Ven attempts to drive his quarter staff down onto the Tatterman's face.
The Tatterman snarls as you try to finish it off, but you only hit bits of its ragged, misty clothing. Winter rakes at the fiend, drawing thick blood from a minor wound.
;
;
The creature attempts to stand...
Ven jabs it with his quarter as it stands.
Aenian drives his rapier deep into the Tatterman's chest. The thing screams -- the shrill cacophony of a thousand murdered in their sleep -- and finally, truly dies. Its body fizzles away in a last gasp of yellow mist, leaving behind only a pile of tattered rags, its ring and bloody-stained war razor.
"Look!" Winter gasps, pointing out through the broken wall.
As the echoes of its dying scream fade, so to does the yellow fog shrouding Briarstone Asylum. Slowly but steadily, the mists retreat until they disapear completely, leaving you a clear view of the isle, the shattered remains of the asylum, and the dawning light across the eastern horizon.
Ven falls to his knees and makes no attempt to wipe the tears away that are streaming down his face. "Sweet Pharasma, it's over. The nightmare is finally over!"
He turns to Ven and Winter. "Let's clear out any remaining cultists and then escort the survivors out of the asylum."
Ven will detect magic and will search the remains of the Tatterman and the surrounding area before leaving.
Aenian looks at Ven. "Your memory come back?"
He scans the room in and staggers to the broken wall in disbelief looking out across the isle and welcoming the sun, cringing as the bright light sears him painfully.
He turns away after a moment, unable to withstand it for long and pulls down his hat and brings his scarf up.
"Let's get out of this torture chamber. Once we have the survivors settled, we have a Count to find."
Unfortunately, despite the departure of the yellow mist, your memories are just as foggy as they were before.
Ven's magical scan turns up the aforementioned items: Zandalus's mace and inside his pouch, which holds three magical potions, as well as the Tatterman's ring and war razor. He also detects some magic from the area of his mattress. There, you find a stack of pouches holding various items, including 50 gold, a wand, a vial of magical liquid, and a sroll. There is also a heavy tome, locked with a bronze binding and titled the 'Chain of Nights'.
Laslty, there are hundreds of sketches pinned to the walls. They contain numerous repeated images: swirling skies, empty cities, towering monoliths and threatening figures cloaked by mist. The city images evoke a spark of memory from your wakening dream in Briarstone. The depictions of monoliths appear to be the same object but in several different locales, and not just fanciful impressions.
While unsettling, Zandalus's work is known among the avante-garde of Versex's artistic circles. They might fetch a significant price from the right buyer.
Ven collects all of the magical items and valuables. He also takes all of the sketches. He then will follow Aenian back to the Chapel.
Gathering the sketches and valuables, you head back the way you came. Downstairs in the great hall, you find Doctor Elbourne trying to maintain some semblance of order. The survivors, seeing the looming mist retreat and oncoming dawn, have pulled down the barricades and rushed outside to partake in the clear air and freedom. The remaining Apostles in Orpiment have all cast aside their yellow garments and joined the throng. All clamoring to escape, the mass has become a chaotic scramble.
Exasperated, Elbourne waves and calls for your help.
"We will have to organize some way back to the mainland. There are still sick patients here, but this place will take a long time to rebuild... if it ever does," Winter says.
"I will go check on the chapel survivors. Hopefully Vaustin has kept them calm. I'll get them organized and meet you at the docks." With that, she heads off to the chapel.
Ven will help calm and organize the survivors. "The danger is past! Now, let's all see if we can get out of here in an orderly manner. I for one will be quite happy to never see this cursed asylum again!"
He then heads down to the docks.
Aenian watches the chaotic ramble and while disconcerting in its wildness, he is somewhat elated by the group feeling of freedom.
The moment passes and he heads directly to Elbourne to see if he can help at least prevent anyone from getting harmed before heading to the docks with Ven.
You try to help calm and organize the crowd, but your voices get lost in the din. Luckily, although confused and chaotic, the survivors are generally elated by the turn of events. It takes a solid, exhausting hour to get people herded in the direction of the docks.
