In the refugee camp outside Eckledun...
Sigmund knows it would be best for the group to split up for now - that way they won't cramp his style, and also maybe find out something on their own, though he wouldn't exactly bet money on that possibility.
"Well, we got a bunch of refugees. I wouldn't be surprised if they have run out of Mothdale, actually. And, whoever is inside this tent is probably a life mage. But, before attempting, well anything, it would be better to get to know what has happened in first place. So, I would suggest we spread out a little bit, hear what the people is talking about, then regroup here to discuss our findings."
He waits a moment for someone to respond. Nobody does.
"Any questions?" he asks, hoping that at least somebody makes it known that they still inhabit the same general place in space and time as he does.
"That includes me, right? I'm supposed to investigate as well?" Art asks, and Sigmund patiently nods. "Yeah, thought so. Okay."
After a brief moment, Sigmund looks at Mark, who seems to still be playing the bongos.
"And please stop playing those. I think that I am the one who is supposed to play them, not you," he says, taking away his weird friend's bongos and handing him the flute instead. Mark just begins to play that instead. Out of time and patience, Sigmund paces off in search of information, keeping an ear out for information. And, twenty minutes later, from a generous mixture of eyewitness accounts and thrilling tales of peril obtained in the process of investigation, he manages to piece together an important piece of information - most of these people are from Mothdale, and demons are clearly responsible for all this in some way. Exciting facts acquired, he comes back to the healer's tent.
Mark and Kevin are there already, which should not come as too much of a surprise. Mark appears to showing off his flute abilities with a virtuoso performance, while Kevin appears to be doing his damnedest to dance along to his high-speed rendition of three different popular folk songs layered on top of one another, and succeeding quite admirably. The dynamic duo's antics seem to have attracted a very sizable crowd of refugees, some of which seem to be throwing them copper coins on occasion. While Sigmund processes how and why they're doing this, Art walks up to him.
"Right, the people here are all from Mothdale, and they came here because a bunch of people came over one day, killed their archmage, obliterated their city guard and made good progress on exterminating the rat people as well as a whole lot of innocent bystanders. Also a whole lot of transmuters came to town for a few weeks and started massively shifting everything. Apparently it was some kind of organized takeover," he says. "The people in Eckledun are letting as many of them live inside the town, but it's been pretty problematic to provide them all with lodgings. The Black Circle of Magic are apparently helping out a lot of necessities and so forth, and many of the mages around here are their people. Some of the healers, though, are freelancers, or so I gathered. What did you find out?"
In the basement of the Red Tower of Power...
"Well, what's the worst that could happen. Glow me!" Niklas bravely says, as unafraid of untested magic as he is of starved bears during mating season.
"Glowy glowsticks go!" the boy chants, touching his stubby little pinkie finger to Niklas' chest.
[Lifeboy's magic roll: 3]
Niklas feels his torso begin to tingle, which quickly becomes a slight burning sensation. On the other hand, he seems to be very softly glowing. Not quite enough to see in the dark, but certainly enough to be seen in the dark - as such, he doubts he is more prepared to brave the spider-filled confines of the basement than before.
"Uh... ah... I know! How about I mess with your eyes to let you see better in the dark? I'll try it on you, and then on myself, okay?" the boy says enthusiastically.
"Ooh! Do it, dad! You might get cat eyes!"
"Don't encourage your father too much, Torkel! You know how impressionable he gets!"
On the road out of Mothdale...
Morton wonders if the gub might not have sent his friends into slightly more danger than they can handle (that is to say, any danger at all).
~Is the western road particularly dangerous, good group Gub? While certainly... er... delinquent, at times, there is always the hope for reformation and penitence. I do hope they don't run into any dangers,~ he says to the gub.
~oh no! it is perfectly safe! it is only their delinquency that could make it otherwise! they are silly, silly people, you must remember!~
While the gub speak, Morton is pleased to find that his glow seems to respond to conscious control rather freely - he can intensify and dampen it as he pleases. That could probably be useful, he guesses. But that is a consideration for another time. For now, travel is of paramount importance!
"I'm certain that we'll find someone once we near a city or town, good mage Justine. It should be an interesting trip none the less, and there's truly never a better way to see the surroundings than to walk amongst them!"
"Your optimism never fails to amuse, Morton," Justine merely replies, and the group set off along the northwestern road. There are few sights on the way aside from the thick pine forest covering the coastline dunes, and the road twisting and turning around coastal lagoons on the way. The vegetation is a bit sparse this time of year, and the animals seem quite skittish, which is probably a good thing. Eventually the group, in all their obviously abnormal glory, reach a structure! It looks to be a rather large seaside castle, constructed entirely of red, purple and gold stonelike blocks put together in strange, seemingly meaningful combinations. It seems to be quite the fortified place, though, and one can see the faintest glimmer of some kind of largely invisible field encircling the area. Outside this field is a platform with a heptagram on it - next to it is a polished marble sign saying "Visitors! Stand on the platform if you have business here!"