DEVA AF FFS, part 10

From Tenebrae
Jump to navigation Jump to search

Log Info

  • Title: DEVA AF FFS, part 10
  • Emitter: Cryosanthia
  • Characters: Thurid, Tenoc, Kira, Shalethiste, Merek
  • Place: H01: Kultari Road - DEVA Station
  • Time: Sunday, February 21, 2021, 2:02 PM
  • Summary: There are new developments at DEVA station. While many new patients with the Coward's Disease recovered, eight contracted the Sleeping Sickness. This was traced back to contaminated food prepared by one of the healers when they were infectious. More precautions were taken. Kira meets with the greyscale assistant of Geir, as well as brief encounters with Tenoc, Shalethiste and Thurid. Thurid has contracted the Bog Plague, keeps working through it, and gets worse. She's finally convinced to rest. During that rest, she talks with Urbarra, then Cyrmryl, regarding the origins of the Bog Plague and the ritual with the vampire. Tenoc and Shalethiste swap positions as 'most hated in the camp', and hang out at the bonfire with Captain Infalia. Tenoc and Infalia's crew later go looking for firewood, the goblins explosively logging the nearby forest while the Sith'Makar gets lost in it. Kira and Merek both work on the invalids with Sleeping Sickness and an update is sent to the Temples with specific requests for high level help, which is promised. It seems the worst is over, even if there are some unanswered questions.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* H01: Kultari Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

From east to west, north to south, the Alexandrosian countryside weaves over hill, valley, and farmland. Kultari Road meanders through it at a comfortable pace. The roadside is lined with curbstones, their surfaces comfortably flat and warm, with sand pressed inbetween. At times construction meanders into dirt, and numerous pathways branch off here and there to different farmsteads.

Along this stretch is a waystation. Over its door is a carved marker with dual symbols of Gilead and Tarien, the patrons of travel and the meeting of wilderness-and-civilization, respectively. Not large, the waystation rests a comfortable ways from the main avenue, with a place for a firepit out front.

Towards the south, the sky and landscape darkens. The Felwood lies there, and an occasional screech from inhuman lungs may be heard.

Towards the east, the shining City of Alexandria.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Thurid       7'1"     249 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Shalethiste  4'6"     96 Lb      Shadow Elf        Female    A copper maned elf maiden, hued in the night sky.
Kira         5'0"     120 Lb     Human             Female    Blonde woman in simple robes with an eye patch.
Tenoc        7'0"     280 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter                      
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  As the GM  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.           
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Daeus-Eluna-Vardama-Althea Allied-Faiths For-Foreign-Soldiers
DEVA AF FFS Station

The weather at DEVA station is pleasant today; it has been terrible all week. Day after day of snow added the extra duty of shoveling the paths between the tents, and clearing it off the caravan wagons and the airship. It did give the waiting crews something to do, as well as the patients that have been recovered the most. In the aftermath, the camp is a brilliant white, and even though the air is chill, bright sun and a clear blue sky go a long way to raise the spirits.

Moral has improved, largely to the Silverguards' efforts. Seldan talked with each healer and acolyte, and Shalethiste didn't do anything really, except stand around being visible and causing the suffering sick to spend all their time focusing on her. She hasn't been jumped again, and as the recovery from the Coward's Disease progresses, she's getting fewer glares that suggest she should be taken out.

The Coward's Disease patients are doing well, each one has improved under the now-skilled routine of the DEVA attendants, and a full fifteen were judged free of the disease and relocated to the north section of the camp, where the cured wait under observation while their compatriots heal. No one has had time to go through Doctor Deaztor's notes and concoctions. Inquisitor Murmurboggle has left them at camp for the healers to investigate further, though he has indicated they will needed as evidence.

However, with all these hopeful signs, there are some depressing events. Several of the Bog Plague suffers pass on, their bodies simply too weak after all this time. It has been many months of slowly wasting away and getting worse; the plague is deadly enough without magical resistance. Despite this, there is some hope, thirteen have been cured, two seem on the verge of recovery, and while five are still bedridden they were pulled back from death's door. Of the original twenty-four cases, four have been lost, and the remaining sick might be strong enough to make it. Thurid's suggestion to use strengthening magic, to boost their constitution and prayer to help with their resistances seems indirect enough that it doesn't trigger the violent anti-magic reaction that has resulted from direct healing spells.

The most discouraging event was the sudden appearance of the Sleeping Sickness among the Coward's disease sufferers. It caused a scramble and a panic to determine how the infection spread. Investigation determined it came from food prepared by the Seer; left-overs he distributed after feeding the patients he was directly working with. Several pieces of information was discovered from this unfortunate act: The Sleeping Sickness parasite can survive normal cooking methods; The Seer is infected; while Remove Disease does affect this disease it only partially eliminates it instead of fully purging parasites. Repeated applications of the spell are required, over multiple days to first cure the condition then prevent a relapse. Relapses after apparent recovery tend to be much worse. Six patients struggled to a recovered state, only to drop suddenly days later. Of those, three died.

Three died, despite Merek casting Remove Disease. There simply wasn't enough castings of the spell available. Perhaps it would be better to say three were saved, two by spells, one by treatment. Another might have been, if the Seer didn't need to use his spells on himself. The Sleeping Sickness is turning into the dark spot of the camp. Of the initial twenty three infected, only five can be considered fully recovered, fourteen might, and eight new cases who are also suffering from the Coward's Disease were added because of the contaminated food. The lingering nature of the Sleeping Sickness, the way it resurges worse, is making this the deadliest in the camp. Just what happened at the Black Marsh may be the most pressing question. The Arsenic treatment has not been tried, the arcanists Janna and Borzi are strongly advising it for the patients that might be strong enough, simply out of desperation.

