The caster, though injured badly, still manages to dodge aside, avoiding Ceerio's spell once again.
(+2 vs mind affecting from trait, +2 rage, +2 combat, +2 hurt)
Klassalka apparently can't beat the spell
Ramul hurls yet another blast, this time at the caster.
"Bah! How in hell's do ya work these things?" Cerio concentrates, trying one last time to blast the cultist with a mote of cold.
The cultist looks at Ulfric in rage and, perhaps completely to his own detriment, attempts to once again cast the feeble ray of cold in a last effort to stop his assailant. His crazed eyes show some belief that the spell is perhaps quite a bit more powerful than it actually is.
I'll destroy you all!
Ulfric slashes at he tries to fire off another spell.
And then follows up with another strike, trying to finish the job.
Ulfric slashes back and forth into, and through, the cultist. The man shrieks in dismay, his perceived unimaginable power not enough to keep his blood from freely vacating his body. He slumps down and sinks into his never-ending sleep, curled up next to his dolls.
The room is quiet as the last of the cultists dies.
Klassalka shakes her head free.
I hate mages
Cerio tosses scrap paper around and kicks books aside as he stumbles over the wreckage. He also kicks the bodies of the cultists to make sure they're dead. "Y'all...alive?" he asks Campus and Varinder. "That was a nasty hit, fer sure. And why was that feller talkin' to his dolls?" Cerio approaches and looks around, trying to figure things out. As if that were possible.
Campus walks over to Varinder and casts stabilize. Once Varinder begins to breath more easily, she then asksAre they truly dead? I will channel a heal, but I don't want to raise them up.
Once they are sure, Campus prays to her God for healing. Healing energy bursts from her.
Varinder begins to stir as Ceerio makes his rounds around the room. There doesn't seem to be anything of worth within this room; anything meaningful was no doubt looted. One can only guess at what the cultists were doing just hanging around the place.
Cerio kicks the dolls against the wall. "And I thought ya'll was crazy. C'mon, let's head back to that place ya talked about."
"I suggest we look across the hall way before we go back. Might as well finish looking through this hallway. Then we can barricade the door at the end of the hall to try and keep this area cleared out." Ulfric will say in response to Cerio's suggestion.
"We can always barricade the door at the other end of the hallway, Ulfric," Ramul says, a bit surprised to find himself agreeing with the new fellow. "With the yellow fog outside, anything that gets into the hallway we would probably have to deal with eventually anyway."
I'm in the mood to smash something, Klassalka says with a frown.
I'm in the mood to eat some dinner. Campus grumbles back at Klassalka.
I'm in the mood to eat some dinner. Campus grumbles back at Klassalka.
"Hellfire, yes! I don't remember the last time I eat!" Cerio listens to his stomach growl. He hopes that's his stomach.
"Lets barricade all three doors then head back, no point in dragging people along that don't want to go." Ulfric says. Ulfric then beings to move the furniture to barricade the door a the end of the hall and then the doors across from the room the cultist were in.
"Why don't you guys search the room and bodies for anything useful." Ulfric says whilst dragging furniture around.
Campus looks around at the men who nearly killer her. She eeked out some remorse and blessings for their twisted souls, but she had to admit, Cayden knew she didn't feel particularly remorseful.
Ramul joins Campus is searching the men's bodies. Perhaps they would do more good in death than they did in life.
You find nothing of real note while moving the furniture around, and are able to create a moderately stable barricade at each of the doors. Nothing else stirs within the corridor, so you consider it a job well done, and head back. Ceerio follows along, not knowing the way, as you head back through the library and into the main hall, then to the west through the door that once held a mysterious fungal eye.
The door is of course locked, but after several knocks and some quick conversation through the door, you can hear what you suspect is another barricade being removed. After a minute, the door opens and you're looking down at several crossbows trained upon your person. Winter sighs with relief, and walks forward, even as her guards lower their weapons. You are ushered inside, and the barricade is reapplied.
Winter looks the newcomer up and down, her gaze piercing. Looks like you've picked up a new survivor? She offers a questioning raised eyebrow at the original group. I trust you vouch for this man?
Ulfric steps forward, "Aye, I will vouch for him. Odd as he is."
"Could we talk with you about our journey over food? We are quite famished."
Campus looks earnestly at Winter. It seems that this Campus gestures to the world around them is decidedly rooted in the events that occurred in the asylum, and not a more regional event.
"He is a bit strange, but he has aided us in our investigations and given us no reason to think he can't be trusted. He seems to be suffering from the same amnesia we are. Though perhaps we're in the early stages of figuring out what happened to us after our exploration today."
