DEVA AF FFS, Part 8

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Log Info

  • Title: DEVA AF FFS, part 8
  • Emitter: Cryosanthia
  • Characters: Thurid, Ebonne, Elyanna, Shalethiste, Seldan, Merek
  • Place: H01: Kultari Road
  • Time: Sunday, January 31, 2021, 2:06 PM
  • Summary: The Airship from Alexandria has arrived, bringing War-Golem Ebonne to assis with the patients, to leverage her immunity to disease. Thurid is recovering from the Champion's Battle, having taken only the barest healing. Elyanna remains unconscious, having required a lot of magical assistance to pull her back from death. Thurid and Ebonne examing patients in the Medical tent, Pale Choao assisting Thurid and having to be overridden at every turn. Vanguard Frila and Ebonne get into a vigorous religious debate about the nature of the Goddess Serriel. Ebonne insists she was always present, and always a goddess, as Civilization has always existed as a concept and doesn't need a 'fleshy' embodiment. Whereas the Priest of Serriel insisted that while it's unclear how Serriel came about, exactly, there is a date when she did and it's generally accepted she was once a mortal, and possibly human despite how much that disgusts her. Elyanna awakes and is greeted by the others, Mourner Vibibi fetches Colonel Gadrany, who wanted to be there as soon as it happens. The Colonel thanks Thurid and Elyanna once again for their painful sacrifices. She also presents them with Blar Military insignia. Thurid thanks her, and offers her Stone Talon, which she accepts. Vibibi returns with the equipment from Deaztor's tent. Patients are loaded and they return to DEVA station. Silverguard Seldan greets them, frustrated that Ezrechu and Deaztor were dropped off, Silverguard Shalethiste being only able to explain so much, and him having to sit with the great unknown of what they were doing in Stone Talon. Thurid explains the situation that they had to address, Ebonne assists with offloading the patients, and some new questions will have to be answered.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Thurid       7'1"     249 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman.
Ebonne       6'10"    252 Lb     War Golem         Female    Tall slender feminine styled warborn, top knot w/ long silvery tail.
Elyanna      5'11"    153 Lb     Half-Orc          Female    A grim, Arvek-blooded woman in raven feathers.
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.           
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Stone Talon - The Medical Tent

Darkness.

Lifting. Has it been a day? Two days? More? Time passed. For the heavily injured, such as Elyanna and Gadrany, it is over in a seeming instant. They were on the verge of requiring a resurrection or raise dead and recovery from that needed a lot of attention, mundane and magical. Efforts that passed unnoticed as they remained unconscious. For Thurid, seriously battered but still able to walk, she was aware for most of it and able to assist with her own miracles even if she was lying a-bed.

The tent, the camp, the army, had been left in capable hands. Stone Talon's defenders left with the defeat of their champion, allowing the siege army in to occupy. They have moved in, set up checkpoints, started the work of re-organizing and taking control. The average citizen has been coming out of hiding. It's nowhere near normal, but is heading in that direction. Eventually.

Thurid has been conscious for some time. Gadrany awoke a day ago and insisted she manage things. She limps, left for her campaign tent.

The Army has been going into the wilderness and the city. A lot while the airship was gone, and getting back they still are searching for sick patients. The disease makes people very frightened, so they hide, then they rage when they're found. So while the defenders stepped down, there are infected that keep popping up and need to be carefully captured and brought to the tent."

Thurid bears still the scars of her victory- the city is plaued with sickness, after all, so she had insisted that she will manage with natural recovery or recovering by her own means rather than soaking up resources needed by those who might need them more. She was more than willing to yield control back over to the Hobgoblin when she woke. The jotun cleric has a black eye, a gash across her brow which has been cleaned up, and is missing another of her teeth after her scrap with the ogre- her chainmail is also absent, she'd had one of the army smiths repairing and replacing the broken links left by the flail. Her chest is bandaged tightly, to keep still her ribs and allow them to set. But she is up and about, as much as she can be, at the healer's tents. She moves from place to place, tending to the sick and checking in on the army healers who do much of the work.

Dangling from her neck is a new pendant, to join the ram's horn image. This one is copper wire tightly bound around a yellowed tusk, suspended from a leather thong. Both tokens are dwarfed by the cast iron maul that is the holy symbol of her faith.

With the fighting scattered across such a large engagement zone, it's often difficult to know just who's where and what's what. Especially when there are so many new faces in the mix. There are injured, downright wounded and incapacitated, and then there are those who through the grace of the Gods or sheer blind luck, have managed to go unscathed through the worst of it, or even through the not worst of it.

Ebonne has not been injured, even if she had normal medicine would hardly work on the War Golem's gears requiring a suffusion of positive energy or self-repair time for the automated reconstruction protocols built into her frame. Fortunately she has needed neither, her trips to the tents have been to deposit sick and wounded who didn't fare as well as she had.

When not actively engaged in something the War Golem has been watching all the goings on still as a statue, but focusing more in the interpersonal rather than the abstract. A healer tending to the wounds of the injured, or trying to help the sick. The compassion being shown to other beings they don't even know. The terror of those who may not make it. The rage. It has been a surprising amount of information to process.

Mayhap Ebonne's appearance is a beacon of hope to some being unmarred as she is. Maybe it is a source of fear just by the nature of what she is. Inhuman. Unnatural. Immune.

She makes herself available by standing in the open near the plague tents waiting to be told what to do like she didn't have free will of her own.

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Ok, both make Heal checks please."
GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (8)+11: 19
GAME: Ebonne rolls heal: (4)+1: 5
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "OH! And Thurid, two Fort saves, DC16, second is +2"
GAME: Thurid rolls fort: (11)+8: 19
GAME: Thurid rolls fort+2: (14)+8+2: 24

Dogging along behind Thurid is a goblin healer, Pale Choao, a cleric of Draug the Wolf Lord, also known as Caracoroth, the Nightmare and the Madness. Not a god normally associated with healing and kindness, but the Pales have ways of keeping people alive... for other purposes. Choao certainly seems helpful in this regard, attempting to assist the Jotun as she does her rounds. He's hale, so able to sprint off and fetch things, and while his suggestions are sometimes cruel they are practical and with Thurid arbitrating which are pursued, they approach 'not bad'.

Ebonne, the war-golem, is an object of interest to the more artifice minded gobbers. She gets several offers to be taken apart, for pieces she might sell off, to show off her inner workings or simply parade around and let her joints be examined up close. This interrupts any healing efforts she might make, constantly, enough that another healer comes to help.

"Hello, I'm Vanguard Frila," a hobgoblin cleric of Serriel, Goddess of the Soldier, Honour and the advancement of Society, "Come help me please."

