Buoyed by San’s success, both in defense and offense, Autumn tries again to hit the hound with another phase bolt, channeling the stuttering arcane energy out through her crossbow.
After her spell finally hits its mark, she loads and locks a quarrel into her weapon, ready to put the beast down for good.
San, having found a safe spot, simply fires more arrows.
Growling at herself for having wasted her prime opportunity to puncture this creature's posterior while it was farther away from her, Morga draws her starknife and jabs at its left eye.
Her growl deepens as she whiffs again. She ducks back behind her shield for the inevitable onslaught of vicious teeth.
While Vildran returns to his senses in the acolyte bedrooms, the fight continues in the strange makeshift jail cell. The hound attacks Morga with greater ferocity. Its bite is this time only slowed by her shield and it gouges her arm with its teeth . Leveraging its momentum, it latches on and pulls, throwing Morga off balance and dropping her to the ground . Worse, the place where it bit her begins to smoke...
... but only briefly. It quickly fades as the fight continues. The creature pounces atop Morga for another bite, but even prone she's able to defend herself well enough to not take another injury.
|||| INIT ||||
San
Vildran
Morga (8 dmg, prone)
Autumn (Stage 2 Rust Creep)
???? Hound (36 dmg)
Vildran frowns and looks at himself.
What am I doing in here? I've got to get back out there!
He stands, opens the door, and starts jogging back to the fight without closing it behind him.
Feeling the urgency now that the creature has knocked Morga down and gotten past her shield, San focuses on bringing the creature down.
Frustrated by the repeated failure of her phase bolts to properly connect with their target, Autumn switches tactics, loosing a real bolt from her crossbow this time, then following up with a different spell. Her one eye glows with a dark, pulsating aura and her weapon trembles as it emits an inaudible hum of eerie static at the beast, a vibrating tinnitus meant to melt its brain.
"Urrrrgh!" Growling again, Morga leverages herself to her feet by shoving her shield into the hound's face and pushing up from it, slashing with her starknife as she gains her feet.
Again she raises her shield, now much the worse for the wear. She regrets forgetting to ask Vildran to repair it for her while she slept.
Vildran can hear the fight still in progress as he starts making his way back.
|||| INIT ||||
San
Vildran
Morga (30 dmg, prone, dying 1, unconscious)
Autumn (Stage 2 Rust Creep)
???? Hound (52 dmg)
Autumn feels a tap on her shoulder.
Hello, I'm back, and better now!
He begins speaking in a low whisper, and a ring of glowing glyphs appears around his feet. It expands until it includes Autumn as well.
You expand a ring of glyphs that shields your allies. You and any allies in the area gain a +1 status bonus to AC. Each time you Sustain the spell, the emanation’s radius increases by 5 feet, to a maximum of 30 feet.
Dismayed at Morga getting unlucky with the hound, San decides the best path forward is to take the beast out. Noticing Vildran is back, he fires more arrows rather than trying to distract the beast.
The hound is much tougher—and more dangerous—than Autumn initially thought. Bolstered by Vildran’s unexpected presence and protective spell, she tries to put the damn dog down, once and for all. “You so need to die.” Her eye darkens and melts into bitter blackness while a flickering aura envelops her, a haunting shade of malice and acrimony made real. She glares at the beast, turning the sinspawns’ envy against its own, then assaults it with another silent cacophony.
As the hound savages her with repeated attacks, Morga descends into familiar blackness. Her final thought is: Why does this keep happening?
Combat Over! You each gain 60 XP.
You notice all throughout this fight, the bodies to the north didn't stir. Even up close, San sees that they're covered fairly well with blankets... but he does spot one foot sticking out. A foot that is densely covered in rust-colored bruises, more bruise than flesh.
As soon as the hound falls, Autumn quickly skirts around it and kneels by Morga’s side, retrieving an elixir from her pack and pouring it down the dwarf’s throat. Meanwhile she calls out to the archer, gesturing in the general direction of the two unmoving bodies in the beds. “San, see if they’re even alive. I’ve got Morga.”
Seeing Autumn has Morga's situation well in hand, San proceeds to inspect the "beds". Using the end of his bow to lift the coverings, San does his best to reveal what's there. "It looks like whoever this is has the same disease that Morga and I... well, that Autumn is still suffering from. But at a severely advanced stage." As a precaution, he also casts a charm to find magic auras.
