Nyarai attempts to speak first, processes what is happening and lets out a distressed, soundles cry of confusion and helplessness. She will attempt to sprint out of the room, bodychecking whoever is blocking the path.
"A boy?" Alvar thinks quickly. "Maybe Brenton's brother? Debis, was it?" They slip their tail into their backpack, grasping for the toy the child had given them. "Are you certain he's alive, Nyarai?" Not... dead. Or worse, undead.
The sylph, in her panic, flees the darkness, stumbling over herself to reach the light. Something bites at her heels as she runs, but it misses. Nyarai barrels into Enoch's arms, soundlessly panting/screaming as her voice is heard weeping in the darkness.
"Brenton ... wake up, Brenton."
The sylph looks around frantically once she exits the blackness of the room. She opens her mouth, but lets out no sound. She grabs whoever is closest to the doorway and starts pulling them away from the door, eyes still panicked.
Ethyl's eyes turn wide as she see Nyarai flee the darkness panicked and voiceless. Fear flows unbidden in her brain as she is unable to tamp down on her emotions. She flees from the sight of the darkness. She doesn’t stop until she reaches the relative safety of the library where she is able to calm herself.
Iosif backs away slowly, trying to get a good view of everything.
Enoch prepares to ...and then Nyarai comes tumbling, stumbling into the Paladin's waiting arms! With the gentleness of an juggernaut, the leather clad Paladin uses her momentum to both close the door and propel them away!
How you doing.
Again, Nyarai moves her mouth without speaking. She rolls her eyes, covers her mouth with the palm of her hand while looking at others. She uses her other hand to point at her half-covered face.
Alvar looks Nyarai over quickly, their expression slightly concerned, but when they turn to look at Ethyl, she's already gone. "Where did Ethyl go?" They ask sharply, looking around in the hopes of seeing her. When they find no sign of her, they hiss a curse in Infernal. "Our doctor's disappeared, and Nyarai is deeply distressed. That's just splendid."
"Hopefully it is Debis" Iosif whispers
As Alvar produces the shadow lantern, the darkness within the room fades away, allowing those with darkvision to see normally. The room appears to have had some sort of detonation within, forcing the now broken furniture and assorted debris flung against the walls and corners, though Iosif will note there is no sign of gunpowder or burn marks.
Standing at the room's threshold stands a curious little creature dressed in childish sketches and scribbles. It's skull is that of a rat, it barely stands up to one's knee in height, and every movement is accompanied by the sound of grinding teeth or rustling leaves.
It looks up at Alvar, shyly holding out its arms for the lantern. "Please, Brenton." Nyarai's sobbing voice still emits from the creature. "Please wake up, brother."
Taking the lantern, the creature known as Debis sighs peacefully. The lantern casts its glow around the party, each illuminated knight animated to prance and march about. Debis' form falls apart, a warm amber wisp rising from the creature and floating into the lantern.
Enoch witnesses the application of more insanity being displayed for their benefit...
Well that happened. Where did Ethyl run off to? We best find her.
The Paladin takes his leave, looking for the lost Doctor....
"... Great. An attic whisperer." Iosif sighs as he shoves his bullet into his firearm, preparing for the likely outcome of combat. "Undead from a child's lonely, and slash or traumatic, death. Steals voices and breath, imitating and weakening people. Hooray." Iosif sighs sarcastically.
"That explains why Nyarai's voice is coming out from inside, but she's with us." Alvar agrees quietly. I wonder whether her alignment with air left her especially vulnerable to the attic whisperer's abilities. They glance at Nyarai, then sigh. "Her casting ability is severely compromised while she doesn't have her voice, and it won't return to her for an hour or so, I think."
They hesitate, then lay a gentle hand on the sylph's shoulder. "If you need help, just signal me." The wizard gestures with their chin at their shoulder, indicating a touch would do. "For now, I agree with Enoch. We should go fetch our good Doctor."
Ethyl - after a long moment - catches her breath, leaning against a bookcase in the main library. The ratlings lay where they had when the party slew them, adding a rank odor to the already stale air. After seeing the haunt's effect with the attic whisperer, the asylum seems brighter - if only marginally. The amber light might be preferable to any kind of darkness.
It takes more time for the rest of the party to catch up to her, especially if they proceed silently, not calling out for her. The party finds Ethyl in the midst of calming herself down amid the books. No doubt this is the most frazzled they've found the good doctor.