Frila ends up directing Ebonne in a lot of patient interaction. Moving, cleaning, re-applying bandages while she supervises. In particular she works with those affected by the 'Coward's Disease' or injured by someone with it, as a way to reduce contact and contamination. The war-golem gets washed a lot.

Ebonne is actually happy to be given something to do other than stand around and fend off goblin advances with mutterings in her hermonic voice that sound like: "Not even wearing a bodice..." at some of the offers to have her remove her 'skin' to show off her inner workings and the like. When she is rescued by Frila, Ebonne is /more/ than happy to help. Not just to have something to do.

As bandages are being changed, wounds washed, infection treated or all of the above, Ebonne is periodically asking Frila to go into the details of her Faith and her Goddess, absorbing information and being an attentive listener while following instructions as best she can. It is terribly clear that Ebonne was not a healer, and likely has never tried to wrap a bandage before so it's slow progress, but it's safe progress, and she ends up getting washed.

A lot.

Mostly because she doesn't really know how to be cleanly about it and many of the patients she worked on probably dread another encounter with the War Golem as their nurse.

Thurid is slower on her feet than the goblin, but that's fine- she can send him to do the running around for her, and thankfully the hard work of moving beds and constructing tents is mostly done, so she doesn't have to do a great deal of heavy lifting as she continues treating the sick. Being quite familiar with the cowards disease, having worked with it for some months now, she is effective in her ministrations- and she washes her hands a lot as well. She also performs minor miracles when needed- mostly producing fresh clean water to replace dirty wash water promptly.

Frila is more than happy to expound upon Serriel. "As a Goddess, her origins are mysterious. She appeared around the vanishing of Alexandria, which was in 1008, fifteen years ago, out of the Chaos surrounding the death of Animus. Some believe she emerged from the source, but I like to believe she was a mortal who was given assistance by Daeus and Navos."

The hobgoblin continues, "I felt her call. You may not know, for the longest time we were subjugated by Vampires. We threw them off, the gobbos and hobbos of Blar, to have a future where we weren't the monstrous minions of evil. It's why we call ourselves the People of the Dawn, and Serriel is a soldier, like us, and fresh and a force of civilization. She brings out the best in our nature. Regimentation, order, for good." The reverence is easily evident in her voice.

Pale Choao snorts quietly when he overhears some of the religious proselytizing. He has a question for Thurid, perhaps an effort to impress her with his insight. "I don't think we should treat this frostbye." He points at the blackened toes of a hobgoblin, there are cracks showing raw skin in the depths but it's dangerously close to bone. "With a lot of magic, they might be saved, but then he'll go back into the Army and fight somewhere else. If you amputate them, or at the ankle, he'll be crippled but still a war hero of Stone Talon. He can settle down somewhere, get a family and artifice replacements after the fightings done. It'll be making that peace you want so much, one soldier at a time. What do you think?"

"Hey? Do I get a say in this?" Asks the patient, who is awake and aware. Pale Choao has no bedside manner.

Ebonne listens and absorbs, "I also follow Serriel." The war golem tells Frila, "I was obviously created for war and while I believe in personal freedoms, I also believe that structure saves lives when it comes to the battle field. Without a clear goal, and a clear plan, then it makes success far to costly. Every plan only survives until contact with the enemy, but a good soldier can adapt to the situation and still succeed without being beholden to their orders to the exclusion of all else."

She continues with wrapping wounds, bandaging and cleaning where directed, "That is part of why I came here. There are many innocents here who cannot defend themselves. What would that say of me to not help where I can and have the capability to do so? I do not believe I can save the world, or everyone, but I will save who I can. Defend who I can."

Thurid peers at the goblin as he speaks, and she folds her arms across her chest tutting in mild disapproval. She looks to the patient, "You do, of course." she says. And then to the Goblin, "I think you're mistaken." she says after a moment, "It's not so much that I crave peace. Mine is a god of conflict as well." she says to Chao. "But Angoron believes the strong should protect the weak, not crush them underfoot. Guide them rather than rule over them." she tells the Goblin. "Death is peace. What I stand for is Life. Which is chaotic, and turbulent and often violent. When I spoke ill of this war, it was not war that I hold in disdain. It was a lack of honor among some of the leadership." she finally answers. Back to the Hobgoblin on the table. "So what is it you want? Amputation is, if I am honest, the safer option. If we do not amputate now, and the treatment fails, the damage can spread and we may need to amputate more later." she offers him bluntly.

Merek surveyed the whole camp, and now arrives in the medical tent. He walks down the center aisle, observing the patients. A nod of greeting is given to Ebonne, and also Thurid. He selects a spot, and begins to set up a place to fabricate medicine, "Alright, I am going to work on making medicine." He finds his pack and removes objects from it, placing a few phials of liquid into a device along with a few herbs, also from the pack.

He starts setting up a medicine worktable.

"I agree," Frila says, happy to converse with a fellow faithful. "It's important for many of us to know our role and know we're doing it well. That's the core of our discipline and training. Working together, knowing the others have your back, knowing you'll adapt to circumstances in the correct way. I find Serriel's ideals to be encouraging, to lift everyone up. We like obeying orders, it's important that those are made with the consideration of all they might apply to. She's so inspiring. It's great to be sure we're fighting for a good cause, and that there will be a good result at the end of it."

As the vanguard speaks, she occasionally interrupts herself to provide more direct instruction. "A little looser", "Another wrap around", "Use the larger guaze", "As much saline as you need, we have lots of that."

Pale Choao listens, nodding as Thurid lectures. He turns a darker shade of green-grey-ish, having misinterpreted her beliefs so badly, "Thanks for telling me those things. Well I thought it was going fine but I wasn't here." He dissembles, then catches himself, "It's been going great since you arrived!"

"I'm not a coward," the patient insists, answering Choao's suggestion he might want an easy way out. However, there's some wiggle room. The hobgoblin stares for a moment, finally saying, "I'll take the amputation. It hurts and I'm tired of bed. If you leave me enough of my foot to walk, well I won't be active because I can't march but I'll be sent back as reserve and only called up to defend Blar. That's an honourable outcome. I don't want to risk losing more and being crippled."

Meanwhile, Merek is interrupted when he starts setting up a table in the Medical tent. A Mourner appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, "This isn't the place for that. Are you with the Airship from Alexandria?"

"Why do you think Serriel was mortal before her arrival?" Ebonne asks the priestess, "Could it not have been that she was simply released, or arrived, from elsewhere? Maybe she was barred from making her presence known somehow." Ebonne sounds thoughtful, her harmonious inhuman voice almost musical in nature grows slightly discordant for a moment at the questions, "I do not like the idea that mortals can become gods. The Gods are supposed to be greater than us. Mortals are inherently flawed and limited. It diminishes from their Greatness, in my opinion, if they were mortals first."