At Ulfric's mention of food, Ramul adds, "Food does sound good. I don't think I've eaten since we left. Anything interesting happen while we were gone?"
Cerio whistles in appreciation. Winter is one foxy woman. He licks his fingers and slicks his eyebrows. He grins,
showing crooked teeth. "Aheh...Name's Cerio. And you must be Winter? Like a woman named after th' weather. Always know where ya stand."
Winter nods quickly, and leads the group into the main chapel. For Ceerio, it was all new, as Winter whisks them past men and women that look to be hastily dressed in some basic armor and wielding crossbows. There's a barricade to the north in the second chamber, and a dark, rubble-strewn hallway beyond.
The main chapel is rather large, and brings to mind a camp for stragglers and vagrants in a large city. Improvised pallets are clustered beneath sculpted divinities, and cooking fires burn beneath cracked windows in this chapel. Panes of violet and blue stained glass form spiraling patters between prisonlike bars, while dozens of candles flicker from modest alcove shrines.
One prominent statue is of Pharasma, but there are smaller, candlelit shrines to many deities. The people, perhaps two dozen in all, seem downtrodden, and more than one has a distant look, as if not seeing what was right before them.
Winter offers a simple meal of salted meat and pickled vegetables, no doubt looted from the stores of the kitchens. She addresses Ramul first. Not as of yet, no, though we've heard some peculiar sounds from the northern corridor. They were sounds that something....living....should not make. Still, we've seen no one from that direction, and our guards are ready. As you've seen, the terrible eye did not return, and we've removed the curtains so that the more curious can cease their questions about that area. Thank you again for your help with that abomination
She turns to Campus. So, you've found proof that something within has caused this madness? Have you found anything out about yourselves, or why you were here?
Winter offers a wry smile to Ceerio, and she glances aside at Ulfric, perhaps recalling that he just vouched for the man. Yes....ah, nice to meet you. I'm, by default, in charge of these people here and, hopefully, eventually getting them to safety? Is your past as unknown as those of my friends here?
"Yea, I been brainwashed. But don't let that fool ya. I'm sharper'n tacks! Just ask these fellers! We just walloped a whole gang 'o...'o... well, loonies." Cerio goes on to describe to Winter, as best he can, what he's observed since waking in that room with the corpses. He leaves out the memories of screaming that brought his name back to him.
"So what kinda sounds ya hearin, 'xactly? Sound like more cultists?
And hadn't ya heard 'em 'afore?
He tears into his food with his hands, counting himself a fool for wanting rat stew. Rat couldn't compare to this meal.
Winter seems to squint a bit as she follows Cerio's ramblings; she obviously hadn't expected a deluge of details from one so new to the party, but she adjusted quickly. At the question, she nods, then shakes her head, then offers a slight shrug. Well...yes, and no...we heard sounds from creatures before that were copycats of some of the people we knew. When we... She smiled and looked to Ulfric and crew. ...well, when they defeated the majority of them, well we had no encounters. But, now...the noise was a particularly disturbing sound....perhaps like a heavy form covered in some sort of fluid dragging itself across the floor. Oozing sliding, maybe?
She shakes her head and looks down to her hands, which fidget. I'm sorry...I don't mean to make light of it...the whole situation is just so strange. And, now a cult? A cult to whom, I wonder, and what do they want?
"Beats me," says Cerio, popping another pickled onion into his mouth (and somehow improving the quality of his breath). "Y'said this's some kind 'o institution. May be they want out, too. I know I do. They weren't 'xactly keen on talkin', y'see. More int'..." His eyes gleam. "Well, killin'."
"Maybe got somethin' t'do with them pictures we found. And that Zandalus feller. Ever hear tell'a him?"
Ramul's a bit off-put by Cerio. The man clearly shared much in common with the rest of the amnesiacs, but he seems even more peculiar, if that's possible. Perhaps that impression will pass with time.
To the conversation at hand, Ramul says, "No idea on the cult, but they may yet have something to do with this blasted fog. Perhaps we'll discover more when we explore again tomorrow. It might be good to try taking one of them alive should we encounter more."
Winter nods the affirmative. Yes; I'm sorry Cerio, for you weren't with this group so have missed some what we found. See, this Zandalas fellow was a patient here, a quiet man who suffered from horrible nightmares. He was a poet and artist whose art was disturbing. Now, we've heard from...sources...that he was involved with something called the Orpiment. That must have been the cultists you encountered - their Apostles in Orpiment.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I think it's good there's a cult, Huhl puts forward.