You are finally able to get a quiet moment with Doctor Elbourne. "I see you had some success! Are the rumors true? Zandalu is is dead?"
*
When you have a spare minute, you identify some of the magic items: ring of protection +1, +1 war razor, +1 light mace, oil of magic weapon, potion of bear's endurance, potion of invisibility, wand of command (38 charges), elixir of truth, and scroll of summon monster III.
Ven frowns at Dr. Elbourne. "Zandalu? We killed a nightmarish creature - I don't know if it had a name other than Tatterman. Its death stopped the mist, which is all that matters. What will you do now Doctor?"
Elbourne shrugs, showing a nervous frown. "Well, first try to get safely to Thrushmoor. We need to get off this island -- even though you cleared the cursed fog, I'll never feel calm here again -- and get these people to shelter."
He looks over the crowd, filtering in a gaggle towards the docks. "Many of these people still need care, and Losandro and many of the other doctors are dead. I don't know how we're going to handle that."
"It would be unwise to unleash some of these folks on their own. Let us head into Thrushmoor and see what support we can generate from the locals there. I am curious how they saw the Asylum during this time. We still have ourselves to take vare of as well ... mayhaps we will learn something abouy Count Lowls."
You rejoin Winter by the docks with the rest of the chapel survivors and gaggle of other patients the great hall. With the help of Vaustin York, they are slowly organizing the people into smaller groups to accommodate the handful of boats available. Luckily, there is enough space, albeit cramped, for everyone to cross to the mainland.
The process takes some time, and as the boats eventually move out together, low clouds, dark and heavy, move in and start a steady, cool rainfall. The weather remains otherwise normal, but it dampens talk among the survivors, who settle into a sullen silence. With several hours on the way across the water, it leaves you plenty of opportunity to collect your thoughts.
Beyond your names and basic details of your identity, you still cannot remember anything of your past. You certainly have no recollection of Count Haserton Lowls IV. From the asylum records, you learned that the lord of Versex county is the one responsible for your admission to Briarstone.
You have recovered The Chain of Nights, a tome of occult lore given by Lowls to Briarstone's administrator Doctor Losandro. Its contents are yet unknown to you, but it was certainly related to the disastrous events at Briarstone, including the oneirogen and yellow fog, the vivid dreams of Ulver Zandalus, and the Tatterman.
Winter takes a break from checking on the survivors to sit with you. She speaks in a low voice, trying to keep the conversation private on the crowded boat. "On behalf of the many souls on board these boats, I want to thank you both. We were trapped in a nightmare and certainly would not have survived had you not come to our aid."
"I know you still have many unanswered questions. About your past, and how you lost your memories, about... Autumn and I. I promised I would explain when the time came. What would you like to know?"
Ven will use the time on the boat to study the recovered tome -The Chain of Nights.
When Winter speaks, he stares at her a moment before answering. "Anything you can tell us about our background would be helpful. Perhaps it would trigger some memory. I pray that our former selves are not gone forever."
He pauses and looks out over the water. "Now that the nightmare is over I find myself asking why in Pharasma's name we were at that asylum. Is it possible that we really were insane? Are we still insane? Did we lose our memories before or after we ended up at the asylum? Were we somehow involved in the cataclysm or were we just victims like everyone else? I intend to ask all of these questions to Lowls once we find him."
"Before we head into town, there are a couple of potentially dangerous things I want to clean up. One, let's check on Dr Losandro and see what became of her. Two, there were some creepy planar books just outside where we found Zandalus. Should make sure those don't fall into the wrong hands."
Yes.
When Winter speaks, he stares at her a moment before answering. "Anything you can tell us about our background would be helpful. Perhaps it would trigger some memory. I pray that our former selves are not gone forever."
Winter shakes her head, "Sadly, I cannot help you there. I'd never met you before you stumbled into the chapel camp a few days ago."
He pauses and looks out over the water. "Now that the nightmare is over I find myself asking why in Pharasma's name we were at that asylum. Is it possible that we really were insane? Are we still insane? Did we lose our memories before or after we ended up at the asylum? Were we somehow involved in the cataclysm or were we just victims like everyone else? I intend to ask all of these questions to Lowls once we find him."