Ebonne otherwise continues treatments, making adjustments as required, making sure to get washed or wash up in between patients to help prevent the spread of further contagion.

Thurid grins at the goblin then, "Aye, well, it's often difficult for folks to reconcile someone being a healer and fighter both." she says, "But, that's my calling." she says and offers a small shrug. She nods her head towards the Hobgoblin in the bed, and then says, "I'll take a look." she offers, and then stoops over- with a grunt of pain- to take a look at his frostbitten foot. She taps it a few times, guaging where he can feel at all, and where the pain begins. "I think we can save most of this foot- big toe should recover which is good." she offers, "Other foot is a little worse off, but we'll see what we can do. I'll pass it along that you're ready for surgery." she offers. She claps him on the shoulder, and then begins to head on to the next patient.

Merek looks at the Mourner, "I am, do you have a place I can work on that?" He begins packing up his material. Standing, he adjusts his cape with a flourish, then places a hand upon his hip. Smiling, he takes a drink from his flask and eavesdrops on the conversation that sounds to him to be about faith.

"Well, that's one of the mysteries of the faith." Frila explains, "the gods have always been balanced, seven light, seven grey, and seven dark. When Animus was slain, Navos stepped in to fill his role, moving from lightness to grey and distancing himself from his friend and ally, Daeus. Serriel couldn't have been waiting, as there wouldn't have been the balance. She might have sprung from the source, but I think that weakens her message."

"There... no..." She waves her hand around a little, "there's no personality in a magical well 'deciding' we needed a Goddess of Civilization. No agency. It suggests a determinism, and also logically, a Goddess appearing out of nothing would make more sense to be closely matched to the role she's replacing, instead of a disruptive force. I prefer to believe that individual action, empowered by divinity, created her."

The hobgoblin watches as Thurid examines his feet, his face relaxed enough to show nothing when she taps certain sections, and obvious pain with a flinch when she gets to a sensitive, still living area. His breathing quickens a little from this participation in the fate of his feet. Finally he nods, "Thanks. Thank you for asking me." Choao gets a glare.

The gobbo shrugs off the patient's reaction, tagging along after Thurid. "I think I can reconcile it. I know how to hurt people and heal them. Why one time I kept a patient alive... I kept a patient alive." He decides that going into detail might be counter-productive to the impression he's trying to forge.

"Yes," the Mourner tells the man. She watches him pack up, then leads him out of the tent to a much smaller one. Inside it almost has walls, the many shelves create the effect of them. It's an alchemical lab, with bottles of mysterious mixtures and some others containing recognizeable herbs. aIt appears several experiments were in progress and burned dry before the bunsens were shut off. "You can work here. You're under Thurid. No concoctions to be tested on the patients without my approval."

"There is no personality in death." Ebonne tells Frila, "There is no personality in Justice. In Strength. They are core concepts that by their very nature lack personality as they simply /are/. The concept of Balance itself lacks personality. The Goddess simply /is/. She must have always existed because the concepts she evokes existed before she did. There must be Gods of practically everything but we do not know the way the Gods exist in relation to each other or how they are presented to us except for what we have observed and they have said."

Ebonne is speaking a lot more than she normally does, not that anyone here might notice such, except for possibly Merek. "Just as the Gods have Clerics and Paladins and followers, there must be more than just the Gods in the realm of the Gods. It is more likely to me that Serriel was already a God, just not a major one, and with the schism she was promoted and advanced into our comprehension. There could have been mortal agency involved, but to me she is and always was a Goddess. Never mortal."

"Not quite what I was saying, but I think I understand." Thurid offers the goblin as she heads along to the next patients bed, continuing her rounds. "However, idealogical differences aside, so long as you are helping these patients, that is enough for me." she offers the Goblin as they reach the next bed and she moves in to begin examining the patient- see how the treatments already administered are working, and if they like the prior patient have any secondary health concerns in addition to the sickness.

Merek looks at Ebonne, "It's an interesting concept." He keeps his medicine pack with him while he follows the Mourner. "Alright, I will keep that in mind," he sets up the equipment up in the tent, "I apologize about that, I will likely bring you the medicine to examine when I finish."

"Yet Death, Justice, Strength exist as concepts and if that was sufficient there would be no need of Gods to embody them. There would be no details of how the Gods interact with each other, and some of them have changed over time. Navos represented Friendship as a light God, and no longer does as a grey one. Friendship goes unrepresented amongst the pantheon. The very nature of magic itself altered when it was split between Eluna and Taara." Frila counters thoughtfully.

"The ideals may be eternal but are more like a mantel that must be taken up by an individual with personality. They have have many incomprehensible facets, I agree. It's mildly disgusting to me that there are so many -human- statues of Serriel; it implies they are the paragon of civilized behavior, or dwarves, but the truth is that's the facet of Serriel those races will understand. I like to think, as a former mortal, she appreciates mortality in ways the other gods don't until they discover they can be killed."

Choao is content to leave the theological discussion to the experts. He wants to impress Thurid, and healing people seems to be the best avenue for that. The next patient they encounter is someone recovered from the city. Another hobgoblin, another male, he seems vaguely familiar. The Jotun recalls someone brought out of a Noble house that had been cared for by his family. Older, he's the patriarch. He's emaciated, but most from Stone Talon are. Two things are noteable, the blue fuzz that usually appears only in the final stages is visible in his nostrils and heavily in his ears, and he doesn't move much. "I think his family were treating him. I think they tried quack treatments and deafened him. Look, he doesn't react until you touch him."

Choao moves to do so.

The Mourner nods to Merek, "Okay. I will be in the Medical tent." After watching him unpack a little, she turns and leaves. She's a young hob-gob but moves with the affected older gait a lot of the Mourners do. Vardama is the Crone and the Mortician after all, they strive to emulate her.

"It is the nature of mortals to try and lessen a thing they do not understand in order to make it recognizable and easier to comprehend. Break it down to concepts they can put a face to. To a thing they can understand and make it easily digestible." Ebonne harmonizes but with more discordance in the notes that betray some bitterness. "Even in the face of evidence to the contrary they believe what is /comfortable/ for them to believe. They are selfish creatures, and that is why I follow Serriel. Because to choose to give up that selfishness is the truest expression of one's dedication. The truest definition of freedom. Many of my kind of perished for causes they did not believe in. Many of them were given no choice. I choose to put myself in harms way when I could do otherwise. I choose to be a soldier. A warrior. A champion one day, I hope."

