The old man nods and responds to you in druidic. "Welcome, Caladrel. Nathan is always concerned, but I am sorry to say that in this instance he is correct. I feel as if there is a force at war within me, and my will to survive is losing this battle.
"It started with dreams. Foul dreams of dark, indescribable things. But they did not cease upon waking. They stayed with me, etched upon my mind. I began to feel weak and confused. I know the dreams are a part of it. It is as if something from another dimension were taking hold of the living things within this forest and feeding upon them. But it does not feed only upon the body; it feeds upon the mind as well.
"Sentient races seem the best able to resist its power. Perhaps it is our will to live - our will to resist - which the trees and beasts lack. They succumb to its influence much more quickly.
"Were I a younger man, perhaps I would have been better able to do what you are attempting and rid this forest of whatever foulness plagues it. Our kind has ever stood as guardians of the natural order, standing against the forces of destruction that would taint it. You must act quickly, Caladrel, for the longer you and your companions spend within this wood, the more you are in danger from a threat that will ravage both mind and body."
He bounds from his crouching position and lunges toward the door through you which you entered.
"Hold him still," she advises, looking to the two men. "I don't know if there's anything I can do for him, but if there is it won't be while he's trying to flee."
"I don't know if this will work," she advises, stepping up cautiously behind Rhodes and the constable. She tugs slightly at the fingers of her left glove as she approaches. "If it does, it shouldn't harm him, and I'll stop if he seems to be in pain. Just try to keep him from fleeing again."
Trina kneels in the dust and straw of the stable floor, taking to her knees alongside the cringing constable and curling her tail about herself, and pulls the glove completely off. Just from the shape of the odd garment it was obvious her deformed hands have six fingers, a thumb on either side of the palm. What was less obvious with the glove on was the array of lamprey-like mouths that dot her palms and the inner sides of her fingers. As soon as they are exposed to air, the dormant little holes suddenly begin moving, chomping and sucking at the air. Trina winces visibly in discomfort or pain, flexes her hand a little, then holds it out over the constable and closes her eyes, bowing her head and placing her other hand on her holy symbol, holding it up against her heart. Softly, almost under her breath, she begins to murmur, reciting an almost ritualistic-sounding pattern over and over, for about a full minute. The mouths on her hands pause for a moment, then resume gnawing at the air, as if searching for something nearby.
"Mi petas facileco kaj ripozu nun al vi, kara viro.
Venu ne laŭ la reloj aŭ en nia herbejoj.
Estu liberigita el la mano de teruro kaj malico kiu tenas vin.
Kaj por via pacon mi peono mia propra animo.
Amen."
"Thank you for this vital information. Though I fear it has exacted much too high a price on you to provide it.
If I may impose a little more. Can you sense the source of this darkness? Does it emanate from one central source?
Finally, is there something I can do to ease your suffering? Are you strong enough to leave this forest and seek healing from The Keepers? I am sure they would be able to care for both you and Nathan."
The noble moves over to assist Trina with her ministrations of the troubled constable.
"Follow the trail onward to the northwest until you reach a small brook. The brook leads downstream to the depression. As it reaches that point, the brook tumbles into a shallow gorge. If you follow the game trail to your left, it winds down to the bottom.
"Be careful, whatever you do."
Sylvia sighs heavily. "More refugees who need to be sent back to Wally's. I guess I could lend them Chanticleer so the ill man can ride. This one can probably walk just fine, but might need to be bound and lead. Nathan can get them out in less than a day if the sick man can stand to ride."
As he leaves the room, he tries to offer some hope to Nathan. "Nathan, we will move swiftly to eliminate the source of his ailment. Remain strong and thank you for your assistance."
Caladrel heads to the stable to join the others.
"Certainly, though we need to find where this prison is... how to reseal it. For I don't think that brute force can be brought to bear against it." Jerry wonders.
"Constable, the seals. Who created them?" he asks softly.
She takes a few steps back, allowing the man some space now that he's calmed, and lets the others continue their questions. She can share what she's remembered about the Black Sun after they finish.
Sylvia looks up as Caladrel and Nathan enter the stables and waves at them in warning. "He's quieted down some. We're trying to get him to say something useful." She moves slowly to where the newcomers stand. "How is the druid? Can he be moved?" she whispers, "I think all three of you need to get out of this blighted area. I guess you can use my mule, if you need him, as long as I can leave some of my gear here at your house." Her sour face shows plainly what she thinks of losing Chanticleer.
