Nyarai, returning to the still-bound man, finds him looking dejected. He looks up: "Zandalus sees, praise, words fail." His tune had not in fact changed. The third doppelganger's surgeon's kit had a key with it, and it would unlock the shackles on the two corpses and yellow-robed man.
It takes some doing, but the paladin and the more creative party members manage to drag the doppelganger from the basement up the shaft into the boiler. Dragging the three shapeshifters to the barricade, they present the fruits of their labors to the guards. York appears from the side door, heralded by the sound of a padlock being undone and things being dragged from the door. As the guards keep their crossbows trained on the group, he inspects the corpses. He looks up at the group, seeing the signs of combat and struggle on their clothing and bodies.
"Very well. You've complied with our request. I will escort you to our leader. I don't know anything about yellow robes, but he can be brought along as well, I suppose. However," He stands up and gestures to the side door he exited, "I must ask you to relinquish your weapons till our leader speaks with you."
Iosif grumbles a bit about relinquishing his weapon, but decides given how much anatomy knowledge the alchemist must have. If things go south: the group is protected while everyone else would grab a weapon. He does, however, carry his ammunition with him. It's certainly not enough power to cause any lasting damage, but it'll do for personal security.
Ethyl happily hands over her daggers but keeps her gardening trowel despite having no plans for gardening in the near future. "Lead the way."
While they waited she put some theories about doppelganger mutatophores to test.
The sylph brushes her scarf as she lifts her arms to let herself be searched. "We are harmless and possess clothing only." she murmurs sheepishly. She jolts a bit when approached to be searched, as is scared of physical contact.
Her mind is racing as she eyes the mumbling man who was bound to the piping up until recently.
"Words fail indeed. We need to know more about this." Alvar says mildly as their tail flicks their anticipation. "But for now, let's keep moving." They take the magical backpack, slinging it over their shoulders to store their equipment inside later.
They watch impassively as the others bring out the yellow-robed prisoner, their arms folded, and when their turn to be searched comes, they quite willingly hand over their staff, though they make no mention of their amulet and its importance to wielding their magic.
As they wait, the wizard begins writing down the spells that they'd... remembered, for lack of a better term in their grimoire, scribbling extra notes and thoughts in the margins as they do so. This could be used thus against the abominations that I battle- They pause. Abominations? Like the zoogs... except worse, perhaps. Did I have some sort of grudge against things like that?
Frowning at the relinquish weapons speak, Enoch shakes his head in disbelief.
Probably can't use the old man's walking stick thing.
Enoch unbelievably unbelts his battered longsword, pushing into the sentry's chest, as the well put together (physically) Paladin stalks by the barricade.
Pharasma waits for you.
The Paladin doesn't comment further.
As the weapons are handed over, York shoulders Campre to steady him. One of the guards takes the yellow-robed man gently and guides him after the five of you are led through the makeshift guardhouse around the barricade down a hall. Across from a set of double doors a reddish curtain is nailed over a hallway, from behind which an acrid smell wafts.
York opens the doors, revealing a chapel packed with weary people. All eyes turn to witness your arrival, some casting wary glances at Alvar and Nyarai but no one says a word. Two children stop playing with a Garundi man to whisper amongst themselves.
The chapel is dominated at the far side by an altar to Pharasma - built from white and black granite, but shrines in the alcoves are dedicated to most of the popular gods, with a donation box just south of the doors bearing burned symbols of Asmodeus and Zon-Kuthon opposite a matching box to Pharasma. To the north is a more elaborate shrine to Desna, with a fragile and elegant statuette to the goddess made of white and blue porcelain. The smell of sweat and fear permeates the chapel, the smoke of candles and a couple pitiful fires doing little for the smell.
Kneeling at the Pharasmin altar a woman wearing dirty and stained black leather and cloth finishes a prayer before standing to greet the party. She is stunning, ivory skin with a green and a yellow eye. Her black hair is frazzled and tied back loosely. She gives the party a weary smile as York nods to her, setting Campre on a blanket near the altar.
"York tells me you have dealt with our problem of many faces. I thank you for that. My name is Winter Klaczka."
She holds out her silver holy symbol, the spiral of Pharasma, and utters a prayer to her goddess as a wave of healing energy washes over the group, including Campre.
"I'm sure you all have questions, and I am willing to answer those I can. However, we are in the midst of a crisis, and we need all the help we can get. Can I count on you once more?
York gathers the party's weapons and sets them behind the altar and stands close to Winter, showing deference.
Iosif wants to heave as the healing is given to him, instinctively flinching as his unholy symbol hits against leather armor. He stares Winter in the eye, surprised he of everyone is being trusted if the few things other than weapon designs he has felt and remembered are just disgust at Pharasma.