Ebonne finishes with another patient and starts to wash up once more, unfortunately this means letting goblins 'inspect' her to make sure there's no errant blood or contagious materials stuck somewhere in her artifice. She stoically indures but makes sure she has all her parts when they are done and everything is replaced properly. "To you, Serriel needs to be something that has a recognizable mortal element. To me, such is not required. The ideal is enough."

The last of the colosseum champions to awake is Elyanna. The darkness around her fades, the last impression on her eyes with it. The skull face become's Mourner Vibibi's, the cold touch on her shoulders a warmer one. The Mourner doesn't smile, but there's a hint of elation in her voice, "You're back with us."

Thurid tuts lightly at that, and she reaches out with a hand to stop the goblin. "Gently, now. We don't want to cause him to panic." she offers, moving in closer to examine the fuzz a bit without disturbing him. She frowns, "Afraid people do foolish things." she notes on the topic of quack remedies. "We might need to increase the treatments to have a chance of driving this back, but he's so frail, I'm concerned it may be too little too late." she observes. A thoughtfull pause, and then she says, "We'll mark him for divine intervention, for now, and I'll come back to administer it unless there are more urgent cases." she settles on.

There is a saying.

"Life without pain isn't real."

Reality comes back into sharp, burnished focus, then for a red skinned woman under the hob Mourner's touch. Her fangs part with a sharp gasp, eyes widening to the coalescing siege of colors to the world. She blinks, eyes wild for a moment before they seem to lock on the owner of the contact to her shoulder, "....ah.... shlee...?" garbling syllables of consciousness, probably. The sound of the words that greet her, remind her that she is yet on this side of Vardama's grasp, are off... not the voice she'd expected, and interestingly the sound brings clarity to her steely eyes. She dares a deeper breath, then a weary, "How....?"

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "roll craft/artifice, craft/alchemy and heal"
GAME: Merek rolls craft/artifice+2: (11)+13+2: 26
GAME: Merek rolls craft/alchemy: (17)+8: 25
GAME: Merek rolls heal: (17)+20: 37

Merek is content to begin crafting the medicine. Away from the party, there is little here to offer as conversation. He prepares the material, grinding the herbs into the mix while he places a few metals it also. Next, a few papers are set out, for making the pills. Loading a phial into an artifice device, he employs them to mix the chemicals together.

"I don't need the gods lessened because I don't understand them. Ideals can't choose, they are. How does Justice understand what Justice will be for all involved without being able to have the perspective of those desiring justice for themselves or others. How can Want, want, without having a need?" Frila's voice has some intensity to it as well. Friendly still, but there's a challenge and she's rising to it. "Many of your kind never achieve a consciousness, the ability to make a choice, only to follow orders. We hobgoblins love following orders but we're also expected to reject them when they're wrong. The ideal can't be upheld without a personality. It's like a weapon, it needs someone to wield it."

Martial examples. That would be expected from an Arvek Nar.

Choao doesn't touch the patient. Preventing the Pale from touching patients seems the most effective use of his healing skills. Ask him for advice, but don't allow him to try and use it. One can easily imagine he graduated from a child gobbo who poked dead things with sticks to an adult one that pokes almost dead things with a lot more objects. "Okay."

He writes something on the patient chart, shows it to Thurid. Her instructions, nothing else.

The next patient has the blindfold, ear-plugs that most do, as well as the restraints. Choao shows her chart to Thurid, it's noted: In Rage Stages. She's constantly struggling against the bed, the restraints are well padded but she's managing to rub raw with them despite that. She's also from Stone Talon, malnourished, recovering from exposure, but no frostbite.

The Mourner looks down on Elyanna and shakes her head, her eyes are kind, "No, Vibibi. You were very close. I worked all night. Cutting and praying to the Feiu of the tears to let us keep you a little longer. It's been days. Happy Rebirthday."

Elyanna gives a low note of effort, perhaps(likely) discomfort as she weakly attempts to adjust her position.

The words of Vibibi still her, though she still seems vaguely confused by the way things have gone, "Days...?" She closes her eyes for a breath, then reopen them, "I thank you, Mourner... I did not expect.."

Whatever she didn't expect is left to the wayside, then, "Did Thurid win....?" swallow, "... did we have to withdraw...?"

"In my mind, you are lessening Serriel by giving her mortal traits. She is divine. She is the perfect soldier. She is honor and duty. She does not need to be anything else. She does not need to be a mortal 'upraised' or 'uplifted' by other gods. If she were such a thing, it would mean she was somehow imperfect at the most basic level and that is impossible." Ebonne can't frown, her face is always her face. Hidden behind that unmoving faceplate. Nature does not need personality. A lightning bolt does not need personality. The sea does not need personality. They simply are. It is the same with Serriel. Justice. Duty. Honor. They exist with or without us. The choice of following them is relevant to us. Not to the God or Goddess itself."

Thurid frowns a bit at this one struggling against her restraints. She reaches out a hand to place on the Hob's shoulder, and try to urge them to settle- for all the good it will do, she knows, but she makes the gesture all the same. "We'll need to keep an eye on the chafing for this one. Those wounds could get infected if we're not careful." she tells her goblin 'aide' before turning back to the patient. "Hush, now. You're safe. There will be more fights to be had, in time, but for now- rest." she offers.

She lets out a grunt of pain herself as she stands upright again, "I think I need to take a breather." she says then. "I'll see if Elyanna has awoken yet." she adds, "In the mean time, can you continue doing the rounds? Visual inspection only, and come and get me if anything strikes you as urgent or unusual." the battered Jotun tells her goblin follower.

Merek is content with his work, mixing herbs, metal together, blending them nicely. It forms a shimmery substance which he places into the pills, wrapping them the paper. He seals these, placeing them into a special case. The artifice device is used to take any chemicals that aren't needed away from the general reagant.

"You won." Vibibi gestures across the tent to where Thurid painfully moves from bed to bed, "Gadrany saw your sacrifice, your successful distraction. She charged in, trying to take advantage, do the same. Bozug crushed her too, but it left enough time, an opening. Thurid was victorious. The ogress surrendered, their forces broke. They left."

"You're a lesser champion."

"I don't lessen her," Frila says, "She wasn't, then she was. This is established, there is a year when it happened. The Ideal of civilization predates that time, and it wasn't the ideal that bolstered the armies of light and drove back the celestial chaos. If it was the Ideal, then intention and joined with the principle and became action and born with a name."

She laughs, "Existence without observation is a whole nother topic. Do they exist without us? Can a creator be without a creation? If our worship was irrelevant it wouldn't be needed. They act through us."

"Okay, I will. No touching." Pale Choao replies, watching Thurid's gentle care. "Shouldn't you lie down more. Your eye is barely open. I could apply some leeches to help bring down the swelling and the extra blood flow would assist the healing." From afar, Seldan waves, it is probably too late to join you?

