clues in the old ruins of the chapel
Xue is looking at the old chapel for clues. She is seeking a library for clues on the Octahedron touchstone and what happened before.
The people in the streets gave no notice to Xue, as she walked hooded and cloaked, another drab body moving in the twilight of the shrouded town. As the approached the church, she was suddenly alone. The corpses of the villagers slain last night had been removed sometime before dawn, and the ancient gates hung open on their hinges. The door of the church yawned open, empty and dark.Pulling her hood against her face, she entered the structure. Stepping lightly over splintered pews and broken glass, the high arches of the church’s celling seemed stretched, at once towering over her, and looming down oppressively. Behind the remains of the pulpit, a small door opened at a shove, making an unsettling amount of echoing noise in the hollow structure.
The private study, the crooked shelves of books, the ancient pages, printed on paper, then handwritten, then scrawled, Xue’s head swam. There were runes of power pressed into the paper, their imprint impressing upon the space and air their portent when the pages were turned. Runes of ruin and decay, baneful to the mind and will of the beholder. And to flesh and stone. Rotting wood cracked, and dust and molding fell around her as she hungrily tore through book after book.
The structure shuddered, Xue had a sudden moment of clarity, she ran for her life as the chapel fell inward. Staggering from the library, noxious images chased each other across her vision. She fell, blanched, vomited sea water. In her hand, a single crumpled page of a diary. At the start of the next session, I need 3 rolls. One for your mind, one for the page in your hand, and one for your person.