Once Winter introduces herself by name, Iosif responds. "Iosif. I do have to ask. Can you trust me? I... will come clean. The few times Pharasma has been mentioned, my blood has boiled under my skin. I know Pharasma is an enemy of the undead, but I have come to the conclusion I'm no ally of the undead either."
He sighs. "I feel an instinct to not even attempt to harm anyone or anything without the weapon that's at the altar, for the record. Using rusty implements to kill that doppelganger," he says as he points to the first one the group slayed, "felt unnatural in the extreme. I believe I can magically heal wounds now, but only two castings per day. You're the Pharasmin priest," he says as his voice oozes with resentment, "so I figure I should ask you if you trust me enough to heal anyone who needs it. "
Alvar relaxes slightly as the healing soothes their injuries. "'Dealt with' is perhaps a strong term." They admit, scratching their chin with one hand. "I have yet to even develop a hypothesis of what has happened here, so I am unable to speculate as to whether there are more doppelgängers elsewhere."
The abjurer considers her question for a few moments, listening to Iosif's inquiry - or perhaps, objection. A foe of Pharasma? Urgathoa? Zyphus? A necromancer... is unlikely, he is using that firearm. Or... Their brow furrows, expression darkening. Something else to do with souls. Daemons?
They eye their companion warily, but sigh inwardly. No use speculating right now, but certainly something to keep in mind for the future. Shifting on their hooves, they speak up. "We are, lamentably, unable to recall much of what happened before we came to in the basement. Some of us do not recall our names, though all of our skills appear largely intact.
"To introduce myself, I am Alvar." Again, the niggling sense of doubt returns. That's not my whole name. No. Focus. "Despite my appearance, I do not believe that I have anything to do with the difficulties the sanitarium now faces. Depending on what you need, you may be able to rely on myself. I cannot speak for the others, but I see no other way to determine what is happening - and survive thereby - other than working with you."
They continue. "Speaking of which, if you would, what exactly is happening here? No one seems to know very much at all, and those we've encountered who might have known something were singularly unhelpful."
The sylph moves quietly as they are ushered into the chapel, listening to what is said. She gasps, hesitates, and stops when she sees the people praying inside, surprising herself with the reaction. She frowns for a second before continuing.
The priestess (?) introduces herself, and the syplh nods. She raises her hand to ask a questions, waiting for the conversation to lull. "Yes, we understand there is a situation brewing. Or already broken out fully. However... we would like to know who and what we are. It is our understanding that this is a medical facility of some kind. Are there records? Could you point us to them?" she waits, then perks up again. "Patient records. We can not introduce ourselves, as we do not know our names." she clutches her shawl.
As they are led through the chapel Ethyl begins counting people. Who can defend themselves? Who is a liability? Once the human resources are accounted for she searches for weapons, gear, or other materials that might be useful and begins calculating how to best to martial them.
Ethyl feels a bit of burning jealousy at the priestess but she cannot or will not form these ideas wholly in her mind. When she speaks there is an edge to her voice, ”Dr. Ethyl Ermengarde, I am mostly sure that is my name and title. Please call me Ethyl. A pleasure to meet you, at least considering the circumstances. If by counting on us, you mean that we will attempt to learn about and help resolve the bizarre circumstances we find ourselves in, most assuredly.”
She gazes at her companions and offers excuses for them, ”While his revulsion at the Pharasman faith is readily apparent. He is a reasonable man and clearly is able to work with you and is a valuable ally in this trying time.”
She pauses for a moment gazing at Alvar, considering something as if for the first time, ”While their appearance is fiendish. They are intelligent and forthright with their knowledge. I wonder how we remember so much practical information but little to no personal information.”
Ethyl explains, ”We encountered an undead creature, now fully deceased, who claims to have been the chaplain here, his name was Setrakian. He claimed to have transformed into such after dying in a nightmare. I suspect that is related to our current problems. Do you know is it safe to sleep?"
Entering the chapel, the Paladin pauses as he steps into the room. He inhales deeply. His blue eyes focus. He exhales.
Seeing the Pharasman leaving the altar to greet them, Enoch feels a certainty of trust.
Enoch the Wanderer. Pharasma's servant.
The Tortured Crusader even seems less pathetic after the channel. He looks...cleaner.
At the mentioning of crisis, the Paladin smiles.
I would like a moment to pray at the altar to bless my sword prior to any shananagins.
Winter notes Iosif's reaction with a stoic pause, listening to Alvar and Ethyl vouch for him. She nods to Enoch, stepping aside to allow the paladin to kneel before Pharasma's altar.
"I'm sorry to hear about your plight. So, you have vague ideas of who you are - or were - and no idea how to came to Briarstone? Well, there are a couple of cabinets in the former chaplain's office down the hall, but the main records hall is deeper in the asylum."