The bugbears, Urbarra and Urtur have been sedate since their reunion. Urtur was isolated per the Jotun's instructions, and hasn't manifested any signs of the Bog Plague. His Sleeping Sickness seems on the verge of recovery, although with that disease, 'cured' is just a maybe. Janna and Borzi remain even though the task they were originally invited for has largely been resolved. The strange condition of the bugbears' joints is hereditary, not contagious, and there are a variety of options which include doing nothing about it, surgury to replace the affected joints with internal artifice, complete artifice replacements, or more esoteric experiments with polymorph spells. Borzi jokingly suggests finding a Hag who can do shape flesh. He was joking, hags are untrustworthy evil harridans, but... it _could_ work.

So, a new day dawns on a camp that has been reshaped by weather and new patients. It gleams brilliantly in the sunlight, the eastern field has been taken over entirely by the Coward's Disease group. The Way Station was vigorously scrubbed down, and devoted to the Sleeping Sickness sufferers. The worse off for any disease are in Mikilos' Mage's Magnificient Mansion, and that's the totality of the Bog Plague Patients and the worst of the Sleeping Sickness cases. Each has an individual room, an unseen servant, and careful procedures. Colonel Ezrechu and Doctor Deaztor remain in custody in the MMMM. Inquisitor Murmurboggle stated he would return to question them, but didn't. The severe snow and some other apparent events in Alexandria, an execution, keeping him occupied. Ezrechu is an uncooperative prisoner; Deaztor practically vibrates from the proximity to disease sufferers. She volunteers to help out, loudly, and often.

The grey-scaled sith'makar assistant to Shaman Geir has gathered the healers in the meeting room in the MMMM. He stares blankly, his tongue flicking out of the hood of his cowl, only his nose otherwise visible. "Sssaaa..."

"Prioritiess...?"

One sickness (or so they thought initially), but two... three.. more? Kira hasn't left the triage and treatment camp since its establishment. There were many other able to venture out to investigate the various sources and/or treatments. Her priority is, has been, and always shall be, tending those in need.

These past days(weeks)(months?)(what day is today?) have been choppy seas of ups and downs in results and morale. She refuses to give in, much less give up, but she isn't immutable. Empathy is a double-edged tool.

Kira still wears her smile at this routine(?) meeting. It's always been present. Now, though, it may be held up as much by muscle memory and/or cramps as much as hope.

<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll continue helping the plague patients while recovering."
GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (6)+11: 17
GAME: Thurid rolls fort+1: (5)+8+1: 14
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "There's a Bedrest bonus for just resting in the MMMM which you don't get if you keep working"
<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll try rerolling my fort."
GAME: Thurid rolls fort+1: (5)+8+1: 14
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d5: (2): 2 (Attacks Dexterity)
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6: (6): 6 (DEX damage)

Thurid, never one to listen to good advice, continues treating the plague striken patients despite the urging of some of her colleagues to get some bed rest- just because she's feeling better, doesn't mean the disease is free of her system. Of which she is well aware. But, she continues working regardless. The Jotunborn woman still isolates herself amongst the plague victims, until such a time as she can be certain she is disease free.

And so on the morning when she wakes to discover ugly sores beginning to form once more, it's a cause for concern- but not for surprise. Nevertheless. She pulls herself out of bed, scrubs off, and gets back to work.

After the events of the Beseiged City, Tenoc has done his level best to assist... and not go into a panic paroxysm over the sicknesses (TOTALLY EVIL SPIRITS) potentially affecting the other Makar at the camp. From various services as temporary Tent Watcher, part-time bodyguard, occasional herb-gatherer, and otherwise working as first-contact for organizing the arriving Sith hunters...

The rest of 'free time' has been spent guarding the bonfire. Because someone might go crazy and leap into it. And because they are soft, burn.

It is also well-away from most snow. Cold. COLD.

In the Jotun's case, sometimes brute force fails and her determination and simple bad luck conspire to keep her from recovering. When the other healers notice that she not only looks unwell, but she's gotten clumsier, they advise she should rest. Seriously, this could progress to a dangerous stage.

Arcanists Janna and Borzi were discussing hypotheticals near Kira one day. Hypotheticals for them, because they don't have the available spells.

"So it seems a Heal Spell or a Remove Disease works completely on the Coward's Disease, why wasn't that being used?" Janna, the older elf, asks her gnome companion.

"Simple. Don't have enough who can cast, an the numbers was overwhelming at first. When they thought it was all a variant off th' magic plague, hesitated to try it." Borzi summarizes, "and at the Army camp, their doc wanted to experiment."

"Yes," Jenna nods, "And once Merek determined it worked a little on the Sleeping Sickness, he's been using that, but he has only three and he needed one for himself."

Borzi nods and thinks about it a bit, "Yeh, and the giantborn, she figured out that while the Bog Plague reacts bad to Remove Disease or Heal, it isn't bothered by spells that aren't attacking it directly. So, works just fine on the Coward's, is like throwing the spell in a well with the Sleepers, and kills 'em if they got the Bog Death."

This might explain why a little while later the greyscale looks at Kira and asks, "Could... you asssisst... the Sssleepings Sssufferrerrsss?"

Kira blinks slowly and looks to the greyscale as her wearied brain parses his words. Once they are processed, she is a bit more invigorated. "Of course! They ...-do- benefit from curing?" The information isn't new, she simply has the forethought to confirm with her drained brain. She wants to actually help and not hinder. Or worse.

GAME: Tenoc rolls Diplomacy: (2)+2: 4
GAME: Shalethiste rolls diplomacy: (20)+1: 21

Tenoc hovers protectively around one of the fires! Meaning, growling and glaring and being viciously potentially bitey to anyone that isn't, you know, scaly. Basic Am'shere diplomacy.

Shalethiste, for her part, has been enduring the somewhat troubling role of 'ire magnet' to keep victims of the Coward's Disease from lashing out at their direct healers, yet close enough that the gift from the Sky Singer that helps those about her to better manage their fears can help mitigate their suffering in part. She has, on occassion, been forced to more directly intercede, and she has approached the matter with her usual, intended delicacy, though perhaps familiarity, reputation, or some other abstract allow her to overcome her people's handicap at positive engagement. She approaches each to their demeanor; her voice is velvet when soft is desired, and steel when iron demanded.