Ulfric scoffs at Klassalka's comment before addressing Winter, "It seems we must learn more about this Orpiment. Have you any idea where we could start?"
I had hoped that you'd find more in Doctor Losandro's office...may Pharasma guide her, but you've little to go on. It sounds like you've the East ward and the Northern Halls left to explore. If life before this madness is any indication, there will be a significant number of people there...former patients mostly, and the ward nurses and doctors.
As though he just remembered something Ulfric starts, "Winter we also found a journal page that you might be interested in." Ulfric will get the paper from who ever has it and show it to her, or else fill her in from memory if no one will give it to him.
Campus looks at Winter, still wondering about the woman's place in all this.
Because if there's someone responsible, then we can get them! she continues on explaining, in case anyone didn't get what she meant.
"Responsible fer puttin' in this pit..." Cerio muses, listening to Klassalka. "Sister, if'n I catch the feller who threw me in here, I'll wrap my hands around his neck'n squeeze 'til he pops! But first, I'mma need a nap." He looks to Winter. "Got room fer another survivor?"
To Klassalka's comment, Ramul says, "Someone... or something. We still have little information as to what is actually happening here. Perhaps the cult's leader can give us some more answers."
Ramul raises an eyebrow at Cerio's words. The kineticist finds it hard to believe the man could ever 'squeeze 'til he pops,' considering how scrawny the Cerio is. Perhaps Cerio knows something that Ramul doesn;t. Still, Ramul could definitely agree with Cerio's need for a nap, though Ramul would prefer a full night's rest.
"I think sleep is in order for all of us. I still have a couple injuries, but I believe they'll heal with rest. I'm eager to continue our exploration of the asylum and the quicker we sleep the quicker we can get back to it."
"I am in the same situation as Ramul, injury wise." Ulfric mentions.
Klassalka is one of the more wounded, but is satisfied by others not even mentioning it.
I can attend to the wounded after we rest...My spirit is too spent to hold Cayden's blessing anymore today.
Winter nods to Cerio. Of course; any who would battle this darkness and try to find a way out is welcome in this place. Captain York will find you a dry pallet and what meager blankets we can gather. I'm sorry, Cerio, but our supplies are a bit lean right now.
Campus feels that Winter is mostly genuine, though something always nags at her...possibly her own unwarranted suspicions getting the better of her.
Winter's brows furrow as she considers the new information. I see...Lowls again...by the Lady's grace, I wish I knew what part that man played in all of this.
Cerio hesitates. He didn't figure himself one of the "good" guys. Not at first. But he has been battling the darkness, it's true. His mouth feels dry as cotton. "...swell. That'd be swell."
"Yea, I'd trust this Lowls no farther'n I could throw my fist!"
His belly full, Cerio takes his time exploring the camp, noting the shrines and the patients being tended. He's shown to a cot. But before he tries to sleep he seeks out ther others. "last time I slept I's stuck in that yeller city from th' drawin's. 'N I dun' mean t' go back. I say we rotate sleep, 'N the one awake watches th'others fer nightmares. And anything else weird. "
Ramul decides against assisting the others stranded in the area. He still isn't comfortable with his abilities, so he's not about to trust himself around people he doesn't really know.
Still, he nods in agreement with the strange Cerio. "Sharing the burden of warding over each other's nightmares does seem wise. I don't need to prepare spells or anything like that, so I don't mind taking one of the watches in the middle."
Klassalka quietly avails herself to Leeoli's aid, I've got some scratches you can look at. Nothing serious, but better safe and all that, right?
"Watches are probably a good idea. I will take a watch at whatever time is darkest." Ulfric says.
Ulfric will tour the area, helping those he can, commending everyone on their actions and hard work. He offers kind words where needed but no reassurances, only that he will do his best to help everyone out of the situation.
After that he will take his watch and sleep as he can.
Winter looks at Cerio with a curious look, as if puzzling out the metaphor. She nods her agreement, somewhat belatedly, and sets to preparing for the group's stay.
The feeling about the makeshift camp is one of dismay - any who are awake and lucid ask questions about what's beyond the barricade and of course when they'd get out of this nightmare. Many require recurring medical care, and though their situations are no more dire than the day before, they still appreciate what help can be given.
Sleep is, oddly enough, quite satisfying and dreamless. It's a wonder, given the situation, and Cerio more than anyone is stricken by the incredibly restful respite. The morning "dawns" as no more than an end to the timed shifts, and the group rouses and sets out without fanfare. Winter is there, at the previously eye-scarred door, to see them out.