"Does anyone else have the training to use a sword like this?" John asks.
"I don't know much history, but it seems like the name 'Red Destiny' sounds familiar. Somehow a shorter blade feels more natural too?" John says as he hefts the shortsword and tests its balance.
Broom blinked a bit as she refocused her mind. That little mind searching was much more pleasant than many of the others she had performed in the asylum.
"We couldn't find any minds that knew about the name Red Destiny, but there were a few that had heard of The Red Cardinal. They were a vampire that served something called the Whispering Tyrant, but Red Cardinal was killed a long time ago by someone called Arazni who served something called the Shining Crusade."
She watched as Xander cast his spell and proclaimed the sword as being magical. She looked at John "We can't do that. We don't know how to see magic. Maybe some day Xander can teach us?" she glanced at Xander hopefully.
A though suddenly crossed her mind. "If this journal is the doctor's, then the stuff in the secret compartment is probably hers as well. She should have the key, shouldn't she? Did we pick it up and forget we had it or could we have missed it on her when we moved her to the chapel?"
Broom looked in her magic pack. Usually whatever she wanted was right on top when she went looking for it.
"You're right, but I don't remember a key."
Disappointed that nobody was able to open the box, Broom lugged it over by the door. She took one last look around the room, satisfied that all the remaining papers and folders had been placed in nice stacks. "We can get all this stuff when we go back to the chapel."
With that she moved down the hall to the door at the end.
"Seems like we're ready to try that door to northern area of the asylum." John agrees.
With a gasp, as if she'd been sleepwalking through fire, and drowning at the same time, Reine came back to the present moment.
Something in those files had triggered memories. Memories that had overwhelmed her and sent her mind spinning into the very dark swamps of her past.
Gulping in deep breaths to calm herself, Reine looked at John.
"I know how to use swords," she said, "I don't need one, but I can use it if you'd prefer your longer blade. Or I can use the longer one if you think it makes sense. But really, I can kill just fine with my bare hands." Her voice hardened with the last statement, and it seemed that her usual anger might have been kindled by that fact.
The party returns to the dayroom and back through the once magically darkened room where they'd encountered what remained of a young boy. The double doors on the far side of now clear room were unlocked and easy to open- clearly no one was expected to get past Debis's murderous shade.
The gigantic space on the other side might have once been a cafeteria or assembly hall. Now it was the village of a savage tribe. Wildly burning braziers stood amid yellow tents and scrap structures. Mostly constructed of broken furniture, scavenged sheets, and torn mattresses, these numerous tiny hovels provided shelter to small knots of yellow robed Apostles in Orpiment.
Large portions of the western and northern walls had collapsed but ramshackle barricades were built to surround them. The survivors quickly counted 4 yellow-robed guards facing out into the thick yellow mist.
To the east, two sets of wide stairs climbed to the floor above. Around the stairs nearly a dozen bodies hung crucified upon the walls, long-dried crimson streaks below them, sacks cinched around their heads.
The huge room was uncomfortably damp and tendrils of yellow mist crept throughout the entire space, wisps endlessly lapping and fondling the haphazard encampment and its own huddled mass of refugees.
Murmurs ran through the closest groups of yellow-clad survivors, quickly becoming shouts of alarm as people grabbed up improvised and mismatched weapons. A small crowd formed around the party, brandishing their pathetic weaponry at the deadly-looking and much better armed party. They kept their distance, though, clearly intimidated by the tough looking group.
John completely misses any insights he might have gathered, being surprised by the large group of cultists.
He keeps his right hand open and empty (his left covered by his armored gauntlet) and he steps forward slowly.
"Easy now everyone....we're not looking for trouble." he says calmly.
Broom recoiled for a moment at the sight of the yellow mist gently rolling into the room. The reaction from its occupants drew her attention to them.
There was of course a desperate need of tidying up and washing to be done, but that would have to wait until later.
As the yellow clad figures assembled themselves into a rough mob seemingly intent on defending their makeshift hovels from the intruders, Broom suddenly had an idea inspired by John's attempt at defusing the situation.
She took a cloth from her pack and said a few words over it, changing it form a clean white to a cheery canary yellow. While John was talking, she tied the cloth around his arm.
Given time, she repeated the process with cleaning cloths for each of the members of the group so that each sported a yellow armband.