There are few sith'makar in the camp, and they don't go outside much. It's COLD! It may be only Shaman Geir, his assistant and Tenoc, there are occasional glimpses of another, but in any case Tenoc is noticed.

At some point a rumour started circulating that the Sith'Makar eat their dead, then eat the dead, followed by a mild panic among the Coward's Disease sufferers that Tenoc was waiting around for them to die. The Sleepers are asleep too much, and the Bog Plague patients secure that they unpalatable even to a carrion lizard. Sadly, the Coward's patients number over a hundred.

Shalethiste finds herself unexpectedly popular, reassuring these patients that Tenoc isn't there to eat them, and that she'll stop him, or anyone trying to do that. Rumours that there's something wrong with the food are also going around, and this isn't helping those who find themselves extra paranoid because of the disease.

Thurid is eventually forced to heed the warnings when her sluggish fingers lose their grip on a tray of bandages, and she drops them all over the floor. Stubborn, though she may be, she is no fool, and she finally relents to the other healers' urging that she gets some rest. She decides she'll pay Urbarra a visit, given he already has the plague. He'll probably find her matching sores amusing.

The greyscale nods slowly to Kira, his Vardamite vestments bobbing slowly, "Yesss. Many cassstingss musst be to have. Effects. Channelsss. Curess. Healss. Remove the Disseassesss. Ssleeperss ressist, but it workss. Many, cassstingss."

Tenoc has learned at least some things in regard to the sufferers, and soft-skins as a whole: Am'shere diplomacy is not societally acceptable among non-Am'sheri. And do not smile. Never smile.

'Walking dragon man' is NOT a phrase of appreciation, especially when accompanied by screaming and flailing. And more tooth-showing just makes matters worse.

The green-scaled Hunter sighs heavily, glancing back at the woodpile. Hungry flames.

Urbarra is very happy to see Thurid. He does enjoy the paired snoring, it's very fortunate the MMMM can be designed to block sounds from the rooms. The bugbear is almost recovered, he's in a similar weakened condition as the Jotun. He's disappointed even, his plague buboes have disappeared so he doesn't have them to play with any more. He's conversational, as far as Bugbear's go, which means he asks to hear how Thurid won Stone Talon a few more times, and tells her about his glorious fights. Fights which all seem to have happened before he joined the Bludguni army. He doesn't seem interested in returning to uniform. Seeing Alexandria, getting his younger brother to knuckle under, and going to look for a new tribe near Shark Tooth seem to be his goals.

Captain Infalia joins the greenscale by the fire. There's only so much gobbo she can take, and staring into a bonfire is fun. Watching the flames, the wood glow and break down, the orange cavern of heat. The smoke and the impermanance of all things. Also it's COLD! and the fire is hot.

"You should show them your new rank." Infalia advises. She's familiar with the Sith'Makar from the Stone Talon trip, and has heard and dismissed the rumours. "You're a Lesser Champion. Tha's not easy ta get. Issa rank an' a medal. E'en the Bludguni soldiers respect, 'cept they'll try 'n kill ya for it. Status innit?"

Thurid, for her part, is more than happy to hear the Bugbear's stories. And to tell her own, a little differently each time they are told, but that is half the fun of telling a story- filling in the little details. She is encouraging of his plans, speaks of her own background a bit- child of slaves, grew up in a boring temple, got in a fistfight with an old man when she was a wee girl (some embelisment), which inspired her to join the temple of Angoron. She plugs her faith, but only mildly. Mostly, she encourages Urbarra to be adventurous and honorable. Or, at the very least, glorious. She does also mention to him, in passing, that there are some options for making his joints more flexible, if he's interested. She avoids using words like 'fix' or 'heal' knowing how the bugbears react to implications of weakness.

Shalethiste is happy to see that people are warming to her. While her confidence is unflagging, she much prefers to see a glimpse of a bright future for her kind, even as a momentary reprieve. Along the course of her endeavours, as much reassuring those under their care that the food is being purified, and no one is in fact on the menu, she can't help but be aware the trouble the green Sith is having, and she approaches Tenoc by the fire for a few moments.

She affords him a soft smile and reaches out for his shoulder, "Are you alright, friend Tenoc?" she asks gently, glancing off toward a triage peopled with wary eyes cast their way, "I know how difficult it can be working with people who distrust or fear you so. It's more than situation than you, friend, please don't take it to heart."

Urbarra listens intently, especially to Thurid's background details. Slavery doesn't draw much of a reaction from him, it's a condition of life, but he's interested in her discussions of Angoron. Despite being named for the great wolf, it's clear Urbarra isn't as interested in Caracoroth as much as his younger brother is. It was the faith he grew up with, but it didn't help Shark Tooth out all that much, if anything the town's destruction is more evidence of displeasure. He doesn't give much weight to honour, but, Thurid's example and the results speak for themselves. These thoughts of his are expressed in a rough way, but he adds 'Seeing the Temple of Angoron' to his list of things to do.

He also seems interested in the options she mentions, especially as they are carefully couched as 'making stronger', 'tougher', and 'improving' him so he can use more weapons. He enjoys using weapons. In a strange demonstration of filial affection, he asks if his brother can be made a better challenge for him. He seems keen on anything that might be done - which would be a good reason to keep Borzi away from him. Gnomes, with permission. Dangerous!

Tenoc chuffs to the air-- breath hot as it swirls into misty steam, swiftly gone. "One isss... not certain Bludguni would appreciate," he counters, rumbling in bemusement. He pauses to adjust the base of the fire, pressing the heavy logs in towards the center. "The healers-- they said I was being... scary to the patients. That evil spirits had convinced them I would come at night and eat their hearts. Or toes. Or fingers."

