Kayin's gaze shifts to Randall, and he smiles slightly. "Never said he didn't have a point," the oracle replies, while twitching his head toward Titan to indicate whom he is referring to. "But the way he said it, as though the rest of us were just sitting around in idle comfort while the world came apart? As if this whole endeavor is some sort of entertainment taken up to relieve our boredom? That's what I problems with." The oracle then sighs deeply and shakes his head. "No matter, I don't have to like him or whatever opinions he's formed as long as he does his part. Which means he doesn't sit up on rooftops, or linger on a different floor while the rest of us do the heavy lifting. We fight all together, or we don't fight at all. So long as that's settled, I can work with him."
He considers Muraisa for a moment after falling silent, then nods with a growing grin. "I second your nomination, she's definitely one of the two best suited to carrying anyone that needs it. Just, uh, don't expect me to do anything of that sort," he adds with a pointed look at his own, exceedingly slight frame. "I could, maybe, get that axe of hers off of the ground and onto my shoulder, but that'd be about it." The smile fades then, replaced by a frown. "Of course, that does bring up the issue of carrying whatever weapons Titan thinks we might need. He said something about spears and bows, that sounds like quite a load. Add whatever I can cook up for us, and those flasks, vials, and such aren't much individually but any worthwhile amount has a good bit of heft to it, and we're looking at some serious weight."
"A disease? Carried by the undead? Thank you for telling me. It would not be good for the sickness to spread amongst the refugees. Which of you has been infected?"
The handsome elf turns to one of the other white robed women. "Sister Amarisa, would you please inform our high priest that these warriors have been afflicted by a disease carried by the undead and request he come take council with us on this matter?"
As his fellow healer leaves to fetch the older priest, Thomas smiles at Muraisa. "There is no bane or woe that the Sacred Mother can not mend."
Uh oh. This is why you don't trust ****ing spellcasters! Muraisa tried to keep panic off her face as she said, "Yeah, so I was told. Uh, I know I was infected. So you can fix me up and then I can...go, right? We should really finish that building soon. Really soon. Wouldn't wanna slow things down by being late, you know?" Muraisa did not want to get rammed into a sickbed. Or get hit in the back of the head with a pick and shoved in a grave if there wasn't a quick cure.
The priest's smile fades slightly as he senses her fear, but it returns even more encouraging than before.
"You are safe. You are in a safe place. Thank you for telling us about the disease. We can help you, and we can also help others with this information. You will be free to return to liberating the city from the undead as soon as we have determined what we should do. It may be that we will cure your disease once you are done with this building in case you are re-infected. I know it is frightening, but you are safe with us."
Thomas radiates an almost supernatural sense of warmth and ease. Maybe it is his voice. Maybe it is that the world seems almost brighter next to him. Whatever the case, it is difficult to feel threatened or mistrustful of the man in front of the barbarian. He seems so sincere.
Sister Amarisa rushes off to find the high priest. A few minutes later, the woman returns with an old man. The high priest labors to progress through the throng of refugees seeking healing and comfort. He's stopped several times by other warriors before finally making it to you
"Amarisa says that some here have been infected with a disease from the undead creatures within the district. Let me take a look," he says as he gently takes Muraisa's hand and mumbles an inaudible prayer. He looks up at her with saddened eyes. "The disease has taken hold, it's true. But, it hasn't yet manifested and won't for several days. There is nothing we can do until it begins to affect you, I'm afraid. I don't have the blessing of Teysura powerful enough to cure you outright. The best we can do is give you some antiplague when the disease shows itself. I will ask the sisters to begin to produce it... a lot of it." He looks to the young woman who nods and scampers off. "Come back in the 'morrow. We shall have some for you..."
Randall looks a bit crestfallen, but he simply nods at the High Priest. "Can't really ask for more than that. We'll do our best to shrug it off in the meantime."
He recalls wistfully that some of the veteran ascetics of the monastery couldn't be afflicted with disease of any kind, even from supernatural means. Curious, he reaches into his pack and draws out a musty tome of indeterminate age. The title on the cover reads The Five Perfections. Nose twitching, Randall opens it up and begins to read. It isn't long before the dense text gives him a headache. He reads a few more passages, then gives it up with a sigh, carefully wrapping the book in an old piece of softcloth and stowing it in his pack again.
"How contagious is it? Should we ask Marcusic to keep the warriors cleansing the district separate from the general population? Do you believe that to be wise?"