Reine stepped up just behind John.
"Don't mention the chapel," she whispered to him. If these people discovered the existence of the survivors in the chapel, and that the way to the chapel was no longer blocked, Reine doubted that Winter's "guards" would be able to fight off a concerted attack.
So, much as she disliked being the center of attention in such situations, Reine did her best to look intimidating, to discourage bravery amongst the growing mob. She also held her empty hands out wide (it wasn't her fault if the growing crowd didn't realize that being empty handed meant she was more dangerous to them, after all), and made eye contact with anyone who looked like they were considering rushing them. Her gaze did not suggest that being brave equated to being smart - or to living very long.
She wasn't able to make eye contact with each of the crowd, but she did her best to break up any clusters she could identify.
Desdemona finally looked up. She had been withdrawn since reading the files; what she had found there, she didn't say. But whatever it was, it seemed to have sparked some fire in her, for she stepped forward (though not ahead of Reine or John) and spoke to the people.
"We aren't here to harm anyone - but that doesn't mean we can't," she said, her voice clear of distress. "Who are you? Were you patients here?" She paused, as though listening to something, then added, "We can see you aren't bad people. We just want to talk."
That said, her shadow was ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, easing across the floor toward the guards, to be among them.
John is pretty sure they disciples in the yellow robes are bad people....
His right hand is a little itchy, like it misses the feeling of the hilt of the familiar short sword the group found earlier in the safe.
The crowd of survivors seemed marginally more relaxed at John and Des's reassurance. Some of them even nodded at Broom's gesture as she went around tying yellow scraps of cloth onto her friends. One of the braver ones- this one with a club that looked like it had probably once been a bedpost- spoke up without leaving the comforting presence of the crowd.
"You're Apostles? Come to hear the word of the prophet?"
Before anyone can even respond, a man in the remnants of a once rather dapper tweed suit under a Briarstone doctor's once-white coat pushed through the crowd. "Hold on, hold on. Just let me through, dammit!" The cultists moved out of his way, allowing the scraggly-haired, bespectacled man to the front. He loudly declared "Good! More come to gaze beyond, to serve the orpiment! Welcome, friends!"
He approached the survivors with open arms and empty hands. As soon as he’s close enough to be out of earshot of the crowd he desperately whispered "Just nod and follow me if you want to live."
"Okay....." John says slowly as takes the newcomer in.
Broom was quite happy when the cultists calmed down a bit. The blustery man pushing his way through the crowd towards the group did startle her, but when it became apparent that he wasn't attacking she smiled brightly at him.
She was a little confused at the man's conspiratorial tone though. They did want to see the prophet Zandalus, didn't they? He seemed to be connected with the strange things going on somehow. Why did that need to be secret?
She nodded as requested. "Hi! Our name seems to be Mashiki, but Our friends call Us Broom."
Reine looked over the man's shoulder, then looked at him. She smiled and nodded. Then she shrugged and followed the man.
Desdemona was already smiling, that strange, slightly brittle smile. She followed as well.
Miniel is surprised by the scene before them, especially the yellow mist that seemed so dangerous rolling freely through the encampment. She notices the yellow, recalling their previous encounters, but isn't too alarmed. These people are refugees, just like them, not insane murderers. Then again, clearly, something is going wrong here, and the man pushing his way to the front proves it. Miniel doesn't see any reason to doubt his words, so she just follows along.
"I'm taking them to teach them about Zandalus's revelations! They'll need time to take it all in! Let us through!" The rumpled doctor gestured for the crowd to get out of their way and the debris-wielding refugees did as he asked.
The doctor led the explorers through the encampment that had grown to encompass most of the large room. As they passed ramshackle tent after dangerous looking lean-to and scavenged pallets on clear spots of floor, it became clear that this was less an armed camp and more a place where the desperate had congregated. Certainly, as bad as the Chapel survivors had it before the party came, even they had a better and more secure set up than this.
The doctor passed by a large tented area with a closed flap acting as a door and led them up the partially collapsed northern stairs. There was a cleared space at the top of the dead-end stairs where the doctor had strung up sheets to give himself his own private space. He ushered the group inside. There wasn't much there, just a pile of linens and a thin pillow on the floor for a bed, a small side table with a cup and bowl of water on it, and a small chest tucked in the corner.
