DEVA AF FFS, part 9
Log Info
- Title: DEVA AF FFS, part 9
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Thurid, Merek, Seldan, Shalethiste
- Place: H01: Kultari Road - DEVA Station
- Time: Sunday, February 14, 2021, 2:05 PM
- Summary: DEVA Station is coping with the large number of patients with the Coward's Disease who have arrived from Stone Talon. While they all are showing progress, their numbers have filled the camp to capacity. This still leaves some patients suffering the more persistent diseases, the Sleeping Sickness and the Bog Plague. Shalethiste and Seldan manage the peacekeeping among Group 1, while Merek treats Group 3, and Thurid tends to Group 4, the Bog Plague. Unfortunately, Urbarra's affectionate greeting infects the Jotun. Merek makes such an effort socializing with the Sleeping Sickness patients that he inadvertantly contracts it, and then spreads it to camp by preparing food while he is contageous. Shalethiste is attacked by a Blarite soldier, she seems to be drawing an inordinate amount of ire. Thurid allows the Bugbear brothers, Urbarra and Urtur to meet, and hears about the destruction of their home town of Shark Tooth. Seldan chaperons Inquisitor Yolam as he interrogates Colonel Ezrechu, and has to punch her a few times. They all part ways with more questions to be asked.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* 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.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 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. Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
DEVA Station
Yesterday was full of flurries. All day long they slowly fell from a overcast sky, swirling in the slight wind and piling up against the tent and the Way Station. A curious ramp of snow built up against the door to the Mikilos' Magic Mansion, as the snowflakes bounced off the magic port on one side, and stacked against them from the other.
Today though, the sky is clear, bright and sunny. The newly fallen snow has carpeted everythin in a fresh layer of white. It's warm, enough that the snow is on the verge of melting without doing so, and for the average person, lighter clothes and a brisk walk are enough to get between the tents.
It's also an obscure local holiday: Lover's Lost and Found. The date when couples (or other sorts of pairings) celebrate their past year and hope for a good new one, or decide to part ways. It's also popular for the singletons, as many more bar-stools will be warmed tonight by those seeking company, misery, and new companionships.
Not that this matters much in a convalescent camp, but it may explain some quiet weeping in out of the way corners, or unusually friendly overtures.
The hope that DEVA Station might close soon were dashed with the return of the Airship from Stone Talon. The two loads of patients brought the numbers back up higher than the camp initially started with. Even though thirty four of the intial patients in Group 1 were cured, ninety more were added. Fortunately, all these new patients, a mix of soldiers from both sides and Bludguni civilians, are responding well and have all improved.
Doctor Deaztor's equipment was set aside, and no one has seemed willing to look through her notes yet.
Group 4, the Bog Plague, is a concern. Half have recovered, and half haven't improved. If anything, they slowly get worse, with one on death's door.
Group 3, the Sleeping Sickness, is providing the greatest challenge. At first twenty apparently recovered. However a few days later, nine, then another five relapsed into a critical condition. It's unsettling as apparently disease free individuals suddenly acquire extreme symptoms. The unorthodox method of using doses of aresenic poison, hasn't been tried yet, and it seems risky on the very unstable cases. This group has had the most close calls.
Merek looks to the patients along where the people with sleeping sickness look to be kept. The man wears that dark attire he often does, with the beltcape about the waist in addition to the hood along his features. The man nods while he begins to check each one, examining them to see if there is anything of note which he might be able to diagnose.
Thurid, for her part, had endured her dressing down for 'kidnapping' (arrest, if you ask her) the doctor and colonel. Once that was over and done with, she had busied herself with returning to the camp- making the rounds, first, to see how things have gone. The sleeping sickness troubles her, of course, but the plague even moreso as even if the camp had more magical healing to spare it would be little use for them. And so it is these infirm that she has spent much of her time tending to- the plague, at least, is something she has dealt with before, and whatever else she may be, Thurid is no researcher.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Ok. Fort Save DC16 Merek, and Heal DC32 to try and save the dying ones, 3 rolls." GAME: Merek rolls fort: (7)+13: 20 GAME: Merek rolls heal: (7)+20: 27 GAME: Merek rolls heal: (5)+20: 25 GAME: Merek rolls heal: (3)+20: 23 <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "Yes Merek, you can use your re-roll." GAME: Merek rolls heal: (14)+20: 34
The procedures keep you from getting the disease. Mundane methods don't look like they're going to save the three, although the Man manages with the last one. They were all cured once, then relapsed.
GAME: Merek casts Remove Disease. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17
Merek seems to be making a little progress eventually, though not a lot. The man nods a bit and notes to people, "Well, that won't save the people, I'll need to try magic," the man notes, then he begins to try and use a few spells on one of the patients as well.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Thurid, Fort Save DC18, you have +2 previous immunity, and Heal Check DC 36 to save the dying patient." GAME: Thurid rolls fort+2: (1)+8+2: 11 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Thurid says, "yay, get the plague again" <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "You can also ask some NPCs to aid you and get up to +6" GAME: Thurid rolls heal+6: (9)+11+6: 26 <OOC> Thurid says, "Rerolling" GAME: Thurid rolls heal+6: (14)+11+6: 31
Ubarra gives Thurid a big hug when he sees her again, and his plague boils break. A thought occurs to the Jotun, has anyone tried using spells that indirectly help the patient, spells which boost their natural immunity. After consideration and consultation she discovers no, no one has tried it. The impression seems to be that since it was like Salina's Magic Plague Ooze, which reacted badly to any kind of magic, no other sorts of spells were tried after the main heal spells that were available caused problems.