She gives Iosif a stern look. "There are worse things in this asylum than a handful of lost souls. I cannot afford to be picky about my allies, so long as you bring no harm to the people I've gathered here, I am willing to give you the chance to prove your character. My tasks will not require you to be armed, but prove yourself and I'll see to it your weapons are returned to you all."
Turning to Ethyl, she gestures to both the altar and the shrine to Desna. "Yes, we are safe from the horrific nightmares that plague those who sleep outside this chapel. I will tell you of it afterwards, along with what I knew of Setrakian."
She shakes her head with a sardonic grin at Alvar. "I doubt this is anything so simple as a spell. My mother was a hag, so who am I to judge a tiefling?"
She gestures to the camp of fearful survivors. "I am trying to hold this group together in the face of this madness. Help me help them and I'll do what I can to answer any questions and give further aid. There are two here who need further healing: Airwynn has several broken bones from the damage to the structure of the asylum, and Bates was lucky enough to survive rapid patients attempting to eat him alive." She points out an older woman and a young man respectively.
"Loic over there suffers audio hallucenations of his dead twin sister calling to him. We have medication to calm him but Naysa - a nurse - is having trouble administering it to him."
"Miss Denman is trying to gather more firewood. Help her break up unused furniture and flammable rubble to feed the cooking and heating fires."
"Lastly, we have some food stuffs, but no one here is much of a cook. If you can help organize and prepare food we'll be in your debt."
"I can heal both Airwynn and Bates. I will need to rest to heal any more afterwards, however, as I'm not properly a Cleric."
He then goes to Airwynn. "Airwynn, yes? My name is Iosif, and while I might not be as proficient of a healer as your Pharasmin priest over there," he says as he hides his dissatisfaction, "I can heal you if you'd like." Assuming he's allowed to, he casts CLW.
"Whoever I serve does not abide by such accidents, by such foolish weapons, to be the end of you. Let your injuries be healed, let the biological machinery that is your body work " he says as he holds up his unholy symbol, "so you may see yet more days, and so that your time here in the Material Plane will be lengthened."
HE then goes to Bates, feeling a bit of... familiarity? -- no, that can't be right -- at the situation. He still, however, feels compelled to heal natural weapon damage as much as he did initially. "You're Bates, right? My name is Iosif. If you'll allow me to, I can heal your broken bones." He then raises his unholy symbol and beings offering a small prayer that, if they die, it'll be properly, damn it.
"No natural weapons, no claws, no bites, no scratches or mere scrapes can compare to the might and ingenuity of who I serve, and so shall these injuries be healed so your time on the Material Plane can continue to do what you will. To see what you create, who you affect, your wounds will be healed."
He's probably doing the prayers wrong, but the phylactery isn't nagging at him, so he knows that no one here needs to die by his hand. And besides, killing them with magic? The idea is laughable.
Enoch's blue eyes follow Winter's voice leading them to the kitchen area. The Paladin Strides over to the counter and he begins gathering up ingredients, utensils, and an apron that reads, Kiss the Cook. Putting it on over his head, Enoch spends the next couple hours preparing and cooking....
Unfortunately, the Tortured Crusader was not a chef in his past....
Alvar's lips quirk slightly, and they nod their appreciation of Ethyl's assessment of their character to her. We bastards of Golarion need stick together, evidently. They tent their fingers, looking over at the statue of Desna. "Curious. I wonder whether you would permit me to examine the statue with my magic, at some point." They say, aware that casting spells in the middle of the refuge could be... misinterpreted.
The mention of her hag mother prompts the abjurer to raise their eyebrows. Truly an exotic collection of individuals we have here. Myself, an aasimar, a sylph, a changeling... curious. A coincidence? Probably.
As they listen to the requests Winter has for them, Alvar thinks for several moments. "I can try my hand, such as it is, at speaking with Loic, I suppose... though I would appreciate some time to rest, this shouldn't be too stressful." I hope.
They approach the hallucinating man, hooves clicking softly on the tile. "Hello there." They say slowly. "I understand you hear your sister's voice? I've been hearing someone recently, myself, you see, and I didn't know who she was. But she's been telling me that she's very worried about you, and that I should help you how I can..." They play along with his hallucinations until they can slip the suggestion in that his deceased twin wants him to take his medicine.
Ethyl catches Enoch before he poisons everyone with cross contamination. "My dear at least wash your hands before you handle the food. Perhaps you should let a more scientific mind handle this. Cooking is not so different than alchemy with carefully measured ingredients, alchemical reactions observed, and a bit of inspiration."
She motions to the pile of unbroken furniture, "Perhaps your talents are better suited there."
Enoch's blue eyes lower a bit at the chastisement offered by the Alchemist. The Paladin bows in observation of her obvious skills in such matters.
Ok. Chop wood. Just don't steal from my pile.
Apparently, he ain't no karate championship Inspiring either....