He snorts again, heavily. "Rank is, medal is...." He furrows his brow, struggling to explain it. "...sssk. One suspects they are pleasing things. But they do not feed the others. Do not feed the tribe, the People." Carefully, fighting off the sluggish urge cold weather and hot flames inspire, he draws a small fruit from his pouch. A quick twist-- practically sliced in half, he offers the officer a portion. "I am Hunter caste. Lead when called upon, then-- not, when better is available. Unsure how rank-things work. It is... Softskin? Yus. And strange."

He rumbles when Shalethiste approaches, offering a pleased tailthump-- offering the other part of the fruit to her as well. "This one is good," he announces, standing straighter. "The fire burns bright. It feeds, and is good. As for others--" He pauses, shrugging in an entirely human way. "Sssk. They are softskins. One does not eat them. They are being cracked eggs."

Infalia gives Shalethiste a two-finger salute as a greeting when she arrives. The fire is melting away her slouch, she stands a little taller the longer she lingers beside it. While her ears flick in the direction of her crew's camp, they don't need her right now. No one is going anywhere.

Many, many uses. Kira nods. "I'll do what I can." She may not have many, many, but she may be in a better position to help than the casters. She departs to do exactly that, and tend to the sleepers. Mmm. Sleep. Somewhere, deep down, some part of her soul is a bit envious.

Infalia takes the offered fruit from Tenoc, pops it in her mouth with a wide grin. She's not afraid to show him her pointed teeth. "Means our leaders think yer tough an' important. Good ta have around. Tha' ya did a thing someone should sing about."

She nods at the explanation, but doesn't launch into any explanation of the superstitions of soldiers. As an Airship captain, she probably has a bunch herself.

Thurid nods, "Of course, anything that would work for you could work for him as well." Thurid offers, finally, at the last question. "As for the temple, I would love to show you. When we're well. They have mighty drums, as big as a buffalo. They take strength and endurance and precision to play, just like fighting." she offers her gap-toothed grin. "If you keep getting better, I think you and your brother can probably see one another again soon. Not until you aren't infectious anymore, though." she offers once again.

Amongst the sleepers, the current status is six are cured for sure, five are showing no symptoms but still considered latent carriers, three are weakened, three are disabled, one is bedridden and two are comatose. One of the comatose patients had recovered, then replapsed, two potentially recovered patients also relapsed but were improved to the disabled condition by the Seer's spells, and the other three who relapsed, died.

In addition, there are eight new patients that have both the Coward's Disease and Sleeping Sickness, because of contaminated food. Six are weakend, and two more are a little worse and impaired, on the verge to worsening to disabled. The Seer also had contracted the Sleeping Sickness, and has been using his spells to cure himself.

Shalethiste smiles to Infalia and gives a little bow, "It's good to see you again, Cap'n." she says with a little more casual air. She is glad the kerfuffles of these last weeks haven't seemed to be harrowing her thus far.

The gifted fruit brings a look of surprise and a bow, "Thank you." There is a momentary regard of his now empty hands and she busies her own with splitting the fruit that she can let him enjoy some of it as well, silently offering it his way as she nods, "True... they are being silly, but sometimes knowing a thing in your head is a different thing than knowing it in your heart. I'm glad you're handling it so well."

"Yesss." The greyscale Sith'makar hisses, his snout bobbing in his hood. He has a notebook but only occasionally writes something down. When he does, it's usually a single word. Enough light reflects off his nose tip that his eyes glimmer in the gloom of his cowl. He focuses on Kira, "Ssshould we. Asssk for help?"

Merek was dealing with the fact he had been put into the sleeping sickness with the patients. All the same, he keeps focusing upon healing with himself, then the patients. The man looks like he will be keeping busy, working with medicine and trying his best to mundanely heal the people. There's not a lot interesting that he's doing, with the cleric in that background to assist.

"Heh. Yes. Drums!" Urbarra grins and slaps at his knees, drumming them. Two distinct noises, of course one of his hands is more fused bone. "Beat you at drums." He promises, or challenges. "Sick of be sick."

He falls silent again, glancing occasionally at Thurid, a being of action forced to stillness.

Tenoc accepts the quartered fruit back, rumbling in return as his tail stirs. "They are ridden by evil things," he says-- the best he can approximate illness. "They feed on fears, change thoughts, corrupt goodness. It will pass in time. Or their ancestors will give them peace." He swallows the fruit in one bite, tangy and sweet; he chuffs a quick breath to the air, a tongue of flame as he exhales reverently. "Mmm. Shall be patient. Stay near fire, tend hot spirit. It is wild, but... one knows Makar is kin, will not bite it. Or eat toes. Fingers. Eyeballs."

Tailthump!

Kira pauses in her eagerness and steps to nod to the Sith, her smile warming with actual energy. "Any who can help would be welcome, if they're not already helping others. Everyone deserves our aid. We can ask on the way?"

Infalia nods at Shalethiste, clearly working the slice of fruit in her mouth. She hasn't had much to do, mind the crew camp and prevent her goblins getting in trouble. Shovel snow off the airship. Prevent her goblins setting fire to the camp, and so on.

"No orders, we can take ye somewheres iffin' yer needin' that."

Shalethiste nods sagely with a thoughtful eye, but doesn't comment on the options of fine dining. Like Recipes.

Instead, she chews on the fruit and sighs a happy note as she does, swallows, then, "That's very nice..."

Her attention turns to Infalia at her offer and she gives a wan smile, "I... very much wish to return to make sure Zanalilla is alright, but.... we have to see to these people, first. Thank you, Captain." She gives that a moment, then, "But, I should get back to my rounds, stay warm, I hope we can speak later." and, with that, she goes back to settling people that look to be getting squirrely.

The healers advise the Seer to rest, recover first, the standard 'healer heal thyself first' and 'you're no good if you can't help others' advice that any caregiver has heard many times. However, they end up deferring to the Man's persuasive arguments and relent, letting him do what he wants to assist. The mundane methods work, which is good, as his available spells are used up on himself and a couple of the patients.

