Winter takes several bites of her stew while you talk. She doesn't seem surprised by anything you say, but doesn't give any clues to her thoughts as Helena tells of your situation.
Your stomachs all grumble, and you realize for the first time how painfully empty they seem to be. How long has it been since you last ate? Last drank water? You find it hard to not ignore talking altogether in favor of consuming everything set before you with zeal.
"I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but a patient led an uprising. It wasn't like any riot I've ever heard of, though. It was more like a religious movement. Most of the northern halls are now held by robed patients who call themselves the Apostles in Orpiment. Those we've encountered are fanatically devoted to a patient named Ulver Zandalus."
She takes a deep breath before continuing. "Wherever the monsters came from, they emerged soon after the revolt. What's strange is that some of the patients and asylum staff say that, in the nights before the uprising, they had nightmares of exactly the sort of things that stalk the halls now."
"As for leaving... It's as if the outside world has turned against us. I don't know if it's just Briarstone Isle, or if it's the whole world, but the hospice is surrounded by some repulsive vapor. Worse, the weather beyond is like nothing I've ever seen-thunder like laughter, rain like blood. And that's to say nothing of the shapes that scamper and flap within, vague forms that know when we sleep." she holds up her hands in a shrug. "Things are terrible here, but at least here we can see doom coming."
Elren'dor quietly follows along the with guard, making his way into the chapel proper. The elf's dark eyes look over each and every one of the survivors, recognizing and sympathizing with the fear that they reflect back towards him. It was only his knowledge of magic that brought him any courage. Otherwise, he'd be scared in the dark just as well. There was a bump of Keymys against his leg, reminding him to continue to walking to keep his eyes further peeled. After all, this many survivors could hide quite a number of possible dopplegangers within their ranks. How many of them were really scared? How many of them were simply just...waiting.
The massive statue dedicated to Pharasma dominates the room but the elf smiles at the other denominations that are represented as well. Even the latter two; Zon-Kuthon and Asmodeus. His attention does turn from them to the woman who prays beneth it. She is beautiful, graceful, and the shift in her eyes draws his attention. His eyes evaluate her though, taking in the badge and any weapons that she may be carrying upon herself as well.
Before Elren'dor could agree to sit with a meal, there was a thud by the table and Keymys sat at it like a person with those same, mis-matched colored eyes and gave a quiet "Meow?". A smile spread over the elf's face, making him appear decades younger as he nodded. "Keymys has the right idea. Let us eat."
Elren'dor tries to slow down his eat, grabbing a piece here and there that was a bit too fatty and leaving it for his familiar to eat up. He was sipping from the hearty broth as Helena began her story, explaining what happened previously to bring them to where they were now. The elf gave a little nod when the warrior mentioned what he had identified them as; dopplegangers. The thought sent chills up his spine as he bit into a piece of potato, trying to find solace in starch.
"What Helena said is true, all of it. We remember nothing except a few hazy memories of childhood, maybe some of our training, but that is all. Keymys here remembers me but I do not remember her." The elf's hand runs through the fur of the cat once more, bringing the animal to purr loudly despite the somber setting. His hunger pulls at him to consume his meal, to eat every drop that he can, but he remains civil in the way he takes each spoonful in a manner that his parents would be proud.
"I believe we met one such believer of this Zandalus. He was wrapped up, chained to a pipe and had a ghoul on the other side of another body there. He seemed...incapable of saying anything except 'Words fail' and 'Zandalus sees'. He seemed coherent though, just incapable of mundane speech. We have not freed him yet, it seems unwise to let more patients out...even if it risked him to whatever roams those halls."
The next words that come from her steal Elren'dor's attention from his bowl. His focus has turned entirely upon the woman, listening intently to her and her story. The vapors, the things in the fog, it made his fists tighten around the spoon he held until Keymys sat up and forced her way onto his lap and against his face. "A fog? What color? Elren'dor asked, his tone low and almost fearful of the answer. He looked down at his bowl, quickly trying to eat what he could before his appetite disappeared once more.
"We shared a dream, it seems. Not of this place but of somewhere else. Somewhere where there was a fog and awful, unnameable things within it. Perhaps...perhaps they're linked then. There are too many coincidences to say otherwise." Elren'dor says in a grim albeit resolute tone, nodding his head. "If I may ask, what was Ulver Zandalus brought in for? What happened to him?" Elren'dor also points to the badge that she wears, nodding. "I do not recognize that badge either. Are you the captain of the guard here?" Elren'dor question the woman more and more, prying her for any answer to any question he can think to ask. All the while, Keymys and him study Winter, watching her for any odd irregularities.
