When Toraim moves into the room he hears a low groan coming from the iron barred door to the southwest, yet no one or nothing is visible in the small sliver of room that he can see. Another solid oak door sits on the south wall, closer to the dwarf. A small mirror hangs from a torch sconce between the doors. To the north, the remainder of the room is obscured from view.
Sticking to the wall and figuring that his companions will follow promptly, Toraim penetrates into the room, keeping an eye on the barred door in particular...
Ysildaë follows in the dwarf as is in keeping with their current tactics.
Maria sneaks in, trying to keep absolutely silent and keeping her eyes wide open.
The group filters in listening intently. Maria slides down trying get a look into the cell but she cannot make out anyone there. However, the deep guttural moan makes it obvious that someone is there, lurking in the shadows beyond the barred door.
Akula moves into position with her shoulder to the door, ready to open it but block it from swinging all the way so that whatever is inside can only approach Toraim. She puts a hand on the bar to lift it, but doesn't move yet, looking to the others to wait until they are ready.
The elven woman nods.
Assuming that his companions will guard the rear, Toraim takes his position in front of the barred door and looks inside to see what cursed soul haunts the next room...
The positions itself around the cell door. A quick study shows that the door opens outward and its lock appears to fit the keys from downstairs. Looking in, Toraim and Akula see a disheveled bed tossed against the wall. A broken chair and small, round table are up ended along the southern portion of the wall. Red markings cover the walls like graffiti. A poorly designed cell, the dwarf thinks as a moan comes from the shadows hidden from your view by the walls. Unlikely that its original purpose was housing prisoners, Toraim concludes.
With everyone in position and the key in hand, Toraim unlocks the gate and steps in, making sure to allow room for his companions to follow suit and facing to his right to look upon whatever it is that shambles in the dark...
Maria walks over to back up the others, still staying quiet.
The dwarf opens the cell and peers around the massive shield. A figure sits with its back to the north wall near the corner. With its knees pulled up to its chest, the figure's head dangles between its knees. It filth ridden clothing is in tatters. It doesn't seem to notice the Toraim's presence. It rocks gently and moans faintly.
Ysildaë moves to support her dwarven ally.
Ysildaë looks down at the pale, gaunt figure. Its black hair covers its face, but its smaller hands look female. You don't think it is undead, but it certainly isn't natural.
"Valthyra shields us, girl," Toraim attempts to reassure her with typical dwarven abruptness. "The poor souls below have been put to rest, and we can lead you back to safety."
The flat iron holy disk of Valthyra that hangs from a chain around his neck attests to his piety and to his sincerity. But they have seen so many horrors since the Shaping that he cannot but expect this girl to be a shade of who she was once...
Maria runs through her knowledge in her head, trying to guess at what this might be, visibly ignoring whatever may happen.
The seated figure lifts its head. Her gaunt cheeks are accentuated by the hallow, green eyes. Her hair is greasy and matted to her face. Unable to support the weight of her head, she cocks it to the side and smiles weakly. "BOO!" she murmurs softly, then collapses onto her side, unconsious.
Placing her spear against the wall, Ysildaë kneels near the young woman and offers her water.
"Blessings of stars, root, and bough. I am called Ysildaë. Long have you tarried here? What keeps you?"
Surprised by the girl's appearance and bizarre humour, Toraim studies her warily while Ysildaë offers water. This one survived the Shaping somehow? Or is she something else entirely?
Maria gasps softly, and looks to the others.
"She's a mortal, but a mortal touched by undeath. A half-vampire. I plead we not use magic to heal any wounds she may have, we may murder her in doing so. We must get her to safety."
Maria lowers herself till she looks at the womans face.
"I'm uncertian that the shaping did this. It may have, but it could be that her ancestry let her survive. I find it more likely she has always been a dhampir. I suggest we keep her shielded from light and find her a place to rest; and try an heal ourselves of this affliction before we return."
"We've done well with avoiding injury thus far, and I hope we continue with such strategies. However, I must reccomend we get this woman to safety first. She very well could know something important."
"With world in night, few lights from which she must be guarded."
Realizing that the young woman is unconscious, she dampens a clothe and places it on the young woman's lips. Dehydration is a serious matter and going would be slow.
"Your words ring with stars' truth. Her life is more important than our task. Once quenched her thirst, carry her from here I will."
The girls lips instinctively take the water offered by Ysildaë. Her body relaxes visibly as she settles into a deep sleep. The monk picks her up with ease as her body is frail and atrophied.
Ysildaë turns her swift feet towards where the Sisters gathered. Their healing arts were not exhausted by magic. They would know best how to care for her.
"Hold on," Toraim intervenes when he realizes that his companions' intent is veritably to bring the girl back to the bridge. "She may not be undead, but she ain't alive either, and we don't know anything about her. Her life may be important. Indeed, her ancestry may have preserved her. And she may prove a heaven-sent weapon against our enemies. But she could also be at the heart of this all!"
"We're not taking her anywhere until we know if she is friend or foe," Toraim decides, standing in the way with typically dwarven stubbornness.
"Her heart beats like yours and mine. She may be a villain. She may be a hero. Villain or hero, she needs care. She is unconscious and weak. The captain can question her once the healers have seen her. What is not acceptable is to bar my way. Move."