The sylph nods and walks over to the injured. As she looks around for the most dangerous wounds, Iosif walks over and tends to two of the patients. Without uttering a word, she knees down to the wounded, glancing curiously at the injuries. A sense of familiarity wells up from within, but she just shakes her head. She grabs some clean clothing, dabs the blood from the wounds, and finds her hands going through the motions without much conscious thought on her part. She looks to Iosif. "It seems familiar." she speaks softly, with a hint of hope on her face.
Iosif and Nyarai work in tandem on the two wounded survivors. Winter watches the gunslinger in particular, noting his unholy symbol but unable to identify it. As Nyarai provides aftercare, Winter inspects the results, letting out a sigh of relief as she finds no corruption or trickery. "Thank you, Iosif. Consider me convinced of your standing. And thank you, sylph, you have a most gentle touch."
Ethyl takes over for Enoch at the cooking fires. Her instincts in following recipes and knowing the balance of ingredients serves her well as she takes command of the food supplies. As she mixes together a surprisingly hearty stew, she learns that unless more is found there is only enough supplies of food and fresh water for seven days. Soon enough the less appetizing smells are drown in the aroma of a meaty onion stew, the mouths of the camp watering in anticipation.
As Alvar approaches Loic and Naysa, their skilled tongue gets the madman's attention. "Eh? The devil hears my sister? They hear her ... no one else could hear her. She wants me to ... stay? I thought she was out there. If the devil says so ..." He allows the nurse to walk him deeper into the chapel away from the door. Naysa, seeing the control Alvar has on the situation, holds Loic still and lets Alvar administer the pill. Winter nods appreciatively at Alvar's silver tongue. "Well handled, tiefling. As for the statuette, so long as you do not break it or remove it from the chapel I don't see why you cannot inspect it. I am no student of the arcane and would love more information."
Enoch wanders around, attempting to cook at first, before Ethyl shunts him aside. He instead goes to the pile of broken furniture and tries to physically tear the wood apart. This proves harder than the paladin thought it would be, and he resorts to using his sword to hack away at the debris. Denman rolls her eyes at the aasimar's attempts, and she tries to help the process along.
Other than the wood, most of these tasks take little more than an hour. When the stew is ready, the survivors line up with bowls and are rationed out portions. Winter waits till everyone has something to eat before getting her share and ushering the five of you behind the Pharasmin altar, allowing you to retrieve your weapons as she sits with you.
"Thank you all for your efforts. Forgive the tests, we have learned to be cautious in this circumstance. Doppelgangers, ghouls, dreams killing and transforming patients and staff into monsters. We know precious little, but I've managed to collect some information. You may ask your questions now, and I'll answer what I can or point you to where you might find answers."
Iosif instinctively winces at seeing the altar to Pharasma.
"I would ask who I serve, but if three different Pharasmins said nothing, they must be a minor power." Iosif sighs. "If you can't find information on us, I personally have no further questions. It is safe to rest here, right?"
Ethyl regards the statue of Desna and rolls her eyes a bit but doesn’t comment further.
Ethyl takes out her book, wets her ink pen, and begins taking notes. She asks, ”I believe I have several questions. First of all, why are you here and apparently in charge, Winter? I take it that Briarstone is an asylum but while we can place our reasoning for being here you do not strike me as patient. I do not think that you are staff either because I believe chaplain Setrakian would be familiar with you in that case.”
She continues asking questions, ”Is there someone who can give us a timeline of the troublesome events preceding our predicament? I know there was an earthquake and that people have been transforming into doppelgangers or ghouls. Is the area we’re in prone to earthquakes? I’m having trouble reconciling the earthquake with the other troubles which seem to be related to dreams and nightmares.”
”The aphasic man which we brought to you kept on saying Zandalus. I don’t recognize the word, is that his name?”
Absently rubbing his arms after a fruitless hour after hour after hour after hour of hacking furniture, the Paladin sat down.
Apparently, I am not a woodcutting person.
He looks at the steaming delicious smelling stew.
Nor Culinary Arts major.
Alvar nods their gratitude and acknowledgement of Winter's permission and request vis-a-vis the Desnan statue, and once they have finished their work with Loic, they summon up their magical senses and scan over the statue to determine its properties.
Afterwards, they take the time to stow most of their possessions in the handy haversack that their partners had found earlier that day.
Once all the work the group has been assigned is finished, Alvar returns to their companions and Winter. They grin wryly as Ethyl asks the primary questions they were concerned with most, and they fold their many-fingered hands behind their back. She does think along the same lines as me. Of course, I feel like we've done some research together, so that makes some sense. They feel a flash of irritation at all of the lost memories, but shake their head subtly, dismissing the thought for now, and settle in to listen to Winter.