"Serriel existed before we knew her name. She existed before she had followers. Clerics. Priests. She existed. Even if we were not aware." Ebonne answers. To her it is very cut and dry and there is no question such is the ringing harmony in her voice.

Then she shifts topics, "Are there others whom would benefit from our attention?" The war golem asks the hobgoblin.

Vibibi's explaination brings a somwhat odd smile to the red woman's lips, her eyes half lidding, and she nods, "That's good." she replies in the Goblin tongue, "What.... nnng! What.... about survivors?

Elyanna turns her head to regard the distant(spans gain a certain magnitude when one feels like bone gravel stuffed in a sausage casing) tent, "How... how have things been, here...?" face turning back to the Mourner.

Thurid laughs softly at the Goblin's suggestion- an action which causes her some pain in itself, "I certainly should, I'd be having strong words with any patient of mine wandering around in this condition." she tells him, "But I have never been very good at staying still." she adds.

She heads on over towards Elyanna's bed, and her eyes brighten when she sees movement. She raises a hand, and grins broadly- revealing two missing teeth, instead of the one she had been missing before her gladiatorial debut. She makes her way over, "Good to see you awake!" she offers, providing Elyanna a clap on the shoulder- although she is careful not to dislodge anything important in doing so.

Merek keeps working with his alchemist equipment, interrupting himself to pack pills away for the Mourner. He's ready to begin working with the next set, but first, he takes a drink from the flask.

"Ilazz didn't survive. Gadrany did. She wanted to know the moment you awoke. I need to go get her." Vibibi says, rising up straight. She nods to Thurid as the Jotun approaches, then turns and walks away. From behind, the odd sense of familiarity returns.

"Yes," Frila says, answering Ebonne, "There are the weapon in..."

"Frila I need your assistance," Vibibi interrupts, arriving quietly. She looks at the war-golem, "You can come too."

The Mourner leads the pair out of the tent. The Colonel is located, informed. Next stop is the Alchemy tent. Vibibi arrives there with Frila and Ebonne and a large chest they picked up on the way. The Mourner looks over the Seer's setup, and his results. Some pills are done. She inquires as to their affect, examines the list of ingredients. "Okay, you can send these to the tent along with instructions for use."

This accomplished, the Mourner goes through the shelves, removing books. Bottles on the shelves go in the chest as well, then several of the things Merek selected for his own experiments. Finally she gives the setup a look over and removes a part. "The rest looks standard."

The Mourner leaves with the other two carrying the chest.

Gadrany arrives at Elyanna's bedside. She walks with a limp, she also has a lot of bruising and swelling. It adds that much gravitas to her presence, might as well enjoy it while she can. "Hey. Good play. Thanks." Thurid has already been thanked profusely. Sadly, not permitted to keep the Juggernaut Pauldrons, Gadrany needs them as part of her uniform and they have a lot of sentimental value even if Thurid shares some of that sentiment now. The hobgob simply grins at the giant. She's missing teeth now too.

"Aren't we a set? It may be time to break up the pieces. I've got it under control here, how do you think Mourner Vibibi is handling things?"

The approach of the warrior, the crunch of snow underfoot, draws Elyanna's attention back toward the opening of her tent.

She gives an awkard smile to the Warrior's greeting, and she manages most of a nod before she stiffens a touch under the clap. She doesn't cry out, but she does wince a little bit before she lifts that arm at the elbow to alight her fingers on Thurid's wrist, "I am glad.... you are alive. You have done... a grand thing, Warrior... thank you."

With Gadrany's arrival, she manages a nod, "Hello, Colonel." Another smile, then her eyes half lid, "I am glad I was... able to help."

With the Colonel's question, she takes the moment it takes to swallow to process that... doubles down just to be sure, then, "She has my.... confidence, Colonel."

Ebonne follows along because that's what was asked of her. She certainly isn't going to try and administer to patients with her lack of skills. Liable to do more harm than good.

Arriving at the tent the War Golem moves as out of the way as possible, observing in silence, Ebonne's silver wrapped sapphire gemstone eyes move to the various individuals and catalogues all that she see's trying to learn what she can about these individuals.

Thurid grins at the Colonel when she arrives and offers a dip of her head in return. To Elyanna's comment, she chuckles a bit, "And you as well." she offers, a glance at Gadrany, "We all have." she aadds with an assrtive nod of her head. She releases her grip on Elyanna's shoulder and then turns to Gadrany. "Aye. And mine as well. She's more than competent enough to take things over from here." she offers. "I still can't shake the feeling we've met before. Perhaps a past life." she finally offers.

She places her hands on her hips, and draws a deep breath- before pushing it out slowly. Inadvisiable with broken ribs, but here we are. "Aye. I think we've done all we can here, now. The city is yours, if you'll have it." she tells Gadrany.

Merek continues uninterrupted, working on a few more things. He packs the phials away, choosing a few medical gels with a spray at his next project.

"Yes Champion, gladly," Gadrany chuckles, then winces. She takes a seat as well, one leg stretched out and braced. A careful breath is followed be a nod of acknowledgement, "Good. I've had positive reports from the others."

"Here," she hands over some emblems, "You're in the Army now. One for Tenoc and Hades also. Champions of Stone Talon. Later if you come back we can have medals and a ceremony, but honestly, being here was enough. Thank you. You turned around a disaster."

The hobgoblin looks between Thurid and Elyanna, "I don't want to bum rush you out after everything you've done, but Infalia has been very anxious about waiting here and dropping Ezrechu off in Alexandria, and the tent is filling up. If you could load more patients with the disease and head back, that would free up some space."

"It would." Mourner Vibibi appears with Vanguard Frila, War-Golem Ebonne, and a chest. Inside along with the tomes and labelled flasks with label is an odd alchemy device. It is clear with several spiral chambers inside and ports to draw off or re-pipe a section to a section. A custom distillation column, for those familiar with the craft and a strange an oddly beautiful piece of glasswork to those not. Vibibi says, "You may get more use out of these than I will. It's from Deaztor's lab, her notes. Her reagents and the older tinctures. She didn't keep much 'on hand'. The latest would have been on her potion belt."

And broken when she was captured. The Mourner continues, her voice even and professional, almost disinterestted, "If you can make sense of it, please let me know."

Elyanna seems mollified at the way things have turned out, and her light grip on Thurid's wrist relents as the Warrior withdraws her hand. Her smile comes more easily, a relief overlaying the physical complaints, and the hobkin closes her eyes a momnet before raising a hand each to Jotun and Hobgoblin, "You have our... confidence... as well.... Gadrany."

She regards the emblem for a time, she'll have to doublecheck with her friend how and where she should affix it, but she lays it upon her chest for now with a soft, "Thank you."