Caladrel heeds Sylvia's warning and waits patiently as she approaches. He answers in a low voice, "Grindel is quite ill. The taint has spread to him. He is trying very hard to keep it at bay, but I fear he is losing the battle. His only hope is for us to locate and eliminate this taint as soon as possible. He was able to provide some clues to the source. I can share with the group once we are done here. How is the constable?"
"A tad under the weather." Jerry understates, with a sympathetic look to the raving mad-man. "Seems he's affected by his dreams, in much the same manner as the Smythes. Perhaps these dreams are promulgating the re-birth of an evil being?" he keeps his voice low, attempting to avoid upsetting the crazed man that Trina's restraining.
Trina approaches the newly-arrived Caladriel, a slight frown on her face at the comments regarding the older druid's state. "He's mad, but there's a bizarre logic to his ravings. Jeremiah seems to be partway correct at least. He speaks of the Black Sun, a devotional term of the mad and ancient, foul gods and forbidden knowledge, things best forgotten. I know little more than that."
"He also speaks of seals which are either broken or about to be, releasing something horrid of which we can't convince him to speak, other than it seems they are normally shapeless, amorphous things. The two are obviously connected... perhaps the shapeless things are some sort of servitors to the Black Sun, or perhaps portions of its essence or self. It's difficult to do more than theorize with such little information, sadly."
She sighs and shakes her head. "Unfortunately I don't think we'll be able to glean much more information from the constable, at least until he's regained some lucidity. In the end, Miss Sylvia is correct - at the very least, if it's possible to leave the woods, it would be the first and possibly only step toward recovery until the source of the wasting can be identified and hopefully dealt with."
The constable stays crouched in the corner and does not speak further.
Nathan takes in all of Trina's observations with alarm. "It is no doubt a dangerous endeavor, to investigate this foulness. You would be doing a great service to the entire community, however."
"And you would do us a great service if you could escort the injured to Lord Wallinghams' estate." Jerry replies with an assured eloquence; "Though maybe you talk of your dreams? For what stalks out of this sepulchre maybe influencing the dreams of man."
'How to get the constable to talk more, without driving him insane - for he may recover still.' the noble thinks optimistically.
Caladrel shares the information he learned from Grindel. "Grindel said his affliction started with his dreams as well. He also warns that the longer we remain in the forest, the more likely we will become afflicted as well. I asked him if he had an idea of where the source of this evil may be located. He suggested a place the locals call 'The Devil's hole' along with directions to find it. I suggest this is where we head to next, and given his warning about the increasing danger, we need to head their soon."
Caladrel turns to Nathan. "I echo Jeremiah's suggestion. Do you think you can manage to take the constable and Grindel to Lord Wallingham's estate. Maybe being outside of the influence of this evil may slow their mind's descent into madness."
"Do you, or he, know of any drink or powder that'll prolong the conciousness and postpone the embrace of Morpheus?" Jerry asks Caladrel, worrying about it affecting the group.
"I've coffee, but it's short-term as you likely well know. No stronger medicinal stimulants, sadly." She pauses, then adds, "I do have a spell that can postpone sleep, but unless someone here knows how to scribe scrolls, I don't believe I've enough magic granted me to give it to all of us, and that's assuming no other spellcasting during the day on top of it."
"Jeremiah's suggestion?" Sylvia sputters angrily, waving her arms about excitedly, "That's all I've been saying for the last ten minutes! Hello! I even volunteered my donkey. You don't see ol' Jerry there volunteering his big kitty for the job, do you? And for staying awake, well..." Her tirade dies down as she mentally inventories the contents of her lab and her formulae.
"Hmmm... padzahr heals in sleep, but does not prevent it. Smelling salts can make us conscious, but we can't all run around sniffing them. Besides, we'll still tire even when awake. Eventually, we'll fall ill. Soul stimulant, no... troll oil, no... bloodblock.... embalming fluid... nushadir...." Her muttering dies into a whisper before she finally shakes herself and chirps brightly, "Nope! No help here for staying awake. Of course, it's not horribly far to Wally's. We could go back with these three to be sure they don't run into any of those nasty things we saw before, make sure the Smythes are out, and update His Lordship. Then we could hit this Devil's Hole hard tomorrow after having a nice nap at the estate."