Enoch silently watches Ethyl from the doorway of the main library. The Paladin holds up a silent finger, as the remaining group approaches his position.
Enoch simply pantomimes a few moments as he stations himself there....
Ethyl calms herself by burying her head in a book, The Miona Incunabulum, to the studious eye. Her hair is mussed and eyelids sagging from strain. She doesn’t fail to notice Enoch lurking in the doorway and she stares at him peevishly.
She says with a hint of vulnerability, "Let me guess you dread going forward without my counsel and skill? What has become of the impenetrable darkness? "
Enoch simply pantomimes shutting a door and shrugs.
Nyarai looks at Enoch and squints. She gives him a questioning, confused look when he starts pantomiming, pointing at her perfectly fine ears.
"I believe the darkness was a haunt." Alvar muses. "I couldn't see into it, either." They look to Nyarai. "Were you able to see anything when you went rushing in? While inside or while you were outside?" Shaking their head, they look to Ethyl again. "It was an attic whisperer - Brenton's brother Debis, it seems."
The sylph shakes her head left to right. She covers her eyes to emphasise her response.
Ethyl raises an eyebrow at Enoch and Nyarai suspiciously.
She closes her book and rejoins dreading the wall of darkness but breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing it gone. She unceremoniously takes point again, listening and looking for trouble as she goes. Finally seeing what is beyond .
Enoch's blue eyes barely hint at a smile, as the Paladin falls in step with Ethyl.
Ethyl opens the room, finding a staff office beyond. A couch and a couple small desks, covered in paint flakes and thick dust, fill this room. Remnants of the mundane work performed here remain amid the chaos of looting no doubt performed by the yellow-robes.
"Pornography. 10gp to a book collector." Iosif says bluntly as he checks the room.
"One needs all the entertainment one can get here." Alvar says dryly, then glances over the staff offices and the map they have. "Hm. I believe that the Mess Hall - and our cultist foes - are likely through the door back there." They jab a thumb over their shoulder to the door on the far side of Debis' lair.
"That said, I recommend we perhaps wait until Nyarai's voice returns. Without her voice, she'll likely be unable to cast most of the spells she's prepared for today."
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Ethyl regards the booklet disdainfully.
Eager to return to her book she suggests, "Perhaps we can retire to the library. I've at least grown inured to the stench of ratling feces."
Enoch turns to Ethyl.
Aren't we here to deal with some Yellow wearing cultists?
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Nyarai peeks over Ethyl shoulders just for a second, but covers the scarf with her hands as she does so. She chuckles voicelessly, and returns to her meandering about. While she does that, she moves her mouth as if trying to speak, and simply shakes her head in disappointment when no sound is coming out.
Ethyl does her best to look through the texts but they are alarmingly not related to her expertise.
Enoch absently begins to leaf through pages, as the Tortured Crusader pouts.
Enoch, perhaps guided or encouraged by Ethyl, learns that Briarstone Asylum was founded in 4585 with the support of Count Haserton Lowls I and Rozenport’s Sincomakti School of Sciences. The asylum devotes itself to the treatment of patients with mental diseases and those in need of psychological care. Its staff also pursues humane, nonmagical treatments of such disorders. With the exception of restraints, most physical and surgical treatment methods were phased out at Briarstone over a century ago.
Early into the research, Nyarai's voice returns with a sensation in her throat like a limb that had fallen asleep allowed blood circulation again.
Nyarai also picks up some books. Not like she can participate in a discussion anyway, so she runs her fingers over some of the spines, and picks up a book on local myths.
She goes through several pages, but starts being uncomfortable about an hour into the reading. Her head slumps to the side as she drops the book and holds her head straight up. Panicked eyes, and a face of a terrified scream, she still produces no sounds. She decides to lay down on her back and put her head on the floor. A minute later, there are soft weeps and grunts as her vocal cords seem to be regaining function. The entire time, she seems like crying in desperation and fear, but emitting hardly any sounds.
The entire ordeal eventually turns into the woman wheezing and quietly wailing on the floor, holding her palms to her temples and making slight adjustments to the position of her head.
A moment later, the sylph grits her teeth in what seems like determined anger as she battles whatever sensations she is experiencing, and eventually calms down.
She sits up and wipes her cheeks while taking in deep breaths. "Well, that was a ghastly experience."
Standing up and brushing herself off, she looks at the others. "Like a dead leg, just..." she points to her throat. "A dead larynx. No breath..." she continues with deep breaths until at least some colour returns to her face.