As Urbarra comes in for the hug, Thurid tries to protest- but she's not quick enough. She changes out of her soiled clothes, scrubs off, and as she is emerging from the magic mansion with her borrowed robes- a little too small for her- she encounters one of the other healers from the plague tent- hurried words are exchanged, and Thurid jogs through the snow to the tent where one of the patients is in critical condition. Two healers are already attending them, and she and the healer who came to feth her join in.
They try everything they can, bandages and potions and poultices, eventually nothing is left but to pray. But it seems as though even that will not be enough for this particular soul.
And even though extreme measures were tried and the healers went to great lengths, it was not to be. The patient simply wasn't strong enough. Hobgoblins generally have dark skin tones, and hers were made worse by the disease. Dried out and darkened, she was resembling a mummy near the end. A single cough that wracked her whole body marked the departure of her soul.
Everything that could be done was, it simply wasn't enough. Sometimes, the best efforts still fail.
And so the patient passes from her care to the care of the mourners, to prepare her for her journey onwards. Thurid goes to scrub off again after losing the patient, sullen- but there is no time for her to mourn when there are other patients. That said, her exposure to Urbarra troubles her- she knows how virulent the disease can be. And so for the time being, Thurid is confining herself to the plague tents- until she either shows symptoms or enough time has passed that she's unlikely to.
The Seer meanwhile discovers Remove Disease somewhat works on the Sleeping sickness. Patients improve slightly. He estimates six castings would cure someone completely from almost death, with two or three improving them to the middle stages of the disease.
Thurid pauses before returning to work to sate her curiosity- if she has been exposed... She utters a brief prayer to Angoron, to protect her from harm- and nothing adverse happens. Armed with this knowledge, she gets back to work.
Merek begins assisting with the spell that removes disease, though it only seems to improve the patients. The man does what he can to keep them nice and generally to be recovering. There's a nod while he begins to use basic healing channeling to improve any damage to the body itself from the disease as well.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Fort Save again Thurid, +2 for previous and +1 for your Resistance spell. DC18" GAME: Thurid rolls fort+2+1: (5)+8+2+1: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d5: (4): 4 (Which Stat) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d4: (3): 3 (Stat Damage - CHA)
Shalethiste had met whatever snowballed in the wake of their adjustment in the Blarite chain of command with an unflagging confidence it was the right thing to do.
The Mul Paladin has since split her focus on security for/from the Bugbear brothers, and trying to help manage the fear contagion, as she'd hit upon the notion that one of her new gifts from Eluna, common to their calling, could help mitigate the suffering, if nothing else. After consulting with serveral other holy blades about the camp, a sort of rotation was established to help lighten the chances of the dedicated healers would be injured by patients lashing out in spikes of panic.
So, now it is, that she returns to the triage for her rotation and begins to treat the addlicted, swapping bandages and feeding them as she can.
As the day wears on, Thurid definitely takes note of signs of the disease taking effect. Her skin begins to redden in splotches- when she fist notices while scrubing down, she frowns. She finds one of the other healers, and promptly inform them that she seems to have been infected with what she assumes to be the plague, and that she'll be isolating herself along with the sick. But also that she is still fit to continue working, for the time being at least. And that is just what she gets to doing- though she takes a step back from many works which will be impaired rather than improved by her involvement, like the cleaning of sores, relegating herself more towards the removal and destruction of dirtied bandages and bedding- things which make it unlikely for her to further spread her exposure.
The intervention amongst the newest patients with the Coward's disease is very timely. The numbers of them, around one hundred, with very mixed demographics which weren't accounted for all that well in their tent assignments was leading to issues.
A lot of the Blar soldiers, and only they, had the strain of the disease which would result in a rage near the final stages. Not many have progressed to that point, but it becomes and unpleasant concern. Also, as the patients improve in general they start to wonder who is in the tent next to them, and this makes 'the War' likely to flare up again.
The direct intervention of the Sage surely saves the life of the three patients he's treating. In the course of which he comes to appreciate the limited affect his spells have, while the Sleeping Sickness isn't magic-resistant per-se, it has such a tight hold on the patients the miracles seem like they're bouncing off more than having an effect. It feels more like casting on a crowd than an individual for all the effect he's seeing.
GAME: Shalethiste rolls diplomacy: (4)+1: 5
As peacekeeping becomes more of a concern, this is where the group begins to see Seldan again. He seems to have calmed down a good deal, and things seem to have been at least somewhat resolved for the moment. Those who have seen him have seen him dealing with more of the wagons and people outside the camp, as well as the recovered, and he does not seem to be coming inside the plague lines more than he needs to. He's here now, though, and keeping a distance from the others, but ready to assist if a problem arises.
