Neva prepared to respond to Rutter's comment about the bird-masks, but her lungs decided to engage in a lengthy sputum evacuation exercise.
When she finished, she tried to catch her breath, motioning with her heavy handkerchief as if to say "Nevermind, we'll talk later".
Looking to his new, sickened, friends Jethro decides it is time to get moving after the lockbox. Turning to Vyshael and nodding to Felgar he asks quietly : "Are you two about ready? I think the faster we deal with this the better."
Walking toward the door Jethro turns back, glancing quickly at Rutter then Neva. "We will back shortly to aid with what we may. Stay well and don't try and do too much. We will not be long." Hoping his voice had enough confidence in it to assure them he walks through the door - off toward the Temple of Abadar.
Vyshael nods, "About as ready as I can be. Unless there's a spell you think I specifically will need today?"
Shrugging, "You know your own spells better than I do. I wouldn't expect anything out of the normal going to the Temple. I'd say just prepare what you would on a normal day."
Upon returning to the sickhouse, Felgar enters with the other two members of the group and dumps the contents onto the table.
Here ya go Rutter. This be what was under lock and key.
Once back to the safe house and having the time to examine the items, Vyshael passes his hand in the air, whispering the words to allow him to see any dweomers that may be bound to the items.
"Those lockpicks?" Rutter brings the lockpicks back to his cot. "So the toymaker was a thief? Maybe the store was a front. Would explain why the toys were so lousy. *HACK! ptui!* Ugh."
Rutter tries to recall the toymaker's body, and imagine it a bit pinker.
"Anything... *cough* anything special about those boots he had locked away?"
Neva tossed her long-enigmatic dagger onto the table with the rest of the loot. Its persistent ability to deny her divination had started to rankle.
And she was sick and tired and not more than a little morose.
Vyshael takes the dagger with a nod and focuses his magically-enhanced perception on it, trying to make out the patterns of the spells tied to it.
While inspecting the auras, Vyshael notices that the boots actually radiate an aura of magic, but not quite as strong as the dagger. As he inspects the dagger, he can make neither heads nor tails of its abilities or aura. It is truly an odd piece, and he almost gets a sense of derision from the thing, like it doesn't want him touching it.
Rutter can't recall much about the particular man, but he is familiar with the shoddy work of a criminal turned craftsman trying to turn their life around. Most of them try their hands at honest work, but if they had a marketable skill they may not have turned to crime in the first place. At least he was trying from what it looked like.
Vyshael says, "I'll rexamine this dagger tomorrow -- I see what you mean about it being frustrating. Usually, most items I can figure out relatively easily, but this one may take a bit more strain than usual. The boots, however, are Striding and Sprining -- quite useful."
Despite the downtime and Neva's attempted ministrations, things are not looking up. Oddly, despite her concern and fussing over Rutter, she isn't feeling as bad, but Rutter is really getting run over by the disease.
Rutter doesn't wake up until a coughing fit overtakes him, then he falls back onto the cot. He thinks, Y'all will have to burn this cot after I'm gone, but he doesn't have the motivation to say it aloud. He just falls back asleep with a slight grin on his plague-scarred face.
Come, you two, it be 'bout time that we check in with me Field Marshall.
Felgar leads Vyshael and Jethro to the friendly confines of the barracks, seeking out Field Marshall Kroft. When he finds her, he approaches.
Ma'am, Felgar Stoutaxe reportin' back t'active duty, thanks t'me new friends here. Neva an' Rutter are down with the bug. What's news on yer front? Can we be gettin' some o'those masks that the docs be wearin'?
Neva does her best to hide her alarm at Rutter's turn for the worse. Without the restorative magic given to him yesterday, he might well be beyond help.
She spent extra time in prayer as the sun rose, only some of it due to her own hacking cough.
0: create water, detect magic, light, resistance
1: protection from evil, sanctuary, bless, detect evil, and cure light wounds (D)
2: lesser restoration x 2, remove disease, remove disease (D)
When she was done, she immediately attempted another magical cure on the halfling.
That should put Rutter at -4 Cha and Neva at -3 Cha and Con.
Thus, tomorrow morning Rutter should be all good, and Neva will still have -1 Cha and Con.
Whew!
Pleased with the result on Rutter, she did the same for herself. She immediately felt better.
She spent the rest of the day feeding enchanted soup to her friend, and daubing his sores with a magically enhanced salve.
Neva many days of ministrations finally shows some serious progress. She manages to arrest any further degradation of the two of them, and even uses Pharasma's blessings to help Rutter come back from his suffering.