Together, they stood tall against the monstrosities of Bludgunni culture, her upbringing. Most felled, yes, but alive in victory. A city spared from further predation. Perhaps some small bit of red scrubbed from her ledger.

Part of a set. Yes, "It has been my.... greatest honor... to fight beside... such heroes as you."

Thurid accepts the emblem with a bemused expression, "The army?" she muses- but regardless, she keeps ahold of it. "Aye. You've conducted yourself with honor and courage." the angorite offers Gadrany, reinforcing Elyanna's sentiment. As for the one time slave-driver, Thurid looks towards Elyanna. She hadn't spoken of it much, only mentioning in passing- her parentage. But it seems like a good time to speak with Elyanna about it, "And you as well. Our pasts shape us, but they don't define us." she offers her.

Finally her attention goes to the chest of 'goodies' brought out. "I'm no alchemist. But we've experts back at the waystation who'll be able to make sense of it, I've no doubt. You have our thanks." she offers. Then back to Gadrany, she offers a salute. "Well, then, Colonel. By your leave, we'll make ready to cast off. It's been an honor."

"You have my leave," Colonel Gadrany salutes, "My thanks and my friendship. You fought well, with honour, and I will keep your example in mind, always. May we meet again."

And then there is a messenger at the tent-flap, seeking her. Another thing that absolutely can't be resolved without her. She goes to deal with it.

Patients are selected, and loaded onto the Airship. Loading and offloading has become almost routine for the crew. Four gobbos can carry a stretcher, or two hobgoblins,and both airship and Blar medical crew are familiar with transport. With Thurid, Vibibi and several of the other healers selecting the most critical of the infected, it goes quickly and with minimal upset to the afflicted.

Then it's time to leave. It's a familiar process. Captain Infalia stands at the wheel, grinning and shouting commands. Goblins scurry everywhere, artifice hums, the gasbag grows tight. Lines are loosed and the Airship raises. Slowly and gently this time, there are patients aboard and no rush to return. After, Infalia calls everyone together in the mess.

"So's y'all know. I dropp'd Ezrechu and Dea off in chains after we unloaded the patients, an' burned it back here. No explanations or anything, so's they will be wanting a re-cap when we land. I think things was quiet othewise." The scrawny captain doesn't have more to add. She isn't boiling her engines now, so the trip takes longer, a day and a half.

From the Sky, DEVA Station has grown. There are more tents in the North field, and a lot more trampled snow. Landing goes without incident. It looks peaceful.

From the Silverguard's perspective it has been a whirlwind of disaster. The grenade containing the 'Bloody Fingers' disease was handed over to the Inquisitors, who then wanted to talk about it. The airship left, the airship returned. They dropped off a cargo of patients and two prisoners: Colonel Ezrechu Manslayer, the officer in charge of the army seiging Stone Talon, and Doctor Deaztor, who was treating the injured. Both were kidnapped, and several personnel from DEVA station stayed behind, among them Thurid, Tenoc, Hades and Elyanna. All passengers were offloaded and the airship airbourne before the Silverguard had much time to react, let alone respond. He's left holding the bag, the bag being two active duty, high ranking Blar Military officers, chained and beaten.

The airship returns again, landing with who knows what. Hopefully answers.

GAME: Seldan rolls diplomacy: (1)+19: 20 (EPIC FAIL)

Naturally, word was sent of the situation to the Inquisitors as soon as all were settled, and Seldan had had an opportunity to speak with - er, shall we say, hold discussions with - the prisoners and a few of the new afflicted.

He himself is not in the most affable of moods when the airship lands again, and it does not take long after the airship lands for the Silver Guard to come striding in the direction of the conveyance, in full armor and gear, expression set and impassive. He takes a military parade-rest stance as the airship settles down, anchor lines are thrown, and crew begin to make fast and offload the ship.

The group's best warning, though, is the black-blue shiner that Seldan's right eye sports, and the cloth wrapping that covers his right hand in lieu of a gauntlet. It's plainly visible once the airship is made fast and people and good start emerging from the ship, because he moves from parade-rest stance to having his arms crossed across his chest.

Not knowing what was going on, he deemed he had no right to leave them chained, so he unchained them. Got jumped, put them down, and chained them back up. It was a fight, she was bigger than he is, but he's a MUCH more experienced fighter plus fresh and uninjured. He did not use magic. He is NOT amused.

The Inquisitors have been sent word of the situation.

Shalethiste had been forthcoming with the circumstances of the two officer's 'emergency transfer', likely as the head of the detail keeping the two Hobgoblins from getting too squirrely. Her eyes scream of solid and resolute judgement. To whit, she escorted the pair, blade drawn. Her brief began with the ship's arrival outside of Stone Talon under siege. Into the conduct of the Blarite Commander, and at least as much, into the experiments and 'treatments' of Frau Doktor. The fight, and the change in command structure, as well as what she knew of the new action being taken regarding getting the soldiers assailing the city under control and aiding the sick. Here her information is more sparse, but it is shared quietly with Sir Seldan in Sildanyari.

She stands beside the Silverguard now, glancing up to the man, to his hand, then, "Are you sure you're up for this, Sir?" she murmurs softly.

The medical staff at DEVA station have been giving Seldan a wide berth. They've never seen him this upset, and don't want to draw his ire. Freeing the prisoners was a good thing, getting jumped was not. Ezrechu and Deaztor now have special rooms in Mikilos' Mage's Magical Mansion with doors that don't open no matter how many hands are put on them. Food and the unseen servants get in and out somehow, or perhaps they don't, forming in the rooms when it is created and never leaving.

Out at the landing field, Captain Infalia orders her crew to start offloading patients. They get to the task while she finds her other passengers, "Awright, the Silverguards are waiting for you outside. Good luck."

For her return Journey, Thurid has rested some- but as she said, she's not one to sit still when there is work to do. And so she had also spent some of her time, injuries permitting, taking care of the sick they are transporting. When they arrive, Thurid is on deck ready to disembark. And so she spies the irate silverguard waiting for them. She sports her own bruises too, though the swelling around her eye has gone down enough that she looks a bit less like the ogre she impersonated in the occupied city.

When the gangplank is down, she makes her way down to meet Seldan and Shale.

Travel by airship seems to be a wonder to the War Golem Ebonne. She stands as close to the railings as they allow her the entire time watching miles and miles of the countryside travel beneath them when it's not hidden by clouds or fog. The light chain of her 'clothing' is actually caught and whipped about at times but it isn't until the air ship comes in to land that she moves away and goes to assist with moving the sick and wounded so that those poor individuals can reach more treatment as easily and smoothly as possible.