Merek looks from the hood to the patients, while he nods a bit. The man takes a look about the place, then he finds what looks like a pack of his alchemical equipment in addition to medical supplies. With the patients at least put into general recovery, it means that he can probably work easier with the mundane method. He begins to administer medicine that will assist, basic things. Patient care, cheer them up if he can.
Shalethiste, for all her confidence and good intention, finds her presence is by far more comforting when that is -all- she has to offer. Her attempts at being more directly useful tend to rub people like a farrier's rasp dipped in Yarlus peppers. She gloms on quickly enough, in that her efforts at direct engagement shift to supporting those more capable/fragile, and therefore enduring wave upon wave of venting spleen, that the others don't have to.
GAME: Merek rolls diplomacy: (9)+29: 38 GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (12)+19: 31
The other Silverguards offer Shalethiste some minor consolations, along the lines of 'you'll get used to it', and 'it's the disease, not them'. That second observation is repeated a lot, and not just to the Mul'niessa. Some of the Healer's are getting adverse reactions as well.
Overall, it seems to be the more 'civilized' or perhaps 'soft' races. Humans, Elves, Halfings, Gnomes are greeted with glares and frowns, more questions and arguments from those in the early stages. In the latter stages, one might believe the patient fears they will be murdered. Altered perceptions.
There are a couple apologies, at least, when they are recovering. Unfairly, Seldan seems to get most of those. Something in the Silverguard's bearing, his interactions, inspires positive response. Regular Bludguni civilians tell him they're very impressed and didn't believe a human was capable of managing the camp. A few nobles offer to buy him, and graciously hide their disappointment that he's not for sale. The Blar soldiers greet him like a comrade, especially when they hear from some of their compatriots how he's treated both their former commander and the 'enemy' officers.
And once the Sage takes some time to sit down with the patients, they respond better to him. Invariably, the discussion turns political. They want to know if the war is over, for them or everyone, and dodging around that question and still giving a satisfying answer takes some skill. Which he is able to bring into play.
There are one or two people that just don't respond to the nice approach, but so far, Seldan hasn't had to deal with any of them. With a mixture of flattery, straight talk, reassurance, and sheer charm, the paladin somehow manages to disarm just about everyone new he approaches. This is not to say they all like him - most of the Bludguni soldiers continue to look down their nose at him, but this appears to trouble him not in the slightest. Most of them are bigger than him, being as he isn't on the large side as human males go, and he seems to take their behavior in stride, without letting it worry him.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Okay, Roll a Heal DC18 check please. This is for yourself." GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (5)+11: 16
When Thurid gets some time she finds a quiet spot, an unoccupied bed, to pull off her robes and see just how bad the infection is. Seeing the splotches spread across much of her body, some of them beginning to turn from red to yellow and swell, is not a good sign. After her little self examination, she gets dressed again and returns to work in the plague tent.
Isolation with the Plague patients means staying in the Mage's Magic Mansion, the remaining afflicted are few enough in numbers that all of them can be accomodated along with the worst of the worst from the other categories. Mikilos is not around as often, he's off adventuring, researching, crafting a few things and perhaps even across the inner sea. When he doesn't appear to cast the spell, a substitute does. Without him, the unseen servants are a little dumber in random ways. They still perform everything they're supposed to, assisting the healers, but aren't as skilled at it.
<OOC> Seldan says, "I'd like to focus my next diplomacy on the healers and peacekeepers who are getting crap from the patients." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Okay Seldan, roll a diplomacy for that. Also, Thurid you can too, diplomacy." GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (12)+19: 31
Merek looks to the patients while he nods a bit, speaking with them while administering medicine. The man eventually will take a moment to drink from the flask with him, "The war." The man explains that, also his own opinion upon it. What's war when you have all ill. Then he begins to offer morale improvement through a little bit of singing.
Thurid for her own part aims to be a beacon of positivity among the plague victims, despite falling ill- and despite losing a patient earlier in the day. There will be a time for grief, but that time is later, when there isn't so much work to do. She pays Urbarra a visit, and informs the Bugbear she'll be staying with the plague victims for a while. She also takes a moment to show off the ram's horn trophy she took from slaying a demon. Then she gets back to work, grimly aware of but resolutely ignoring her deteriorating health.
Shalethiste bears the brunt of patient ire with due grace, even as she does the consolation of the other healers. Her efforts continue, and she adjusts her approach in little ways trying to get a little bit better outcome for her partners if not herself, but is still trying to be nice about things. Of course, 'beware a Mul'niessa bearing gifts' is still well in play...
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Roll a Sense Motive, DC20 Hunch." GAME: Thurid rolls sense motive: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "He's a bugbear."
The patients that the Seer is interacting with are the ones in Group 3, the 'Sleeping Sickness'. So they aren't that conversational but do manage to wake up when he's around. His visits seem to improve their day, and there's enough of them he's occupied. Regarding the war, these patients are all from Blar and soldiers who were in reserve and didn't see direct conflict. They were transporting food after all. They would both like to fight, and believe Blar's efforts in pushing back the Bludguni empire are both good and necessary. Mostly, they seem afraid they'll miss out on good battles and a chance to prove themselves and advance their careers.
The Arvek Nar do enjoy their mlitary service. It's almost impossible to be anyone of significance later in life without having some campaign successes.