Winter turns to answer Elren'dor's questions "The fog is a sickly yellow." she replies grimly. "Zandalus? I've never laid eyes on him, but some of the other survivors worked here before the uprising. They say Zandalus was a quiet man who suffered from horrible nightmares-a poet and artist whose art was disturbing, but who always seemed peaceful enough himself. All of that apparently changed though."
She looks down at her badge, surprised to see it was still there. "Me? I'm a sister of the maiden's choir cathedral in Caliphas. My associates and I were helping a Royal Accuser investigate some strangeness in Thrushmoor."
Helena pales at the mention of the yellow fog. Her hands going reflexively to her belly, expecting pain and the feel of her innards, as a piece of meat sticks in her throat. "Yellow Fog?" She manages to cough out while trying to dislodge the food bits.
A shudder going through her body, Helena squeaks out, "Sorry, yellow fog was in a dream I had just before waking. I... I was killed, gruesomely."
Helena takes a few moments to re-compose herself. Trying to not let the sudden flood of memories of that nightmare kill her hunger. With all that's going on, who knows when they will next be able to eat again.
Narcisa is quiet as she disarms, laying down her growing collection of daggers, her morningstar and rapier. She drops her hands onto her hips, looking at her weapons as if trying to remember if she had put them all down, before following after the group.
As the group passes through the collection of survivors, she begins to keep her arms across her chest, sort of hugging herself as they continue.
She looks around at the shrines in the chapel, frowning when she doesn't see one to Calistria. She remains quiet as Winter speaks to the group, nodding a little as Helena answers the questions about what happens.
She perks up when they are given the stew, diving into the bowl with gusto. She remains quiet throughout the conversation, opting to eat and listen than to provide any of her insights. Her enthusiasm for eating slows as the topic of yellow fog is brought up. She looks towards the window, expression rather bland.
"Indeed. Many others have reported seeing the fog in their dreams as well."
Your food disappears quickly, if you have any more questions, ask them now.
After forcing another bite into her mouth, Helena squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block the memory of the nightmare. Fill it with anything else.
A voice of a woman, faint & raggedy like one who is dying, Have Hope, dear, sometimes Hope is the only weapon we have left. It is the one that keeps us fighting when we have nothing else to give. Keep Hope and the Goddess will provide. A faint scent fills her nose, fleeting then vanishes.
Helena opens her eyes as a small tear drips down. She straightens her spine, seemingly herself once again.
"You said you needed help, what can we do? Are you sure there is no way to get these people out of here?"
And is a much softer voice, "This may sound a strange questions, but are there any roses on the grounds?"
"Roses?" Winter pauses, thinking. "There might have been, in one of the gardens, but I don't know if any survived. You might want to check the gardens. It's across from the door that leads outside of our barricade."
"As for how you can help, there's a number of things that could use your assistance. We are always in need of firewood, so breaking down the piles of furniture would be good. We have some survivors who need healing of injuries; I've expended all my power for the day. Naysa Walika needs some help with calming a former patient..." She refills everyone else's bowls from the cookpot, and slides the empty pot to the center of the table. "And we need someone who can cook food. We burn or undercook too much food and we can't afford to waste."
She stands from the table, tilts her head to the group. "If you'll excuse me. I have more to attend to." She departs to handle other matters.
Smallest Sun nods and looks at the rest of the group, having put away both bowls of food without saying a word. "Well, I'll go try to attend to the wounded." he says. "I still have some healing magic left."
He will help by using his last two spells to heal the most injured patients, once he has ensured they're otherwise stable and going to mend properly.
He hopes that it is sufficient, but if not, he also has his remaining 2 channel energies for the day to help with.
Helena chats with the others while eating her second portion. "I definitely don't know much about healing. Have no idea if I can cook, but breaking furniture for firewood should be easy enough for me.
Helena ponders a bit, "I can also see if they want to get the furnaces back up and running. Should be easy enough to do, but we'd need to get that room downstairs and the chute cleaned up for a way in and out. From the laundry room it looked easy enough to be able to get the water going again."
She turns to Smallest Sun, "All those bodies, do you think burial would be OK, we can check that garden, or better to cremate them as there is so many? I'm not sure of the burial rights of so many faiths," Helena points towards the group of statues, "but with so many dead..."
There were two injured parties, Airwynn Savoia and Bates Yopchick, a young man who is terrified. Airwynn has a broken arm and several broken ribs from a falling wall. Bates was apparently assaulted by several patients and has several bites all over his body. Winter observes your work out of the corner of her eye and is pleased when your work manages to fully heal the boy's injuries, and reduce weeks of healing down to a few bruises on their chest and a sore arm.
If anyone wants to help Naysa Walika, the nurse currently has a patient cornered so that he can't run off. She's trying gently to get him to calm down. If you approach, she'll eye you and say "If you're going to help, that fine, but no roughing up my patients!"
