When Ethyl comes to speak with them, Alvar grimaces. "I..." They sigh. "Thank you, Ethyl. I hadn't truly realized that I was going to be ill, but I'm not surprised. Damned rats and their befouled mouths."
Her instructions provoke a nod, but then they smile wryly. "Of course, I do appreciate the possibility of a joke."
Winter heeds Nyarai's inquiry. "I suppose? I've not heard it from anything else but that eye, but some of the guards reported the doppelgangers that attempted to infiltrate the chapel utter those words as they died. Perhaps the shrines of Pharasma and Desna shield us from whatever is influencing such questions of identity?"
Winter aids Ethyl with her divine magic and clerical knowledge , ensuring the party is treated for diseases and is healed enough that an 8 hour rest will be sufficient.
Alvar, before being treated by their doctor, finds Brenton once more in the shrine room containing the necessary ingredients the casters need for their spells and potions. Seeing the toys, Brenton's eyes light up and solemnly receives them.
"Thank you, misser devil." He clutches the carved knights, his knuckles whitening, before he retrieves a shadow lantern from a corner of the room. It isn't anything spectacular, fashioned to cast lights in the shape of Taldane knights on walls and other surfaces. "This is ... was my brother's, Debis. We lost each other after things got scary. If you find him ... could you give it to him? It helped him sleep."
Still tending to the two children among the refuges, Tolman gives Brenton a comforting pat on the shoulder. He gives Alvar a solemn look. "The boys' parents were slain by bandits not far from Thrushmoor. Forced to witness such cruelty at such a young age... While other family members were sought out to take them in, Brenton and Debis were committed here."
The others milling around the chapel cast hopeful glances at the party as they tend to wounds or speak to Winter. The atmosphere is still grim, but the efforts of the party seemed to have raised spirits if only a bit. Seeing them return with wounds but alive gives them hope.
Alvar considers several responses to Brenton. 'I'm not a devil?' No. 'I'm not a mister?' No, not that either. 'Sleep is probably the last thing you want a living person to do outside of this room, and your brother's probably dead?' That's the worst one yet. Finally, they settle for a courteous nod. "If we meet, I'll certainly give him his toy back." They take the lantern and slip it into their backpack.
Tolman's information prompts a nod. "I had wondered why such young children were here." They say softly. "Tragic." Family... I don't really feel anything meaningful there. I wonder why... presumably, I wasn't very close to them. Unsurprising, really, given what I am.
The Tortured Crusader sighs as he overhears the boys tragic story. The Paladin assuming that he probably will be seeing him again once old enough to squire.
Enoch then smiles reassuringly to those present as he wonders over to the chapel to pray.....
Ethyl doesn’t bother with the child, she actively avoids them. Having discharged her duties as physician her companions she ate a thin onion soup with a hardtack biscuit from her own personal supplies. Then she found a quiet corner of the chapel and carefully used her pack as a lumpy pillow. She took the risk of sleeping.
After resting she studied her formula book and prepared a new surprise that had somehow surfaced to her mind. It would taste revolting, perhaps later she could mask it with peppermint. She would have to be careful to also not glue her mouth shut when she used it.
When her companions were ready she commiserated with her unlikely companions, ”Let us hope that there are no more new horrors leaking from our collective nightmares. Shall we explore the east wing or head north again?”
"Interesting." Nyarai contemplates Winter's response to the repeated phrase being uttered. "Maybe the victims of this particular" she pauses "ailment, the ones that turn undead or otherwise, are prone to confuse their identity. Would records indicate that?"
She looks over the chapel. "Then again - Losandro was the one asking the question."
In response to Ethyl, Nyarai surprisingly steps in. "We would prefer if we would fully explore each section and then move to the next."
With Winter
Ethyl suggests, "When you alter your form your humor balance changes dramatically, this can have a similarly dramatic effect how you think, and thus your identity. If the change is involuntary and unexpected this must change who a person is, but they will likely retain much of their memories assuming they transform into a body capable of remembering. I would expect anyone suffering like that to experience body dysmorphia. I don't know why they would all express the same exact phrase though."
Alvar rubs their chin. "I noticed some magic on the statue of Pharasma earlier." They muse. "So it is possible that it is protecting us. She is associated with dreams, isn't she? Not so much as Desna, however." They pause, then incline their head at Winter. "I am uncertain - it is more your field of expertise than my own."
