"Maybe Silas, give me a moment to think."
, you rack your brains as Silas tries to engage with the hulking metal creatures, attempting to remember anything - a snatch of song, a fireside tale, the words of a drunk... and in a moment of inspiration, you do.
"Silas, they're obsessed with the ideas of honour and protection - the one thing they understand and respect more than anything else is those that have willingly accepted an important task, especially when that task is guarding or escorting. They were created like golems, to take orders and not to think about them - but thousands of years of inactivity has led them to ruminate on the wisdom of blindly following orders, as opposed to the honour of completing tasks with merit."
"That's why I disarmed rather than attacked - I have bested it in combat whilst still showing respect, tell him that too."
Caveth carries the paralyzed Atterleigh upriver to the broken gate, plodding carefully along the muddy riverbank and keeping an eye on the automatons across the water. They do not seem interested in him at this moment, one focusing on Moffrey and the other engaging Silas in conversation in a strange language.
The assembled gun and bow users in Roland's troupe are still, poised and ready to take a shot depending on which way the conversation goes.
, you regain a sliver of consciousness - not enough to move around with, but enough to see and speak (if a little groggily).
And ... the scruffy hound keeping pace with you begins to growl, low and threatening, at the wall of the little compound.
"நிச்சயமாக, ஒரு கட்டாயம் வார்த்தை உண்மையிலேயே ஒரு வார்த்தை?
நீங்கள் எங்களுக்கு யாரும் விரும்பினால் நாம், நீங்கள் எந்த தீங்கும், உன்னத Durahjan விரும்புகிறேன்.
நீங்கள் அவர் சேவையில், இந்த ஆண்கள் எடுத்து கொள்ள வேண்டும். நீங்கள் பார்க்க மற்றும் நீங்கள் சுற்றி கேட்க இந்த ஆண்கள் பிளேக் அப்பால் நகரம் பாதுகாக்க வாழ்க்கை அவர்களின் நம்பிக்கை ஒதுக்கி வைக்க வேண்டும்.
நாங்கள் வன்முறையை வேண்டும்?
நாம் இரண்டு விஷயங்களை தெரிந்து கொள்ள வேண்டும். நமக்கு என்ன தீங்கு என்று இந்த பிளேக் - மற்றும் நான் என் யூகம் மிஸ் வரை - எப்படி அதை குணப்படுத்த முடியும்?"
We wish you no harm, noble Durahjan, as you wish none to us.
You are forced to take these men, in the service of She. These men you see and hear around you have put aside their hope of life to guard the city beyond from the plague.
Must we resort to violence?
We need to know two things. What is this plague that afflicts us - and you unless I miss my guess - and how can it be cured?
The right-most durahjan angles its body downwards slightly as Kay knocks the blade from its grip, the beautiful weapon coming to rest in the mud at its feet. It has no face, but if it had you get a sense that it would look... ashamed?
'நீங்கள் ... சரிதான்,' it breathes slowly, and raises its now-empty hand toward its left-side partner. The armour reaching down toward Moffrey stiffens at the movement, and then releases its grasp on your prisoner, who slips awkwardly into the mud.
'நாம் தெளிவாக ... நினைத்து இல்லை. அங்கு வாக்குறுதிகளை கிசுகிசுவை என்று எங்களுக்கு கோர், ஒரு நோய் இருக்கிறது, மற்றும் நாம் மீண்டும் உறுதியளித்தார். ஆனால் ... அது நம் வார்த்தை மதிப்பிழக்கும். தவறான போலிக்காரணத்தால் செய்த சத்தியத்தின். அவர் எங்கள் வார்த்தை மதிப்பிழக்கும், மற்றும் உங்கள் இந்த நமக்கு நினைவூட்ட அது போன்ற இளைஞர்கள் நடந்தது.'
The ancient creature drops heavily down to one knee in front of you both, , although the move is not mirrored by the left-most one.
'ஏற்றுக்கொள்ள முடியாத.' There is anger in the creature's booming voice, a rising anger that even those that can't understand the words can identify.
'நாம் அவர் எங்களுக்கு விட பழைய ஏதாவது தவிர, என்ன என்று எனக்கு தெரியாது. நாம் மழை அவளை தொட முடியாத அவர் வாழ்கிறார் என்பதை தவிர, அவர் வந்தவரான அங்கு இருந்து தெரியும். ஆனால் நாம் அவளை மதுவரி செய்ய எப்படி தெரியும்.'
It lowers itself even further, onto hands and kneed, great gauntlets pressing into the mud alongside its fallen blade.