"Never again." Nyarai clutches her scarf to the point where her knuckles are white.
Alvar spends the time in the library scanning the historical documents, delving into the history of the sanitarium - and the region itself, if they find any documents relevant to that subject - in the hopes of uncovering some signs of how this planar overlap might have occurred. Their magically summoned armor fizzles out of existence as they study, and they pause, frowning. "I'd rather not continue onwards into danger, now..." They muse aloud. "But we can continue our studies here and move on as the rest of you feel best."
When Nyarai's voice returns, they turn to offer her a wry smile. "I'm glad to hear your voice coming from your mouth again." The smile fades towards a more sympathetic expression. "I hope that none of us will need face such an experience, especially you." Still, the wizard muses, I wonder how it felt... and whether or not I can learn something from it...
Alvar falls into use of the library far more naturally. Their hands move on their own, their mind seeking answers about this seemingly cursed island. Things didn't add up, and that infuriated the cambion. They found the history section of the library and feverishly dug into the knowledge held within.
Briarstone was originally intended to be a fort, positioned to protect Thrushmoor and trade along the Danver River from pirates sailing Lake Encarthan. The fort’s construction began in 4315 and was plagued by accidents, culminating in the death of its overseer, Captain Anoch Atherton. Construction on the fort was halted and rumors spread that Briarstone Isle was haunted. To expunge the taint of urban legends, Count Haserton Lowls I convinced the church of Pharasma to perform a successful, island-wide exorcism in 4584. Captain Anoch Atherton didn’t die in a construction accident. The overseer of Fort Briar’s construction disappeared, only to be discovered a week later, his entrails strewn across the site. After Atherton’s death, work halted on the fort’s construction, but locals still reported seeing lights in the deserted, half-constructed structure. Rumors attributed the tragedy to the Briarstone Witch and claimed that she’d curse or kill any who trespassed upon her home.
Folklore attributes many disappearances and spates of bad luck in the Thrushmoor region to the Briarstone Witch, an elusive crone said to inhabit Briarstone Isle. The first reports of the Briarstone Witch date to the early 4000s AR, soon after the founding of Thrushmoor by a congregation of psychopomp-worshiping homesteaders. These tales attribute many good works to the witch and present her as a figure who helped the settlers survive their hard early years. Some tales refer to the witch’s servant, called the Tatterman.
"Wouldn't wish that upon our greatest nemesis, whoever that might be." Through a few less and less frequent coughs, Nyarai nods to Alvar in an appreciative gesture.
Enoch regales those listening his musings, findings about the Prison....errr... Asylum.
Count Haserton Lowls I seems to have his hands dirty from the beginning.
Iosif tries his hand at researching, pouring himself through books... granted not the kind he'd usually read, but he pours himself into the task nonetheless.
"It seems like this place was never a particularly... safe place." Alvar says after sharing their own findings with the others. "Always haunted in some way... but the Tatterman must be relatively recent, no? He would've left Sarkoris in the Age of Lost Omens. Thus, we have a longer history of darkness here than I'd expected..."
Iosif adds this to the Briarstone Witch lore:
The Briarstone Witch was not a legend. She was a Kellid interested in lesser-known cults and occult knowledge. As she shared her esoteric knowledge with Thrushmoor’s settlers, she joined them, and as she exhibited her power, she eventually came to lead them. However, in 4050, the report of a Pharasmin inquisitor accused the people of Thrushmoor of engaging in “perverted rites in mockery of Pharasma and her servants’ names.”
"With our voice back, we can carry on." Nyarai speaks and looks to Alvar. "Unless you do not wish to. But we don't know what happens if we dally."
All this research has made me a bit cultist blood thirsty....
Enlightened by research she wonders, "Maybe these tomes hold the key to defeating the Tatterman."
Ethyl raises an eyebrow at Enoch and prepares a pus colored, "Should we confront the cultists armed for bear?"
She considers her nauseating concoction and another clear blue one.
Enoch simply pantomimes talking initially but his heart really isn't into it ...
"I am less protected than I prefer to be." Alvar admits at Nyarai's comment. "However, even, if I remain further behind our frontline in combat, I will be able to contribute a bit more in battle than I have in the past." They tap the side of their head. "A few new spells have come up since we woke up in our cells."
The hellspawn looks to the others. "If you'd like to go, I am ready do so."
"I'm ready to go as well, though my scrap of presumably divine magic is the same as before."