Morga's eyes bolt open. "Wha--? Oh, not again," she groans. Sensing that Autumn wouldn't think ill of her for saying so, she quietly admits: "Pretty sure we're in over our heads here. You never hear about successful heroes dying this often." Even so, there's no one else around to do this, and it needs to be done. A nagging thought rises to the surface: How much of this is duty, and how much is choice, really? ... She doesn't spare enough time for introspection to untangle that messy knot of motivations within her; there's work to do.
Rising, she uses the brand new wand to cast Heal on herself.
Finally assured she's not going to instantly die if this is a trap, she approaches the bodies at the back of the room. Her hand shakes as she pulls the blankets back from their faces one by one. Great-Aunt Hilga?Ordwi? Please...
Not sure about the level of active danger left, Vildran follows the others into the room and continues to sustain protective wards.
He cautiously inches up behind San to inspect the figures under the blankets as well.
What you find are an elderly dwarf woman and a young human girl, both in a horrifying state. Their bodies lie balled up, flesh an unending mass of dark brown bruises that animate sluggishly. You can hardly tell the Thassilonian symbology build into the bruises apart with the spread so dense. Their garments are blackened and threadbare, almost as if the cloth itself is breaking down in concern with their bodies. Their hair has shriveled as well, lost all life and started to fall out.
At first it seems they're both already gone, but a careful inspection and medical evaluation by Morga leads to her confirming weak, shallow breaths from both of them. With their lack of responsiveness and the heavy progression of their bruising, Morga can tell they're both comatose and in the last stages of Rust Creep. Without urgent and capable medical attention, they are likely to soon be dead. Worse, Morga recognizes the elderly dwarven woman quite well.
Looking around the rest of the room, you can see some signs that this room was used as a combination of jail and very basic infirmary. Clearly some attempt was made to treat the people here, but it wasn't with much expertise or with particularly thorough effort. It seems neither victim has been treated for a few days - probably since you first arrived at Rusthenge a couple of days ago and started killing the members of this cult.
San's breath catches in his throat as he sees Morga's reaction to the individuals. Whispering to the others, "That must be her great-aunt. Not to be callous, but the other one definitely isn't Ordwi. Unless the disease make you look younger... so that's good news at least." Carefully he places a hand on Morga's shoulder. "I'll defer to your expertise but... is there anything to be done for them?"
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Morga's hands are shaking; her voice catches in her throat. She's unable to speak for a few moments. "... ... I... I...don't know." Frantically, she grabs the healer's kit and begins fumbling with the contents in a rush to treat her relative.
Suddenly, she stills, staring at the young girl. The moments stretch; her breathing becomes more ragged. "I can only treat one of them..." How much would Great-Aunt Hilga want to live on without Great-Uncle Guntrand? Would she wish for death once she found out he was gone? How much more does this child have to offer the world in her lifetime? What about her family? ...
Tears begin to stream down Morga's cheeks. Her face crumples as she falls to her knees beside her great-aunt, wrapping her in her arms and sobbing. "I'm so sorry. You'll be with him soon. I'm so sorry..."
Standing, not making eye contact with anyone, she dully requests: "Autumn, can you please make sure my great-aunt is as comfortable as possible? Thank you." She picks up the pieces of the healer's kit and woodenly begins treating the young girl, accidentally baptizing her with tears.
Unlike the others, Autumn is content to keep her distance from the diseased bodies, approaching just close enough to be convinced that she doesn’t want to get even a single step closer to the horrifying sight. There’s a sympathetic look on her face when San reveals that Morga has, unfortunately, had her wish granted—they have finally found her great-aunt, and she’s still technically alive.
Despite the pity she feels for the dwarf, Autumn’s voice is sharp, honed by the urgency of their situation. “Not here,” she immediately interrupts as soon as she realizes that Morga intends on treating them right there and then. “So sorry,” she adds in a softer tone, “but even if we’re somehow lucky enough that no one heard that dog’s infernal howl, this is so not the place to spend hours treating the sick. Let’s move them back to Gurga’s lair where it’s safe—then you can try to bring them back.”
The slender sorceress leaves it to the more muscular members of the party to actually do the heavy lifting; she instead slips back to stand guard near the western door, listening carefully for the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Right. You're right. ... You're right..." Mustering herself as much as she can, she re-packs the healer's kit and gestures to San to pick up the girl. With infinite tenderness, she lifts her great-aunt in her arms. The elderly woman's frail frame feels frighteningly fragile, like the slightest pressure could shatter her. Morga gently kisses her forehead, disease be darned. As she walks to Gurga's lair, she murmurs brokenly: "I'm so sorry, Great-Aunt Hilga. I'm your great-niece, Morga. I came too late. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..."