'நாங்கள் உறுதியளித்தபடி, சகோதரர் உடைக்க. நாம் நம்மை ஆனால் யாரும் செய்ய கடமைப்பட்டு இருக்கும்.'
And with that, the dome of force holding out the rain breaks down. It enters like a cascade, enough withheld rain to send you all reeling and unstable. Those of you who manage to keep your eyes open through the storm's reclamation of the area see the durahjan shuddering, clearly in pain, as the raindrops begin to hit them, almost recoiling from each miniature impact as if they were the stings of bees.
The terrible rust-like substance on them is washed away, slowly, by the downpour... but at a cost. First it is the smaller pieces, straps and coverings, that fall from them, but soon it is their entirety - whatever force held together the armours that had menaced you is banished, both adversaries rendered nothing more than unconnected strips of metal within a minute.
One of the bow-wielding elves in Roland's troupe steps toward you, .
'Did we... win?' he asks bizarrely, lowering his weapon in confusion.
'We have not been thinking... clearly. There is a sickness at the core of us, that whispers promises, and we promised in return. But... it has devalued our word. A promise made under false pretence. She has devalued our word, and it took youth such as yours to remind us of this.
'Unacceptable.
'We know not what she is, besides something older than either of us. We know not from where she hails, other than that she dwells where the rain cannot touch her. But we do know how to excise her from ourselves.
'We break our promise, brother. We are beholden to none but ourselves.'
Growing weary from all the exertion, Caveth props Atterleigh sitting up against the wall of the gatehouse. Leaning against the wall himself to catch his breath a bit, he is too distracted by the interactions across the way to pay much attention to the dog. Caveth watches in amazement as the metal behemoths appear to surrender, yelping in shock when the forcefield drops to drench him as thoroughly as his swim had earlier.
The dog backs toward you, hackles raised, but nothing appears that might signal a new threat.
"If you mean did creatures older than you can imagine sacrifice themselves, then yes. We won." Silas' voice is flat as he walks over to the armour pieces.
"They were sent to gather the Changed. That means they're valuable, whether because of what they can tell us or what their bodies can. All they know of her is she is where the rain cannot go. "
"I only hope one day I can heal them."
looking up he spits out "Can someone shut that damn dog up!"despite that the dog is far away.
Niiiiice :)
Figure that Silas is definitely picking up craft construct and trying to fix these guys.
Also, assuming Skadi is in the water near the dog for now, thus the fear
Shushing the dog a bit, Caveth calls back across the water, "I could use some help over here! Atterleigh is a hefty sack of potatoes to carry up and down the stairs myself!" Waiting for someone to come help out, he has a careful look around just in case the dog is being so noisy for a good reason.
"Oh and thank you for saving all of us!" he tips an imaginary hat in Silas' direction and nods respectfully.
The half-orc in troupe calls out to her leader as your own little band begin to mobilize. 'I think... they might have just saved our arses, boss. Are we changing policy on these guys, or...?' She leaves the question hanging in the air, her weapon now sheathed but her hand still close to it.
You can see the conflicting emotions on Roland's face, his eyes staring at each of you in turn, as if searching for something. A low hum, very nearly a growl is the only sound he makes for several minutes. "I have no problem with most of you leaving. You're not infected, and there's nothing trying to break down our doors at the moment. But letting him walk out of here with you goes against everything that I've done since all of this madness began. I understand that he is your friend, or companion, or whatever. Because of that, I'm giving you one opportunity to convince me that I will not be making possibly the greatest mistake of my life by allowing him to walk free from this compound."
"This 'plague' is sentient. Controlled by a central figure who has been called 'She' by infected. The infected are under her control. She just sent two of her most powerful infected to stop us getting Moffrey and John Doe here to a laboratory. This isn't a quarantine, it's a war! You're seeking the same goal as the enemy general."
"Still..."
"Perhaps we can set up here. We have a proper test for infection now, if my instruments are not too badly damaged by the thing in the chest."
"I did hope that Moffrey, before he goes too far, might be able to tell us about She, or where She lives."
"What is critical is that a message get to the City, or Hawcroft. How can you make that happen?"
"If She is sentient, then all I'm doing is preventing you from taking one of Her pawns into friendly lines! You've got your leeches to prove your point when you get to the town. They're small and easily killed, therefore not likely to be a cause for concern. Get any information from Moffrey that you can before you leave, and we'll do you the favor of putting him down when he turns completely, unless you've got a cure that you've been holding out on using?"