To Iosif she nods: "Yes. A few of our survivors complained of nightmares outside the chapel, but all who slept within has had quite pleasant dreams. Some were tempted to do nothing but sleep within the chapel as an escape from the horrors of our situation, but unless they are severely injured all must cooperate to keep us from falling into chaos. As for information, while Setrakian had a cabinet in his office down the hall, if there were records of your admittance and casefiles they'd be in the records room deeper in the asylum near the administrator's office."
To Ethyl she shrugged. "I am only in charge as there is no one else of power or authority to do so. I am a humble sister from Maiden's Choir Cathedral of Caliphas, and Setrakian was the ayslum's priest, who I was introduced to upon arrival. My associates and I were accompanying a Royal Accuser who was investigating strangeness in the nearby town of Thrushmoor."
"While I'm not sure how much time has passed, as time does not flow normally now, I arrived with the Royal Accuser the night before the earthquake shook the isle. As the island shook damage to the asylum was extensive, freeing many of the inmates as that infernal yellow fog manifested instead of the dawn. As the inmates ran amok those slain or killed in their dreams rose as monsters, mostly ghouls and doppelgangers but cases of other creatures are whispered. Since then, the inmates on the other side of the asylum have sworn allegiance to the one they claim is responsible for this nightmare: Ulver Zandalus."
"The man you brought with you is not Ulver, but appears to be a member of the revolting inmates, calling themselves the Apostles in Orpiment, dressed in yellow robes and marked with that yellow chalk flame on their brows. They serve Zandalus' cause and sought to bring the entire asylum under his control. I do not know how Zandalus might be responsible for the earthquake, the fog, or the transformative nightmares, but he seems connected regardless. He was a quiet man, an artist and a poet as far as I was able to get information on him from other survivors."
She takes a deep breath, sipping on her stew to catch her breath and allow any additional questions.
"Can we?" the sylph looks to Klaczka and points towards the chaplain's office. There is a hint of hope in her eyes, and she almost speaks with an elated voice. "Hopefully there are our records."
She pauses, ponders something for a while, and looks at Klaczka again. "Do you know anything about the creatures outside the building? And where are we in the world, if you don't mind us asking?"
Curious. Alvar considers the altar. Either the ghoul we encountered earlier was a potent priest, Winter here is much more powerful than she seems at first glance, or someone's left this here from before. Whatever the case, it will be quite useful, I'm sure, to defend us against anything particularly malevolent...
The hellspawn turns their attention to the priestess again. "Time does not flow normally?" They ask, surprised. "As if in a dream?" Is it possible? Have we been transported to the Dreamlands somehow?
A Royal Accuser? They wonder, but before they can pursue the thought further, Winter goes into detail about Zandalus and the current issues. "Nightmares made manifest, you say? I grow ever more certain that the crises we face here are related to the plane known as the Dimension of Dreams - or the Dreamlands, if you're feeling more poetic. Perhaps this institution has been brought there, or a part of it has been brought here... or something to that effect." They shrug slightly. "I won't know for certain without further information, but that is my current hypothesis. [b]"Though it still doesn't explain why ghouls and doppelgängers, of all possible nightmares."
The mention of the revolt makes them smirk darkly. "If our previous accommodations are indicative of this place's standards, it's no wonder the patients revolted." Alvar says sardonically, before shaking their head. "Apologies. I'm not quite myself lately. Something about losing one's memories takes a toll on one's courtesy." The wizard frowns. "Apostles in Orpiment? Orpiment... a shade of yellow, if I'm not mistaken. They're some sort of religious movement focused on the color yellow?" The scholar considers for a moment, wracking their brain for any knowledge of such cultists.
"Regardless," Alvar sighs, "it seems that we should seek out Zandalus as a long term goal. In the short term, I think we should look into our identities. Further, if we find our own documents, we might be able to find information on this Zandalus." She's a newcomer, though. "Does anyone here know him better than you, Madame Klaczka?"
Ethyl was mostly satisfied with the others questions but she added, "What was strange in Thrushmoor that warranted what I assume was an investigation from some authority?"
She agreed with Alvar's stated goals, "Quite right Alvar. And we must accomplish these tasks within seven days lest we run out of food. We will survive a few days beyond that but it won't be pleasant as people begin to starve."
Winter gives Enoch a comforting nod. "Despite her many roles, even Pharasma isn't mistress of all. We appreciate your willingness to assist us."
Turning to Nyarai, she also nods, gesturing towards the back. "You may, the door isn't locked, but I don't know if the cabinet is. We are - or at least were - on Briarstone Island near the town of Thrushmoor, in the country of Versex, in the country of Ustalav."
"To answer your question about time and to elaborate on my response to the sylph, no one here has been able to accurately keep track of the flow of time. There have been nights where everyone slept for an hour but woke up feeling fully rested. Other times, one would sleep for eight hours while two observers claimed she slept for different lengths of time. There is also no sun or shift in the dim light in the fog to measure dawns or dusks."
