Ruarc strode casually down the center of the street in the market district. The Irishman was in drab, earth colored clothes and stood a head taller than most of the other people crowding the street around him. In silence he made his way passed stalls and storefronts without looking at anything in particular. Laoise had opted to stay behind in the cottage rather than follow the Druid into the crowded district.
As he listlessly glanced around at the different stores, not much really caught his eye. There were vendors selling all sorts of things, but nothing that really struck Ruarc as something he would be interested in. For the most part he was still combing Osaka for signs of the person he was tracking, but since he now had a source of income he figured it never hurt to look around for something to spruce up his cottage.
With a heavy sigh he shuffled through the churning midday crowd. All around him the only language he could hear was Japanese, and in a dull haze he did not bother mentally translating what was being said. Somewhat regretting his timing of going to the market due to the large crowds, Ruarc contemplated going back to the cottage and making new runes or translating the Tome for the rest of his day off.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Ruarc spotted a small store tucked off the the side of the street with no one inside. Judging from the window and sign it was an antique shop. The Irishman stopped walking and stared at the shop for a few moments before shrugging and making his way across the street.
As Ruarc got to the store front and entered the door, he was greeted by cool air and the smell of scented candles and incense. It was slightly dim within the store and most of the wares were small trinkets, bits of jewelery, old books, and polished rocks. Once inside he was greeted by an aging woman. Nodding in acknowledgment, the Irishman began to slowly make his way along the side of the shop as he glanced casually over the wares. While nothing really stuck out as being something he would be interested in, he still enjoyed the emptiness of the shop.
When Ruarc got to the back of the store, something did manage to stick out. A series of a couple dozen smooth, circular, dark-grey stones with markings carved into their surface. The Druid quickly made his way over to the stones to inspect them.
"These are runestones carved out of Irish shale, and in my handwriting! These are the stones that were stolen from me!" Ruarc thought to himself as he could feel himself getting angry. "They robbed me and then pawned off my runes! Ugh, as soon as I figure out who is responsible, I swear I will...
Ruarc picked up one of the stones and turned to the woman back at the counter. "Um, excuse me Miss, but could ya tell me where ya got these stones?" he asked promptly.
"There is a note by the stones that explain the stones," the woman replied as she stepped out from behind the counter and made her way closer to the Druid.
Ruarc looked back at the table top to find the note, but couldn't see anything.
"Um, Ah don't see anyth..." Ruarc started to say, but as he turned back around to speak to the clerk, a rag was shoved in his face. He struggled to get away, but his movements had become sluggish and his head grew foggy before he passed out soon afterward.
Archives of Occultus Magica's beginnings, ten years prior to the current story.
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