"Thiss one meansss. The Templesss." The greyscale tells Kira. Althea's Temple has been providing a lot of the acolytes, lay healers and the food; Vardama's supplied the tents, and so on. In the first few days, requests for things were going back nightly. Once the situation stablized the Temples were waiting. "If we know. Curesss. For Sure."

He follows along as Kira leads the way.

Tenoc nods with an approving rumble, glancing at his pouch with a sigh of regret. Will have to ration the fruits down *again*.... He turns back to the fire, eyeing it critically before his gaze turns back to the awful, bitter, wicked, cruel, merciless--

He shivers. Winter. COLD.

"This one shall have to go, gather tree-wood soon," he remarks, glaring at the snow-covered treetops bitterly. "...one is not enthused to go."

"Okay, I got yer back." Infalia waves as Shalethiste heads off, her attention also turns to the fire. She looks over at Tenoc, seems thoughtful. Gobbos gathering firewood in the woods in winter. What could go wrong?

"You need help?

Thurid grins and nods her head, "I'm no expert, but I'll accept that challenge." she offers Urbarra. "And- yes. I think everyone wishes this were just over already." she says and gives a small shrug, "That's what folks like me are trying to get done." she adds after a moment. "Why don't you tell me a bit about the place where you got sick to begin with?" she asks Urbarra- realizing that no one has really spoke to him much, since he's become more cooperative and cheerful, at any rate. "It was some kind of crypt, right? With a monster?"

Kira nods. Once. Twice. Before the third, she blinks a bit more energetically and rubs her face. "Oh! Of course. I'm verry sorry. It has been an... ordeal. The temples need to be told what was learned, if they haven't. For the Sleeping Sickness, we need more who can remove disease. Hearthguards, or Sentinels with the blessings to do so." She pauses, then clarifies, "Not only The Healer's servants, of course."

It takes a few seconds for the thoughts to finish rattling around the poor Makar's brain; anything to put off trudging into the cold, snowy forest a little longer!

Tenoc rattles his head, huffing a breath. *Focus*. "It would make wood-gathering quicker," he says, nodding as he turns back to Infalia. "And, though smaller than People... ssk. Better suited. Better able to handle cold and weather. And, keep busy. To build fire-pyramid things." He grins in amusement, teeth glittering. "Keep them... ssssk. Occupied for most of day? Drink after. Sssss.... Small amount."

"Yeh. Old place. Old place old place." Urbarra says, to emphasize. He jerks a thumb roughly in the direction of Alexandria. It has too many sylabbles, he usually refers to it as 'city' or 'Lex-dree' or some mush of its name. "City old. Older." Some interpretation is required for his word choice.

"Dead body place." Graveyard.

"King house underground." Subterranian palace, perhaps a very elaborate crytp.

"Tomb." That's obvious, "Ritual circle." Also obvious. "Lots undead. Kill them. Do blood ritual. Wake Vampire."

He taps the side of his neck, "Feed vampire. All feed. Take council."

Shalethiste goes back to the rounds, seeing to settling nerves and reassuring people that certain Sith expressions are meant as analogues to smiles, rather than a declaration of lunch. The brief touch on Zanalilla nags at her for a moment or two, but she doesn't dwell overlong.

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Hmmmmmmmm... Tenoc... what is the 'controlling unruly Goblins' skill?"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, Sense Motive... ? Handle Animal?"
<OOC> Kira says, "Throw?"
<OOC> Tenoc chuckles. "Intimidate!" XD
GAME: Tenoc rolls Intimidate: (4)+11: 15

The greyscaled Sith'makar nods at Kira, with his vestments concealing him, it's almost like talking to an animated set of clothing. His nose, his tailtip sticks out, his hands sometimes, when the sleeves haven't fallen down to absorb the notebook and pen. "Thisss one will write. Thingsss. All Templess. You, sssign confirm."

It's sort of a question, or perhaps his plan. The Sith'makar doesn't appear to wait for an answer and goes off to complete the requests.

"Yep! Sounds good!" Infalia grins amazingly widely, as if she's just won the lottery or a years supply of Rice and Curry. The lanky airship captain is off, and soon returns herding her airship crew. It's orders time.

"Awright you lubs! Youse helpin' Champion Tenoc get some trees'n'wood." She picks one up and throw him a few feet towards the woods, then scrambles away leaving the greenscale in charge. He's intimidating, but not a lot, it's enough to get the gobbos to behave although a few do try biting him when his attention is elsewhere. They don't make it through the scales. They do end up in the woods with him.

How many goblins was it exactly? What if he loses one? Oh well.

The Mul'niessa meanwhile is having a happier set of rounds. Her aura relieves a lot of the patient suffering, her reassurances are believed. They no longer seem to consider Tenoc a threat, but... he's a lizard out in the cold, that's still suspicious. They're happy he isn't around. With that worry dealt with, the next one is the food. A couple are concerned with what happens when they're all fully recovered. Worried they'll be considered traitors for not killing the enemy in the night when no one is watching. The ones that aren't worried about failing to be aggressive enough, eaten or stabbed in the middle of the night, ask her for advice on sneaky assassinations. Mul'niessa are good at that, right?

There are some tracks around a cedar tree. Humanoid, softskin, that wander away from the tree, around a bit, then back. Strangely here's no one at the tree or up it. Perhaps a Druid is using tree-walk. There could be other explanations.

Shalethiste approaches the traitors issue with the gentle reminder that someone is always watching, usually those with very good eyes for the darkness. She... rarely touches the assassination thing, but when she does, it's usually with a remark about waiting until they get older, or a logic bomb about making her own job more difficult.

GAME: Shalethiste rolls intimidate: (15)+7+4: 26

The Sleeping Sickness patients are in the Way station. The recently converted stone building has been switched from a guard keep and traveller's station to a two floor healing facility with patients on the bottom, and services on the second floor. The twenty two who have Sleeping Sickness and Coward's Disese have been moved here, as well as Merek, who lies a-bed doing things.