In one corner of the chapel there's a huge pile of splintered furniture and fallen support beams. There is only a single crowbar and a single handaxe for splitting wood for the fires.
Some of the survivors are trying to prepare meals at numerous cookfires around the chapel, but their efforts are amateurish and wasteful. You could help out there too.
Helena ponders a bit, "I can also see if they want to get the furnaces back up and running. Should be easy enough to do, but we'd need to get that room downstairs and the chute cleaned up for a way in and out. From the laundry room it looked easy enough to be able to get the water going again."She turns to Smallest Sun, "All those bodies, do you think burial would be OK, we can check that garden, or better to cremate them as there is so many? I'm not sure of the burial rights of so many faiths," Helena points towards the group of statues, "but with so many dead..."
"This may sound a bit morbid, but with ghouls running around and our need for fuel, perhaps burning them would be both helpful for putting them to rest and further our chances of surivival. It would rob the ghouls of food and possible more numbers, and it would give us hot and clean boiled water and heat."
He nods to himself. "Yes. I believe that this is the best way to honor the dead somehow, and give us the best chance of survival."
Helena will first see about helping with the wood.
If no one else has yet once she is done with wood, she'll check about the food.
Also checking with either Winter or York if/when she sees them to ask about the furnaces & laundry room.
Elren'dor finishes his meal, placing down the empty bowl upon the table. He watches the others head off, Smallest Sun going to take care of the injured and Helena making her way to splinter more firewood, he wrings his hands together and ponders what it is he could do. Rising from the table, he murmurs to himself. "Perhaps...I can help with the patient..." The wizard and cat move away from the table and towards where the nurse is dealing with the riled patient.
Elren'dor approaches Nayisa, giving a nervous smile as he nodded quietly. "I will try my best... He steps in closer, trying to speak softly and easily to the scared patient.
Narcisa goes to see if she can help with the cooking, following after the warrior.
She pauses, looking at the pots and pans, then looking up to Helena, "I don't think I'm suited for this."
Helena takes an hour chopping and breaking up wood, and manages to produce enough burnable materials to provide the camp for a whole night, plus actually enough to get them through most of the next night too. As she finishes up, wiping the sweat from her brow, one of the guards approaches and appreciatively hands her a (relatively) clean towel.
"That's some good work you've done here!" he says with a smile. "Saved me quite some time too. My names Denman. What's your name?" he asks.
Elren'dor approaches, and though he is doubtful, his words manage to connect to the patient somehow. Your own paranoia comes out through your words as you connect with the man on some level. Loic complains about hearing his long dead sister calling for him, and you're familiar with the feeling that someone, somewhere, is after you... somehow. Your hour-long conversation manages to help Loic feel at ease enough that he doesn't resist the tincture that Naysa gives him at the end, and after drinking it he sighs, sinking to sit in the corner and relaxing. Naysa will turn to you and smile genuinely. "Thank you, stranger. I don't know if you're one of those things... but I appreciate your help."
Narcisa tries to help with the food, but does no better than the other survivors until Helena arrives an hour later to take over.
The cleric arrives shortly along Helena, and takes over the bulk of the cooking. He has Helena help at some of the other fires, giving directions from across the chapel as he does so. The food (hitting a 26) is totally amazing to not only the survivors, but also Smallest Sun himself. Survivors, even the ones who are normally very hesitant to approach, flock to the fires to receive the best meal they've had in months, much less the last week.
A few hours of labor and assistance passes.
Elren'dor speaks with the scared man, haunted by his dead sister who whispers to him whenever the shadows get deeper and darker. He feels the oddest sense of kinship with the man, his eyes occasionally looking towards the cracked windows in fear of the yellow fog that could be pouring in at one moment. He speaks with him about logic, about spirits, about whatever seems to validate but also explain the world around him. With a smile, Loic drinks the tincture without complaint before settling against the wall. Envious of the man's relaxation, the elf rose and brush himself off.
"It is nothing. I am just glad to be of use." Elren'dor says with a smile, his nose picking up the smell of something delicious being made. Like a moth to flame, the elf finds himself in line with all the others and helps himself to a little bowl of seconds. His famished hunger had been sated with the first bowl, allowing him to truly enjoy the fantastic cooking of the second bowl. "Sun, your cooking is a gift." He murmurs, smiling at both Helena and the cleric. "ຂອບໃຈ." The Elven rolls off of his tongue, as Keymys quickly steals a chunk of meat with a look that holds no shame.
After eating though, now nicely full and his body relaxed after being away from the horrors outside of the chapel for a bit, Elren'dor would wave his comrades over to speak with them in hushed, soft tones.
"Well, my friends, it seems the situation is more dire than we thought. The fog awaits us outside, monsters hide amongst us, and the mad have control of the asylum." Elren'dor looks down, running his hands through his familiar's fur before looking back up at the others. "I cannot help but feel a sense...of responsibility. I don't know why but I feel these people are suffering because of us, that this is connected to us. Like I said, there are too many connections to be mere happenstance..."