Both bodies are uncomfortably light and frail, and between the four of you it's no trouble at all to bring them through the halls back into the damp lair of the boggards. Along the way you hear no sign of anyone coming to investigate, for better or worse. When you arrive at the boggard lair the trio kick up a fuss over the visibly sick individuals in their midst, but when they see how closely Morga is willing to stay with her great-aunt, they relax. You're able to lay both down on bedrolls. It's not the best place for treatment, but at least its safer than the jail.
Choosing pragmatically, Morga starts applying the best tinctures she can concoct from her healer's kit. The treatment will not be easy, and it'll still take a heroic effort from her patient, but it seems promising that she'll be able to help at least one of the two.
Morga hands off her shield to Vildran. It's very broken, like her spirit.
Vildran offers Morga and San to help carry either of their loads. He didn't prepare any spells particularly useful to this occasion today, but he still has working hands. He's not good with words, socially, and he's not sure how to comfort Morga, or "fix" her pain. But he tries to help.
--------------------
Back in the boggards' lair he takes her shield and asks what else he can do.
We have healing potions. Would those help? Rations? Can we make some manner of liquid porridge to nourish them with? It's not much, but this seems like a situation where every little bit helps.
Thinking back to the people of the village above and possible missing people. "Is this the ship-maker's daughter? I forget her name at the moment... but that's the only person I can think of that might fit this description."
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Relieved that the hound’s howl went unheard, Autumn takes care to remove all signs of their presence, locking the dead dog inside the makeshift jail, and closing all the other doors behind her, as they were found. Back in the boggards’ lair, she nods at San’s suggestion. “Mara Froderson? Maybe.” Her gaze flits to the awkward elf who doesn’t seem to know what to do.
“Ahem,” she feigns a little cough to catch Vildran’s attention. “I believe Morga wanted you to repair her shield, not just hold it.” She’s rather doubtful about the dwarf’s request—clearly the healer isn’t quite in her right mind. San would seem like a much better choice to her; Vildran strikes her as more of a bookworm than a smith. “Let’s save the healing potions.” For those who won’t just die after drinking them.
While Morga is preoccupied with treating the younger woman, Autumn takes out her own healer’s kit and kindly starts tending to the dwarf’s own neglected wounds. Her salves and bandages spill out, inadvertently mingling with items from Morga’s kit, though a keen eye might notice her quietly palming one of the dwarf’s tinctures—the lesser antiplague—and surreptitiously placing it in her own kit. She feels not an ounce of guilt over such an action. Indeed, given Morga’s emotional and distracted state, the cleric would likely try to waste it on her patient, out of a sense of misguided charity and optimism, when clearly the antiplague would be much better served on someone with an actual chance of surviving the disease—like herself. How lucky that she has the good sense to save the tincture in time.
Both of the victims lie still, breathing so shallowly that it's hard to tell they're still alive. They do however seem stable enough physically that you could move them to another location if you wished. The question becomes where, when and how.
Oh. OH!
He looks down at the shield and remembers his repair kit. Finding a place to spread out a bit, away from the medical attention, Vildran turns the shield over surveying the damage.
Ten minutes later...
After, he notices San observing the victims' magical auras and wonders if he can help identify any of the effects.
This is such a peculiar disease... he remarks under his breath before beginning to Detect Magic.
--------------------
As the immediate concerns are handled and everyone's recovered from the fight with the dog thing, San comments, "There's some sort of aura around them but it's probably the disease progressing." He notices Autumn swapping some items around but decides it's not worth voicing at the moment. He takes a deep breath before his next suggestion, "Morga, I know you feel like you need to take care of these two but there's others that can do that for us. You are uniquely talented to be able to bring justice to the people that did this to them instead. Lets bring your great-aunt and Mara thanks Autumn to Vanda and Elsie for them to be cared for. At least don't let them pass in this terrible place." San looks to the others for agreement.
It takes a while for Morga to register San's words, and an even longer while to muster a response. Numbly, she nods and slowly begins to pack up her healing supplies, not even noticing the missing antiplague.