The Healers dealing with the Coward's Disease appreciate both Seldan and Shalethiste's efforts, his hands-on, and hers at a distance. Ironically, it seems if the Mul'niessa stands somewhere that the patients can see her, but far enough away they can't speak, she still ends up holding their attention and the other healers can 'sneak up' and apply the necessary ministrations. The Healers are happy to speak with Seldan, and private unload on him. As he suspected, while this is their calling, it's a protracted effort and all the precautions are starting to wear on them. They are happy to aid people, glad when they see results, but seem to be hoping for a return to their routine before this becomes the new normal. Being reminded that they are getting results, helps a lot.
On a more directly personal level, Urbarra is very impressed with Thurid's demon story and how she was throwing people through walls, or bursting through them herself, his interpretation of the tale seems unclear.
The day continues with all playing their part, and the night is quiet. To a certain degree, the ministrations have become routine and operate like a well oiled machine. Each patient gets sufficient attention that they have a good chance of improving, and changing, bandaging, feeding, and other activities continue apace through the night.
Polite refusal of the offer of purchase comes with a small, polite smile from Seldan, and with the cooperation of the others present, he turns his attention to the healers and peacekeepers being accosted. He may well have to step in a few times, but he makes it both a point and a priority to protect the healers. He listens to each in turn, making time for each one, and reminds them that they are seeing results, and if they find themselves in need of assistance, they should not hesitate to come to him.
Eventually, the day comes to a close.
Some days are sedate, and others aren't.
Morning comes and not soon after there are exceptions to the routine. Urbarra, inspired by Thurid's stories perhaps or simply eager to 'reunite' with Urtur wants to meet up with him and play big brother. Inquisitor Yolam Murmurboggle, from the Temple of Eluna, arrives with the intention of speaking to Ezrechu and Deaztor and informs the Silverguard. He doesn't ask for a bodyguard, but might need one.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Would you rather: Do a Heal Check (DC 18), then make a Fort Save, with at least your +2 previous and +1 Resistance rolls, or try the Remove Disease Spell, or the Heal then the RD" <OOC> Thurid says, "I'll try Heal and Fort" GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (11)+11: 22 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "ok, that gives you a +4 competency to your Fort save also" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so Fort DC18" GAME: Thurid rolls fort+2+1+4: (12)+8+2+1+4: 27
Thurid's self tending and fastudious scrubbing seems to have worked, as towards the end of the day the blotchy marks begin to fade and the swelling of her glands goes down. She'll be itchy for a while, as the infected patches of skin die off and heal up, but she is much more hale and hearthy. Urbarra's urging is cause for concern, but she sighs, "I will speak with the other healers about arranging a meeting. But, within this camp, no fighting is permitted. I know I've told you before, and I've told Urtur as well. But I'm going to remind you both- if he wants to meet- once more. No fighting, not here. Maybe at another place at another time if you need to, but not here and now." she asserts.
Urbarra grins and nods at Thurid, "No fighting." Urtur also seems willing to agree to those terms, he tells Thurid, "'Barra weak! Heh. Too coward to fight." They both have very similar smiles, they are related.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "and Shale, Sense Motive DC20" GAME: Shalethiste rolls sense motive: (7)+7: 14 <OOC> Shalethiste says, "MW chain shirt so +4 total ac 19" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+5: (3)+5: 8 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+5: (2)+5: 7 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "DC 15 Fort Shalethiste, or be stunned. GAME: Shalethiste rolls fortitude: (13)+7: 20
One of the Coward's patients raged when Shalethiste wasn't looking and attacked.
The Mul'niessa Silverguard is attacked while she's standing around. Several of the Coward's Disease patients have been glaring at her, it seemed safe enough to stand a distance. Except one was waiting for a moment of in attention. Silently he's out of bed, his tent and a few feet of snow and upon her before Shalethiste realizes. Two swift blows to the face nearly knock her over.
Merek keeps assisting the patients, while eventually beginning to generally work on medicine. There's a nod along to the people while he begins to gently administer the medicine, then he's keeping up with anyone else. It looks like he will try to make mundane progress.
Thurid nods her head, relenting finally- she'd been rather set on keeping them apart, at least until there was less need for peacekeeping around the camp in general. But nevertheless, she has been promising 'eventually' and sooner or later she'll need to make good on her promises before the Bugbears become Irate. And so she does just this, looking to get a few of the paladins that can be spared, or else just some strong bodies from amongst the Order Paramount teamsters she brought, to help her oversee the meeting in case things do go sour.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Seldan, Sense Motive, DC20 Hunch." GAME: Seldan rolls sense motive: (15)+18: 33 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Seldan, Ezrechu is going to attack the gnome if he goes in there with her and lie and generally be uncooperative, is your Hunch" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Seldan, you have options. Diplomacy, Intimidate, punching Ezrechu out..." <OOC> Seldan says, "Follow Ezrechu in, and ready an action. He goes for the Inquisitor, Seldan will punch him out without hesitation. He will make no move if Ezrechu dpes not."
Inquisitor Yolam is very self-assured, enough to walk into the cell that Colonel Ezrechu is in. So much so, he's either oblivious or un-concerned that the hobgoblin might go for him.