Collecting his courage, a resolute look appears over Elren'dor's face as he studies each of his comrades intensely. "So what I suggest is we speak to Winter about trying to reclaim the asylum again, find survivors, find answers. This Zandalus is a man I want to question, to learn what it was that drove him to such fervent, maddening heights. We need to learn why we were here, what got us into this state, and how we are connected. What do you say, friends? Shall we try to play at being heroes?"
Helena long ago abandoned her armor during the heavy workload, accepts the towel with a small nod. "Thank you Denman. I'm Helena. Helena dabs at the sweat on her forehead. "I'm just glad there was something I could do. I'm definitely no healer, like Smallest Sun,"she motions towards the cleric. "Hard labor I understand."
Helena glances around the room, noticing Narcisa struggling with the cookware. "Although, looks like Narcisa could use some rescuing from cooking duty. If you will excuse me?"
----------------------------
Helena does her best to try and follow Smallest Sun's directions with the cooking. Every time she gets too near the cooking fires however, her left side burns and she has to step away before too long. Perhaps those wounds are fresher than they look? It's definitely something I 'should' remember. Helena pushes through the pain. These people are hungry and if they need hope of getting out of this situation alive, a good meal will help.
----------------------------
Helena listens to Elren'dor during the meal. Her muscles tired, but feeling good, having finally having some real exercise after so long unused. "I'm not sure if we are the cause. It just doesn't feel right, but I do think we are involved somehow. You are right. How come after weeks of being comatose, do we wake up just as this place has gone to hell?" Helena pauses trying to come up with the right phrasing. "I do agree our memories are tied up in what is happening."
She gestures towards Winter and her group. "The guards are too busy keeping these people alive. We are the best people to investigate. We've already proven we can handle skirmishes. We might need to wait until tomorrow to do so though. I believe Smallest Sun said he was low on magics. And we've already relied on the healing much, just in the little we did today. Going into a known volatile situation? I'd prefer him to be fully rested.
Helena sits back, finishing her meal, "I'd also like to get the furnaces and hot water working again. Something like a bath, even a small one, sounds really good." A small blush creeps up Helena's cheeks.
Elren'dor nods, agreeing with Helena as he looks over the worn survivors and their protectors. "It is true. We're the best ones for it and oddly enough, I think we compliment one another quite well."
"Smallest Sun, we would not have survived this far without your help. Same goes for the both of you ladies. I hope my aid to you three will lead to continued success." Elren'dor will rise from the table, looking about the room carefully now.
"If I am fortunate, I shall create a scroll or two. The larger my magical arsenal, the better. If not, let me know if I can assist Helena. A warm wash for myself and my familiar would be most appreciated."
After her attempts to peel a potato ended with most of the peel still attached to potato, Narcisa finds herself shooed out of the kitchen. She looks around, unsure what she should do with herself. So, doing what she thinks she's okay with, she starts to go poking around rooms within the barricade, seeing what was around, also sort of looking for the records room.
After a little while, she snorts to herself, What the hell am I actually good at? After smelling the delicious scent, she finds herself back and enjoying the tasty food that Smallest Sun and Helena had made. She listens to Elren'dor and Helena speak, nodding where appropriate, aimlessly moving the spoon through her empty bowl.
A nest of cushions and linens squeezes between this room's rear wall and a battered desk covered in foled paper animals. A sculpted emblem of a spiraling comet overlooks the otherwise ransacked room. A man in a nurse's outfit is sitting supervising two youngsters, who are sitting folding pieces of paper. The girl is folding paper animals, while the boy seems very intent on folding a perfect paper lotus. The man looks up at you, but has seen your face when you originally arrived in the camp so he's not surprised by your presence.
"Is it almost time to eat?" he asks. "I'm trying to get them to relax enough to sleep, but empty bellies make for difficult rest."
After your answer, he'll gather up the two children and make way to the now forming line around the stewpots. There is a door in this room leading to the next one, which appears to have been the chaplain's personal shrine. Candles array themselves before a violet wall hanging embroidered with the shape of a spiraling comet. A wall of bars divides the room, locking away a row of filing cabinets.
The cabinets catch your eye, and it occurs to you that the chaplain might have records of the patients he was to serve, and those records would have to be near his office...
Regardless of what the players do for the next 3 hours, at the end of that time Winter will come to see you all, and this time she seems a little more friendly than last time.