Alvar has no recollection about any cult of religion known before by that title. They realize it must be a unique and new cult, only localized in this place. Winter will confirm that theory.
"The creatures outside - from what I could glimpse of them - would align with Alvar's theory of the Dreamlands, as no creatures native to the Inner Sea region match the shapes seen in that damnable fog."
"As for Zandalus, he was a favored case of the head administrator, Eliege Losandro. She was quite proud of a recent breakthrough she'd had with the man. He might also have been a source for the strangeness the Royal Accuser was looking into."
Ethyl recalls little of Thrushmoor or Briarstone, but she does realize she knows Royal Accusers are agents of the Principality of Ustalav that operate outside the traditional hierarchy of Ustalavic nobility.
"The Accuser, Omari, was investigating the behavior of the ruler of Versex, Count Haserton Lowls IV. Lowls had a reputation of being absent and odd, but recent activities proved too much to ignore: ignoring his duties, hints of scandal and wasting coffers and tax money of acquisitions of occult books and items, and the like. He had also shown great interest in Zandalus, in particular his recent artwork. I haven't seen these pieces, but the Count clearly saw something in them."
"Omari remained in Thrushmoor, while I was sent here to investigate the connections between Zandalus and the Count's activities. I believe that time flows oddly here due to my hypothesis that at least enough time must have passed that someone else would come after us. However, due to the unreliable nature of things right now, even that I doubt. It could have been days, weeks, or mere hours since the fog surrounded us."
...on Briarstone Island near the town of Thrushmoor, in the country of Versex, in the country of Ustalav."
Enoch absently repeats Winter's words. The Pharasman then shudders.
Records, first then further investigation of these premises, yes.
Enoch turns to Winter.
And, did you find a connection between Zandalus and the Count's activities?
"Yes, please." the sylph nods to Enoch's suggestion. "Not even remembering our name is frustrating."
Alvar rubs their chin, tail flicking in deep thought. We're in Ustalav, then. Strange... that doesn't feel like home. I suppose I'm rather footloose... Their attention is pulled back to the present by the commentary on their current situation. "Gods, this place will be unpleasant to investigate." They say aloud, though there's a definite - almost malicious - anticipatory delight in their voice.
"A breakthrough with Zandalus? I don't suppose anyone knows what kind of breakthrough this was? I'm no medical professional, but if he's bound up in this, it could be some sort of magical treatment gone very wrong."
They also take careful note of the name of the local ruler and his potential connections to "the strangeness" of Thrushmoor. An appreciator of the art that this Zandalus was making... Perhaps the breakthrough the administrator had was related to this art? Not enough information to do more than speculate, though.
Abruptly, a pragmatic consideration jumps into their mind, and they lower their voice to bring it up. "Given the strangeness surrounding the passing of time here, I do not know whether you can answer this, but how stand your stocks of food and water? If we are to go out into the sanitarium further -" they look at their companions, expecting them to agree that this is going to happen - "should we be looking for more supplies?"
Winter shakes her head. "From what I understood and what little I spoke to Losandro, the administrator was very closed-lipped about her work with Zandalus. She did say that if her new method worked she'd publish a paper on the process ... I have not seen her since the fog settled in, so I do not know if she is alive or not."
"As for our resources, I am glad to have had a second opinion thanks to our good doctor." She gestures to the stew and Ethyl. "I was worried we had less that we did, but if she claims we have about a week's worth, then we have more time to unravel this mystery and - more importantly - escape. I do not doubt the conditions are going to be at all safe, but for the sake of all of us still 'sane' we must find a way to get off this island. I must ask you all, as you seem the most capable among us, to find our salvation."
"If you find more supplies, either not yet looted or stashed by the other Apostles, then we may have more time to explore and investigate. However, I do not want to risk damage to our minds or souls. Escape must be a priority."
Winter turns to a young Garundi man in the midst of corralling two children. "Tolman? Could you let those who wish to take a look at Avros' records? They might hold answers to the question of their identities and they've earned that right."
"Oh course, Miss Klazcka." Tolman escorts those who want to look in the chaplain's office into said office and chapel. It is a mess, all furniture save a hearty desk have been removed and added to the firewood piles. Piles of neatly folded paper shapes - animals, boats, etc - cover the floor haphazardly. The two children immediately either pick up some or set about creating new ones to Tolman's encouragement.
Tolman then opens another door and shows those who followed into the personal chapel of Setrakian. The walls are hung with deep purple curtains decorated with silver spiral comets. A wall of bars block access to the shrine and cabinets in question. However, among the last doppelganger's trophies were keys, one of which opens the door in the bars.