"I always preferred my naps after hitting the Devil's Hole hard..." Rhodes jokes, still trying to understand what the heck everyone is talking about.
Nathan looks alarmed. "I haven't an animal left to carry Gindel. I could carry him some of the way, but not while keeping the constable close and protecting us from supernatural ambushes. Surely if I had the means to get them out of the wood I would have done so."
"Please investigate the source of the disturbance," he says, "and then with help we can seek a safe recovery elsewhere."
"We could go back with these three to be sure they don't run into any of those nasty things we saw before, make sure the Smythes are out, and update His Lordship. Then we could hit this Devil's Hole hard tomorrow after having a nice nap at the estate."
"I actually concur with Miss Sylvia," Trina speaks up, trying to keep her voice calm and avoid prompting the agitated alchemist into another tirade. "Though I do not believe we have the means to transport anyone at the moment, especially in the state the constable's in, without restraining him. But while we're there, we can update him on the dangers we encountered here, and perhaps seek aid in escorting Master Nathan and his charges safely out of the woods. I understand most of Lord Wallingham's men would perhaps normally be averse to entering the woods in the current situation. But as long as we provide a straight, short route and inform them of the dangers they might face, and perhaps accompany them on the journey out here, I believe they could be here swiftly, be prepared for what they might encounter, and be able to escort the afflicted to safety on their own while we forge deeper into the wood."
She shakes her head slightly. "Alternatively, we go directly, deal with the problem at this Devil's Hole, and hope it does not take too much time.... Spare nothing in tracking down the source of the blight, if we're looking in the right direction at least, and pray that if we can disrupt it here, it will cease or at least slow the afflictions on the already-hexed. A sort of cascade-effect, which might be possible if the calamity's magic is tied to the source's lifeforce. We won't know more until we find it."
She glances around the gathered group. "Those seem to be our only options at the moment, aside from searching elsewhere for more clues. Which I believe at least can wait until we've proven or disproven the Devil's Hole as the source of the infirmity, regardless of whether we head there now or tomorrow."
Jerry looks to the window in the stables, with a soft sigh; "Returning to the manor would probably have to start tomorrow, as I wouldn't want to be caught outside after dark. Although this Devils' Hole and what is contained within will equally be time-consuming; I expect."
So Jerry looks around the group Imperiously; "So we'll take these 3 back to Lord WAllinghams', make sure the Smythes also went there. Then return tomorrow." he says openly, then trying to save face; "We can claim this was a scouting mission?"
Leaning into Rhodes; he adds quietly. "Maybe have a crack at billiards. Impress Lady Rowena & Philomena with our cue control."
"Sounds reasonable to me. We know now of the Devil's Hole, so we know where to begin our search on the morrow." She turns to Nathan and Caladriel. "I hate to do it, but I imagine the constable will need to be bound. Can you two see to preparing Master Gindel for the journey as best as possible while we take care of him?"
Nathan nods. "Yes, I fear the constable may be... unpredictable... on our journey."
You make your preparations and set back out on the trail the way you came. Gindel must almost be carried, so delicate is the old druid's condition.
At first, the constable looks around wildly, seemingly afraid of everything. After you have covered a short distance, however, he becomes preoccupied. "Must go back," he mutters repeatedly. "Must go. Must go. The Black Sun." He pulls at his bounds as if to head deeper into the wood. "BE KIND TO ME! I WILL BE FAITHFUL TO YOU MASTER!" He screams this loudly, but there are no natural things in this wood to be alarmed by his voice. He refuses to answer any questions directed at him or even acknowledge your presences, but pulls continuously at his bonds.
Caladrel observes the constable's behavior. "This one has clearly become enthralled by this evil power. We must watch him carefully as he is an unwitting threat to the group."
Caladrel is not strong enough to carry Grindel, however, he does walk very near so that he can attend the Druid in case he needs anything. He frequently checks on Grindel's condition in case it takes a turn for the worse.
Unless someone else volunteers, Trina maintains hold of the constable's rope. The tiefling's moderate frame belies a surprising strength, and despite his resistances she is more than willing to drag him along with the group for his own best interest.
"He will need to be interred somewhere when we reach the village," she replies to Caladrel, "until his mind begins to recover, if it ever does. Otherwise he will simply run off into the woods again, or do harm to himself or others."