"I'm sorry." she says. "I know we've been cold to you four, but you've already done much to aid us in this short time, and at least to me, you've proven that you've got good intentions." she gives a tired smile. "York and I cautiously went to confirm what you had found in the laundry area, but the man you had saved from the ghoul would not be consoled. He attacked as soon as we freed him. I'm sorry." She seems genuinely pained by that. "But it's not unexpected. The Disciples of Orpiment, or whatever they call themselves, are part of the reason everything's gotten so terrible. Their uprising prevented anyone from being able to organize any effective resistance against the ghouls or the doppelgangers."
When your group talks about getting the furnace up and running again, and getting hot water running in the baths, Winter actually cracks a hopeful smile. "Hot water... that'd do much to raise our spirits, and make sure we aren't drinking something sickening. If you all think you can arrange it, I'll instruct York and the others to aid you how they can. Understand they can't leave the camp, we have enough trouble keeping the place safe as it is with the people we have now."
She gives you all an offer. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more about what's going on, but I know we can't stay here. We need a way out. All things considered, you seem able enough. If you can find some way for us to escape, some route that doesn't lead straight into that terrible fog, I'll see that the Royal Accusers reward you well. Please, you have to help us." she says, rubbing her temples. "I can make sure you're fed and have a safe place to rest while you're searching, but I don't think we have much money among us that we could use. Things are already bad enough as it is."
Winter sighs. "Speaking of rest... You all look ragged and tired. You should sleep here while you have the chance."
Helena will inquire with York about any possible protective gear and her intentions for getting the furnace restarted.
Elren'dor would be looking over all the different papers and supplies he had scavenged over the hours, examining them for small mistakes and break in quality that could disrupt his scribing process. When Winter returns, his eyes flitter up for a moment to watch her before she spoke.
"I am sorry as well..." Elren'dor says softly, sharing that pain for a moment. He had hoped that the man could be saved but it was another life lost to the insanity that was this place.
The captain makes her plea, asking for the wizard's and his comrades' help. He looks at the woman for a moment, running a hand through the thin and neatly trimmed beard upon his face. The thought of how his beard had remained so nice and tidy crossed his mind for a moment but he decided there were more important things to linger upon.
"Of course we shall help you. The more lives we can save from this tragedy, the better. We'll even see about getting that water started once more. I do have a favor or two to ask." Elren'dor rises, moving towards his compatriots and nodding. "We humbly ask to carry our weapons within the chapel here. For our own security and for these people. Some still distrust us to be what we are and I...cannot lie, I feel those same fears. I have gifts to fight without weapons but the others would do better if they were armed."
"Secondly, I would kindly ask that fine papers, suitable for magical inscription, be found and gathered. I can scribe magic with time and can have it as an alternate use of my spells." Looking over towards Smallest Sun, he gave an appreciative bow of his head. "I can even help you inscribe more of your healing prayers upon the paper, allowing us to investigate deeper into the asylum for a way out and maybe an answer." His attention turned back towards the woman, his smile polite and reserved. "Would these small requests be doable? I do not wish to stress your guards or anyone else more than they likely already are..."
Narcisa looks up to Winter, "Would it be alright if we looked around the chaplain's record room? I noticed he had some file cabinets in there, it might give us another clue to what's going on." She pauses, frowning, lowering her voice so it didn't travel beyond the conversation at hand, "Are children here normally or did something happen for them to end up here?"
"The chaplain's record room? Sure I guess." Winter says. "You of all people know that he won't be needing them anymore. Did you happen to find his key among his clothes?"
Winter says she can have Denman look while he's going through chopping firewood, but she thinks elren'dor would be best served from the supplies in the chaplain's office. There's a desk there that's not been broken up. There's supplies in there.
York returns everyone's weapons without complaint, but has nothing more they can offer for helping get the furnace up and running. However, you can search around the camp to find supplies that will help.
Helena goes searching for items to help with the furnace.
You'll find some cleaning supplies: two pairs of elbow-length gloves, leather aprons, and some cloth masks for your face.
"I'll help with the clearing of bodies and getting the furnace started again while Narcisa gets the records open and Elren'dor prepares some scrolls." Smallest Sun offers. "Though I would like to prepare a few of my healing spells into scrolls as well."
Narcisa shrugs a bit, "Eh, if we have a key, we have a key. Not much to worry about." She smiles up at Winter. She then looks to Helena, "Should I poke around the office by myself?"
Elren'dor will nod, rising from the table and giving the group a quick nod. "Well, I have work to do, my friends. Excuse me." He would begin to make his way towards the chaplain's office. Looking back, he offered a quick smile to the cleric of Iomadae. "Of course Sun. Please, just come and find me when you need my help."
Making his way into the chaplain's office, Elren'dor goes and tries to find paper of high enough quality.
Eventually, Keymys would meow at the wizard as he looked through drawers and cupboards, the feline nodding his head back into the room outside. It would rub against one of the children, pawing at one of the origami figures.