Taking your time, you find notes on the spiritual healing and status of patients, but little official psychological notations. However, underneath a small flog is a diary with the last page bearing the following:
Losandro has been acting strangely of late, and now she has done something I cannot ignore. She has made a deal of some sort with Count Lowls, taking off his hands five new patients. I could not identify them, as they wore bags over their heads, but when I asked Losandro what was occuring she clutched a strange forboding book to her chest and snapped at me to "keep my thoughts to myself". She locked them below in cells that haven't seen use in my career as chaplain, muttering something about "fixing them afterwards". I hope for their souls her methods aren't unorthodox. I shall pay penance tonight for my silence against Losandro...
A bloodly thumbprint and splattering of deep red drops gives hint to what kind of penance that was.
Enoch enters the office as if entering the foyer of the Abyss. The Tortured Crusader seems both resistant and ready to find some clues as to his ..their identities.
As they pursue that goal among the papers, the Paladin only sighs, as only hints of their entry into this nightmare are clearly evident, but not enough.
What about finding Losandro's office?
The Paladin then looks down at his stained, filthy white robes and shrugs.
Perhaps, clean garments and armor may also be advised.
Ethyl visibly pays the children no mind but she thinks about how annoying they will be. They better not get their sticky fingers near my glassware.
When they find the note in the priest's diary, she mutters, "Curiouser and curiouser."
Ethyl takes out her journal and adds some more notes to it. She then says, "Shall we review what we know? We remember little to nothing about ourselves except for some semantic and procedural memory. This taken fact that we were together, with the exception of Enoch, below suggests we were the same mysterious patients brought in by Count Lowls and put under Losandro's care. Count Lowls is under investigation by the Royal Accusers, who are an investigative arm that work directly for the principal royalty of Ustalav. Clearly the count has neglected his duties to a point that cannot be ignored despite his status."
She continues, "We also know that Ulver Zandalus is a patient who recently after a breakthrough started to lead a movement called the apostles in Orpiment. Orpiment is a yellow mineral by the way, it can be used as a pigment but it is also toxic. They may worship the creatures outside, but that is speculation. Count Lowls had a special interest in Zandalus. Zandalus is also an artist of some sort."
When they were sure they had found everything in the priest's office Ethyl asked Winter, "Can you point us to Losandro's office? We shall set out of there as soon as we have rested."
Ethyl flips a few pages back and reads over an entry, "Whatever is happening has something to do with dreams and nightmares. As Alvar has speculated the asylum may have been transported to the Dreamlands. We have encountered at least one creature native to the plane. When people fall asleep outside of Desna's protection they may transform into either a ghoul or a doppelganger by some unknown mechanism."
She taps her finger to her chin thinking, "Is the earthquake a symptom of these events or a coincidence? Perhaps when the island transited dimensions? Anyway Enoch you are correct, our next goal should be to locate Losandro or any records they may have. "
When they were sure they had found everything in the priest's office Ethyl asked Winter, "Can you point us to Losandro's office? We shall set out of there as soon as we have rested."
"If you have sand or spare water -- I could help alleviate the timekeeping issue for you," Iosif offers.
He then pauses, considering the new information. "I still believe the doppelgangers in specific are unrelated to the Dreamlands. Their entire deal is copying people, as the name implies, so they could simply be killing the originals and taking their place."
"You may be correct. I based my hypothesis on the hearsay of Winter and an undead. We can test it but it would require a verified person to sleep outside the confines of the chapel and see what happens to them. But I believe for now its sufficient to be wary of such creatures and sleep."
Alvar rubs their chin, accepting Winter's explanation silently, before walking with the others to investigate the papers. Although they are somewhat disappointed to find nothing that truly hints at their own identity - or those of their comrades - the tiefling shrugs mentally and scans for anything of further interest.
Ethyl's voice takes them out of their study and they look to the half-elf with a curious gaze. "I concur - Losandro's office is a good longer-term goal, especially as it's near to the archives, from what Winter told us. But... I think it's likely that any records of our transfer will be hidden, based on this journal. With regards to the earthquake..." They hesitate. "I think it's possible that it was related to whatever planar corruption or overlap has happened here, but I don't know enough to be certain."
"All that being said, until we get out of here - and back to Golarion, assuming we've left - we can only look out for any further signs of the Count's name and influence on the sanitarium."
The scholar frowns, shaking their head at Iosif's suggestion. "I think it very unlikely that the doppelgängers are entirely unrelated to the strange Dreamlands... overlap, I suppose, that we are experiencing. One doppelgänger infiltrating this place - or being placed here by someone unknowing of its nature - is unlikely, but not impossible. The number we've seen, both alive and dead? No, they certainly have some relation to the matter at hand. I believe Winter and the ghoul were correct - especially since the ghoul knew many of the people here." They pause. "Though I suppose it's possible they're here to cause whatever mishap has occurred."