"You can tie his rope to Chanticleer," Sylvia offers, "He's every bit as stubborn as any constable. No need for us to have to deal with it. Gindel can ride him, too. It's easier than walking. We can lead the mule and walk on either side to help support Gindel."
For all her bluster, she does not seem unhappy to be heading out of this place.
Addressing Alastriona's concerns regarding the demented constable; "I'm sure Lord Wallingham has some rooms, or if we're bound for the village - the constable has a room or two that are secure." Jerry sighs with concern for the trio that they lead out of the woods. "Plus the Lord is bound to have a caring staff to help."
He glances to Gindel, a tight line of worry etched across his forehead. 'So much is wrought by this Black Sun? How shall we stop it.'
Luce trots along behind the group, having been offered as a mount - however it seems some are reluctant to ride the wild beast. "And has anyone heard of this Black Sun cult before?" he wonders.
"Only vaguely. As I said in the barn, what little I know of it ties it to bizarre religions and strange, usually lone rituals. It's an ancient thing, from a time long past, cultures and gods and practices long forgotten. The madmen who know of such things are usually pursuing knowledge best left out of mortal hands, and rarely have good intentions for what they find, even without the corrupting influence it appears to have had on the people and terrain here."
She shakes her head with a sigh. "I've only come across references to it a small few times, never in great detail, only footnotes or passing mentions. I imagine going searching for more information is a dark road to follow."
"Bah! Information is information. It's the lifeblood of our minds. We should pursue this vigorously. Vigorously, I say!" Sylvia jabs one forefinger into the air in emphasis. "How far past your cabin is the place we need to visit, Nathan? It took us half a day to get here without really knowing the way. If we start out at dawn tomorrow, will we arrive there well before dark? Seeing what it has done to people, I'd rather not sleep in this blight." She nods towards the distraught constable.
As Trina reiterates what she had said earlier; Jeremiah rasps at his chin. The light afternoon shadow of stubble artfully protruding, giving him a hint of ruggedness. "I wonder if the Lord has any books on this, or mayhaps a survey of his estate. That could be valuable locating this gill." he wonders.
"Your sense does you credit, Milady." he nods to Sylvia.
Rhodes mumbles to himself, "I kind of wonder if I've not already slept here once." He keeps his eyes down, not looking at anyone in particular.
"Oh yes," Nathan says to Sylvia, "from the cabin, you could be there in an hour at most."
You struggle to restrain the old Constable as he tries to pull back into the wood, but you are able to trudge on back to the edge of the forest. You cross the rotted field, past the Smythe house (which is unoccupied) and onward toward Wallingham Manor.
'I would offer for the Constable to ride on Luce's back to subdue him, however he's too unstable to be afeared by the old girl.' Jerry thinks as they progress through the woods.
As they move out the forest, Luce lets out a small growl of relief almost mirroring her riders mood. Her pace slightly quickens too. Jerry looks to the group; "I think the manor would be best destination. For we have rooms already, can take our ease and sleep. Or for those of a more scholarly bent, can burn the midnight oil and research in the library." he awaits a response by adjusting the sword strapped to his back.
"Although, I suppose the village may have more rumours.... but I'm sure you could get some from the manors' maids or serving staff." he glances to Rhodes.
"So my vote is back to Wallinghams' Manor" he states plainly.
"Regardless where we end up, I'll wait outside with the Constable," Trina offers, "until Lord Wallingham or whichever other authority is in charge decides where he can best be kept. Taking him inside anywhere would provide too many opportunities for mayhem."
Jerry blanches at the thought of the constable in the wine cellar, or Lord Wallinghams study. He nods at Trina's sensibility and ability.
You continue on across the countryside, reaching the grounds of the manor by late afternoon. The grounds are quiet, apart from an old man trimming the hedges who regards you with unconcealed curiosity. The manor stands before you.
Trina remains out on the courtyard, leading the constable away from the main thoroughfare and any passersby. She attempts to get him to settle into one place while the others go to speak with the lord of the manor, and tries to get him to eat something, but at all times holds firmly to the impromptu leash the group has tied him to, unwilling to let him loose to wander or flee back to the woods.
Enjoying the beautiful manor and the improved surroundings, Jerry whistles a soft ditty with Luce's reigns in his hand. "I'll just lead her to a clear field and then go to the house."
After ensuring the huge lioness is happy, disrobed of the barding and bags the young noble walks to the main doors. With a triple rap, he avoids the butler so he can explain the situation with the injured holders.