"Oh....ohhhh" Elren'dor says as he figures out what his familiar was indicating. Slowly, the elf sat down next to the children and smiled. "Children...I need those papers. Perhaps...we can do a trade?"
The kid looks up at you and cocks his head. "Depends." he says. "Whatcha got?"
Narcisa goes and inspects the door to the files, finding the one key you all picked up is not the right one.
Smallest Sun and Helena, donning the cleaning equipment, have an easier time moving the bodies and getting the furnace set up, but its a lot of time spent. Eventually you will have to stop if only because Smallest Sun needs to go back upstairs. But with a little more work tomorrow, you should have them up and burning.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Narcisa makes her way back to the office. She hums softly to herself as she extracts her tools and goes to work on the lock barring her way into the records area.
The iron bar door unlocks easily. You swing it open with a small sense of professional satisfaction and step inside. The cabinets are unlocked themselves, and the first, top drawer you open contains some not-records.
Three deep-purple vestments (suited for Pharasmins), a clean leather lash, and a small wooden box rest inside the first drawer. The box doesn't possess a latch or lock, and contains three scrolls and a wax-polished simple oak wand.
With some bartering, Elren'dor manages to trade the scroll parchments for a few less useful standard papers. Though it's a pain to adjust since creases don't ever fully disappear, you are able to secure a dozen (12) scrolls worth of workable materials. (You'll have to deduct the money from your totals, and I'll just handwave it as values bartering to acquire mats.)
When all is said and done, exhaustion and weariness drags all of you into a need to rest. You may have been resting a lot before this day, but your bodies haven't been exercising for a while, and while the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. The next day comes soon enough, soon as you lay down on a cot or bedroll you're unconscious, sleeping as restfully as can be had in this asylum.
Elren'dor smiles a mischievous grin at the children, raising his eyebrows a little as he whispers. "Why...I have magic."
Anyone who checks in during that hour sees perhaps one of the strangest scenes; children laughing as the elf uses magic to make the origami seem to come to life. The swan irregularly flaps its wings as it sails through the air, the perfect lotus spinning beautifully as well alongside it in an intricate dance. Keymys even joins in, bopping the paper creations as they float through the air.
Taking the papers, Elren'dor slowly begins to prepare them using the inks available and heating up a piece of metal in the fires and using a few wet rags to protect the scrolls from the heat. He irons out the creases, at least the most dangerous of those, but eventually exhaustion wins out and the elf finds himself slowly falling asleep. He tries to resist though, stubbornly refusing to go back to that dark realm where control was not his own. It was only at Keymys's prodding and protest (by sitting upon the paper) that Elren'dor finally goes to find where the others are and settle in for the night.
Those closest to the elf can hear him whispering before he settles into bed, as he kneels at his bedroll. His hands are clasped around a small, simple, and wooden holy symbol of Desna and one of Nethys, his eyes closed as the Elven escapes his lips.
"ແມ່ຍິງຂອງດາວເຫນືອ, ກະລຸນານໍາພວກເຮົາແລະໃຫ້ພວກເຮົາພັກອາໄສ. ເອົາມາໃຫ້ໂຊກກັບທະເຍີທະຍານຂອງພວກເຮົາແລະຕຽມເຮົາສໍາລັບບັນຫາໃນຕໍ່ຫນ້າ. ກະລຸນາປົກປັກຮັກສາຄວາມຝັນຂອງພວກເຮົາແລະເຮັດໃຫ້ພວກເຮົາຈາກສະຖານທີ່ມືດມົນທີ່ສຸດແ ລະກັບຄືນໄປບ່ອນເຂົ້າໄປໃນຄວາມອົບອຸ່ນຂອງແສງຕາເວັນໄດ້. ທ່ານເດີນທາງໄປດວງດາວແລະພວກເຮົາຢາກສໍາລັບມື້ເພື່ອເຂົ້າຮ່ວມທ່ານໃນລະຫວ່າງສະຫວັນ. ອາແມນ." Looking just the slightest bit more tranquil, he lays down and exhaustion quickly pulls him into the realm of sleep. Keymys climbs upon the elf, a white and silent guard, as it watches for anyone approaching or any strange sounds.
Unless convinced otherwise, Helena will take the chaplain's office. All the pillow, etc sound inviting after a day of hard labor. Her muscles ache so the soft is calling to her.
She will ask either Smallest Sun or Elren'dor if they are able to create magical water. She would like to rinse off the gore from cleaning, herself and her clothes/armor, if possible. Either way, she sleeps in next to nothing if in the office. She'll wear a long shirt if in the chapel.
"Of course." Smallest Sun replies. He takes a bucket of accumulated rainwater and casts a spell, clearing it of any impurities. "This will have to do, but tomorrow I will pray for the ability to create water; these people need it terribly."