Thomas asks the older priest in a calm and measured voice. He remains a pillar of serenity and calm.
Haessen sighs at Thomas and looks upon the lad with forlorn eyes, "While they live, it isn't contagious."
Reassured by the lack of use of words like 'Qurantine', Muraisa's concern eased and her the tension she had been holding flowed out for now. The Priest himself, despite being a spellcaster chained to a 'God', seemed to be as genuine as possible too. Between the two she relaxed.
It probably said a lot about her that the idea of being infected with a plague that could corrupt her into an undead was less terrifying, given her options than being made to rest in bed.
"Well, that's something at least. It'll give us a fighting chance once it does start to do it's thing." Muraisa shrugged after a moment. "Not much point in taking that potion you said you were making once you're infected, right? Might as well wade through as many of the foul-smelling swine as we can before we need to try and cure it."
She looked over at the others. "Everyone else should probably make sure they have ranged weapons until we can cure this filth reliably. No point in wasting the potion until you're infected." She looked over. "Or does this work as a preventative, too?"
"It can aid the body in its natural defenses against contracting the disease. Pity we didn't know about this until now," Haessen says to the barbarian. "If we can make enough, it will surely help you in a multitude of ways tomorrow."
With an intent expression, the oracle listens carefully as the elderly priest explains how the disease has affected his allies. Considering that he could have ended up with it, and might still in the future, it's a matter of some interest to the young man. Hearing that antiplague is being made available--and at not cost, always nice--has him visibly relaxing. It might not be a cure, true, but every little bit helps more than nothing at all!
Thomas nods at his superior's words, but addresses the warrior woman. "What is your name and those of the other infected? I will pray for you and attend to your progress personally. In this time of darkness, it is our shared duty be light for one another. I can lend an ear, a hand, or a prayer."
Muraisa jerked a thumb towards herself. "I'm Muraisa." She wouldn't give them Randal's name. It was his business if he didn't want to give it to them, and if he turned she'd end his suffering quickly. Freedom was important.
"I'll take the hand and the ear, thank you. As for the Prayers..." Muraisa shrugged in a slightly apologetic fashion. "I'm Firebird Clan. Nothing I've seen yet has changed my views much."
Even Muraisa knew enough to realize it was awkward to tell a priest 'I think your god is probably a spirit that's conning you in exchange for gifts of power', even if it was the trueth, so she swiftly moved on. [b]"Is there any way to avoid the taint these things give out? The damned thing spray it out when they die.
Kayin can't help but laugh at Muraisa's question, and he explains when eyes turn his way. "Sorry, I just thinking that taking cover behind a sheet of waxed or oiled canvas probably wouldn't quite do it." His expression then becomes serious, and he points at Titan's companion. "While we're talking about getting sprayed by corpse fluid, the bear got a faceful at least twice that I can recall, so it probably wouldn't hurt to consider him infected with that rot as well." Though he's unaware of their shared thoughts on the matter, Kayin felt much as Muraisa did in that it wasn't his business to hand out others' names, so he left it Titan to introduce his partner and Randall to do likewise for himself.
As the priests discuss the disease with Kayin and Muraisa, a flash of dark, rippling hate streaks behind his eyes, followed by a near-overwhelming urge to flense the skin from their meat and drink the marrow from their--
He swallows hard, wipes a few beads of sweat from his forehead, and clears his throat, offering as genuine a grin as he can muster. "Ah, jeez. I didn't even introduce myself. Sorry. I'm Randall Shadowcrown. My friends call me Rand." He offers a soot-colored hand.
Thomas lets out a kindly laugh. "The Sacred Mother doesn't care whether you are are from one side of a mountain range or another and neither do I. All are living things are worthy of dignity and respect. Indeed, my mother told me I was conceived east of the Iron Mountains."
The priest takes Randall's hand, his grip warm and sure. "A pleasure, Randall. I'm Thomas, Thomas Thorne.
He gives the tiefling a friendly wink, and turns back to the big warrior woman.
"I can claim no skill at arms, but if they explode, then it might be wise to destroy them at range. If you encounter some great undead thing that you cannot overcome, find me and I will bring the Mother's light to dark places."
He bows his head respectfully to his superior. "I'm told that the light I bear is best saved to preserve the living. But, know that you are not alone. Do not give into despair. This is a troubled time of great tragedy, but I believe our world will bloom again."
