As soon as the rune encrusted door swung open, Caelum nose wrinkled and his eyes squinted. "HOLY BLEEDIN' SHITE FARMER!" exclaimed Garran as he tossed his head back, covering his nose, "DID TH'S MAGIC SHITEIN' DOVE EMPTY H"S BOWELS 'R SOMETHIN'!?"
"That does happen often in death, Garran," Caelum said matter of factly as he strode into Vates' abode, "but I don't think thats the case this time." It was too...ferric to be faecal matter. In the center of the room was Vates lying supine, his jaw locked down in terror. His old, yellowed wings were now soaked red with his own blood and his right arm was outstretched, as if grabbing for something. Keeping his eyes locked on the corpse, Caelum began to pace around it, examining it from all angles. The most obvious culprit of course was the three gaping chest wounds torn into his chest, the center one being much alrger than the others. Only...something seemed slightly off about them. Then again, he was not really an expert on Daeva attacks. Looking up to the gathered party who had slowly filtered through the door to Vates' chamber, Caelum gestured to the gashes. "What do you make of these?" he asked a little pondrously as he started to levitate a few rune cards out of their holdings. 

Garran stomped closer as he rested his sea mine on the floor. Kneeling down, he placed his hand to his chin and grunted thoughtfully. "I be seein' a great many wounds in me time on th' seas, b't tha's defini'ly no daeva wound," he said confidently as he suppressed the urge to gag. He'd drunk things which were TEN times worse than this. How could this be happening now? There was definitely something deeper here. "I've seen bites, claws, tal'ns 'nd 'll s'rts a other attacks, b't this don't fit non'a 'em." Caeulum nodded. It was what he had suspected, but he didn't engage in combat theory too much. Turning away, the Seraphim began to move towards the walls, his cards floating around him. He would leave the others to their speculation.