Which is unfortunate, as she's been waiting for an opportunity to take someone down. Even with Seldan there, she remains committed, standing at the ready and moving fast as soon as the door is opened.
<OOC> Shalethiste says, "will try a tanglefoot bag, first" GAME: Shalethiste used a Tanglefoot Bag. GAME: Shalethiste rolls ranged: (2)+8: 10 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19 (Reflex - Success) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Shalethiste, okay, do those 2 things, then he'll attack again." GAME: Shalethiste rolls weapon3-4: (8)+8+-4: 12 GAME: Shalethiste rolls 1d10+3: (9)+3: 12 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22 GAME: Shalethiste rolls cmb: (17)+6: 23
Shalethiste is, somewhat distracted by the way things have ended up going. Standing about like this, as a goat staked out to draw predators, while necessary, nonetheless still engenders a certain humiliation and annoyance that, eventually, wears through even a centenarian's patience and so it is that her thoughts aren't as firmly latched onto her surroundings as would have averted the slender paladin from getting unceremoniously coldcocked.
It's after the second fist comes in to dim her lamps that, still staggering back slightly and one eye clenching shut, Shelly pulls one of the tanglers from her belt and just manages to nail her assailant with a sticky splurt. The ropes and tendrils of adhesive do little to slow the man, and he is soon upon her anew, roaring in mindless aggression.
With a twist to unlock from her sheath as the Mul dips slightly into her back foot and surges forward, Valittaa flashes up like a piston under her mistress's grip, pommel coming up right into the point of the man's chin with jaw rattling force. Staggered, but not stopped, the victim of the Coward's plague is tackled by the much smaller paladin, nose and lip trickling blood by the time they are atangle in the flurrying snow.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "diplomacy also Thurid" GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (8)+7: 15
The two bugbears are eager to meet. Once some security has been found, it's easier to bring Urtur to Urbarra, as the younger brother is recovered or almost so, while the older one is still infectious and shouldn't be travelling through the camp.
Ironically, this places Thurid and her charges relatively close to Seldan and his; they're both in different sections of the Mage's Mansion.
"Puppy!" Urbarra says, happily sitting up in his bed. "Wolf..." Urtur growls, sounding more malevolent than cheery. They embrace, and it's a wrestling match, on the verge of fighting without actually -being- fighting. 'Barra takes advantage of 'Tur's fused leg and arm and levers him onto the bed. <goblin-talk>
"You join wrong side, coward." 'Tur says, sitting quietly for now. "Elder's not impressed.."
"Elder's gone. Shark Tooth gone." 'Barra says with a disinterested shrug, and a punch on 'Tur's shoulder, "Good see you."
"What?" The younger brother stares.
Thurid winces at the wrestling, "You'll need to bathe after." she insists then. The last thing she wants is to have another plague victim, "And stay here in the mansion a while. Incase you get sick again." she reminds. But then she lets them be, for the most part. The actual wrestling, she doesn't seem to mind. That's practically a ritual greeting for followers of Angoron.
And then the topic turns to that, and she tenses slightly, but does not interfere- waiting to see how it plays out, for the time being.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Roll to hit AC12, or a CMB that makes sense Seldan" GAME: Seldan rolls weapon0: (2)+19: 21 GAME: Seldan rolls 1d3+5: (2)+5: 7 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, rolling against a Fort DC 17 to punch her out of it." GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26 (Fort Save) GAME: Seldan rolls weapon3: (12)+22: 34 <OOC> Seldan says, "This is a magical gauntlet." GAME: Seldan rolls 1d3+8: (1)+8: 9 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (3)+7: 10 (Fort Save)
It's a good thing for the gnome that he's short, because as the Colonel lunges at him, she's met with one fist, and then another, the first one bare-knuckled, the second one a moment later, delivered when she doesn't stop, gauntleted. A nasty crack ensues, and Seldan drops his fists, both bloodied, to his sides. The first one is his blood; the second one, hers. "It was in my mind that the Colonel might attempt such a thing, Inquisitor," he says apologetically. "Colonel, there is no need for that, and I shall do the same, do you attempt such again." Even, cool. Mild, even. "Now, if we might have a chat."
"No! Stop! No, oh be careful! Someone help!" An Althean near Shalethiste calls out, and then there are hands, orderlies, people grabbing onto the raging patient. Are all Altheans trained to grapple, it seems an oddly necessary skill for a healer. The Mul'niessa's hold was a good start, and with it enough of them are able to restrain him and pull him back to bed. "She's not the cause, she's not responsible, calm, be calm."
He's taken back to his tent, and out of sight of Shalethiste, his rage is subsiding. It's still the disease acting.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Merek, for your action, a heal check please." GAME: Merek rolls heal: (3)+20: 23 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6 (Group 3 Diplomacy on Merek)
Treating the patients goes smoothly for the Seer. They appreciate the tonics he's prepared. They attempt to teach him a Blarite marching song and get him to sing it. Oddly they've all picked up on this. Serenaded or not, they also attempt to convince him the war is necessary and important.
Shalethiste feels like it's the disease acting.
Ow....