He turned to the group and shook his head in wonder. "I'm amazed anybody else is still alive out there. There's monsters in the mist, did you know that? Monsters inside, too." The doctor gestured at the floor- there was room enough for everyone to sit.
The doctor remained standing. "I'm Wren Elbourne. I don't recognize you, but I only started here a week before all this happened. Are you patients or staff? You look like you might've been orderlies, like you can take care of yourselves."
John follows the man, but as they move to the tent he picks out the armored and robed guards.
"Good to meet you Wren, my name is John. We're pretty sure we were patients, but our memories are spotty." John replies to the man.
"We've been lucky enough with our encounters with monsters and crazies in the mist, and we found where our gear was stored."
"What are you doing with these yellow robed followers of Zandalus? All of them we have encountered have seemed pretty violent."
Broom looked about at the sorry state of the doctor's littler room. At his invitation she sat down. She still sensed her invisible companion nearby, but thought better of asking it to do anything out of concern that the doctor might react poorly to its presence.
Instead she just started idly tidying things on her own as she listened to Wren. "Have you seen Zandalus? We've read and heard a lot about him and We wanted to see him. We think he might know something about what is going on."
She glance about for a moment before a flood of questions suddenly came to mind. "Also, why are you called acolytes in Orpimant? We thought this place was called Briarstone.
Are the guards in all yellow higher ranking members than the people with only scraps of yellow? Who lives in the big tent? Does everyone get to see Zandalus? Does he give sermons?"
Broom had some more questions, but it looked like others wanted to ask some as well so she held her tongue for the time being.
Dr. Elbourne nodded at John and Broom. "Good to meet you, John, miss. I wish it was under better circumstances."
He gestured vaguely back down in the direction of the slum encampment. "A lot of the Apostles are violent. The mist, the riot, the earthquakes- all the stress has made them worse." The doctor shook his head. "But not all the patients here were violent to begin with, and there was staff, doctors, even a couple of visitors when the mists closed in. Most of us are like them, just trying to survive in this madness."
The doctor looked at Broom. "The big tent is where the most badly hurt of my patients are convalescing." He gestured at the ceiling and the rubble on the stairs. "The last big earthquake hurt a lot of people, and there are things in the mist. I can take care of most but some, I just have to keep comfortable and let time work its magic."
He nodded. "We've all seen and heard Zandalus. He used to come out to preach or to teach fairly regularly. You'd probably say he would come out to rant. But now he and his closest followers keep to what's left of the halls upstairs. No one is allowed up there. Zandalus’s thugs stand guard, but worse is that weird mist collects up there like a snake in a hole. Who knows what they do in that fog? But we all hear the chanting and screaming… even though we try not to."
"I don't know what Opriment is. Zandalus declared his followers all the Apostles in Orpiment. I don't know what it means." Dr. Elbourne looked back at John. "This was a cafeteria. A lot of people came here after the riots, looking for shelter. Zandalus gave us an ultimatum- follow or die. You see what happened to the ones who said no- they're strung up down there."
"I don't know everything about what happened. I do know that he used to be a quiet artist who had bad dreams. I don’t know how else to explain it, but something let his dreams loose. He convinced a bunch of patients that he’s some sort of prophet and that he can lead them to the land of dreams. That was enough to start a riot. Soon after, those
strange mists rose outside and an earthquake caused much of the asylum to fall apart. We’ve been trapped here ever since."
"Zandalus found some way to breach the border between dreaming and wakefulness. The fog is a result; it’s like spillover from whatever dream realm he’s tapped into. But the fog isn’t the problem, it’s the things that came along with it. Weird things, like from nightmares. The worst seem content to keep to the fog, but I’ve seen strange forms slip into the asylum—figures I can’t rightly describe."
"Even though some of them have bought into his visions, most of the rest of us try our best not to fall asleep. A lot of us are having the same dream of a gaunt thing in yellow rags hunting us down. They say if he kills you in your dreams, he reveals what you really are. Sometimes that’s a corpse, sometimes it’s something worse. Regardless, everyone is terrified of sleeping, fearing the nightmares. Worse, they say that the Tatterman works for Zandalus. It’s all the more reason not to defy him, lest he send his dream assassin after you."
"Well, we found the administrator in her office doing some sort of weird trance thing where she was vomiting smoke." John tells the doctor.
