Act I-I: The Village of Mayfield

"I think... I think I would like to see what lies inside," he says, his eyes locked on the book. "I believe your friend here has entirely ridden the tome of any active magic. I should dare say that maybe a clue may lie at the bookmark. We needn't hold the book physically at least.
If you could, just use your hand to open it to that point. I wish to know what Bishop has to do with this."

The book opens with no surprises being sprung. The pages are thin and worn with some years. The bookmark leads the reader to two blank pages. In fact, each page upon closer examination is! Father Braeburn cocks his head, mystified.
"Well then, this is both a good outcome and, somehow, a troubling one. My good goblin, G'nark, correct? It seems that whatever magics were over the tome, has well and truly been dispelled."

With a mysterious time found and dispelled, it appears that all leads to this "courier" have gone cold. But, at least content that the current issues haven been resolved, the party head back to The Skeletal Arms for some well deserved food, drink, and rest.
Old Peculiar had been busy getting some stew going and doling it out to everyone that was still there. When everyone enters, he greets the party warmly, asking them to wait a moment before asking them to sit at the bar to be served. The tables were still set aside to make room for the wounded.
"Ah, heroes, welcome back. Don't have much ready aside from some beef stew and day old sourdough. Plenty of drink at least. Got plenty of fruity wines, along with the local ale and mead. Personally, I prefer the Satyr's Delight and the Honigbrau.

Peculiar nods towards Prusx.
"If you feel safe in there, be my guest. As for the rest of you, I made sure to check the other rooms I have available to see if something less savory was in them. Didn't find anything, so you should be able to rest well for the night .

The late evening sun slowly sets the sky alight with deep orange before the moon and stars take its place in the sky. Everyone eventually heads home, if they're able to, to rest. Old Peculiar and Father Braeburn are the only ones left at the bar, chatting about the events that occurred that dire day.
Everyone slowly nods off, though one may choose to remain awake for a night watch. Alas, for the most part, the night is still and quiet. Nary a sound is heard outside the windows of The Skeletal Arms tavern, save for the odd band of crickets and barn owl. Dreams come uneasily to everyone, however. They are hazy, yet, they are filled with foreboding images and thoughts. Are they a sign from the gods? Is it just your collective imaginations? Who can say - no one is quite lucid enough to make heads or tales of them in their slumber. The night goes on, and on, and on without event. At least, not until around the hour of 4 am.

For Prusx and Talyn, they both hear a tapping coming from their window. Their familiars have spotted something! A strange glow is coming from the area around the church! A loud knocking comes from downstairs as well - the remaining wounded scream! Old Peculiar exclaims something about more walking dead! Shattering glass rings out and rises upstairs for all to hear!