"No, the Lady of Graves does not share Desna's perview over dreams. However, she was once the authority over fate and prophecy, and dreams are often a vessel for such knowledge." Winter ponders. "As for the magical properties of the shrines, I've learned that Pharasma's shrine offers a hallowing effect over the chapel. Lady Luck's seems to shield us directly from whatever is causing the transformative nightmares. From what I've gathered from survivors, these were not functions of the shrines before the calamity."
"So this consecration," Nyarai looks about, then at the statue, then back to Winter. "is not your doing? It simply happened? Spontaneously?"
"How does something like that even happen spontaneously" Iosif wonders.
"Divine intervention." Alvar suggests. "Though I don't sense any magic from the statue of the Song of Spheres, if it is her direct intervention, I might not." They shiver. "Gods do as they wish, especially Desna." And what does it mean that a goddess is looking in on this situation? Is it simply due to her interest in the Dimension of Dreams?
"It is likely that what is going on here is a perversion to her, Ethyl looks at the ceiling dismissively. "And while she almost certainly has the ability to resolve the issue directly, she is," Ethyl chooses her words carefully, "delegating that to us. Of course what do I know of goddesses?"
As Enoch prays at the foot of the Pharasma statue, Winter chuckles at Alvar and Ethyl's observations. "I do not believe such blessings are anything less than divine intervention. I do not understand the Song of Spheres any more than you all, as my faith is devoted to Pharasma. I do know that Desna is a force for good, and while the gods rarely intervene directly in the affairs of mortals such blessings are signs of their favor."
"The gods could easily resolve our issues, of course. However, if each deity began to work in such manners, such acts of intervention would eventually lead to conflict between the forces of good and evil, law and chaos, and war would follow. I know most would not see that as enough of an excuse, but I fall into my Lady's way of judgment and try and remain impartial to such extremes." She shrugs. "Thus, it is up to us mere mortals to use what we have been given and to move forward armed with what blessings we are given."
Winter blushes, brushing a lock of hair behind her slightly pointed ear. "Sorry, I've been preaching a bit to the others in hopes of keeping moral up. Brother Enoch is probably the only one of you who wanted to hear any of that from me."
Ethyl’s mouth draws into a thin line and she only says, "Quite."
She does not mention that the gods meddling and manipulation in her affairs was very irksome, even if it was beneficial to her at the moment. And that all of this was speculation without any fact to support the cause of their location's safety.
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"We are still guests in this supposed sanctuary." In an odd act of rebelion, Nyarai narrows her eyes at Ethyl. "Divine providence or not, we should treat our host with that in mind.", she gestures towards Winter.
Alvar shrugs mildly. "It is better for gods to act indirectly. Imagine how irritating it would be if they constantly interfered with everything we attempted to do." They sigh, shaking their head. "No offense intended, Miss Klazcka. Or you, Enoch." They raise their voice to address the warrior. No matter how irritatingly impulsive you can be.
The wizard strokes their chin absently. "Still, I, for one, am glad that there is a protection here, whatever its source. I have no wish to transform into a doppelgänger or a ghoul." That thought gives them pause. "Which makes me wonder... why weren't we? We were unconscious before we escaped..."
Ethyl glares at the rebuke but doesn't argue further.
She suggests, "It may have something to do with our amnesia or at least whatever caused our amnesia protects us from the transformation."
She surveys the room, "Or everyone here is naturally immune to the effect and we aren't particularly special. Or some other reason. We could test what works and the limits but it would put people's lives at risk."
"If we can't find an immediate solution to our plight, we could buy more time by finding more food."
"Food keeps other forms of death away, so it might be a good idea to do so," Iosif says, his voice unsure.
Enoch rises from his supplication to attend the throng about Winter. The Paladin only stands silently observing and nodding to each ones views.
Even though I am Pharasma's Paladin, I am new to Her....ways. Appreciate any deity at this point.
"It is alright. I am no missionary." Winter gave a little wave with her hand. "As for food, I understand from your description of events and where you had gotten to, you had almost reached the kitchen and meal hall. If anything might be salvaged it would be there."
"That is most likely where Zandalus and his followers would have set up their camp. So, unless you plan on stealing from their stores it would be better to simply nullify the threat of the Apostles. Of course, Zandalus is behind the fog surrounding us, drawing the Dimension of Dreams to us, or having pulled us into the Dreamlands. He is the key. If we can confront him we can hopefully undo whatever it is he has done."
"The meal halls are a logical place for such a group to set up a base." Alvar nods thoughtfully, then takes out their crude map, examining it. "That's in the northeast, yes? We couldn't get to the northern section by going north of the chapel - it's blocked off by rubble. That would mean we'll have to retrace our steps to get back to the dayroom, I believe, and head north from there..."