He rung her bell pretty soundly in that assault, and thus, as the Altheans haul the fellow away, it yet takes the Mul a minute of shaking her head before she gathers her feet. Her sword is reclaimed and wiped clean of snow before the midnight steel is returned to it's odd sheath with a locking twist.
So it is, the Mul resumed her watch, newly inspired to keep her mind outside her head for now.
"And who are you?" Colonel Ezrechu demands angrily, her voice nasily as she pulls her nose straight, then squeezes it to stop the blood flow. She sounds congested, hopefully it'll remind her to keep her feelings bottled up. The Silverguard's casual politeness seems to infuriate her, she glares in his direction. He's bested her twice and she hates that.
"Inquisitor Yolam MurmurBoggle, Investigating... oh well investigating all sorts of things. Why don't you tell me the circumstances that brought you here and I'll see what I can do." The gnome says, hands on his walking stick. He adjusts his cravat and stares upwards.
"You can let me go. None of you have any authority to hold me. This is an attack on Blar." Ezrechu states.
Tap-tap, "No, no. I don't have the authority to do that. So, your story?" Yolam says.
"Ask him." The Arvek Nar thrusts her chin in Seldan's direction, then sits on the bed.
Merek of course would listen, not that he would agree with the patients trying to convince him. Then, when finished, he nods a bit while he keeps on treating, "Interesting, and what brought all of you into the war?" he asks.
"It gone. Blud Hobkin come. Take everyone fight. Too old, too young, skrrrt!" 'Barra makes a throat cutting gesture. "Huts gone, Elders gone, cubs gone, fires gone. All gone. You go Blar, you friends go Blar, Blud come, say village kinslayer, we going be kinslayers now." <golbin-talk>
The younger brother simply stares, his eyes shifting. Together the family resemblence is obvious, although one looks like he's seen through a pond or got too close to a fun-house mirror that could warp reality.
Despite the dire description, 'Barra seems accepting of his village's fate. He has had more time to process it, but such things are life for the larger goblinoids.
The Seer's question is met with the same confused expression no matter how many times he asks it. A young hobgoblin archer is the first to answer him, but variations on the answer are repeated by all the other patients Merek queries.
"Tha Army. We all join the Army. Mum was so proud, the day she sees me in uniform. Bein' a proper Arvek Nar, she tells me, rise up in the ranks, obey your orders. So the Blar leaders I's a guessin, say where the Army goes. Bludgun was all a'comin' in ta take us over, so we haves to fight. For our freedom, 'n' the other's, save 'em from tha Vampir n' the Giants' Council, yeh?"
The aren't a lot more additional details from others. Sometimes the Dad is proud, or both. Freedom and self-defense seem to be the main reasons.
Thurid remains silent still as Urbarra talks about his village being razed, and she just shakes her head a bit. She has to bite her tongue from speaking up, knowing the war is none of her business is one thing. Remaining silnt in the face of personal tragedies like this is another. Eventually, she can hold her peace no more. "It is the way of wars like this." she finally interjects. "Bossman tells soldiers to die, and they die. Tells them to kill, and they kill. Family, friends, honor, none of that matters to the people who tell you what to do." she says then. A pointed glance at each to demonstrate she is speaking about both sides, rather than one or the other.
One of the Altheans, seeing the Silverguard standing post as his head emerges from the space of the Mansion door, ventures into the cold fully to join her side at a brisk trot.
Ahem, "Pardon, Silverguard, but, we could use another" Ahem, "Firm hand in the triage, please."
The Mul looks up to him with what's meant to be a reassuring smile, "Of course!" and she turns to flag down another paladin to assume her post before turning back into the awkward expression of the Healer.
Fidget. Ahem, "You, ah..." and the man brings a hand up to brush at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Ahem.
If she blushes on the realization, it doesn't show, though the Dark Elf does spend a moment cleaning the blood from her face with a couple handfuls of fresh snow before she follows the man into the mansion to see what is afoot inside. She understands the brother's reunion is transpiring, and she steers herself that way first, on expectation that that may be where things have suddenly needed extra hands.
Privately, Seldan can't help but agree with the Colonel, to a point, but he keeps his opinions to himself, and instead gives a short version of his understanding of events. "There is, however, a problem," he explains to the Colonel. "The diseases that have been spread by this war are now on Alexandrian soil. Alexandria has little choice but to seek its origin, that the threat be ended. Were you involved in the use of disease as a weapon of war?" he asks, mildly.
GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy+2: (8)+7+2: 17 GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (19)+19: 38
Merek nods a bit to the answers, while he takes a moment to begin administering medicine. There's a look to the place while he begins to make a little bit of food for everyone with the sleeping illness. The man looks like he's making traditional things.
"Use it? It used us!" Ezrechu glares daggers at Seldan, snorting up a trickle of blood and licking at the rest on her lips. It doesn't clear it, instead spreading it around like a macabre lipstick. "Can you imagine what it did to command? Couldn't order anything, soldiers running off or quivering in their boots. Trebuchets abandonned, line breaking when they did a foray or there's a loud bang."
She stomps her foot, "I expect my orders to be obeyed, and soldiers to fight and die when I tell them. If I have to launch them over the wall to make them face the enemy, I did. Damn cowards. They threw their dead at us, we threw ours back."