Filed Marshal Kroft is glad to see Felgar and hear his report. Introducing herself to the two that the dwarf had brought with him. "Well, whoever you guys decide to use to accomplish your jobs, I respect your decision. Right now, I don't have anything outright that needs be done. Take a couple days, relax, and rest up. If I call on you guys again, I will want you at your best."
She thinks on his request of the masks, before answering "We are working to assist the Doctor, although we have had very little contact since the first meeting. However, they haven't exactly been forthright with supplying us with any of the tools of their trade that could assist us. You would probably need to try and coordinate with whoever operates as their quartermaster to get some of those masks."
On his first day back to health, Rutter creeps off his cot with a groan, but from unused muscles rather than the plague. "That one took longer than the first time. I don't know if I can catch it again. Thanks, Neva. How are you doing?" He shuffles over to the stove and pours some of the leftover soup into a bowl and brings it to her, then starts getting dressed.
"Well, I guess we can go to the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden to see the docs about getting some of those masks. Maybe we can find an excuse to explore a bit inside the place while we're there. Make sure people are being treated right."
Neva smiled her thanks to Rutter for the soup. "Oh, getting better. It's a nasty disease, this. I shudder to think the toll it is taking on the city."
She nodded in assent to his suggestion about the Hospice. It couldn't hurt. I'd like to know if they've learned anything that will help treat the disease.
Vyshael says, "Not a bad plan... and who knows, maybe there's something we can do to help them?"
Jethro shudders slightly, "I don't know that we could really trust them... Though it is, likely, still a good idea to see if we can requisition some of those masks to help protect us."
Vyshael holds the blade once again, but is still decidedly unable to ferret out its magical qualities.
Neva grew impatient as she peered over Vyshael's shoulder. The half-elf had been mulling the dagger for a long time.
What the heck is this thing?! Neva thought. Why can't we figure it out?
She calmed herself and straightened up, stretching her back to relieve a bit of pain.
"Lady take the blade...I don't know what it does. I'm going to get ready for the Hospice."
She went to gather her things and say a few morning prayers.
Felgar, sharpens his axe and oils his armor, also preparing for the hospice visit.
Vyshael looks up to Neva and says, "I believe it's a mite more complicated than we'd expected. We'll have to try again tomorrow... Maybe I can seek out a scroll of identify today to help out."
On the way to the Hospice, Rutter finds a guy to buy the extra set of lockpicks and splits the gold evenly.
He then leads the way to the Hospice.
In the morning the group gathers together and heads to the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden, stopping for a few extra 'tools' along the way. Much like the last time Rutter was around the Hospice, it is still housed in an old warehouse just off the docks, west of the Jeggare river. The building itself looks about as good as can be expected for a storage facility turned medical center.
Her concerns over the quality of care growing larger as they approached the warehouse, Neva strode forward quickly. She scanned for an entrance, or someone in charge of admittance.
Felgar moves quickly to the side of Neva.
I'm with ya, mi'Lady.
Vyshael follows, his gaze sweeping and alert, Times like these can bring out the worst in people...
The façade of the building does very little to convey the idea of it being a house of healing, just as much as the name Hospice implies that the patients are being cared for as they lay dying vice their being a successful treatment within. It opens to the center of a room roughly twenty feet across and half again as wide.
The stinging scent of alcohol and medicine floods this dingy reception room, an odor typical to hospices, morgues, and battlefields. Across from the entrance sits a long wooden desk, beyond which a stained leather curtain covers an open archway, muffling moans from beyond. Six poor citizens huddle in chairs and against walls here, each of them exhibits symptoms of blood veil, some at quite advanced stages.
Behind the desk sits a rather stout and fairly intimidating nurse, her mouth and nose bundled in at least two scarves, maybe more, and heavy leather gloves on her hands. As you enter, she merely looks up disinterestedly.
Neva took a few moments to look around and gain her bearings. She blinked a few times against the medicinal stench and then drew herself up.
Ok, just like with Devargo at Eel's End, but not as intense. Try to seem helpful. Confidence.
She strode over to the desk and stared down at the stout nurse. "I am The Midwife, servant of Pharasma. My helpers and I are here to assist you. Please let me know how you'd like us to contribute, and what equipment, if any, we'll be required to don."
As she spoke, Neva indicated the scarves around the woman's face, and tried to express compassion for the nurse's difficult position at the Hospice.
Rutter feigns interest in the things that are a direction away from the nurse. He doesn't want her to admit him to the hospital if his face still shows signs of the plague he's recovered from.
The heavyset nurse just looks at Neva, total lack of concern on her features. "Lady, I don't care who you are, or why you're here. I'm here to make people sign in, and sit until they're called. If you ain't sick, I got nothing to do with you. If you think you need to help, then that's for the Doctor to decide, and I ain't his secretary."