When everyone's ready to go,
Autumn nods at San’s suggestion. “Sounds good to me,” she says, thinking of the chance to procure additional healing supplies for her own disease. She leaves the sick for San and Morga to carry, but assists by scouting ahead and opening doors for them as they make their way back up to Stonehome.
Offering your goodbyes to the boggards for now, you haul the two Rust Creep victims up over shoulders or onto backs and begin the hike back through the tunnel to Stonehome. It's slower going while so laden down, but it still doesn't take much longer than an hour to make the trip. Once you ascend up the stairs you find Irma and Elsie there in the fort's small infirmary, treating the sick they already have in their care. They're alarmed by the sight of the two you've returned with, with Irma particularly distraught when she sees "Little Mara" in such a horrible state. Working together they take some of the bedding from upstairs down to create two more makeshift beds in the infirmary to add to their set up. Elsie looks over the sick and comments to you "None of us are really trained for this. We can make them comfortable, but I don't know how much more we can do to help. I've used up most of my tinctures already and it'll be days to make more even if I had the supplies." She looks hopefully at you all in case there's anything you can do to help.
Meanwhile, San's able to head into town and meet with Trygve. The smith hands over the newly enhanced bow, inscribed with the rune that previously graced the runestone. He handles the weapon with care, gruffly commenting "Take care of it." as you stow it.
"Vanda, we found this statue in Ragnulf's room below Rusthenge. Does it hold any significance for your order? The magic in the dagger is potent, similar to the rune on my bow." He handles his new bow with a grin despite the dire circumstances around him. "Not sure if you would even want reminders of the past actually..."
Autumn shakes her head sadly in response to Elsie. “I don’t think any of us were trained for this. Actually, they’re probably lucky to even be alive—if you can call it lucky.” She decides it’s not worth mentioning that the cultists seemed to be treating Mara and Morga’s great-aunt, in a very rudimentary way, so that they could become living sacrifices for the eerie apparatus.
“I could go back to the store for you—see if there’s anything there you might have missed that might help?” the sorceress volunteers helpfully, out of the sheer goodness of her heart—and a chance to find more medicine for herself. “We did find a magic scroll that Morga used to cure San’s disease—I don’t suppose there’s any place in town where we could buy such a thing?”
Vildran nods along as Autumn states that they don't much better know how to handle the conditions their patients are in.
If there's anything else that you know could help, say the word and we'll get it before we continue throwing our lives away exploring.
He scratches his chin, thinking futher.
Good idea to procure more scrolls, Autumn. I wonder if there are additional proficient healers amongst the crew on the ship. Perhaps they'd be willing to lend hands and supplies.
Morga nods numbly as she smooths back her great-aunt's hair. With others here to tend to Mara and the other invalids, she allows herself to treat her relative as best she can during the all-too-brief interval before the group trudges back to the underground caverns of Rusthenge. Through it all, she is numbly silent and doesn't make eye contact with anyone.
You find Vanda upstairs, sifting through the remains of her life among the Gorumites. When she sees the statue you recovered from Ragnulf's room, she presses her lips together. She wars with unpleasant emotions for a short while before answering "It's Gorum's symbol, though it usually has a sword in the side. Ragnulf was a serious dwarf, serious about his faith and teaching everyone. Of course he'd have a special symbol like this." She scowls "But then he betrayed us. Better you keep it. Seeing that only makes me think of how many people died because of him."
----
Down below, Elsie answers Autumn "I wish we had magic scrolls like that, but Iron Harbor's a small place. Mine is the only store worth mentioning, and I definitely don't stock things like that. Just my tinctures and remedies and a few tools people use that we get from out of town. There's one more antiplague back at my store if you can bring it over. It's just..." She gives a pained glance at the patients "It's the last one."
----
When you do head toward Elsie's you find that the Swordfish that had been docked in the harbor for most of your stay thus far is now gone. Speaking with Bastiano and Art at the sloop, you learn that they left late the previous day, wasting little time after you'd brought the news of their captain's demise back to them.
“So much for help from the Thassilonians,” Autumn remarks dryly when they learn that the Swordfish has already left. She hadn’t expected anything more, of course—Janis had made it quite clear that they would embark on such a sensible course of action as soon as possible.
At Elsie’s store, the sorceress finds and takes the last antiplague, as well as a few other items that she thinks might be helpful. When she returns to Stonehome, she dutifully gives the antiplague to Elsie and pays her for the rest out of the party’s gold (including paying the helpful shopkeep the two gold they owed from before). “I grabbed a few things that might be useful—some tools for disabling the ritual apparatus, a couple elixirs, and—given how much rust is down there—some rust scrub.”