GAME: Tenoc rolls Survival: (2)+12: 14
GAME: Tenoc rolls Sense Motive: (10)+3: 13
GAME: Tenoc rolls Intimidate: (8)+11: 19
<OOC> Tenoc blames cold weather. MUST BE THE PROBLEM..
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Ok, for your pose. You do not find any wood. Somehow the goblins are better at it. You do not lose any goblins, you do lose yourself. Somehow. Fortunately there's lots of snow and litle people tracks, so it's DC0 to find your way back (5 -1xbunch of people/3). So you can only Epic Fail getting back, roll a second Survival."
GAME: Tenoc rolls Survival: (18)+12: 30

It's wood! Gathering wood! Surely not a real problem for a group of inferno-minded gobbers who don't need to do ANYTHING ELSE. Tenoc is very specific spelling on what he wants, what he needs, and---!

....where did they all go?

The rest of the day is spent hunting for the various lost members of the crew. Following groups of tracks, small and medium and bear and-- rattle-shake head. Not hunting! Sluggish thoughts. COLD. And the sudden suspicion that the gobbers think 'explosives' might be a good way to bring down trees after the first (and not last) cataclysmic BOOM thorugh the woods...

Tenoc finds no wood. Gobbers 'find' PLENTY of wood. Green wood. Wet wood. Splintered-and-blown-to-jagged-bits wood. Wood that will need days, if not weeks of drying before it even makes good kindling.

Tenoc spends the rest of the evening muttering darkly in reptilian hisses and growls. And cold to boot!

As word is sent for more defined aid, Kira focuses on doing what she can for whom she can in the 'sleepy' wing. She can't treat them all, not all at once, so she focuses on those who are the worst, weakest, or most infirm. Kira finds others' suffering intolerable as a general rule, but a few uncomfortable for a time so that others can potentially survive and recover is a frustrating truth of triage.

Thurid listens intently despite the language difficulties, and eventually nods her head slowly. "So I gues this vampire didn't have the cleanest teeth, if you all got sick after." she finally says then as she ponders things. While part of her feels like hunting down an ancient vampire sounds like a great quest, the fact that it now seems to be part of the Bludguni council- plus she has the plague- seem like decent enough reason to put that quest on hold. For now.

"Nah," Urbarra agrees with Thurid, supplying an interesting detail, "Old dirty human." He doesn't have much to add regarding, why, why or where. He describes the geography and architecture and it sounds like some former part of Myrddion which was conquered by the monster hordes that descended from the Skycurtain mountains. The Bugbear was and wasn't leading this expedition as far as the Jotun can tell. He thought he was in charge, everyone obeyed him. It's always good to obey a Bugbear's orders even if they don't outrank you. That little pin isn't going to stop a solid fist. There was someone along who knew where to go and what to do. He got sick also, he's in this camp!

This hopeful news is dashed fairly quickly. Major Rhain Voils was one of the three who succumbed to the Bog Plague. There is a Cymryl Bellis, she might know. She's not dead. She is asleep and there's no rush, so she can be questionned tomorrow. Urbarra seems to want a nap after his meal and does so.

Tenoc finds his way back to DEVA station by following the glow when it gets dark. The goblins were successful! All sorts of wood. Some wood that was alive just a few hours ago too. Almost all of it was immediately thrown on the fire, it didn't make sense not to build real high. So the crackling blaze can be heard and seen for miles. It prompts an unexpected rush to burn some bandages and bedding that were piling up and the greenscale finds himself conscripted into that. He can carry things! Here's a pile of stuff no one wants to touch, be careful! The wood that doesn't immediately start to burn is pulled back enough to warm and dry out, and hopefully it will be burning soon. With that accomplished the goblins drink, and Infalia wakes up from her nap.

The Mul'niessa is absolutely terrifying when she puts her mind to it. The Coward's disease patients are now focused on the threats they -can't- see. Sadly their addled brains easily imagine all sorts of stealthy observation. She's back under suspicion too as the soldiers embrace their prejudices and wonder exactly what her purpose in camp is. They all seem to have that over-friendliness people adopt around those they distrust and the other healers mention that they need to keep track of knives better as more seem to have gone missing. Protection perhaps, against the little assassin on the prowl.

Kira's efforts help immensely. Even though she experiences the strange resistance the Seer and the greyscale described, like magically casting into a well or a large group, her Laying on of Hands and her Baldric Mercies improve the worst of the Sleeping Sickness patients. The worst of them recover to a mid-stage of the disease. There's an ironic second effect, the improved conditions of the stone Way Station eliminate the Coward's Disease that the new patients had. They have traded one disease for a worse affliction, so it's not much to celebrate.

The Magnificient Mansion is recast, patients and prisoners transferred, the night shift comes on and the night goes smoothly and silently. The huge bonfire keeps the snow a-glow all night. The next day the air is damp and cold, the sky a translucent grey. Nothing casts a shadow. It's dreary.

Several powerful healers arrive from the Allied Faiths temples, one from each. Not enough to cure all the patients in one shot, it will take time even though they equal or exceed Kira's healing abilities. Those afflicted with Coward's Disease will be cured within a week, restoration of their facilities may make longer. It's the Sleeping Sickness which is a concern, miracles can only do so much and the daily improvements are limited. Even after they are no longer symptomatic, it's necessary to keep apply the spells for a week to ensure there isn't a relapse. The Bog Plague patients might recover before the Sleepers do, even restricted to mundane treatment.

Tenoc formally returns to Infallia her crew, sets to lugging cartloads and crates and bags of waiting-to-be-destroyed items, and swears in a steam-kettle seething that he is sure will not get back to tiny ears!

And is sure, *sure*, that he will soon be accosted by a horde of angry druids, angry fae, angry forest spirits-- angry fae Druid forest spirits?

The Hunter tosses another load of bandages on the smokey green-wood fire, rumbling hotly as he broods on what manner of dooms can be inspired.