'Doctor...'
Moffrey's voice is so timid that it's almost lost in the rain. He looks at you first, , and then around at the rest of you.
'I don't want to go back to the city.'
He take a deep breath before continuing, speaking fast as if he's afraid that a single pause would end the entire declaration.
'You've got suspicions of what this thing can do, and I understand that. I even think you might be able to find a cure, but you have to remember... it's in me. I can feel it in my head, I can hear it. And I've got family, friends... some in the city, some around it. And maybe whatever this thing is... maybe it's already there. Maybe they're dead, already. But I know one thing - if they're not, and if there's still some chance that this thing won't spread... well, I don't want to be the one who ruins that. I don't want to be the one that starts it all.'
Kay looks around, her hands out-spread with a look of did anyone see that? on her face.
Basically exhausted by the tension of... everything, Kay sits with a splash in the mud, for about 4 seconds, "I'll give you a hand Caveth."
"Thanks Kay," Caveth says to the halfling as they wrestle Atterleigh up and over the river and then down the stairs on the other side, "What an exhausting day!"
Joseph looks at Moffrey. "Well, it's a good job we don't intend to take you to the city then. I believe Silas's home is some distance from there, making it a safe place to quarantine you while we get you cured."
He then turns to Roland. "The doctor here believes he can cure the plague. I'm inclined to believe him. We will take every precaution to ensure the plague doesn't spread until we're successful. Every precaution."
"Alright, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. What precautions, exactly, do you have in place? If you can cure him, why not do it here? Now?"
"Because while I believe a cure can be done I don't know how! Setting up here might work, depending on what facilities you have available. What is critical is that a message must get to the town. I don't doubt more Infected are following our trail. The longer a message takes to start out the more chance it will be overtaken!"
"Now that we are here, we can help fortify this position while your men travel to the city to alert the proper authorities." Caveth suggests to Roland.
, your suggestion sends a ripple of excitement through Roland's troupe - the idea of leaving this place and returning to the city, even as the bearers of bad news, is an attractive one.
Harbek lies in the mud, rain pouring down over his face and beard. He groans, his hand rubbing his head where the flat of the blade struck.
"Of course we would ensure that anyone headed for the city is not going to carry the plague there using Silas' test. I really do think this would be the best way to protect this rivergate and warn Barrjka at the same time. What do you all think?"
Kay nods her agreement with Caveth.
There are nods of agreement from some of those assembled - including, after a few moments of thought, Moffrey himself.
Silas nods reluctantly
Knowing that he is outnumbered on this one, Roland nods in acceptance, "I can deal with that."
"There are two ways we can do this. We can move on foot as quickly as possible to the town. It will take a little bit longer but would give us a little bit more wiggle room, should this post fall. Or, we can take the boat that I have, and make it to town much more quickly, but if whoever stays here fails, they'll be moving on foot to warn the town, giving us very little time to prepare. I'd rather leave here on foot and allow swifter movement for the worst scenario."
"It is a good idea to leave the boat with the last line of defence."
Harbek looks about, locating his swords he sheaths them after a few failed attempts and then tries to sit up.
Caveth helps Harbek to his feet and brings him under the lean-to where he applies a compress to the Dwarf's head.
"This will help but mostly you just need rest. You'll be fine in a few hours."
.
" Thanks Caveth. " Harbek sits under the lean-to still looking a bit shell shocked. " Sounds like we've got a plan. Do you need to get any equipment from your home Silas? "
Carefully, and with support, Silas opens his chest hoping to contain (or destroy) the slug.
"My reluctance now Harbek is that while our little group has been tested Roland his group have not. If I can jury rig a test... yes, if I can jury rig a test that they can take with them then if and when a leech turns they can kill the matching person. Combined with the simple raindrop test they've been using... yes... yes I think that will work."
"I'm not convinced we can hold this gate - best intentions aside. Our opponent obviously has access to extra-human resources. Resources that can apparently ignore the defenses here. I'd suggest we send a smaller group downriver with the boat and try to keep some defenses here. If this falls... well, let us say this can't fall. The gods alone know how many aquatic lifeforms have been infected by this point. And a boat here is just too tempting should one or two of us become infected. We've seen that the infected are capable of acting with foresight and coordination."
"In terms of supplies... yes. I need a lab. But frankly maybe the minimal supplies I have here will have to do. We won't have time for the more complicated experiments anyway. Even if I found a cure at this juncture... how would we get the information to the city?"