Such a pronouncement might sound a bit silly, but the priest speaks with utter conviction.
Rand scratches his chin uncomfortably. He's not sure he believes the priest, but it seems rude to contradict him. "Yeah, uh. Anyway, I dunno how to use a bow or anything, but I'm alright with a crossbow. Maybe they got one to spare around here?"
Sighing, Muraisa clutched her axe. "Well, I suppose that is no surprise really. I can fight at range. I simply am not especially good at it." She nodded to the priest. "I'm with you on that hope, though. What has been done can be undone, even if it's imperfect, or changed to something better. It's worth a try."
Thomas lets an an amused laugh, showing his empty hands. The assembled warriors can see that the priest bears no weapon, not even the short sword favored by his goddess.
"This area is for triage and healing. Marcusic is coordinating the retaking of the district. He would be the person to ask about weapons and such," he offers helpfully.
"If the undead were to come here, my sisters and I would share with them the light of the goddess before they could get close enough to harm the wounded."
Good to know where to run when we're being chased by something horrifying, Muraisa noted mentally. It would have to be a last resort, where the town would be in danger if a monster wasn't destroyed. Otherwise she'd never risk the wounded and those that healed.
"Thanks, we'll go see about those weapons for thems as wants them." Maybe she could get one of those really long-handled axes she'd seen a few of the Dwarfs use, or a glaive. Maybe that would be far enough away that she wouldn't get splattered by undead guts...
Having received healing and at least partially recovered, the group heads to the Tired Flame Inn, on the northern edge of the Point just beyond the bridge. On the front porch, Marcusic stands talking with an officer of the city guard of Haemil. The two of them are pointing at a map, discussing it vehemently. Two guards stand at the bottom of the stairs leading to the porch, scanning the city. Further to the west, four other guards are kneeling in a circle discussing tactics with a crudely drawn map in the dirt.
With obvious reluctance, the oracle shifts out of his seat and follows along to the inn. Still, he manages a greeting to the Constable before any of his companions. "Hello there, we've come with a report on our foray to the Second Scribe. Short of it is, we're not done clearing it. Had to fall back after the undead we found inside gave us a real beating. Oh, and those undead also burst when you finish them off, and if you get hit with the spatter from that, there's a chance it'll infect you some nasty thing." He points to Muraisa and Randall and, after a moment's though, Bjorkus as well. "We know those two got some, and we think the bear did too. But the healers are on it, and should have some antiplague cooked up fairly soon. All we need is something that'll let us fight those things from a bit of a distance, and we'll be ready to have another go."
"I'd think about spending some wood turning out crossbows." Muraisa added grumpily, as she headed up the stairs and towards the inn in search of booze. "Use stone for the walls and barricades, too. High enough that when the little cists go pop defenders on the wall won't get hit. Then you can just spear them when they come in." She stopped, and looked up for a moment. "And kill the pus-sucking monkeys first."
"Not sure there will be a lot of undead monkeys about," Rand says in response to Muraisa. "I think that mandrill was out of the norm." He shrugs. "Still, if nothing else, it teaches us to be ready for anything. If you don't have crossbows, I could probably figure out how to use a longspear. I know which end goes which way, at least. Anything to keep them at bay."
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”Longspears”, Titan adds after a long bout of silence when the party starts discussing requisitioning equipment. ”If we don’t have any built for warfare, ones with good sturdy crossbars will work. Anything that will keep a stuck boar from goring the wielder should be good enough for the things we've been dealing with.”
Hearing Randall’s comment, the hunter ponders.
”I’ve heard the elves have polearms better balanced for someone with your build. It might take some training to get used to but if we’re going to keep fighting the undead, it might be worth finding someone to teach you. I’m certain Marcusic will know someone in the camp familiar with that type of weapon.”
”Weighted nets would be good too. I doubt we’ll find any made from strong enough binding to hold those things down for good but it would buy use time to finish them off.”
"Animal snares might do a job of work too," Muraisa mused, still pasued by the door. "Bet the stupid things would rip there own foot off to get loose from the snare rather than free themselves."
Rand ponders Titan's suggestion. He'd never heard of such weapons, but if anyone has figured out how to make them, it would be the elves. At Muraisa's words, he nods. "I mean, I have a lotta practice disabling traps, mayhap with some trial and error I could figure out how to build 'em. But that's for another day. We got work to do, for now. I think we're probably okay to head back to the Scribe, once we get some appropriate arms."