"Punching her and knocking her out stopped some of her weirdness, but didn't fix all of this." he continues gesturing to the outside.
"Maybe they have someone else locked in one of those weird trances up there."
"What did you guys call that?" he asks the rest of the party.
"You mean an oneirogen? We think that is what Xander called her."
"Yeah, that's what I was talking about." John replies.
"I don't know how you even pronounce that mouthful."
Reine just shrugged. "You talk a lot. How are you still alive? If Zandalus is too busy smoking mist vapors upstairs, who's running things down here? Those goons in the yellow robes we ran into didn't look too bright. How many people here would object if they had an accident? We could arrange for more of those."
John nods when Reine speaks.
"If there aren't that many of them, maybe being direct is the best choice."
Elbourne shook his head. "You seem like you might be strong enough to take out some of Zandalus’s guards, but there’s an army of them. Even if you beat them all, Zandalus himself is still locked away in that maze of fog upstairs. So, it seems to me, the only way to get out of here is to get rid of that mist—and I have a hint of how."
"Zandalus calls his most devoted acolytes his oneirogens." He nods at Broom and John."Most stay locked away with him upstairs, but at least one watches over the northwestern tower. I don’t know what he does up there, but I think he’s alone. If you got to him, you could probably wring some of Zandalus’s secrets out of him, maybe even learn how to get rid of this awful mist. Once it’s gone, what you do about Zandalus is up to you."
"How far is it to this northwest tower?"
"We never figured out how to stop the doctor from spewing mist though. Do you think these ones know how to stop their own mist?
At least we have finally found a chance at getting rid of the yellow fog. We even have a way of talking with them."
Broom was excited about the prospect of linking everyone's mind with the magic incense again.
Reine's frown was more than just her usual anger. There was concern mixed in there as well.
"We need to discuss a few things," she said, "In private. Could you give us a moment?" She smiled at Elbourne, though said smile was probably more unsettling than anything else. But the jerk of her head towards the sheet curtain was plain enough in meaning.
"How far is it to this northwest tower?"
Elbourne shook his head. "Not far. There's a straight path from here to there through the main kitchens, but there's a restless spirit in there. You could go through the courtyard instead, then up through the other side of the building. We haven't explored over there."
"We never figured out how to stop the doctor from spewing mist though. Do you think these ones know how to stop their own mist?
At least we have finally found a chance at getting rid of the yellow fog. We even have a way of talking with them."
Broom was excited about the prospect of linking everyone's mind with the magic incense again.
The doctor shook his head again. "I don't know anything about them. Zandalus has told us that his most blessed can be freed from any malady or madness by becoming an oneirogen, but I've never seen one. I don't think any of us here have."
Reine's frown was more than just her usual anger. There was concern mixed in there as well.
"We need to discuss a few things," she said, "In private. Could you give us a moment?" She smiled at Elbourne, though said smile was probably more unsettling than anything else. But the jerk of her head towards the sheet curtain was plain enough in meaning.
Elbourne nodded. "Alright. I'll go check on my patients. You can come find me when you make your decision." The doctor stood and headed downstairs, leaving the group alone to talk.
"I think we should act now. I'm worried about the people in the chapel as well, but the quicker we deal with the entire situation, the better for everyone." John says to Reine.
Broom watched the doctor intently as he left. The moment the scrap of cloth fell back in place, she took out a duster and held it out. The invisible servant picked it up and immediately set about cleaning the nook as best it could.
She then leaned in to listen to John and Reine.
"What if it's a trap?" Reine asked. Her voice was pitched low, but she wasn't whispering. For some reason, she remembered that whispers carried further than voices kept low. "For all we know, this Wren guy could be setting us up - keeping us busy while the yellow-robes assemble a raiding party." She shrugged.
"I don't think he is, but we don't know that. Someone needs to go close the door between here and there, and warn Winter's people. Maybe we set up a guard post closer, or some traps, or at least not just leave a damn sign up saying, 'this way to slaughter the innocents!'"
Reine's eyes suddenly widened, and her face went even paler than usual.
"He said they can't sleep here," she said. "He said the Tatterman comes if they sleep out here. They can sleep in the chapel. We can sleep in the chapel. If these a@@@!#~s get to the chapel, we might lose our only safe place to rest."