"Now there, our paths are certainly aligned. When Royal Accuser Omari sent me to Briarstone, it was on a lead that Count Lowls had regular business there, and that he'd recently committed some of his associates into care. Based on what you uncovered in the asylum, you two appear to be those persons."
"According to Doctor Losandro's notes, Count Lowls was very interested in Zandalus and his vivid dreams. Something she did with that book," she points at the Chain of Nights, "seems to have set off the nightmare disaster. Accuser Omari will be very interested to learn of these things... and to meet you as well. As she investigates the count's activities, she might uncover why you were sent there, and what happened to your memories."
Ven rubs his chin, "What business could we possibly have had with Count Lowls? Yes, let's meet with Accuser Omari if she can help. We must then seek out Count Lowls. He may be the only one whom can explain what happened."
He looks down nervously at the book. He then cautiously opens it and begins to read.
"Winter, you were going to tell us a bit more of your past now that things have settled. Autumn and all that. What are you going to do now?"
Once in town, "We need to find somewhere to offload this gear and get ourselves a place to say and a real meal. After that, we need to visit Loeld. Unless you think we should go see Accuser Omari first? Also, we found this calling card from the Sleepless Detective Agency. Maybe they know something?"
"Winter, you were going to tell us a bit more of your past now that things have settled. Autumn and all that.
Winter nods, taking a deep breath and pausing. [b]"Autumn was... is my sister, but not by blood. I am a changeling... I truly know nothing of my real parents, although folk lore says my mother was a green hag. I was raised by a foster family, Autumn's natural parents, merchants from a small community on the outskirts of Caliphas. They raised me as one of their own, and my youth was mostly unremarkable."
"Autumn was older than me by a year. She was always quick and strong, much like the phantasm you've seen. I grew up alongside her, but blossomed in other ways... ways that made her jealous. We were always close, but as we grew older, she became more and more resentful."
She sighs sadly, looking up at the heavy clouds overhead. "On the occasion of my fifteenth birthday, Autumn plotted a trick to embarrass me. The trick turned against her, however, and she fell from a great height. She died, painfully, and her spirit lingered to haunt me, driven by her jealousy and bitter anger. The tragic event also affected me profoundly, both emotionally and physically. Despite the one-sided rivalry, I'd always loved Autumn. Witnessing her untimely death awakened occult power from my true mother's blood, binding Autumn's restless phantom to me in a shared consciousness."
"Autumn's death and my strange new powers took a great toll upon our parents. Unable to cope, they sent me away into the care of the temple of Pharasma in Caliphas. They hoped the clergy would be able to free Autumn's spirit to move on to the afterlife. Unfortunately, they only discovered that my life and her unlife were completely intertwined... to exorcise her spirit would kill me in the process. I was taken in for mentorship, and over the next few years learned to control the power of our linked spirits, how to focus them into spells, as well as enhancing the bond between me and her sister's phantom."
"Eventually I became a sister of the Pharasmin church. Not a cleric or even lay priest, but I retain a special standing in the clergy. I do my best not to bring attention to Autumn -- it brings up too many difficult questions -- and most just assume I'm a minor cleric." She holds up her hands with a small shrug.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Now I'm going to reunite with Royal Accuser Omari in Thrushmoor and tell her what happened at Briarstone. She will want to know that Count Lowls was involved somehow, if indirectly." She looks around at the fully-loaded boats, adding, "And we need to find shelter and care for these survivors."
"Sorta surprised the church doesnt excommunicate you given their feelings for those who cheat death. How does that work with your faith?" Aenian ponders
"Leta see what the town leadership thinks of these refugees first. Then we visit your Accuser with you before we head to find Lowls."
"It's complicated," Winter nods. "Autumn is not undead; she's more of a trapped spirit. She hasn't cheated death, so to speak, for when I pass, so to will she. Even so, many of my Pharasmin peers do not truly understand my situation, and many argued to have Autumn exorcised regardless of the consequences. Happily, moderate voices prevailed."
*
Using a cloak to protect the pages from the rain, Ven delves into The Chain of Nights.