Vildran's shoulders sink, seeing the ship departed. It it was large enough to loom in the harbor and he notices how it really changes the view from town. It made it feel like there might be more going on in this place. Worse, it makes him realize they may truly be alone to solve the problems here.
I suppose they did say they would leave soon.
--------------------
He trudges back to Elsie's with Autumn, mostly in silence. He'll hold things as she picks them off of shelves, and before they get stowed in packs.
Maybe she should move her shop to the infirmary, temporarily. he suggests, partly joking.
"Understood Vanda, thought I'd at least ask." Having his chosen errands completed, he assists the others until they are ready to venture back to the skymetal workshop.
Back in the overstuffed infirmary in Stonehome, Elsie looks to your team with uncertainty. "They're both lookin' so bad. I wish we could do more for them. If you find any magic or anything down there where you're exploring that'll cure this, I hope you'll bring it right back here so we can help them..." She watches Mara and Hilga, seemingly unsure who should be the recipient of the final antiplague - who has the better chance of pulling through. It's not an easy choice.
---------
Once your preparations are complete, you descend back into the basement of Stonehome and start the trek back to Rusthenge. The damp, dripping tunnel is quiet beyond the sounds of your own travel. It seems nothing has followed you to investigate after the Hound-monster howled its alarm.
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She watches Mara and Hilga, seemingly unsure who should be the recipient of the final antiplague - who has the better chance of pulling through. It's not an easy choice.
Morga thinks back to the brief conversations she had with Great-Uncle Guntrand before he passed painted a picture of a kind-hearted woman who took guff from no one, doted on youngsters, and loved her husband something fierce. She rouses herself enough to mumble: "Give it to the girl. I...think Great-Aunt Hilga would make that choice if she were able."
"We will definitely keep our eyes open for a cure," Autumn responds sincerely to Elsie. When Morga selflessly sacrifices her great-aunt, the sorceress meets the halfling's eyes and gives a sorrowful nod of affirmation. Lowering her eyelashes, as if apologizing for her unvarnished honesty, she magically whispers a few words to reassure the shopkeep that Morga's decision is the right one. "Her great-aunt's really old, and her husband's dead--really, there's not much for her to live for. But Little Mara ... Hopefully we can find a cure so this won't matter."
Just before they start returning to Rusthenge, she excuses herself to the privy. Out of sight of the others, she downs the final antiplague and discards the empty vial.
Relieved that the main door is still open, with no sign that the cultists noticed their altercation with the hound, Autumn's spirits rise. "Same plan as before?" she whispers to the others.
San isn't sure what to say leaving Stonehome. Instead he gives a half hearted smile and a nod before turning to head down the stairs to the tunnel. Back in the hive, he agrees with Autumn, "Let's give it a go."
Vildran's fists clench as frustration builds in him over Morga's forced choice.
I agree, but we'll do all we can t save them both. We'll be on the lookout down there.
As they set out he seems to have renewed vigor to push further into Rusthenge.
--------------------
The wizard nods back at Autumn. Same plan. Let's proceed.
Back in Stonehome, Morga's agreement to use the antiplague on the girl seems to relieve Elsie, who perhaps had also been leaning that way but didn't want to voice it. Autumn's additions definitely help as well. She uncorks the antiplague and gets ready to give it to Mara. She wishes you all luck and a quick return as she does.
-----------------
Back under Rusthenge, you walk under the vibrating array of metal disks and past the ritual stone in the vast entry chamber. The place seems exactly as you left it - perhaps the cultists haven't gotten back yet. You approach the north-western door from the ritual chamber and open it, revealing a long branching corridor. You faintly hear the sounds of metal banging on metal, intermittently, from somewhere down the corridor and to the south.
Otherwise you have a wide variety of closed stone doors along the corridor. None are open. You check the first door to the left as you proceed. It swings easily on its hinge, revealing a room absolutely overflowing with refuse. Heaps of ruined and rotted furniture and skeletal remains of both man and beast are visible within. If there's something useful here, it might take some digging through to find. A smell of rot billows from the pile.
Vildran covers the bottom half of his face with his robed arm, to cover the stench of the refuse.
I don't think we'll be digging through this today. But...
He concentrates on the mass over the top of his arm guarding his nose, and focuses his arcane eye into the room.