Once she's clean, Smallest Sun is going to take a corner of the office and sleep, propped up by pillows against the wall and his feet wedged up against the desk.
Narcisa hums to herself as she pokes around cabinets. When she finds the lash, she raises an eyebrow and then rolls her eyes as she puts it back. She doesn't get too far into her exploration when she finds herself yawning. She closes the cabinet and stretches as she walks away. Upon finding the chaplain's unoccupied bed, she looks pleased. She quickly extracts herself from her leathers, then crawls into the bed. She yawns big, "Way better than the floor." She yawns again and quickly drifts off into sleep.
You fall asleep almost instantly. Your eyes open, and you find yourself in the fog-filled city again. You start to run, again, and find yourself fleeing the dreaded shapes threatening to emerge from the yellow mists. As you flee, the twisted man in yellow appears before you, and you freeze in primal fear.
Unlike the last time, though, he looks at you with curiosity, tilting his head. He floats towards you, his feet not even touching the ground this time, and he reaches one, gnarled hand out to caress your face. Just before he touches your skin, you awaken.
Helena awakens with a start, realizing she is hurting all ver her body. When she looks, she finds several human bite-marks on her skin. In addition, she doesn't feel like she got much rest from sleeping at all.
When you lay down, the simple cot is the most comfortable thing you remember. However, you find yourself in the city of mists again. The yellow fog chases you. You flee, and you are sure you saw the man in tatters just inside the fog, stalking you. What feels like hours pass, and your flight leads you back to the site where you died before. The road's stones are still slick with blood, and the smears lead towards a humanoid shape slumped on the floor. Your morbid curiosity drags you closer, and you start to see a familiar curve of shoulder, head of hair, and sliced up leather armor that looks just like the set you're wearing.
A sudden sound of footsteps interrupts your examination, and you twist, turning to see a shirtless elven man with long ponytail of straight white hair rushing by you. He doesn't seem to notice you, instead looking behind himself as he continues to flee.
"What have I done?!?" he shouts, running away. "What have I done?!?"
Narcisa awakens, overall stronger from her experiences, but feeling like she didn't get much rest from the night's sleep at all.
You find yourself slipping painlessly into sleep, reliving the last time you dreamed, but as you flee the yellow fog, the ground trembles. A wall up ahead of you crumbles, revealing a room beyond, and you push yourself, getting ahead of the fog and leaping into the room.
Within, it is far smaller than it appeared outside. An ancient Keleshite woman sits on a stool at a simple table. She looks up at Elren'dor, her eyes milky white orbs. "The past sleeps in the doctor's time."
Your eyes open, and you find it is morning.
Elren'dor finds himself well rested from his sleep.
You sleep, albeit listfully. When you awaken, you have no memory of your dreams, nor are you entirely sure you dreamed at all...
Smallest Sun finds himself well rested from his sleep.
Narcisa sits up in the cot, feeling just as tired as she did last night, the last of the dream echoing in her mind. She frowns, trying to place the face of the elven man. She shivers and hugs herself, looking over to where she left her armor. She reaches over to grab a piece, then lays back down on the cot, looking over the piece with a frown.
Helena jerks awake with a start, trying to not hyperventilate and instinctively reaching for her stomach, the location of the pain from last time she dreamed about the man in yellow. When the pain does not manifest, her breathing slows a little bit until the pain from the bites sets in.
Looking down and seeing all the bites, Helena groans in pain. "Ooouuch. What the unholy f+%@?"
Narcisa's armor looks just fine... or, have those scratches on the leather always been there? As you stare at the scratches, they start to look a little bit more red than a moment ago. As you run your hand over it, your fingers come away wet. Blood. Red blood starts to trickle out from the scratches in your armor, as if they were wounds in your own flesh. The flow of blood increases, almost pouring ou-
You wake up with a jolt, realizing you fell asleep again clutching the piece of leather armor. It is undamaged and most certainly NOT bleeding.
Helena's injuries do not fade, but the pain does. You're not sure who could have done it, considering some of the bites are in tender places, not to mention under clothing. Whatever caused it, this much is certain; it is connected with the man in yellow tatters.
Narcisa gasps as she sits up this time, looking around. She shivers, tossing the piece back onto the pile of her armor, she snuggles into the sheets tighter. Her eyes wonder around the room, pondering what the hell she could have done to ended up in this ungodly hellhole.
Helena barely gets her breathing under control when she notices the bites. Taking stock of their locations, the ending of the nightmare rushing back to her. Curling up, her arms around her knees, Helena tries to remain calm and tamp down the feelings of violation. To keep from screaming in frustration and revulsion.
She doesn't even notice Narcisa awaken.