With a perspective granted by his particular skill set, Kayin offers his own thoughts. "I can, with a bit of time, make something that'll glue most anything it hits to the nearest surface and leave it there long enough to do something about. Of course, that stuff can be overcome by sheer power, but it's something."
Marcusic looks down at the oracle, "Very good, we've just been getting reports of the undead bursting and causing much havoc! I was just about to send word to Brother Haessen and Thomas. We'll pass out the antiiplague as soon as it is available." He takes in the comments from the others with nods and looks of concerns.
"Excellent thought on the walls... need to keep them transportable... wait, what? Did you say monkey?" Marcusic cocks his head to the side, confused. With a quick shake, he moves on. "We have a limited supply of range weapons, but plenty of longspears. Elven weapons and nets? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we don't have any of those." He signals to a young man who steps into the inn only to return a minute later with a light crossbow and 20 bolts. "The longspears are lined up on the westside of the inn. Help yourself."
Sautekh, keeping to himself for now, lost in his own thoughts. He only halfs listen to those around him
Muraisa had a ranged weapon already, so she poked her head into the bar to see if all the alcohol had already been plundered.
Muraisa finds the main room of the inn filled with soldiers eating and discussing their next foray into the Point. The contents of the bar and surrounding area have been stripped thoroughly of any food or beverages.
Rand grabs a longspear and, leaning it against his shoulder, shrugs to the others. "Shall we head back and finish the job, now that we're patched up? Looked like we only had two doors left."
With the others taking spears, Kayin decides to makes use of the crossbow. He first takes a moment to shift the cord on his left wrist from the rapier it is currently attached to to the crossbow, then collects a couple of cases of bolts and attaches them to his harness in position for quickly reaching their contents. With the weapon then held in a ready grip, after it's been loaded and cocked, Kayin nods his readiness to the rest of the party.
Muttering a mournful prayer to the departed spirits of this place which contained an impressive amount of profanity in Draconic Muraisa returned to the others, ready to go.
Swiftly making their way back to the Second Scribe, the party finds things just as they left them.
Slinging her axe across her back with a grumble and pulling her ranged weapon out - a spear-sling loaded with javelins - Muraisa checked the first floor once more, because she was far too paranoid at this point to assume more undead hadn't gotten in or wandered from the rest of the house. She didn't want there rear guard getting munched.
Randall steps up to the zombie corpses and pokes them from a safe distance with his longspear, making sure they're going to stay down.
Seeing Randall nervously poke at the bodies on the floor, Kayin can't resist the impulse to mischief. It's not the best time, or the best place, he knows. But the urge is just too much to ignore. Padding closer to the rogue, the oracle squats down and suddenly snaps his free hand shut tightly around Randall's right ankle, giving it a firm shake while doing his best impression of a zombie's wordless, breathless groan.
The building is quiet and everything seems exactly how you left it. Randall pokes the corpses but they do not move. After being startled by Kayin's shenanigan's Randall relaxes a bit.
Outside, the call of voices in the distant rise momentarily then fade. The clearing of The Point continues.
Heading up the stairs, Muraisa glared at the monkey's room before heading to the door a little futher along the room on the opposite wall. As per usual she checked it out and then waited for Randall to clear it.
Muraisa climbs the stairs, passing the room with the undead mandrill. It's corpse still lying on the bed Black blood dripping across the floor.
She gets to the next door to find it locked.
The Barbarian sighed and gestured for the door to be unlocked. At least she hadn't heard anything behind it, but booting the door open might trigger a trap.
Scowling at Kayin, Rand follows Muraisa up to the door. "Lemme," he whispers, and slides his goggles down over his head.
Once he's finished, he slides the goggles up on his head, bows, and makes a sweeping gesture toward the door.
A bit more serious now, with his urge to mischief satisfied, Kayin prowls up the stairs behind Randall and watches him inspect the door. To aid in his efforts, the oracle murmurs and rests his empty hand briefly on the former's shoulder, instilling in him that curious sense of something directing his efforts in subtle ways. The oracle does so a second time when the rogue begins to apply his tools to the door.
Afterward, Kayin resumes his round-robin casting of that minor enhancing magic that makes himself and his companions just a little more agile, a little hardier, and a little more stalwart.