GAME: Kira rolls diplomacy+4: (6)+26+4: 36

Thurid for her part is feeling pretty worn down by dealing with her sickness, as well- and so seems to agree with Urbarra that a nap is a good idea. As such, she files the new information away as important, and then excuses herself to her own plague chamber, and decides to get some shuteye herself. Perhaps she'll feel a bit better with a good night's rest. Or perhaps she'll catch another disease. Who can say?

The Sentinel's request was received, and the document well written. Shaman Geir and his greyscaled assistant summarized things well. Kira's endorsement and additional comments were enough to get it to the highest levels. The Temples fully understand the treatment situation, the healing required and the risks associated with doing so. Judging them to be acceptable and not significantly threatening to their highest skilled clerics, they promise that help will be coming soon.

Attached to the promise is a request for more details on the related issues: The suspected war crimes evidence, the two prisoners, and so on.

Doom does not come to Tenoc immediately. It seems to hold off all morning too. Perhaps the doom hovers around in the trees, but no angry druid appears. He is thanked several times, by the other healers and by Infalia, who seems well rested for at least a few hours.

Thurid's night goes by easily, the Magnificent Mansion has a room for each patient, and an unseen servant that moves and brings things, and even puts the covers back on if they fall off in the middle of the night. There's a drink when she needs it, and it's an alcoholic drink if she desires it, though that's not advised. It's comfy, very comfy.

GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (16)+11: 27
GAME: Thurid rolls fort+2+4+4: (8)+8+2+4+4: 26
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "You'd be busy Kira with the sleepers. Make a Heal DC16 check"
GAME: Kira rolls heal+4: (14)+24+4: 42

In the morning, indeed feeling somewhat better- if not fully recovered, Thurid makes her way out of her room. Spying one of the shady servants, she asks to be lead to Cymryl's room, and makes her way there. She knocks gently before opening the door, just in case the other patient is sleeping.

"Yeh, come in." Replies a bored sounding voice from inside the room. At this stage, all of the patients are used to healers and acolytes coming in at various times to do various things. Cyrmryl isn't expecting Thurid, per se, but she's expecting someone. If anything she's confused that the Jotun isn't carrying something, food, bedding, bandages. She looks at the woman, her empty hands, "Did you forget something?"

Thurid shakes her head as she heads in, "No, I'm off duty." she says, and lifts an arm to show the shrinking buboes there. "I just wanted to talk. But, if you need anything, I can go fetch it." she offers a moment later, "Provided I can get it without leaving the plague area, mind. On the mend, but probably still infectious. I imagine that's becoming a phrase you're used to?" she wonders.

"Yeah," The hobgoblin soldier sits up. She's wearing the same sort of patient dress with the open back that Thurid is. Cymry has a warm brown tone to her skin, and her nose and her ears quite orange. Unusually, her eyes are a light green. It's not a commmon colour. "To the word, not needing anything."

She gestures around the room. It's relatively plain, there are things to look at, the wall has an unusual pattern that causes an optical illusion regarding its depth. Its bright, cheery. "I'm lookin' forward to being out, doing something. I know I'm not a prisoner, just feels like. So, bored and wanted ta talk?"

Thurid laughs a bit at the question, "Not too bored, Urbarra has been entertaining me." she tells the Hobgoblin then, but since she seems ready to talk she closes the door and leans against the wall. "Which is what got me wanting to speak with you. About that crypt you visited, before you all got sick. Or, rather, sounded like more than a crypt. Some sort of huge necropolis?" she asks then. "What I know so far is you woke and fed a vampire- then you became sick with the plague. I want to know everything you can tell me about that place, and the vampire. Looking for anything that might help us make our treatments more effective. Sure I don't need to remind you, lost three more a couple nights back." she adds.

Cyrmryl laughs, "Oh Urbarra, yeh he's a handful. Good fighter. Strong in a pinch." She listens further, and as the questions get a little direct she tenses up, raising her hands defensively, "Look I was just following orders. I had no idea what was there. Major Voils had all the details. I was not 'need to know'."

She sighs, staring at the wall, "He told me. Not everything, not that we was doing a ritual and was gonna be bait and food. We find that out as we're doing it. And yeh, I know, he passed on. Stupid way to go, dying sick."

"So, yeah it was a Necropolis. Attached to a human city. Was a human city. Pile of ruins with no walls. Old place. No one lives there now. No one you'd want to know anyhow. Eaters of the Dead, those kinds."

Thurid shakes her head at first, "Not here to cast judgement. Just laying out what I already know." she offers. Then she folds her arms and listens to the story. She shakes her head on the topic of corpse-eaters, but doesn't say anything for a few moments. Finally, she speaks up again, having formulated her thoughts. "How long were you there before the ritual? No one got sick beforehand, it was definitely afterwards?" she wonders. "And this vampire, he say or do anything you recall that seemed unusual. Well. Other than sucking blood and being a vampire."

Cyrmryl nods, sucking some air in between her teeth. She straightens the blanket lying across her legs. She's sat up in bed, turned so its more like being on a chair. "Couple days, in the Necroplis, on the surface. Daylight was ok, nothing was out. We searched back and forth for the entrance. Voils was looking for a marking. Place was old, most of the stones broken over, crypts and mausoleums collapsed in. We find it eventually."

She leans back, supporting herself with her hands, "Funny thing, I was expecting a big deal, but it's a little low one. We take the lid off, goes down into a chambre. That's got a secret wall in it. Now that, that goes down even deeper, all angled like. There was this big fancy Mausoleum nearby, and it was going that way. Deep. Real deep. Like the family knew and builds a secret entrance to the place beneath theirs."

"We woke up some things. Non living things. Urbarra paid for his food then, lemme say. Couple hours, getting down, fighting, then straight to the ritual. We all gotta bleed in this rune-circle, all gotta chant. Voils had this Aspergum I never seen before, filled that with blood and was flicking it around. Like all of ours, on all of us. That's not how I like my bloodbaths."