Reine shook her head. "Keeping the chapel safe has to be the priority. Yes, we can, we should take out the core of this as quickly as we can. It sounds like killing Zandalus might be how we do that. If we don't stop him, you're right, nothing else matters in the long run. But if we try, and fail, and there isn't a chapel to fall back to..." Reine trailed off, looking away from the others.
"There's the slightest sliver of hope, all of a sudden," she said, "so suddenly I care about making sure as many people as possible can benefit if that hope isn't a lie." She turned back to the group, and her face was hard.
"And if it is a lie. I want a place I can fight from while I make every last one of the people responsible for it pay."
Broom listened to both John and Reine.
She smiled and took a breath as if about to say something, but suddenly stopped.
"Reine's plan sounds good."
"John's plan makes the most sense"
Broom blinked in surprise and a little confusion. Had she just disagreed with herself?
She glanced randomly about the room as if looking for an answer in the dark corners.
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times as if she were just about to say something, but no sound came forth as her thoughts turned chaotic and disjointed. It was an experience she had never encountered before, and yet it felt strangely familiar.
Finally her thoughts became lucid once more and focus returned to her eyes. The smile slowly returned "we think both ideas are good. There are lots of us here, Why don't some of us go back to take care of the chapel while the rest talk to the onegarian?"
Reine thought for a moment, nodding slowly.
"That might work. A smaller group might not be as noticeable, either. If we all headed back now, someone would be watching to see where we went."
She sighed, "They still might - probably will. And a smaller group might seem more inviting to stalkers, but..." Reine shrugged. "It's better than leaving them completely unprotected. So, who stays, who goes?"
Rostam thought for a moment but finally nodded when no one else volunteered. "I'll go. I can't stand the idea of these people assaulting the chapel with no one to protect them."
Xander also nodded. "I may be able to help set up magical fortifications."
Laura had been quiet the longest, and she looked drained and stretched thin. "I need to go back, I think. I need to rest."
Rostam stood and looked at Reine, John, Broom, and Des. "We can try to find a way to bar the doors of Debis's room from the other side. You'll be stuck on this side, but the chapel should be safe."
"Um," Reine said, "can we set up a password knock or something? I would prefer not to be stuck here unable to sleep safely if we need to. Or if we need to grab one of these smoke-blowers and run."
"Good idea. That way we cover the chapel and keep working on finding a way out of here."
Broom looked suddenly concerned as Xander volunteered to head back to the chapel. She was about to volunteer to return as well but it was too late, the group was already divided and it would have been unfair if she joined the others and left the smaller group to forge ahead into the unknown.
"If there was a way to let the door open only a little bit, We could have It lift a bar from the other side." Broom motioned to the cleaning rag that was busily wiping dust and dirt off the nook's surfaces. "Oh! And if you are going back, take that box we couldn't open with you. Maybe someone at the chapel can open it."
Xander nods at Broom. "A bar you could from the far side? I'll see if I can arrange that."
Rostam looks from Xander to Reine. "We can arrange a special knock or something like that, too, but we'd have to leave a guard behind to listen for it. That could lead to a fight earlier than we'd be ready for, if these people try to push through."
Reine shook her head. "As long as we have a way to get out of here and back to the chapel - that isn't a wide open door for the yellow people - that should be enough. You still might want to keep an eye on the door though, just to have some kind of warning if they find their way through."
Then she nodded to John. "You're right. We need to find a way out of this place. As soon as we can. Hitting whoever is in that Northwest tower is probably the best option we have."
Reine looked at those going back. "Good luck. Stay alive."
"The rest of us should leave first, give you a chance to sneak out while anyone curious is watching us."
John sticks his head out to find Elbourne.
When he sees him and gets his attention, he motions him over.
"We're ready. A few of us are going to slip back south and the rest are going to need you to direct us to the northwest tower."
Despite Broom's suggestion giving her a new perspective on the terrifying dark, Desdemona couldn't help but be relieved when Rostam volunteered to go back to the chapel. She could never forget how the dark writhed visibly under his skin.
It might not be as dangerous to her and others as she first feared, but still...
She drifted along behind the group continuing on. her position with them speaking for her as to whether she would go or stay. She tried to control her distraction with the darkness to pay attention to what Dr. Elbourne said. If he was truly a doctor, surely he meant to help them! She was just glad that it wasn't her spewing smoke, helpless and tormented.