Elren'dor awakens from his dream, dark eyes opening as if hopeful for a moment that he is somewhere else, somewhere different. Yet the crushing realization that the nightmare is still here and his face settles into one of deep thought. "The past sleeps in the doctor's tome." The elf murmurs to himself for a moment, looking towards the others and noticing the fact that they seem to recovering from their own fearful dreams. At Helena's groan of pain, Keymys hops over onto the pillows and looks over the marks, meowing softly and licking at the wounds that she can to soothe as best as a cat can. Elren'dor's eyes widen seeing the marks on her neck and hands, wherever he can see it.
"How...strange." Elren'dor says, leaning in to examine Helena. He whispers for a few moments, those dark eyes flashing with that glowing blue as he examines her and studies the marks. Narcisa's gasp as she sits up and rises from her sleep, looking around with a shocked and confused moment before she grabs onto her sheets like a lifeline. The elf stands taller, looking amongst his friends before he rushes over and grabs his things, pulling out the empty journal and looking at the others. "Did you dream? What did you see? What happened? Tell me everything." The words leave him in a rushed manner, his hand already writing down his own experiences into the journal itself. We must keep track of these things. We must take every vision we see as a clue. The doctor holds our past within their tome, we have to find the tome!
Smallest Sun awakens, and rubs his neck and shoulders stiffly as he dresses. He almost doesn't seem to notice anything's wrong until he turns and sees Helena and Elren'dor talking. Abandoning donning his armor yet, he comes over and crouches next to the fighter and gently examines the wounds.
"These all appear to be uniform bites, but their placement is... well, impossible." Sun observes, scratching his beard. "They're in such a place that the jaw would have to be... literally open so far that the teeth of both upper and lower jaw were pointing in the same direction... And she would have noticed this happening, even if she was asleep. But they all seemed to have appeared at the same time?" He shakes his head. "Baffling. You all had dreams?" he asks. "I had nothing. But my body feels sore, like I had been doing more than I remember doing yesterday."
Elren'dor listens to the cleric, notating everything the man says in regards to the condition that Helena found herself in. The news is not welcoming though, as the elf's eyes flicker upwards to Sun and he gives a nod. "I did, at least. How the other two reacted seems to be indicative of it."
The quill continues to write as Elren'dor relates his story, his voice low as he works to recall every detail he can remember. "I was running, running away from that awful fog. The ground shook and a wall ahead of me split apart, falling away. I leap inside to escape the fog, to find shelter. The room was far smaller than it appeared to be, leaving me face to face with a blind, Keleshite woman. She told me that the past sleeps in the doctor's tome."
He stops writing, finish copying his own memories and feelings into the notebook. "I awoke from my meditation with no injuries or pain outside of the usual ache of sore joints and muscles. This...dream though, I believe we need to find this doctor's tome in order to learn what we can. Perhaps Winter would have more information for us?"
He looks between the others, frowning as he spoke even softer as those dark eyes focus downwards. "I apologize...I didn't even ask if you were alright. I remember being reprimanded for being too...focused...at times. Are you both okay?"
As the two women in the group are about to answer, the door to the chaplain's office opens, and the same nurse that was there before pokes his head in. He seems surprised but not entirely so to find you there. "Ah. I'm sorry." he says, his voice soft and peaceful. "I didn't know if you were still getting ready. I'll be bringing the children back in here soon; would you be willing to get dressed and leave us the room? I would like them to have a peaceful environment."
This man seems to not be surprised you look so haggard after sleeping the night in the room. This phenomenon might not be isolated to just you four.
This is the same nurse as the day before, who was shepherding the children in folding paper.
His answer to your question was "Children can suffer from mental illness just as easily as adults. They're actually more fragile than most people... but I find they are also most capable of making a full recovery." he smiles down at them. "I'm glad they weren't taken by whatever terrible things have been happening here."
Elren'dor's focus sharpens dangerously for a moment when the door opens and the nurse looks in, the wizard's features relaxing afterwards as he gives a small nod and a weak smile. "Of course. Please, just try to keep them from the paper I have collected in the drawer over there. It will be essential to our tasks here."
Rising up, he secures the last of his things and looks towards the others with a confident if cautious nod. Keymys follows behind the wizard, moving between his legs with an easy and practiced moveme nt that doesn't threaten the wizard's movements in the slightest.
He steps out into the chapel proper, looking between the survivors for Winter. He approaches and lifts his hand in greeting, nodding towards her.
"Winter, a moment of your time. I have a question that perhaps you or one of the guards could answer. Where would the majority of the doctor's offices be located?"
Winter is seen moving among the survivors, checking with the ones who Smallest Sun healed the day before, and admiring Helena's handiwork. She approaches the elf with the closest thing you've seen to a smile on her somber face.
"Ah, did you sleep well enough? I heard that you took the chaplain's office and I wanted to confirm something."
When you ask her about the offices, she holds up her hand. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Did you get a chance to read through the records you found?"