The elven noblewoman's voice is silvery and hard.
Ysildaë, undetered by the priest, scoops up the unconscious waif in her arms, and flies past the group towards the exit. Toraim moves to catch the monk, but her nimble feet high step past the awkward dwarf. She spins in mid-air landing gently. Toraim turns to see the monk not more than ten feet away, just beyond the door. Her stride leading her towards the spiral staircase downward.
"Ysildae is right, Toraim. We can't just do nothing because there's a chance she might be evil. That wouldn't be right," Akula said, putting her hand on her dwarven friend's shoulder. "We can take her measure after we help her."
She watched the nimble elf vault off the wall and over Toraim's head and smiled slightly.
"Dhampir are fully mortal, and very much alive. Your hesitation would be as warranted with any other, though I doubt you would have it; it is common for those ignorant to the complexities of life to be prejudiced."
Maria smirks, glad to see Ysildaë make it past the dwarf without issue. She would have drawn her blade had he stopped her; the woman could be dead by the time Toraim got what he wanted. Maria makes a mental note of that, smiling at Akula's reasoning and gesturing at the door, intent on leaving.
Toraim seethes. Ysildaë has completely disregarded him. And Maria has all but called him ignorant and prejudiced. Seeing Akula smile, he shrugs off her so-called friendly hand on his shoulder and heads off and away without another word.
Ysildaë continues to carry the injured girl to the healers. She is quite disturbed by the dwarven cleric's implied threat of violence if she did not obey him. All honor to Valthyra, her ancestor, but Ysildaë finds her priest troubling and confusing.
After she exits the prison, she observes that the cleric is no longer following them. She hopes he is safe, but between his implicit threats and then his departure from their company she asks: Is he reliable in the heat of battle? Can he be trusted? Or is he a flawed metal?
The angry dwarf makes his way back to camp and to the healers where he assumes the girl will be brought. On his way, he recites old dwarven prayers to remind himself that he must be still and steady like steel.
The group arrives with the unconscious young woman limp in Ysildaë's arms. The sisters are found strewn among the wounded at the front edge of the bridge. A pair of them are attending an older man from Haemil who has lost his much of the left side of his face. He's clearly in shock as you approach the make-shift infirmary. "Cruel, it was! Living death!" he screams over and over.
In the distance you see four other sisters carrying a stretcher with the dead body of a young man.
Ysildaë looks around for the young male priest she had seen before.
The elven shrine maiden waits patiently and looks for a Sister who can help her.
Akula sighed as she watched Toraim leave. With a sympathetic glance over her shoulder at the other two women, she followed the dwarf. She didn't say anything, she just waited nearby for Toraim to finish thinking.
Toraim finds Ysildaë and Maria, but keeps his distance and waits to see how the Sisters will receive the Dhampir.
"I hope that Ysildaë has not invited a wolf into our midst," he finally speaks to Akula when his anger has subsided. "We could have tended to the girl out there and figured out her story before bringing her here. Ysildaë's compassion is commendable, but..."
He shakes his head.
"As is your diligence. Both are needed to temper each other. Compassion can be naive. Diligence can be callous. Each alone is brittle, but together they make an impressive alloy," Akula smiled.
Moistening a cloth, while she waits, the noblewoman wets the child's lips again.
Was this child a danger? Perhaps. Many stories have the Ralomenor of unholy alliance between the quick and the dead. Yet, even were she my mortal enemy, she is not currently a threat. Maria is bright. She could be right that healing magics might harm the child. The Sisters will know.
Thoughts swirl in Ysildaë's mind, but there is one truth that she does not question: hope, like starlight, is not for the few but for the many. This child is worthy of grace, hope, and sacrifice. Even the wicked, especially the wicked, deserve a chance to be better.
I vow to be a light in the darkness.
With a glowing light emitting from her hand, one of the sisters soothes the old man who falls into a fugue. They wash the blood from his face as his wounds heal from the grace of the Sacred Mother. One of the sisters rises when she sees Ysildaë waiting with the young woman in her arms.
"Here, my dear. Lay her upon this cot. What happened... Oh!" the sister begins to look over the dhampir for injuries when she realizes the girl's condition. "She is... like..." her eyes dart back and forth trying to understand what she sees.
"Found her locked away in a high room. Wise Maria says that she is a dhampir, and that conventional healing magic may harm her. Though perhaps her soul is one of bright life. I know not. I know not how she came to be this way or how she came to find herself locked away and alone. I know that she is weak and vulnerable and that she should be cared for before we ask her questions."
"That she is," the Sister responds to Ysildaë with a quiet acceptance of the unfamiliar. "Our touch cannot heal her wounds but surely her body needs nourishment... and water. She looks gaunt and fading. She can rest here tonight," she continues, pointing to a nearby cot. "We will let the reverend, Haessen, know of her arrival. He has seen... I would not doubt that he has seen the affliction before."
"Affliction? Perhaps, I misunderstand, but is this not how she is rather than a disease to be cured? If prayers do not help her, perhaps herbal remedies will?"
Ysildaë is discomfited by the word the healer used: affliction. Can there be good outcomes when someone's existence is seen as a disease or a curse?
"Gave her water through clothe when first we found her. Return I shall to check on her later."