The Chain of Nights is first and foremost a text on the anatomy and workings of the brain, and the first several hundred pages concern themselves with diagnosing, analyzing, and treating—via therapy, drugs, and basic surgeries—numerous physiological and psychological afflictions. Only in the final third does the tome turn toward more esoteric topics, such as the source of nightmares, accounts of the Dimension of Dreams, and descriptions of the creatures that live there.
Most notoriously, it contains an elaborate—and some say flawed—ritual for releasing one’s dreams. While the rite functions, the side effects of failure can create dangerous beings known as oneirogens.
During the boat ride, Ven is also able to sort through the mess of charcoal-marked papers. The text on the back side of the scribbling can be sorted into the proper order, but will take at least 8 - 10 hours work. The result, Ven determines, will be a book of extended summoning, keyed to the chaotic alignment.
Your small flotilla of crowded boats skims slowly across the waters of Avalon Bay. Any exhilaration from the escape of Briarstone Isle was quickly subdued by the weather. Dark clouds heavy with moisture loom overhead, occasionally dousing you with their cold payload. Low banks of fog cling to the water, causing you to twitch warily as you pass through, but they remain cool, gray, and otherwise mundane. The refugees -- a mixture of asylum work staff and patients, including yourselves -- remain largely quiet. Trepidation over what lies ahead seeps in with the cold damp... Did Thrushmoor suffer the same fate as Briarstone? Is the nightmare truly over or just lying fertile, ready to spring new horrors?
There is a collective sigh of relief as Thrushmoor finally comes into view through a break in the mists. From a few hundred yards out, in the dim light of late afternoon, the town looks positively normal. Lights glow from the windows of houses and along the docks and avenues. Fort Hailcourse watches over the town, solid and secure, from the bluffs of the eastern hill. The tall roofs of Iris Hill, the manor of Count Lowls, can be seen atop Thrushmoor's western hill.
From the lead boat, Vaustin York directs a landing abeam the dock by Thrushmoor's Fish Market. A large town hall and market building sits at the center. A warm light radiates from atop the cupola, illuminating the market square. A few people walk by the market and nearby streets, but they move swiftly and only eye you nervously before fixing their gaze ahead and on their path ahead. No one comes to help you moor the boats or offload the refugees.
As you see the town come into view from the water, you have a powerful sense of deja-vu, like you have come this way before...
Your master, Weiralai, standing at the helm and piloting his blood-red-sailed ship through the storm as if it were just a calm day, commands you to prepare to dock. His accent is unidentifiable, as strange as the clothes and ever-present veil he wears. How does he know? Can his dark eyes pierce through the rain and mist?
Through the rain, you see the lights of your destination comes into view: Thrushmoor, at last.
Ven shakes his head at the memory fragments. "We've been to Thrushmoor before, Aenian. I remember our master ... Weiralai. Were we his slaves I wonder or did we go willingly? Another piece in the puzzle perhaps."
Ven looks on in anticipation at the streets of Thrushmoor. "Perhaps we should find a hot meal and a room for the night before we seek Accuser Omari."
Winter nods. "If you want to find the inn, Vaustin, Doctor Elbourne and I will see to the survivors." She looks around the townscape and points at a large building to the east. You can see Pharasma's spiral hanging above the doors. "There is the New Chapel. I will ask the priestess if we can shelter them there, if temporarily."
"Find me there or at the Sleepless Agency later." With a quick smile, she walks over to join Vaustin on the dock.
[Ooc]I asked about the Sleepless Agency. No one responded earlier. Why is she going there? Is that where the accuseris?"[/b]
"An inn and a bath, maybe a hot meal, and then we will check in on you, Winter. We should reprovision as well"
Later with Ven, "I recall this Weiralai as well. Strange accent, cant place him. However, it should make it easy for people to remember him. There is also the chance that people here remember us. Hopefully for good reasons and let bad."
Winter stops and turns back, suddenly remembering something. "I'm sorry, I forgot to mention earlier... Royal Accuser Omari was planning to work out of the Sleepless Agency while she was staying in Thrushmoor. That's where I plan to meet up with her, and you can find me there as well."