"Frankly, barring a miracle like Moffrey thinking he might be able to identify Her direction so we can stage an attack I just don't see much hope for us. We need to warn Hawcroft so that appropriate resources can be brought to bear."
"The annoying thing is that these plagues have cropped up before and then left just as mysteriously. It sounds like there's a pattern we're missing. A pattern that might save us. I just can't see what it is!"
'Everywhere.'
It takes you a moment, , to realise that Moffrey is addressing you.
'She's everywhere. I can hear her out there in the forest, spreading like a blanket. I couldn't point you to her, just like I couldn't find a drop of rainwater in a mug of beer. But... I can tell you where she's not. Where it's quiet. Does anybody have a map?'
Silas is terse
"Someone get the man a map."
One of Roland's band comes forward with a weathered map of the area. It's not particularly detailed, obviously originally a map of past logging sites and areas unsuitable to Hawcroft's goals, but a few annotations have been added over the years.
Moffrey sets to work with a quill and inkwell scavenged from beneath the tarpaulin. He doesn't know exact distances, but he makes his best guess.
Barrjka, from what he can tell, is free from Her influence. He can hear very little to the South, and the North and West are so loud that he can barely hear himself think. But to the east...
He says it's quiet, rather than empty. As for the map, the only place marked out directly to the east of you (and less than four miles away) is High Krandon, a dwarven hill fort.
.
As the group huddles together over the map to decide the next course of action, Caveth surreptitiously positions himself behind Silas and Roland. Touching his holy symbol he intones a quiet plea to his matron, trying not to call attention to his magical ability as he channels Milani's healing energy.
"Intriguing. An implication that the dwarves know something, or have something, that might keep Her at bay. Perhaps we have been granted our miracle."
Silas holds up a hand and starts ticking off fingers
"I suggest we might need three parties: One to travel to the city. Two or three people in a boat, with leeches. Two a party to keep holding these gates. Three a party to travel to the dwarven fort, with Moffrey and myself."
Silas feels better as he speaks, his body flooding with energy.
, your divine machinations go unnoticed, but those affected by them do feel remarkably better all of a sudden.
"I think it's best if I stay here and help hold the gates. As a foreigner, I'm not sure I want to bring the news of a terrible plague making its way to the city; that's how foreigners get themselves lynched." He glances sidelong at Harbek, "And Dwarves seem to take exception to my pointy ears for some reason."
Three of Roland's group offer to be the one to head back to the city in the boat, leaving the half-elf warrior and Roland himself behind.
"Silas, are you certain of creating a cure? Because then, when it all boils down, we don't really need to defend the city, right? if we can cure the plague anyway. I mean, I don't want the city infected at all, not one bit, but if we miss the opportunity to create a cure, or even just delay it, that's a pretty bad outcome. On the other hand, not defending the city so that we can make a cure is, in the end, a well justified risk, I think."
Kay will go with Silas.
"The problem is how much devastation a large enough group of infected reaching the city could cause before we successfully create a cure," Joseph says. "I think Silas's plan is probably the safest one - those of us who remain here would be able to hold out for quite a while, and let's be honest, Silas is the one among us who knows enough about this sort of thing to actually create the cure, and he doesn't need all of us to protect him. I wouldn't object to remaining here to keep the city safe while he works."
Silas looks shifty for a second, then waves away as many casual onlookers as he can, sighs and relaxes.
"Certain? There are no certainties. This is not a plague in the conventional sense. I've studied certain esoteric, unconventional arts that few physicians deal with. You already know I can speak the ancient languages; my wife was... well.. a student of the pre-modern arts, and I picked up some of her field as we studied together. Certain simple superstitious folk of the area might go so far as to nickname me Wizard Bishop, rather than Doctor Bishop."
Rushing on to get this particular confession out of the way
"I was using a method for the detection of magical auras when Atterleigh started behaving strangely. That detection picked up the Infected Elk using magic... that is how I knew it was there before it struck."
"My hypothesis is that this disease is not conventional but somehow magical in nature. My hypothesis received strong confirmation from the fact that animated armour can be infected. Logically it seems that the person to develop a cure for this disease is one who is both Wizard and Doctor."
"Indeed I am so good a match for the problem that, was it not for the fact that our entire investigation group seems to be students of the esoteric arts, logic would suggest Hawcroft had some knowledge of what we might face. Instead I suspect that Hawcorft's troubleshooters are simply 'magicians', and that this policy has paid dividends today."
At the mention of your occasional appellation, , one or two of Roland's group nod in agreement and understanding - they've heard of you, it seems.