She sneers, "I know that's not your 'civilized' fighting, but we don't have the luxury of losing or vanishing into the mists. I sent command requests for more troops, something to deal with the problem. They send Deaztor, and a fat lot of good she did. She made it worse. Only damn progress was getting some of them to fight again."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "roll a Fort save DC16, then your cooking Merek" GAME: Merek rolls fort: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Merek says, "Anyway rolling cooking!" GAME: Merek rolls profession/cook: (11)+8: 19 <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "You can use the RD when you figure out you've contracted it. Which you figure out when you become fatigued all the time and feel a little more reckless GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d4: (3): 3 (Wisdom Damage)
Another Silverguard arriving helps calm the two bugbears further, even if she's a short one. Might stick one of them in the knee, a definite concern for Urtur, and she's another body to keep track of in an already overcrowded room.
Both listen to Thurid's words, nodding in agreement. They've found little personal honour in the battles. Urtur was assigned to a food transport, surrounded by serious hobgoblins and mouthly little goblins, whom he really wanted to squish and the Bossman wouldn't let him. His dreams of glory were dashed by the necessity of logistics, then a debilitating disease that made him tired.
Urbarra, had a similar experience, assigned to a group, sent to a tomb to perform some blood ritual, and sickened because of it. He's experienced more fighting at DEVA station and even then, it's indirect. Or down the hall, like the recent scuffle.
"Yeah." 'Tur says, <Goblin-talk>
"Sucks, yeah." 'Barra agrees, giving another punch on the other Bugbear's shoulder.
"Why All gone, why home?" 'Tur repeats, the hostility absent in his voice. Almost inviting 'Barra to blame him and his friends.
"Like Thurid say, because Bossman. No reason." It's just war. Don't take it personally.
The Seer isn't feeling good. He's feeling foolish, a little reckless and very tired. Cooking food shouldn't be this exhausting, yet he's dragging himself along. It occurs to him that he might have contracted the Sleeping Sickness, and probably is infectious. A nap sure sounds good right now.
Thurid turns to offer Shale a dip of her head when she arrives, and she looks back towards the other two as they talk. "Want to know how Stone Talon was won, in the end?" she asks them, then, deciding to change the topic. "Way a proper fight ought to be won. Champions on the sands, none of this siege and starvation and disease nonsense." she says then, folding her arms over her chest. "Just an honorable fight, blood and sweat and glory." she says then and offers a nod at the pair of Bugbears.
"The doctor was less interested in healing than in experimentation," Seldan explains, spreading a hand. "I understand your position, but caution you against your anger. Throwing more bodies at the problem has done little more than leave both sides sickened and dying. I would hear your side of the encounter with the Alexandrians. How did they arrive, and how did they come to capture you?" It appears that the Paladin is at least listening.
Shalethiste stands by, at the ready in the case of anything untoward between the brothers. She eyes the one brother far ore scrutinously than the other, being sworn to one of her Goddess's prime enemies will garner such a response, but she doesn't do anything preemptive.
Merek feels a little bit tired while making that food, nodding a bit. The man doesn't exactly offer anything about it while he places the food in front of the patients, "There you are," he notes, then he will make sure to use that spell on himself, with trying to make sure that things are okay.
Inquitior Yolam is listening intently also. He's standing with his head tilted to one side, attention fixed on the Colonel. He has a notepad out, "Please, go on."
Ezrechu snorts, then sniffs the blood back in. She's had to cool her heels for a few weeks, and being able to tell her side is somewhat molifying, so her attitude seems to be improving... a little. Still would be a bad idea to show one's back.
"Messenger Crow came from Blar, said the Airship was coming back to get patients." She explains, waving her hand abruptly, "Not what I asked for, not what I kept asking for, which was more soldiers. Didn't matter anyhow, we finally broke their wall. I'm geared up to get into Stone Talon, find their Ogre leaders and finally end this when the Airship shows. Late, civilians. What do you expect."
She sniffs again, thrusts her head in the direction she's determined Deaztor's cell is. "Alexandrians debark. I give 'em over to my second and the Doctor, send them to the tent. I'm gone two minutes and weasely little self-serving skank makes a power play, mutiney's and talks 'your friends' into helping. Rebellious little shit was always pushing back. Deaztor lets me know what's going down and I directly address my command chain problems, and your honourless coldblood takes me down from behind."
"Yeah,", "yes", 'Barra and 'Tur reply, both heads turning to look at Thurid with eager, child-like expressions. Tell us a story of great battle, mighty ogress, of Champions and the way wars should be won and cities taken. Something with individual heroes and not war-machine efficiency. <Goblin-Talk>
"Wanna hear." 'Barra confirms.
"Wanna hear more!" 'Tur asserts, still competitive. He also notices Shalethiste's attention and somewhat condescendingly pats the space beside him on Urbarra's bed as if she was a child who might hop up, or perhaps a large goblin.
Food is prepared, distributed to the patients. It's reasonable fare and they seem satisfied, unaware what they're eating. The Seer's spells seem to work, although the sensation of having his scalp massaged never quite leaves him.
It's a serious mistake.