Ven leads the way into town. He will ask several locals to recommend an inn.
Ven attempts to ask several locals along the street, but all of them hurry on without responding, or flash him a distrustful look and walk the other way. You follow the main street up to a crossroads -- hearing some noises from the west, you head that way hoping to find the inn.
The noises come from one man standing on the curb outside of what appears to be the inn. "Doom! DooOOOooom!" he shouts to the surrounding shuttered windows. The man wears a stained shirt and torn leather breeches, and you can smell him from several paces away. The signboard hung over his shoulders is covered with scribbling. "Doom is coming! The Second Vanishing is upon us!" Seeing you approach, he points a crooked finger in your direction. "Pray for your salvation! Pray the Briarstone Witch does not take you!" He turns and wanders down the street to the west, continuing his shouting.
The sign over the door names the place The Silver wagon. It is a sturdy timber-framed with wattle-and-daub structure, three stories tall. You hear muted strains of a lute and singing from within.
"That's weird ...", Aenian states as they walk past the doomdayers, a hint of his old paranoia coming through.
He runs his hands together in glee as he hears the lute, "Man, I could use some straight up entertainment right now"
Ven nods, "Look's like we didn't leave all of the insanity at the asylum."
He walks into the inn and looks around.
You push open the door and enter the Silver Wagon. The taproom is a merry sight after the soggy water crossing and gloomy town streets. The tables are about half full of patrons, about fifteen in all, talking over pints of dark ale while a minstrel provides soothing music from his stool by the hearth.
You step in and start your way to the bar. One of the locals looks up, sees you, and gasps, eyes wide. Another follows and you hear a groan, "Oh no..." The conversations in the taproom steadily break down into whispers or cease altogether. Sensing the mood change the minstrel stops as well.
Before you are halfway across the room, the place is silent. All eyes on you, from those not fixedly staring into their flagons, are cold and unwelcoming. One man near the door quietly gets up and makes for the exit.
"You can stay, Mehn. This lot won't be here long," the inn's proprietess calls out. A middle-aged woman with long brown hair, silvering on the fringes, steps around the bar and towards you. You see she is brandishing a tap handle like a club. "You've got a lotta guts coming back in here... after what you pulled." She looks around you, adding, "Where's the rest of your cohorts, the dwarf and the mongoloid?"
Ven looks questioningly at the proprietress. "You confuse us for someone else. I have no recollection of ever meeting you or being here. What is it that you believe we did?"
"They're dead, gimme a flagon. No trouble this time," Aenian throws a gold piece on the bar and saddles up.
The innkeep stands her ground, blocking Aenian from his path to the bar. "Oh, you've 'no recollection'? That's quaint," she scoffs. "You thugs don't recall coming in here and running up a huge tab over several nights? And you don't recall starting a brawl when you refused to pay up? No recollection of my place getting thrashed?" She shakes her head, exasperated. "I don't know what the Count has had you up to the last few weeks, but you can't come in here and just pretend like nothing happened."
"Oh, for f$+!'s sake, woman, what do we owe you? And stop waving that thing around. You're likely to get hurt?"
Ven holds up a restraining hand to Aenian and then smiles at the innkeeper, "We're not the thugs you're looking for. Why don't you tell the crowd you made a mistake and then serve us your best alcohol?"
Ven attempts to charm the woman .
She smiles at Aenian nastily, pointing back at a tab tacked up behind the bar. "Thirty-nine gold and six..."
She stutters and her eyes focus on Ven. Her face darkens, turning a shade of red as she struggles to control her temper. Several of the patrons stand up around the woman. "Dena, do you need us to..." She holds up a silencing hand, and for you points the tap handle towards the door.
"Get. Out."
"Bah, come on Ven." Aenian tugs on the psychic's sleeve to lead him out and then casually spills the pile of coins he was counting out on the floor before they exit the building.
"Rudeness begets rudeness. Here's your coin. Never say we don't pay a tab."
Ven shrugs at the innkeeper, "This isn't done. We'll be back."
He then turns to Aenian. "Well, so much for the hot meal. Let's go see if we can find Accuser Omari."
He leads the way to the Sleepless Building.