Anzath coughs into a gloved fist and begins scratching her upper arm.
<cough, cough> "You rekokgnize him, no?" she asks their resident scryer.
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"I don't recognize his face, but his robes match those of Yaza's entourage. I'm not sure if he is why she quarantined it down here, or if she is actually down here with her group somewhere."
Where undead had exploded upon his fellows, Tragershen uses his spell to clean the splatter off of their persons, clothing and gear.
He rests a hand on Tal's shoulder. "Thank you, friend, for keeping them at bay."
He steps over the the paladin and quietly says "Well fought, champion of the Dawnflower. We are blessed to have you hunting with us."
Finally, he moves to the stout dwarf, puts a hand of his shoulder and murmurs "That is why I keep licorice root amongst by arcane paraphenalia. Not for when your alchemical concoctions give you the 'munchies.'"
You be hav'n licorice, elf!
Aurora stares at Anzath as the half-elf begins coughing and scratching. "... We should find somewhere to sit down, for a few moments. I don't like the looks of that."
The cleric is cautious enough to avoid closing the distance, but she does eye Anzath's sudden case of hives...
Aurora knows that an illness with an incubation period of a minute is not a run of the mill terrestrial cough. Respiratory and skin? It's like an allergy, but by the look of the corpse, it's got to be much worse than an allergy. And allergies don't spread.
Aurora hems, haws, and finally nods. "Don't touch anyone until you're cured. We... ah... should probably see to that. I could pray on some spells if we have a few minutes to rest."
Wiping the blood off her blade with the ratty fabric on the nearby corpse before finishing cleaning it off on her sleeve. Turning to look at Tragershen with a grin, [smaller]"I am far from a champion if you ask anyone who has met me.[smaller]
Returning her battered scimitar to its sheath, "This was my quest before my death. It will remain that until it is over or I die and remain that way. Anzath and all of you found me so I get to continue. For that I am grateful."
Bedlam takes time to brew a Mutagen also.
Talathel carefully draws back his spear turning it so that he and Tragershen can both confirm that none of the zombie gore remains upon it. As they do so, he replies:
"It is my duty. But one that I welcome. My thanks for the cleaning."
When that is done, he looks upon Anzath with visible concern.
I would be...saddened to have to skewer her skull. I hope that it does not come to that. Hopefully, Aurora will swiftly present a solution.
He stands guard as the cleric works. Anzath is never out of his field of vision throughout.
Anzath tries not to be too much of a disturbance with her coughing and itching while Aurora communes with her God. Every once in a while, she is caught staring back at Talathel.
Aurora learns that this disease is one that has no name yet--feel free to name it if you'd like. Its effects are gradual hp damage at the rate of 1/hr after the 1 min onset period, fort save negates. No cure except Remove Disease. If you have it in your system and you die, you zombify.
She then pulls said illness out of Anzath.
Talathel sees some potentially valuable objects in the kitchen--a massive 14 inch chef-de-chef knife that has some kind of enhancement to it (it's sparkling clean while many of the other kitchen knives are rusted to heck). Treat as a +1 dagger (or short sword, that thing is huge) that gives its enhancement bonus as a circumstance bonus to "Profession: Chef." You also find an odd hybrid of fork and spoon that is likewise shiny--Tragershen confirms that this "spork" is magic.
You also find a bas-relief carving in the wall. It is in the shape of a left hand.
Feeling much better, her lungs cleared and the rash subsided, Anzath thanks Aurora for her divine administrations, “I vould like to not be zombie.”
She prepares to move on.
Tragershen looks at the wall carving. "Again, the left hand." Is there any writing on it? Does it radiate magic?
"Being a zombie is bad for one's health."
Aurora will relay the details of the disease to the rest of the party, "...progressive damage to the body; in the hypothetical situation that this disease hit the Ferry, I imagine the majority of the town would be dead or dying by the next sunrise. Magic to repair the damage to the body would likely be sufficient to hold it off, but not to stop it; at present, the only cure I can glean is itself magic..."
There is something in her tone of voice that suggests she thinks that someone should be writing this down, like a professor lecturing students. She gives a brief segue as to that simply meaning, "...that there is no presently-known cure aside from magic, but not that one necessarily doesn't exist. Discovery of any such method is likely what the hospital was attempting to accomplish. Of course, that doesn't mean such a cure might exist either..."
Quietly watching Aurora. Other faiths do things a little different and not all of them are ok with sharing. Sighing quietly when the taint of undeath is purged from Anzath.
Glancing at the out of place knife, "That does not seem to fit."
Trailing behind Tagershen and looking at the carving, "Does the left hand hold a significance to that their faith?"
Relief briefly crosses Talathel's face as Anzath is confirmed to be cured.
He nods seriously as Aurora explains the nature of the unnatural disease.
"Perhaps it would be most expedient to ensure that this disease never reaches the Ferry. Is there any indication if the disease can survive outside of its zombie hosts or those infected? If not, then simply slaying every last zombie and infected Orcus follower, while curing any living victim. There should be few enough of those that magic might be sufficient."
“Vhy vould Yaza quarantine diz place if Orkuz vantz to spread zombie diseaze? Orkuz iz plague demon, no?”
Busily taking quill to parchment, spectacles perched precariously on his soot smudged nose, the dwarf raised s a tentative hand.
Spell hypothetical situation.
Bedlam grins innocently.
