Adler: "Uh, yes, exactly."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian's spearpoint went up a bit in Obelisk's direction. "No. Vun."

• Obelisk waves that off. "Dear? Please. I'm not going within 10 feet of that book. With all due respect, sir - you are a walking nexus for danger, and, as my old Mentor said, "easily gained knowledge is the most dangerous." Besides, I'm sure that you have defenses that would stagger my mind.

Storyteller: "Really, personally, all I can do is Three Princes as a Curse, and paper cuts and slammed hands.
Obelisk "I suppose now that it is our Cabal's responsibility to defend this book."
Obelisk "If I may ask, why did you choose to divide yourself up like this?"
Storyteller: "Well part of me needed to be in the weapon, to make certain that the ritual worked properly"
Storyteller: "Part needed to be able to get the information out."
Storyteller: "The other parts are to help protect or run certain things that I don't want found just yet."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...vhat things? Ve found only two."
Obelisk "So, sir, I suppose the deal is that in return for protecting this fragment, we get appropriate instruction?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "In return for protecting this fragment, ve don't let it fall in the hands of somevun bad. That's all ve need."
Storyteller: "My Sanctum. Several books that really, really don't need to see the light of day. A few parting gifts and jokes."
Storyteller: "I do know a bit about fate."
Adler: "And some other stuff. Thanks for leaving me so much of your things, by the way."

• Obelisk scratches the back of head. "The book sorting life of a Mystagogue never ends."

Obelisk "yes, Brian, that seems to be our job. It seems it will also make our lives interesting."
Storyteller: "I'm fully certain that I gave them no end of headaches."
Obelisk "And we all know that dangerous books should be in a Mysterium Atheaneum, instead of a Guardians of the Veil incinerator."
Storyteller: "I split the difference. When I made something dangerous, sometimes I'd give both of them a copy."

• Obelisk hehs. "I hope you fooled the Guardians into thinking they had the only one. Sir, if I may ask, what Order to you hail from?"

Adler: "Oh, come on. They probably wouldn't nessecarily destroy it. Lock it in one of their vaults, certainly. But just because they take something doesn't mean they're going to destroy it."
Storyteller: "Apostate. And no, everyone knew, unofficially, that I did that. They just had no proof."

• Obelisk snorts. "You don't know the Guardians I've met, like Burn-Em-All Harry. We called him Farenheidt 451 for a reason."

Storyteller: "Pierrot would have hated that guy."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian snorted. He was an Arrow, and damn proud of it. What other orders did was their business, not his.
Storyteller: "Although, I do wonder who made the Pumpkinhead involved in this."
Adler: "That's what I was wondering."
Storyteller: "I can rule out Deneb and her apprentice. Probably."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Vhy? She is comink. This is her callink card."
Obelisk "Maybe Punpkinhead wants a pumpkinhead army made up of archmage shards?"
Storyteller: "It's not her style. There's too few enchantments, and the strangulation is all wrong."
Storyteller: "Plus, if she's going to make one of those kind of Pumpkinheads it's going after something supernatural."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "It killed a normal girl, though."
Storyteller: "And given how expensive it is for her to make one of those kinds of Pumpkinheads, she's not going to let it out of her eye for a second, much less do any kind of binding."
Storyteller: "And while her apprentice might, she'd know that Deneb'd make her life hell if she went and used them so irresponsibly."
Storyteller: "Perhaps she had another apprentice, and that one went bad?" He muses.
Adler: "So...kidna like an imitator of a serial killer?"
Storyteller: "Possibly. Or perhaps some sort of misguided jealousy?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Or a mage wearing a pumpkin on their head.

• Obelisk shrugs. "Who knows. But we can find out these answers if Peter and I can scry into the past and see this being done. I have the girl's Final Name. It should provide enough sympathy to when she was killed for retrocognition."

Storyteller: "That'd be hilarious in it's own way."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "If not, her diary is right here, stating vhat happened up to vhen she died."
Storyteller: Equans flys back in.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian held out his arm, letting the hawk land.
Storyteller: It lands, then says, to Brian, that some Arrows will be here soon, and they ask if you'd be nice enough to stay there.
Obelisk "Very true, Brian. However, I'd like to get a look at the jackasses' face. Anyone who mutes the dead or abuses them pisses me off."
Storyteller: Tax ducks back in his book.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian nodded, moving Equan to his shoulder.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Some Arrows vill be here soon. Please move back from the scene of the incident."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian took a spot a bit further back from where the incident happened, leaning against a shelf.
Obelisk "Unless there's anything else we need to deal with here, I suggest we depart."
Storyteller: It's a little bit later, but they arrive, two police men.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian looked up at them. "...a book fell out of place."
Storyteller: "... Lawrence, why is it that we never get recognised as mages?"
Storyteller: "Dunno, Harold, just seems to be our luck."
Storyteller: "We got called here by the Arrows." Lawrence says.
Storyteller: "Lawrnece, I am an Arrow."
Storyteller: "So, what really happened here?" Harold asks.

• Obelisk defers to one of the other Cabal members to explain.

Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian pointed toward the spot where the girl had been killed.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Pumpkinhead. Killed a girl."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Violently."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Then bound her spirit to remain here. I found her, ve released her."
Storyteller: "Gah. Do we have a suspect." he not really asks.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...do I need to ask that, or do they really not inform Arrows anymore?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: *answer that
Storyteller: "No, I just asked out of reflex."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Our town's visitor. our best Suspect."
Storyteller: "Yes."
Storyteller: "So, I take it there's no body.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Just a diary, and a ghost. The ghost has been put to rest."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "But smell it...the death is still here. Like a stench. Ve can have somevun scry the event easily."
Storyteller: "Hrm."
Storyteller: "Well, this isn't at all what we expected."
Storyteller: "So, who died?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: "No clue." He tossed them the diary he had found. "That's the problem. She vas no vun special."
Storyteller: "Hrm. So that makes Gonzalez a suspect too."
Storyteller: "Hell, makes her a better suspect than Rhodes." Lawrence says.
Storyteller: "Unless we find more cases like this further down." Harold responds.
Storyteller: "Well, if there's nothing else, we'll just go back, and report what you found."

• Obelisk murmurs, "I hope we don't, but I'm sure we will."

Storyteller: The two leave, writing a police style report as they go."
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian gave a snort, looking at the spot where the girl had died. His Supernal Vision had remained on. His adverse relationship with Death affected him quite a bit...he could almost see the parasites wishing to feed on the feeling of despair.
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...somethink is going to die soon for this."
Storyteller: "Probably."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "Not probably. I vill hunt them down."
Storyteller: "If they're already dead..."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "They'll die again."
Storyteller: "Wouldn't that work better if they were undead?"
Obelisk "...and not even death will protect the perpretators of this crime from justice."
Storyteller: "Ah."
Storyteller: "Could you guys take me to the basement?"
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian got up from his spot, his spearstaff jingling. "Fine."

• Obelisk follows.

Storyteller: When you get to the basement your senses are assaulted by the mother of all dust bunnies.
Storyteller: Tax looks around, makes a satisfied noise, and then goes back into his book.
Adler: "That was typically uninformative."
Brian Steffanoskovich: "...vhat vas that about?"
Storyteller: Just satisfying my own curiousity.
Storyteller: And with that, Tax settles back into his book.
Brian Steffanoskovich: That was when Brian realized he had left his crate of Vodka unprotected.
Brian Steffanoskovich: Brian kneeled down, hugging his crate tightly. "So sorry for leaving..."
Storyteller: The crate deigns not to respond.
Brian Steffanoskovich: He hefted up the large crate, carrying in the direction of his cave.