The wizard looks at their companion. "It seems that either way, we'll face off against these cultists of Zandalus' - whether we simply want food or want to stop the nightmare that this sanitarium has become." They hesitate. Assuming, of course, that Zandalus is behind this. It's possible he's not, and the Tatterman is... or they're working in concert. Whatever the case, he's a good goal to focus on for now. He's clearly very involved here.
Enoch yawns.
Perhaps after a bit of rest then? We head to the meal hall in the morning.
"Some rest would be nice, yes. We feel drained." Nyarai nods, and looks at Winter. "Where can we lie down?"
At the request for a place to sleep, Winter gestures to the chapel floor. Lining the walls are rolled up blankets and mats, a handful occupied by guards from other shifts, the severely wounded and those sleeping to escape the horror of their situation. "There are blankets and places available. While these are communal, some have 'claimed' certain spots and mats as theirs. I imagine this is to enforce some normalcy in these times."
After the party rests, y'all wake up fully healed and devoid of diseases.
Alvar awakens, preparing their spells with careful consideration. Hopefully, we'll actually find undead or mortals this time... but given that we're headed into the cultists' likely home, I doubt that will be a concern.
Once their companions are gathered, they look around at each before pulling out their map and sharing it around. "The Mess Hall is to the northeast. Do we want to head east from the entry into the patient rooms, or go through the Library again? I believe that there might be more information in the library, but, given our record thus far, I do not think we'll be particularly interested in pursuing that while there's still other activities to pursue."
4 Cantrips:
Dancing Lights
Stabilize
Mending
Touch of Fatigue
Rank 1:
Detect Secret Doors
Identify
Mage Armor
Unseen Servant
Rank 2:
Glitterdust
Touch of Idiocy
Nyarai wakes up and starts checking her scarf for damage immediately. If she finds anything frayed or otherwise, she whispers to the cloth softly, then touches the spot with her hand to have the scarf stitch itself back together . This takes approximately an hour. She seems very diligent, double- and triple-checking the work.
"We would preferably opt to secure the facility before doing any kind of research. The library probably does not contain information on the current situation. Probably. If these cultists are gathering in the mess hall, perhaps we should visit them and even bring back some food for these people."
She looks around, for Winter, slowly finding the courage to approach her. "Excuse me. Is there perhaps a small mirror we could take with us? In case we find another one of those strange eyes. Preferably something small. Even a shard."
Enoch wakes. The blue eyes of the Paladin bright this morning. He spends an hour in prayer at the Pharasman alter before preparing to lead the way to the Mess Hall.
I've got a good feeling about this venture.
Peeking at the provided map of the facility, places a finger on the area Library.
We've already cleared this egress to the Mess Hall. Let's take that advantage.
Ethyl peers at the map and suggested, "There appears to be only a few rooms that we haven't explored to the east of the entrance hall. Perhaps we should verify there are no threats there. And it is possible that an oneirogen is placed there that needs to be destroyed. I'm sure it will only take a few minutes of our time."
Once she was out of sight of the survivors she drank a concoction of some milky white substance. The taste was bitter and the texture chalky. The pain of the transformation was quick at least. Once back into her strange gaunt form she bragged, "It should last longer now, I'm iteratively refining the process. I have at least managed to manufacture it without the need for doppelganger blood."
"Scouting out the east of the entrance hall will also let us go directly into the patient rooms." Alvar comments. "That will bring us back north to where we last retreated."
Once they've left, the wizard glances at Ethyl, then nods. "Doppelgänger blood is unlikely to be an easy item to procure, current circumstances notwithstanding. It's probably for the best that you've found a way to create your concoction without needing it." They pause. "Or perhaps rather than finding a way, you're remembering it? Since we woke up, I have found spells returning to my mind - more potent ones, now... oddly, they weren't in my spellbook."
Ethyl muses as she walks to the nearest door to the east, "Maybe not exactly an explicit memory. Perhaps the prior knowledge helps us relearn things we used to know with greater ease."
Ethyl made sure the door was safe, the traitorous things they were confirmed after the hemorrhagic incident yesterday.
Enoch takes the vanguard....
He does defer to Ethyl whenever she pushes him aside.
Checking the door thoroughly, Ethyl is confident the door isn't trapped or hiding another sanguine torrent. Opening it, the party finds a storage closet, its western wall collapsed and most of the cleaning supplies covered and crushed.