Shalethiste continues to play chaperone for storytime. Her thumb is hooked into her belt, right beside her mace. The quarters being what they are, her longblade may be a little bit too difficult to manage, but the thought is there. Urtur's invitation prompts a narrowing of the Mul's eyes, patience still holding, but fraying with the angry throb of her nose and swollen cheek.
Thurid is happy enough to oblige the brothers- after the dread of their meeting seems to have resolved itself, a tale- tall or otherwise- seems like just the break she needs from the realities of the camp. And so she begins, "The siege had broken the city, it's true. But not the soldiers nor some of its people. They dug in, fortified- every inch of ground was a death trap. Snipers and traps and ambushes around every corner." she tells them. "And the sick as well, afraid because of the fungus growing out of their ears, confused because of the fungus growing in their skulls." she explains.
"And so, a group of strangers arrived. They saw that the soldiers were not happy, and the people were not happy. That there was an evil doctor doing evil experiments. And they had seen enough. They captured the doctor, and the bossman who was in charge of her." she explains, pounding one fist into the palm of her hand.
"They marched through the city, snuck into the colosseum, raided the castle. But still the Ogres hid in their towers. And so one brave Hobgoblin- Colonel Gadrany- went forth, and said to the ogres 'This is enough! If you are not afraid, fight me!'" she adds then.
She paces back and forth a bit in the room as she goes on with her story. "But the ogres had heard about these strangers. They wanted to fight them, the ones who had bested their traps and schemes. And so the strangers came, to fight on the sands alongside the new, brave bossman. One- none other than the infamous Otilla Silverlash, bent on setting right the wrongs of her past. The other, an ogress with hay-colored lockes, wielding a mighty hammer." She avoids casting a glance towards her earthbreaker near the entryway. Just barely.
"And they fought, The Ogre General, his Mage wife, and their slave-driver. First fell Otilla, though not without a valiant fight. Next fell Gadrany, and all seemed lost for the champions. But the ogress- bloodied, but not broken- lifted her hammer one last time. And she struck the Ogre general one last time, crushing the life from him with a final, telling strike." Thurid takes a breath after telling her story, offering the two of them a grin- which shows off a missing upper incisor- that one was already missing. And a missing canine from her lower jaw- that one is new.
The bugbear brothers listen intently as Thurid relays her tale. They nod at the descriptions of the traps, the valiant soldiers. It's clear by their faces, they're putting themselves in those roles. Until the heroes show up of course, then they're the heroes. The description of the Bossman and the Doctor's capture gets a cheer, 'Barra first, with 'Tur joining in. There's some further comments, about 'cowards' and 'hiding'. Both brothers are in agreement, proper Ogres should have been in the streets, defending their town... rr.. City. They would have, although it's much better to be the heroes. And fighting.
They get a little closer to the edge of the bed, the intensity of their attention building. As the story comes to a climax, 'Barra leaps up and fist pumps the air towards Thurid. 'Tur is slower, but does the same. They're almost mirror images of each other, and pleased. It satisfies their juvenile brutality in ways they don't fully understand but which will give them things to think about.
In the aftermath they are calmer in each other's presence. 'Tur is showing mild signs of fatigue, he isn't fully recovered and the sleeping sickness may be sneaking up on him again. Also, it's not a good idea to have him so close and exposed to his infectious brother. It may already have been too long for everyone in the room. Fortunately, they're all paladins, excepting the durable Jotun.
Unfortunately, the other Sleeping Sickness patients aren't as resilient.
Thurid will reccomend Urtur is isolated, since he was wrassling with a plague victim and all.
Down hall, Inquisitor Yolam has been listening intently. He turns and looks up at Seldan, "Before we go further, I should have the names of ever Alexandrian on that expedition. Let us go consult your records."
Yolam gives Ezrechu a swift and formal bow. He's not about to show her the top of his head for very long. "Our apologies, we must step out. We shall return soon."
He says it in a way that makes it seem as if she has a choice. She makes a dismissive noise and stares at the wall until she's alone.
OOC Stuff
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Healer's with you are impressed that you keep working while sick Thurid, and so far seem inspired by you, and aren't telling you to stay in bed. So, moral improvement in your group 4"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "The group 1 healers really appreciate the efforts Seldan, as their moral was slipping, so that will be a group 1 moral bonus to their skill checks later too."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Merek, You can cast RD and that will get rid of the disease, but you will have to roll 1d100, you have a 30% it comes back. If you make that, you roll again, at 25%, then 20%, 15%, 10%, 5%. Each roll is a new day, so it will take a week. If you fail any time, it comes back. You can hit yourself with RD each day to force the roll, so that's 2 today, then you're using up 1/day for the next 5."
<OOC> Merek says, "Ok."
<OOC> Merek says, "So I roll 1d100 twice from using RD twice today? Then every other day it's percent shifting?"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Kind of Merek. You need the RD to cure yourself. Then there's the chance it comes back, which you can roll or give yourself an automatic success using RD. Any time you don't use it, you'd roll at the reduced rate, but 2 RDs at least today. Also, your head feels itchy in a comfortable way, like someone massaging your hair to make you go to sleep."
<OOC> Seldan says, "Tom Lehrer befitting our current situation - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6qFG0uop9k"