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Upon hearing he diagnosis, Lort shares his water with the prisoners - as much as the will drink, passing the skin to Ozren for refills as needed. He then places the healthiest prisoner in front of him and begins carefully plucking the growths off.
"Worry not, friend," Lort says reassuringly in the softest voice the companions have ever heard from the half-orc. "You are safe now. We shall see that no further harm comes to you. Once we get these things off, we will take you to safety."
Lort turns to the rest of the group, mainly addressing Torvic, "Are there any friendly settlements nearby? As much as I yearn for action, these poor folk are in no shape for exploring these ruins. We can lock the place behind us and return once they are in the hands of some local healer."
As Lort continues in his ministrations, the companions are perhaps reminded of an ape plucking fleas from his mate (except for the eating of the fleas... and the mating).
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Ozren takes the waterskin from Lort with a nod, not needing to be told how to proceed. He closes his eyes and draws upon his innate power. He placed the open end of the waterskin on his palm and calls forth water, filling the skin. He then aids Lort in ensuring all the captives are provided water.
Ozren studies the man in chains again, and pays particular attention to the plant like growths. He looks to the other members of the party briefly, then places his hand on one of the growths, preferably one furthest away from the captive man's body. He once again taps his mysterious connection to the plane of water and channels some of the energy into the plant, turning the water to frost as he does so in an attempt to freeze the growths off the man.
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The man does drink, but is still otherwise unresponsive. The woman is unable to drink due to the growths on her head.
Lort is unsuccessful at picking the growths off. They are sticky and the half-orc dares not to rip them apart, as it would easily pull vital organs off the victims.
Torvic looks at Lort. "This place is remote. The nearest proper settlement is days away, not including possible thorps on the mountain side. We'd best get them standing and go outside, make a camp for them, lest they perish here."
Ozren's freezing touch seems to weaken the growths, but not remove them completely.
And it's Khalos' untrained eye that strikes gold, with the help of Ozren's freezing touch the half-elf manages to peel off the disgusting fungi off the woman's head. The woman wheezes the fresh air, her face battered and full of bruises. "Thank the gods you've come!" She says loudly. "I had already lost hope in this wretched place!". Torvic snorts audibly when his ancestors' gallery is mocked, but his eyes soon widen. "Wait, is that you, Lyrehawk?"
The woman looks around for the dwarf's voice. "Torvic?"
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"Wait... you know each other?" Khalos asks. He brings his torch closer to light up the faces of the captives.
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"Thank the gods, you are better, Lyrehawk, is it? What happened to you?"
Gunari will pour everyone a tasty beverage. He looks at Ozren. "and that is a mighty useful talent you have there. Have you been granted the ability to do that as often as you like, or only a few times per day? Was wondering if that might be handy in makin' the beer cold."
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"Cold beer?" asks Lort, incredulous, "Gunari, surely Cayden would be most displeased!"
Lort seems a little sulky that he was unable to remove the growths himself, "We'd best get to making camp for these folk, then. I'm not skilled at such things - I generally prefer to face the elements. I do have a winter bedroll they can use, however."
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"Yes, we know each other alright." Lyrehawk exclaims. She cleans herself of the fungal growths, revealing a weathered face with short, black hair. The woman is obviously of chelish descent.
"Torvic hired me, Merisk, and Jorlin to come search this wretched gallery, promise of wealth and what not. Turned out to be one of the seven hells. We found something... sinister I bet, and next thing I know I'm bound by disgusting moss, blinded by them. Couldn't get much sleep either, I'm exhausted."
Torvic nods and ponders. "So Merisk is there, but I don't recognize the one in chains. Who's he?" the dwarf asks Lyrehawk. "The heck if I know. Some poor sod who wandered around the Aspodell mountains seeking for his death." Lyrehawk replies nonchalantly. "Whatever's here it's making people's nightmares a reality."
Lyrehawk makes a glance at the bound dwarf, Merisk, and shakes her head, sighing slightly. She turns to the group. "And what lot are you then?"
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Gunari takes a deep bow, and states, "My lady dwarf, we are representatives from the Pathfinder Society. I myself am Gunari Maximoff, devotee of the Drunken Hero, at your service. My friend the half-orc over there is Lort, an altogether pleasant sort of fellow. The half-elf is Khalos... can't recall the name of the abomination that follows him around... Zatoma or something. Then there is the quiet one, Ozren. Edgar McGowen is the dwarven monk, and Thaddeus Hawk is the last of our motley crew."
Gunari gives a smile that would make a used camel salesman envious (or so he believes)
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Hahaha... abomination... they should see the forms some of my elders take. And who knows what Khalos wants me to be.
Zatoma will lead the way back outside.
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"Let's give these guys some room to rest... perhaps some fresh air will help as well. Any volunteers to escort them out while we work freeing these other guys? Zatoma looks ready to be your second."
Khalos moves on to help the male human off his binds.
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Magical healing does at least awaken the prisoners, but Merisk still seems to be in serious pain and requires aid to walk. The man seems to be confused and mentally damaged.
The group still gets everyone outdoors and Thaddaeus manages to build a decent camp for the lot. Lyrehawk looks at Merisk and the man. "I'm capable of attending to their needs, thanks. I'm no rookie after all." she says. "Big thanks for your help. Can't imagine what'd happened if you wouldn't have shown up!"
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"We all end up as plant food," snorts Lort, a grin returning to his face, "I'm just glad that, in you case, we could delay it for a while longer. Now, we have business to attend to. Lads, who's up for going back to find whoever or whatever did this to Torvic's friends?"
Without really waiting for a response, Lort returns to large workshop and explores the lower portion of the room.
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The moment Lort steps into the stairs down, he notices a bit too late a strike to back of his head. The mighty half-orc nearly falls from the blow and quickly turning sees a small blue creature, the same they saw outside, though this one sports two small short swords.
Zatoma sees a small blue creature next to the stair case. The nimble creature had been hiding perfectly behind the stairs, waiting to hit the first coming down.
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Ozren hears the commotion and quickly moves to Lort's position. He begins to bark commands in that same guttural chirping as he did during the cave battle. His eyes go wide and be appears to be barking commands though no one can understand him. When he gets to Lort's position, he makes a deep gurgling sound and claps his hands together once loudly, rubbing them together as he draws divine power. He lays hands on Lort and lets the positive energy of the spell wash over his wounds.
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The blue creature sees the character running down the stairs and slashes his blade against Ozren's ankles. The strike is enough to make Ozren's foot hurt and bleed, but not much more.
The creature then turns its attention to the already wounded, befuddled half-orc. Now the blow isn't as strong, but a sting to the hip would make any other man fall bleeding. Lort's not just some 'other man', though.