Looking to Ethyl, they nod. "I agree with Ethyl. For now, we can hypothesize that the ghouls and doppelgängers are both related to what's going on here, absent greater evidence to the contrary. But more important is that we ought to be wary of both... and likely these Apostles in Orpiment, as well. Before we set out - on the morrow - we should ask if anyone here is capable of drawing us a map of the sanitarium. It will not only give us a sense of where to explore, but also indicate whether the building itself has changed at all."
Alvar stops, suddenly realizing something. "A word of warning to everyone save Ethyl, who needn't worry about this - it's possible that being put into an enchanted sleep will cause the changes that Winter and the ghoul described. If we see any arcane magic users, they should be a priority target."
Enoch pleasantly partakes of a set of clean sets violet Pharasmin vestments of her clergy, decorated with a silver-and-blue spiraling comet.
Seems right ...
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The sylph spends considerable time thumbing through paperwork in the room. Her initial eagerness lasts for a while but eventually fades when she cannot locate her file. She takes her frustration out on the last drawer, forcefully slamming it back into place when she is done.
She lets out an angered grunt bordering on a loud outburst. "Gods DAMNIT!" she leans against the wall and lowers herself down into a sitting position, puts her face in her palms and starts breathing heavily. "We can't do this. We know nothing and simply act on instincts we can't control. Are we animals? Deep down, perhaps. We must find this Losandro or their notes. Perhaps those will have some insights."
As she says this, she slowly rubs and scratches at her forearms.
"You are welcome to try a time-keeping device, Iosif." Winter shook her head sadly, placing a comforting hand on Nyarai's shaved head. "One of our own tried, and his results were inconclusive at best."
"As for finding Losandro, therein lies an issue." After finishing their meals and searching the smaller shrine, Winter escorts the five of you to that curtained off hallway outside the chapel and places a hand on one side, ready to pull it away. "Unless there is another way out, this is the way to the rest of the asylum. However, there is a ... blockage." She tries to find the words, but closes her mouth grimly and pulls back the curtain.
A short hallway might have led to a door, but the portal is covered in a thick mass of yellow fungal vines, stiff as one point and pulsing like veins in another. In the center of this growth a lidless eye, large as a wagon wheel and severely inflamed, twitches to watch the curtain be drawn back and lock its gaze with the group. Ooze-like tears well and drip from the organ, reeking of ammonia. The eye's pupil is ringed with stained needle-like teeth, like a lamprey's mouth, and they arch out like a writhing corona.
Quickly Winter lowers the curtain and looks away, trying to steady her breathing from the thing. "It manifested once we took refuge in the chapel. Attempts to remove it have been met with violence and horrific noises. Attempts to communicate with it has only prompted the response of 'Who am I become?' I have never encountered something like this, and I have no idea how to remove it. The quickest way to the Records Room and Losandro's office is through it."
Enoch absently follows along with the group. The Paladin presents a proper part of the parade.
At Winter's dramatic display of the danger beyond the curtain, the Tortured Crusader rubs his eyes.
I'll never unseen that.
Enoch then turns away from the curtain after she replaced it.
Are we absolutely certain there is no other unexplored avenues available for us to pursue?
The sylph gasps and steps back the moment her gaze finds the... thing. She turns her head instinctively, but her eyes keep looking at the eye for a few seconds. Once she finally properly turns away, she looks back to Klaczka. "And there they all stood, hopes of a sound sleep squashed in an instant."
She shakes her head and sniffs at the air. "Your attempts included urinotherapy?" she covers her nose.
Alvar tilts their head, rapt. "Fascinating..." They breathe, an almost malicious smile blossoming on their lips.
After a moment, they shake their head, pulling themself back to the present. "If there's no other option available to us, I would like to do some experiments on this thing to determine how we might be rid of it. Or, at least, how to bypass it." They look back at the roomful of patients and staff. "But Enoch has the right of it. If there's another way around, we should investigate that as well. Speaking of which, can anyone draw us a map?"
Firstly, Iosif looks at the creature, beacing himself to see what it is... until he realize he has no idea (unless it's Planes/Religion), so he decides to look around for anything in the room that might help him, such as another way around as the group decides.
"This is... certainly something."
"This is merely the shortest route to the rest of the asylum." Winter purses her lips. "There is another door just beyond the northern barricade that I'm told leads outside into a courtyard, but due to the doppelganger threat and the danger of transformative nightmares we haven't had the luxury of exploring beyond the chapel."
"And no," Winter chuckles dryly, "we haven't urinated on the thing. That's just what it's tears smell like. We tried to leave it alone, hidden by this curtain to shield the children and the more excitable of our number from seeing it."
"I've mentioned before, during the sole attempt to remove it by force it bit its assailants and uttered the words: 'Who am I become?'"