You check the cleric of Orcus. His left hand is still on his body. Not so the other two human zombies--they are "all right now," if you know what I mean.
The left hand symbol on the wall is indeed radiating conjuration magic.
Tragershen's memory is jogged by Anzath's question--he'd know that Orcus is a big enough deal to have a broad portfolio in mayhem, but while he isn't opposed to plague as such, it's not a special interest of his.
"The carving has a magic to it. A conjuration effect. That would mean it brings or sends someone or something, or it creates or destroys something."
"We've seen notes stashed here already. I would recommend that we not disturb the enchantment for now and continue our exploration. Perhaps we'll find notes that indicate its power. If all else fails, we can return and tamper with it."
Edit: "Interesting question. While Orcus would revel in using disease to unleash chaos, it has not been a primary focus, historically speaking. There are other demons, daemons and even gods that would more associated with disease."
"I could not entirely say, Talathel. Hopefully not, but until we can confirm it doesn't it may be best to assume that it can survive sans a host, and that the infection could be carried on objects. It is quite lucky, then, that the onset of symptoms upon contact is so quick—if it incubated for even a few days, as some diseases can, it could quite well spell an epidemic." Aurora frowns. "I can detect illness on items, if necessary. It could be prudent to spend a day or two ensuring nothing obtained from the quarantine is carrying this... pox... before we pass it into any hands beyond our own."
Glancing sidelong to Bedlam, she adds, "Hypothetical; H Y P O T H E T I C A L. Situation; S I T U A T I O N."
Bedlam scribbles. The dwarf looks like he is enjoying himself.
Where to next, adventurers? Onwards or backwards are your options, I think.
Tragershen has a thought. "I haven't ready those notes we captured thoroughly, but they seemed to indicate an attempt to conjure a plague demon. It they succeeded, it may be the source."
Bedlam drinks his Mutagen (50 minutes). The dwarf then gathers his gear and makes ready to go exploring.
The northward path swings to the east, with two doors visible from the angle--one directly to the north, and one just to the east of the angle itself. That sounds confusing. I'll update the map. I'll let this roll count for both doors:
Neither is trapped, to your knowledge. The path does continue into the darkness to the east.
What'll it be, north, east-then-south, or east to the end of the hallway?
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Aurora gestures toward the north. Inside you find a hallway with a few rooms off to the sides: a surgery and one labeled, ominously, "waiting room."
There's nothing of value or interest in these rooms.
But the room beyond? That's more interesting. After the party clears the door and heads inside, they realize they are at the bottom of the staircase in the mosaic room.
They also see four of the one-handed zombies--they seem to be slurping at a pool of indescribably disgusting filth bubbling through a hole in the wall. They slowly swivel their heads to watch you, and they begin to groan...
Tragershen may act!
With little surprise, Tragershen responds to the undead with a flick of his wrist that lands his wand in his hand. He targets the nearest zombie and fires a ray at it. Alas, the ray hits Bedlam in the back of the head and, while it certainly feels nice to a living creature, it does no good in the battle they face.
Disrupt Undead, to hit
Damage
The frail elf keeps his more robust allies between himself and the disease ridden creatures.
The first of the zombies charges into the front line:
Talathel takes a swing at it as it rumbles past (using the fourth from the most recent set). He gashes it badly.
...Anzath feels a little ill as the zombie's fetid arm slams her across the face.
Talathel keeps striking at the zombie he has wounded, aiming to put it down.
Bedlam sighs.
Be gitt'n 'nough ov des zombies!
Talathel skewers the zombie that bopped Azath. Pop. Anzath isn't more sick and Tal is at arm's length, but Vael might be near enough...
Vael shrugs off the demonic microbes.
Bedlam's bomb blasts the center zombie to bits.
The blast damages one of the remaining zombies severely, the other, not so severely.
Did somebody say... zombies?
Aurora lofts her holy symbol as she closes the barest amount of distance necessary to get all of them into channel range (if possible) and...
Moving towards the nearest creature trapped in undeath and lashing out.
"I said I do NOT vant to be zombie!"
Anzath slash-bashes the nearest walker.
The remaining zombies fall before the positive energy and scimitars of the party.
[dice=Fort Save] d20+5
[dice=Fort Save] d20+8
As they approach the pool of filth to kill the zombies, Vael and Anzath smell an especially pungent version of the zombie stink. But neither gets sick or sicker.
The remaining zombies fall before the positive energy and scimitars of the party.
As they approach the pool of filth to kill the zombies, Vael and Anzath smell an especially pungent version of the zombie stink. But neither gets sick or sicker.
But the room beyond? That's more interesting. After the party clears the door and heads inside, they realize they are at the bottom of the staircase in the mosaic room.
They also see four of the one-handed zombies--they seem to be slurping at a pool of indescribably disgusting filth bubbling through a hole in the wall. They slowly swivel their heads to watch you, and they begin to groan...
If there is nothing of value amongst the remains, we'll leave them.
Tragershen will cast detect magic on them, to make sure no particularly valuable trinkets are concealed in the gore. He'll also use detect magic on the pool they were slurping at to see if anything magical is hidden below its surface.
Oh yeah: there's a door to the north. The staircase is to the south. Past the staircase is another door to the south. The pool of gross is in the northeast corner past the northern door.
The pool is somewhat magic, but it seems like the pool itself is faint conjuration rather than something under it.
The zombies have holy symbols of Sarenrae and no left hands.