She makes a huff noise, "Vampire, was human. Wasn't speaking trade. Was coming for all of us, like 'thanks snacks', and Voils is shouting at him, something weird. I don't think Voils knew what he was sayin' either. Like, you know when people say words theys memorized, and the emphasis and pacing is all wrong, was like that. Keeps repeating it, anxious like, like it's supposed to do something or maybe bind him. Then the vampire grabs his head and reads his mind or something and calms it up. Drinks us all right down so much we're dizzy can barely stand. We travelled when it was dark, and left back immediate."

Thurid rubs the back of her neck a bit, "I really should have talken to this Voils sooner..." she says then. "Guess there's nothing for it. I'll see if he remembers what it is he was meant to be chanting." she says then. "Thanks- thank you again. I'll go see if they've burned his corpse, yet." she says. A pause, when she realizes how grim the topic is, and she says, "I just want to get to the bottom of this plague, if it's some sort of ancient ilness that laid dormant in that tomb for all these centuries, or if it's some sort of curse." she offers.

Cyrmryl says, "Good luck. If I had to draw a line, it was that day. We was all fine up top, even after a couple days in the Necropolis, after just never felt right. Can't say if it was the first tomb, or the things we fought goin' down, or something in the ritual, or the Vamp drinkin' us. Right after, was wiped, but never got back to feeling better before we got sick."

"We was picked up real quick once we were out of the city."

The hobgoblin looks thoughtful for a moment, "Funny thing, the Vampire seemed upset, seeing the city all ruined. I don't know if it was the time passing, or he took it personal like it was his favourite city, but there's a reaction when them don't normally have that, y'know?"

"And could be any of those things. I know how to swing a sword. The juju and the healin', that's youse. I hope it helps."

Thurid nods her head slowly, "Never met a vampire, but they're practically required reading for clerics. Most like he had some stake in the city, long ago. Wasn't happy to see it ruined." she says then, and shrugs her shoulders, "If i had to guess, at any rate." she adds. "Alright, thanks for the help. I'll knock heads with some of the other healers and see if they can't make some use of the information. I'm more comfortable hitting things than hitting the books, myself, anyhow." she says and offers that gap-toothed grin of hers. For emphasis.

She unfolds her arms and moves to the door, "Alright, I'll go ask after Voils and pass on what you've said." she says, "Sure you're sick of hearing it, but rest up. Seems we're through the worst of it, for the most part. Save the sleeping sickness. That one's still a worry." she frowns, but then dips her head and makes her way out.

Ghoulish cp line.png

OOC Stuff and Rules

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Yes. it's DC18, make it you'll shake it off, fail you'll suffer its effect and progress one step worse. There's a 'track' for the disease, 7 stages, the last is death. For your save, you can give yourself a +4 if you make a treat disease check, and if you rest the MMMM gives you another +4, if you're helping other plague victims you're too active. However, you can do the cantrip Resistance trick to get another +1 Treat disease is also DC18"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "if you're curious, I'm using these rules: https://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemastering/afflictions#TOC-Diseases-and-Poisons-Optional-Rules"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "also, 1) forgot +2 'previously recovered' and 2) it wouldn't have made a difference you got 14 both times."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "oh, Fort Save Thurid, and per last time you can do a heal to boost your save,and you have +2 'previously recovered' and +4 from resting in the MMMM this time, and +1 Resistance Orison. DC18 heal (gets +4 from healing) then DC18 Fort save."

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so, Group 1, spells fine, Group 3, spells only 1/2 effective or worse, Group 4, spells trigger an instant save to not progress to a worse stage"

You sense Kira is a little confused by the wording. "I always thought RD removed the disease, anyhow, but I guess not."
You paged Kira with 'It does, but the Sleeping Sickness has the 'Lingering' condition, which makes RD only improve it one step'
You whisper "The PCs were the first responders, and were meant to feed back information 'we figured out this disease, this is how to cure it, we need X - like 'high level casters that can do Remove Disease', and no one has asked." to Kira.
Kira pages: Oh! Sorry. I misunderstood.
You whisper "very few people had high level spells, or made experiments beyond casting it once and giving up if it didn't work" to Kira.
You whisper "or 'I heal everyone I rolled a 34, so aren't they all healed'" to Kira.

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Kira, roll a Diplomacy DC15, if you fail you get clerics lvl -1, exceed you get Lvl or Lvl+ for every 5 over 15"

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So. It takes 5 days for the remaining Bog Plague patients to recover."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Coward's Disease can be blasted clear by the High Level clerics in 2 days"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "But it takes 6 days of hitting the Sleeping Sickness to cure everyone, then another 7 days of hitting them with Remove Disease spells to make sure it doesn't come back. So that's the worst disease, 13 Days more to fully treat everyone"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "you may get two IC weeks between today's log and next log 1 RL week away"
You paged Kira with 'as you're treating, one who was 'cured' yesterday relapsed and becomes bedridden. There's 19 sick, 3 maybe cured, so can get 16 a step better. Once someone is 'maybe cured', they have to roll 1d100, once/day. Its 30%, 25%, 20%, 15%, 10%, 5% chance the disease comes back and they have a relapse. Or, they take a Remove Disease each day to automatically succeed the roll.'

<OOC> Thurid hasn't prepared her spells, yet, today. Would like to prepare Zone of Truth and Speak with Corpse and ask Voils some questions.
<OOC> Thurid says, "Unless he's been cremated already."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I am thinking he may have been cremated already. There was this huge bonfire just lying around and it was a few days ago that he died. That would be something for next scene, so I'll think about it some more. I have a few more things Cyrmryl will say"


1) Go through Deaztor's stuff 2) Question Deaztor 3) Question Ezrechu 4) Talk with Cymryl about the Crypt 5) Talk with Urtur or someone else about the food caravan 6) Talk with Urtur about fixing his deformity 7) Try the Arsenic Cure 8) More general healing, helping out.

I may have forgotten a thing or two