For such an armed and armored war golem it might be strange to some to see Ebonne doing such activities but she is definitely doing what she can to assist in the best way she can. Meeting the big names is not something she seems intending to do.

Merek does like the airship travel, eventually coming down the gangplank with the party.

Shalethiste regards the returning ship with veiled concern, worried about what kind of numbers the ship is bringing in the wake of what had been going on, before. She glances again to Seldan, and raises her hand in hail as she notes the Warrior's condition. She stands to, expecting things to have gotten even more vigorous in the wake of their rewriting the local chain of command in chalk, but affords Thurid a welcoming smile in turn. She notes the Golem, one of uncommon aesthetics, amongst those helping out, and a few of the stretches coming down the gangplank, and she turns to her superior with a, "I would assist Sir, if you do not need me on hand for this?"

Seldan inclines his head in acknowledgment to Shalethiste, and even manages a small half-smile down at the mul. "As you think best, and you have my thanks." The voice is light and holding a lilt that suggests Myrrish origins, but the smile fades as he studies the returning group. He waits until all of them are off of the ship to step forward, expression still set and impassive.

"I would hear your story." That's all the ginger-blonde man says, but his tight tone suggests a desire to say much more.

Thurid dips her head, "We went for the sick, and there we found monsters. The Colonel was ordering the slaughter of those troops which succumbed to the disease, and the doctor was using them for experiments. You sought evidence, we found it, and sent it to you. And, in doing, brought monsters to justice." she says. "In the intervening time, we reorganized their healing capabilities- recovered all the sick we could who had barricated themselves in homes, or fled to the countryside. We freed the slaves from the colosseum, and organized the Blar healers to continue treatment for most of the infected." she offers him A very simplified version of events.

And then, finally, to the crux of the matter. "Remaining Bloodgunni holdouts in the city made the work more difficult, and the siege had been long and bloody enough. Colonel Gadrany sought to end the conflict rightly, and so myself, Elyanna, and Gadrany challenged the holdout bloodgunni leadership. We slew their leader in honorable combat, and the remaining forces withdrew, allowing us to finish rounding up the sick and wounded and wayward." she says it all without trepidation, confident in the rightness of her actions.

A grey-scaled sith'makar in grey robes shows up. Assistant to the copper-scale, he executes the decisions Geir makes regarding ordering, arranging and scheduling the camp. Typically this means appearing with a slate and stylus and delivering simple instructions. He's over near the tents, away from the conversation between Seldan and Thurid, intercepting Ebonne, Shalethiste and the others bringing in the new patients.

"There. Sssa... Thiss one. That tent." His Vardamite vestements conceal him, only his snout sticking out of the hood and his hands vanishing in the sleeve cuffs. He doesn't like standing in the snow. The hood points at Ebonne, a hand with a stylus across the way, "Ssection two."

Wounded and ill are offloaded in efficient manner, the tents already partially full are filled to what would be overflowing... if it weren't for the fact that the 'bloody fingers' disease was cured, freeing up a lot of space for the incoming from the airship.

Ebonne doesn't stop as she's not part of the 'group' who actually fought at the seige, instead she goes about moving patients able to carry a patient on her own which frees up at least two, sometimes four, others to offload even faster.

It's like a conveyor belt of the injured and ill coming off the airship and more people coming helps to make it happen even faster. Even with the additional help though it's going to take some time as three score diseased individuals need to come off the airship giving the others plenty of time for their 'conversation' or debriefing before Ebonne will ever be free to converse with anyone.

Shalethiste approaches the outcoming line of patients and with a gentle, "This way, please." directs the column toward the appropriate triage. The small elf moves ahead to ease the tents open on the first trip, announcing the incoming and assisting where she can to get patients allocated to beds. Sometimes that's as simple as pointing out a proper bunk, others it involves disentangling limbs of a carry posture, but it is all done with a gentle tone, and a smile of encouragement where it's needed. Once the on hand healing crew begin their work, and the order of load established, Shelly makes her way to the ship to put her own back into getting people out.

Sidestepping the Mul'niessa on the gangplank is a red-hued member of the (barely) walking wounded, head and chest bound in linens as she makes to get out of the way of the offload, using the length of her sheathed falchion as a support.

For her part, Shale continues her work without complaint, or needless chatter, much as others know, there is a time for such things, besides, Mul'niessa tend to rub people the wrong way for some reason.

"I see," Seldan answers to Thurid, gaze steady. "Little information was provided to me of the nature of the situation on their arrival. I was forced to make some assumptions that proved ... incorrect." The words are even, calm, but the light color of his ice-blue eyes only accentuates the nasty black eye he seems to have acquired. "Your prisoners have been secured in the Mansion, and the inquisitors seeking evidence of war crimes have been told of the situations. Were you able to find a cure?"

"For that I apologize. I sent them back with the intent of them being interrogated and answering for their crimes." Thurid offers Seldan. "For the Cowardice disease? It has been responding well enough to treatment. It is a fungus, and is destroyed by those things which fungus cannot tolerate- silver powder, for one, and copper, but no amazing breakthrough. However." she gestures towards a large trunk still on the deck of the ship, "The doctor's equipment and notes, may shed some light on the situation. She created several 'cures' but they seemed to be directed not towards healing the disease, but rather supressing or warping their symptoms in order to make soldiers able to fight on while infected. Until they eventually succumbed to the disease or her treatments entirely. While abhorent, some of her work did at least involve alleviating the symptoms of the disease, while more conventional healing can do its work."

Each time she delivers one of the diseased they brought in, Ebonne has herself visually inspected just to make sure she isn't accidentally conveying contagions through this new camp. Fortunately they are well treated, well bandaged, and prepped for transport which reduces the chance of infection. Not that the War Golem could get infected herself but others could if she weren't careful.

More people are unloaded and transported to hopefully not their 'final' destination, but to where they can be healed and recover fully. Once the primary tents are full the secondary tents are filling up as 'beds' are taken and become filled one by one.

"You then have the doctor's notes?" That much seems to raise enough interest to shake Seldan out of his annoyance. "I am certain that those will be of great interest to the healers here, and to Alexandria. Think you that the doctor is responsible for all diseases, or but the one?" You paged Thurid with 'You don't know. The Bloody Fingers disease was in a Bludguni grenade, and the doctor was with the Blar forces. You suspect if she had access to other diseases, she would have infected people so she could experiment with treating them. It's possible she made both and gave one to each side, but... she seemed so sketchy, you aren't sure the military command would have let her go out with the army if they didn't think she was fully on Blar's side.'