Through the fallen wall, the party finds a consultation room. The long desk, several broken chairs, a sideboard, and a ruined painting of a landscape were hurled to barricade the western door, the source of the inability for the party to enter the other day. However, the occupants of the room were not safe.
Six bodies lie battered and broken about the room. Each has an unorthodox covering - a tunic, torn sheets, a burlap sack - wrapped over their heads, tied shut around their necks. One wears the padded leather of an orderly, with his sap discarded. Two appear to have been patients, and the other three might have been visitors caught up in the madness. From first glance, none of them appear to have the long rubbery fingers of doppelgangers or the bony claws of ghouls.
Alvar looks over the storage closet, their brows furrowing. "That's... unfortunate." They say, indicating the collapsed wall. "Not that they would've survived even without that - I rather doubt whatever protects the people in the chapel would protect the people here..."
They pause, invoking the spell that allows them to perceive magical auras. Is there anything here? Illusions are possible, after all...
No stranger to corpses apparently, Ethyl first checks to make sure each of them are truly dead. First taking the bags from their heads and placing a mirror under noses to check for breathing and second with her dagger.
Then she checked each of their fingers and pockets. She pulls a gold ring from one of the apparent visitors and a pair of blackish stones. She adds them to her growing collections of jewelry and alchemical items.
Enoch simply tags along with the Doctor as she inspects the corpses. His magical shortsword held at each throat as inspection proceeds.
"I... an confirm what Dr. Ethyl has said."
Alvar considers the thunderstones. "I can take one or both, should no one else want them - my spells are still somewhat limited." They pause, then shake their head. "But I'm hardly strong enough to throw them far, and Ethyl and Enoch both tend to get in fairly close."
Ethyl hands Alvar one of the thunderstones and casually says, "Most effective against someone who must use words to use magic. It's easy to throw and you don't need to strike your intended target just in the vicinity. So even if you fall short you're likely to succeed."
Satisfied with the mysterious murder room Ethyl walked across the hall and opened what looked like a pair of double doors.
Enoch shrugs at the Thunderstones.
It may help with the voice in my head.
The Tortured Crusader sighs. He follows Ethyl.
As though it had been plucked from the halls of some warm, country estate, the room Ethyl opened the doors into is filled with inviting furnishings, a hearth ready for a fire, artwork populated by picnicking families, and a mansion-shaped cage with colorful taxidermic birds inside. Large windows might have once looked out over colorful flowerbeds, but now show only yellow mist.
A battered corpse is impaled on the antlers of a stuffed elk head hung above the hearth. Another equally battered but less stabbed body lies on the floor. Both wear the yellow robes of the Apostles. Without stepping into the room, it seems to any looking within that there is a fine coating of dust over every surface in here, not present elsewhere in the party's explorations.
"With this much dust, one would think they've been here for a few weeks." Nyarai notes under her breath as she peers through the door into the room with with the fireplace.
Alvar takes in the devastation of the room, their eyebrows furrowing. What could do this... could ghouls or doppelgängers? Ghouls would've infected them and brought them back. Doppelgängers.. perhaps, if they were afflicted with some sort of madness that compelled them to leave the corpses like this. Ratlings or Zoogs seem extremely unlikely... and the bodies aren't gnawed on, so no rats.
"Maybe these were determined to be traitors to the cause?" Alvar suggests. "Or perhaps one of the doppelgängers was particularly driven to murderous frenzy and dubious 'art.'" They point at the impaled corpse with their tail. Wary of illusions, they call upon their spell to detect magical auras again, seeking any signs that they might be being deceived.
Alvar and Iosif enter the visitor's room, one looking for the arcane while the other studies the physical. Iosif determines, coming up to the corpse on the floor, that the bodies are maybe a few days old, not nearly long enough to justify being covered in this much dust. Alvar pings magical auras off the corpses, finding an amulet and two potions on the floor body.
To anyone outside the visitor's room, they see Alvar and Iosif wander into the room, leaving no footprints behind in the dust.
Once Iosif hears something mechanical, his eyes instantly dart towards it.
"There is no way they're covered in this much ust with how long they'e been dead. Either some kind of magic, or someone just literally poured dust."
"The birds have some sort of aura of magic." Alvar replies to Iosif in quiet voice. "A haunt, perhaps?"
"We need to be careful..." They cast a spell, summoning their magical armor again.
"Wait.", Nyarai whispers, kneels down, and swipes her fingers across the floor in an attempt to purposefully disturb the layer of dust. She looks back at Ethyl and Enoch. "Their trail."