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Thurid, Sense Motive DC20 for a 'somewhat sure/very sure' result on it."
GAME: Thurid rolls sense motive: (11)+10: 21

Thurid shakes her head, "I'm not certain she's responsible for any of them. But she has certainly been experimenting on the sick, and wouldn't be surprised if she had used the results of her experiments to create weapons out of them." Thurid offers Seldan. "But I doubt she would have given them over to the other side, and that grenade was Bludguni." she tells Seldan. "I think like as not, some if not all of these diseases are natural, and have simply been set to task by the armies. Her notes are extensive, so I am sure they'll shed more light on the matter either way."

"I see," Seldan repeats. "Certainly is there ample evidence of war crimes being committed, although I know not whether Blar will take offense at Alexandrians kidnapping their military officers." _They just might_, his tone says. "Very well. It seems that we have evidence on both sides. And there is evidence that this conducting of warfare using diseases damages the land, or not?"

Merek looks at all people. He wanders a ways away to relax for a little while and takes a drink. He needs to unpack, work a little of the medicine as well.

When the unloading is done, it is then supplies, and eventually there is nothing else to do so Ebonne has herself cleaned off very well after handling contagious individuals. She strips off her 'skin' of steel armor, showing where she probably got her name from. Composed of black stone and black quartz the War Golem is, perhaps unusually so, still of feminine design. Either created with that in mind or altered after she chose her 'gender' once she awakened. It's not like the war golem is exceptionally curvy or intricately detailed but the defining lines of alchemical silver that trace and enhance her figure do help define her form.

After making sure she is free of all contagions, and dried off sufficiently, she affixes the steel of her breastplate back in place, and then the other more decorative steel plates that help define her in a more aesthetically pleasing fashion, more curves. Less lines. Softening and defining. Beneath the faceplate she has a very angular face. High 'cheekbones', slender angular jaw. No hair of course as that's part of the helm.

When she is finally put all the way back together she finds a place where she can observe the most people possible at the same time. Silver wrapped sapphire gemstone eyes move to observe and she stands still as a statue.

Thurid shrugs her shoulders at that, "Aye, well, I wouldn't be surprised. Someone put those monsters in positions of power, after all." she says, making it clear how she feels about that particular can of worms. "Damages the land? Aye. Both bloody fingers and the coward's disease spore, and the spores can last. I expect that's why they've been using them." she tells Seldan. "It can be burned out, mind, and they don't last forever. But they leave their mark, that's for sure." she answers that particular question.

"In short, seems to me we've confirmed both sides have been using diseases to fight the other. We know how to treat them, well enough, and where they come from and how they spread. I don't reckon these diseases have been made from whole cloth- the resistant plague, perhaps, but not the others. Bloody fingers has been around for generations. Cowards disease isn't so different from other fungal diseases. I reckon we can hand over the prisoners- and that's what they are, they've both comitted war crimes- and the notes."

"As for the virulence, could be worse. Fit and healthy person has good odds of avoiding infection. The young, the old, the weak, the malnourished- not so lucky. I suspect that includes soldiers fighting in the mud and the blood and the snow, which is why we've seen it mostly among soldiers, and the victims of sieges. So far as I can tell, we've gotten everything you needed. One other thing I ought note, while the higher ups in Blar seem to have a hand in this, most of the soldiers want nothing to do with it. They want an honorable war, fought rightly. I expect few know much about what's going on."

Seldan nods soberly as he listens, his earlier displeasure cooled considerably. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I now have a question for our Blarite leader, and for his Bludguni opponents, should we find them." His hands drop from their crossed-arms pose. "It is a question that I am certain you wish to know the answer to, as much as I, and doubtless our inquisitors will be most interested as well. That question is - why was the Captain directed to take her injured to Alexandrian soil?"

The greyscale stands at the line of patients, quietly pointing directions and tents to each one, marking a count, and occasionally making a note. There is a polite nod every time someone helping a patient goes by, causing his head to bobble a lot. Ebonne, Shalethiste, the Airship Crew, all get this gesture of thanks. A few times he hisses, "Ssa..."

Eventually, the sick have been carefully transferred. The greyscale takes the numbers and stalks away through the snow to bring them to Geir for management.

The cleaning of the Airship commences, a heavy scrubbing, followed by some prestidigitation, then more scrubbing. After that's done, the engines are powered down and the gasbag deflated, the ship going into 'parked' mode. Infalia gives a wordless wave and bolts over to her camp, joining her crew in having a big drink.

The day is growing late and the shadows long. There have been some great advancements, a lot of unknowns revealed, and perhaps more importantly there is hard proof. Journals, artifacts, mysterious potions and the grenade. It will help.

To what end, isn't clear, but as the sunlight is fading it's finding the dark crevasses and indisputably revealing the war crimes.

And the Silverguard's question is a good one. Why indeed.

Ghoulish cp line.png

OOC

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So, Stuffs, which most know but is still helpful for the beginnning of a log."

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Ebonne. Tenebrae plots are assumed to happen in 'Dramatic Time'. Largely to prevent PCs from being scene-locked. If you're in one plot arc, it doesn't prevent you from being in another. It all worked out somehow. The general conceit is that while you're in a continued event, it hasn't 'happened' yet, and you aren't supposed to discuss it IC until it's over. Generally. Some plots I've been in are considered 'on-going', and that's the case for the DEVA arc, and associated side quests, it's happening 'real-time-ish'. It's been going for a few months RL, thus, a few months IC. PCs can discuss, say they did this or that, refer to it as volunteer work, etc. I know you've just arrived on grid so it might seem odd for Ebonne to be feeling out Alexandria but also in this, but almost any way to become involved work, and previously a call for 'golem laborers, healers or security' was sent out, as they would be immune to biological diseases."

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Free Re-rolls. As an encouragement for people to show up early, anyone on time gets a free re-roll in the session. Re-rolls normally cost 3RPP. It can be used for any roll you. It can also be used for more insight, 'Any info I'm missing here, any extra you have to hand out', kind of question. If I ask people for skill rolls and no one has the skill, like knowledge/nobility, you could trade a re-roll to get whatever I had in mind."

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Also, I try to keep things moving. Out of combat, it's looser, but if it's someone's turn or I indicate I'm waiting on them and five minutes go by, I'll move on and they can pose/act on an adjusted initiatve when they return."


<OOC> Merek says, "Ye"
<OOC> Merek says, "What's the sitrep."
<OOC> Ebonne says, "It's in the log."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Yes."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I had to catch up Ebonne so the detail is there and I'd rather not repeat."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Also, you doing ok? Get some good rest? The last few scenes, you apologized for being tired and making poor poses. I get it, my creativity sucks when I'm drained. Feels like I'm running at 60% right now. Anyhow, If you aren't up to it sitting out might be better. Depends how you feel."
<OOC> Merek says, "I just woke up so probably fine."