Albert Glazier's page

The professor gladly shows Luu Sânh what he has been working on, finding her a fast study as capable or more than the students he has been surviving with. Probably more. He wasn't sure what sort of training she had, but it was more than sufficient. Gamb could stand to observe her and take a few notes.

Later, on discussing the results, Albert nods grimly at the collective
determination. "I don't know if escape will be possible," he offers, "But if we are able to fortify with enough time to spare, we can try to move out of the direct path."

He looks determinedly at Gamb, though, a faint upward curve tingling at the corner of his lip. He decides to explain to Luu Sânh and Chezarina, who may not have seen the cage in question. "In the last town, we stumbled on a cage covering some of the buildings. I believe that the previous occupants had erected it as a shield, as the elementals infesting the town were unable to penetrate it. Moon may also be so rebuffed."

He looks around at all of the others. "We tried to gather supplies, but I don't know how much we were able to retain on our retreat. I had some time to study the construction of the cage, at least enough to understand the basic principles. Whether we have the materials to recreate it or not...well, we'll have to do our best." It was the only way, after all.

---

(No buffs added.)

Knowledge (arcana)/Spellcraft: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (11) + 16 = 27

(And if a bit of alchemy can be added to that...)

Craft (alchemy): 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (10) + 26 = 36

(Also, there's no specific time given on the preparation of the Moly, so when we're ready to try the dispel on Drook, we can do that, too!)

Most of my buffs would have only lasted 80 minutes, so I assume that I would roll without those buffs in place for the evening.

I imagine my Knowledge (nature) would be best, but Perception is also reasonable for him.

If Albert picked up on the whiff of passive aggression from Luu Sânh's words, he doesn't show it. In his mind, the mere fact that she had recovered answered the question. He thanks Iris as she leaves the two of them to discuss things privately.

The undan's description of what she had seen raises Albert's hackles and anyone can see the slight shifts in his behavior suggesting growing unease. His pupils dilate and then narrow, his head tilts forward and down, and his breathing shallows.

A face--grinning, laughing, watching. "Yes," he says. "That description matches what we have observed so far." It was as he had feared when Drook revealed what he had encountered. Drook may well have been an unwitting conduit for Moon's spycraft. It wasn't his fault, of course, but it was something that needed to be taken care of as soon as possible.

It would take time to prepare the moly, of course. Did they have that sort of time?

He continues the conversation even as his thoughts percolate. "And you're quite right--our safety is neither guaranteed nor likely. I need to run some tests to determine how much time we have before we are next at risk. You're welcome to join me."

One of Albert's projects in the last few days had been measuring a series of variables that he suspected might correlate with Moon's waxing and waning. He had found a pattern. And within that pattern, there were dozens of potential factors. It was the sort of data dredging nonsense that might get him accused of p-hacking by some of his colleagues if it were not necessary for pure survival. Many of the factors could be tracked by running tests on vials of liquid, looking at temperature, viscosity, pH, and more in regular time intervals. Wind direction velocity, too, along with air temperature and the composition and density of air particles. He hadn't found too much interaction with the soil yet, but he had been picking up samples there as well. An entity like Moon had remarkable control over the elements.

Albert was trying to more or less automate some of these tests so that they could be done as he attended to his other duties, but without knowing exactly what he was looking for, there was no way to develop any kind of alarm system that would indicate when a certain number of Moon-correlating factors passed the threshhold for activity detection. That all still had to be done by looking at each factor in turn and in combination with the others, lest he spout off continuous false alarms.

So in one of the group's breaks, Albert gets out his mobile lab and begins running a bevy of tests. The results of these he records in his lab notebook, asking his students to look after certain tasks he knew that they could handle. Off to the side, he also starts boiling the moly in water--almost like making a tea. There isn't enough time to do everything and maintain a reasonable pace, so it takes some time. But when Albert has collected enough data and compared today's data point to his previous records, he calls the apparent leaders of the group together, a grim look on his face.

"We have less than a day until Moon passes over us," he announces. He consults his notes once more to be certain and sighs deeply. "He is going to Hearth."

I vacillate between whether I compose in the browser or in a word-processing program, knowing that I would prefer to not go back and forth when I'm rolling dice to tease out the effects. But then when I lose a post, I grumble terrifically. I feel for you as well.

---

Regarding current story beats, I'm going to hold off on responding to the terrifying news that Albert just got until we resolve the current scene.

Albert had stepped away from Luu Sânh's work to speak with his two students, and only vaguely been aware of the general tenor of the conversation. He takes a bit of time to appraise the plants, grateful for an opportunity to do the sorts of things he was actually trained to do. He walks a few paces away, nodding so that Drook and Luu Sânh knew that they could still reach him in an emergency, but trying to send the signal of I-trust-that-I-don't-need-to-be-here.

"This is very close to Moly," Albert says of Gamb's specimen. "But note the petaloid tepals--there are six here instead of five or seven. And the inner petals have distinct green markings instead of the more teal markings of moly. This is Galanthus nivalis."

It's purely academic, but makes for a nice test case in an area of the alchemical field often neglected by university-trained alchemists. Herbalism was often thought to be the purview of druids and witches. They were those rarest and most-feared of folk whose wisdom was hard to verify using the established empirical methods, but whose results could not be denied. Many of the earliest remedies derived in Light's best labs originally came from the fields and forests, long before the isolated primary active ingredient had been identified and isolated for mass production. And then again, studies often found that the remaining suspension matrix containing the primary active ingredient had unique effects that were difficult to replicate outside the original form.

That was the nature of moly, and of so many other useful plants. There was little money in trying to understand an herb when its basic functions had already been elucidated and extracted. It was already a challenge to grow in the first place; why bother cultivating it when the resources required to acquire a single dose far outstripped demand? It was a bad business venture.

He's in the middle of the explanation differentiating Galanthus and Moly when Luu Sânh breaks into odd laughter. He, too, springs into action as the undan seems to lapse in between madness and lucidity. He tries to grab Drook as the boy runs away, and then gets into a defensive stance as Luu Sânh issues her warning. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Knowledge (planes), Heightened Awareness, Heroism, T2W, Mutagen: 1d20 + 16 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (17) + 16 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 38

"I won't lie, that was unnerving," he says to Luu Sânh. "I take it whatever you found was not good." He motions Iris over. "Iris found some moly. I just need to boil this in two liters of water to draw out the primary ingredients, strain the mixture, and allow the mixture to dry. The powder we will have left should function as a natural abjurative. Of course, that will take some time. Will he be safe until then?" Then he looks at Luu Sânh even more carefully: "And just as important, will we be safe until then?"

But with a base +26 to craft alchemical items along with a portable alchemist's lab, an alchemy crafting kit, a crucible, a bunch of filters, an alembic, and a retort, against a DC 25, this is child's play for him.

Not Bluff: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13

Albert is being as earnest as possible. If he's hiding anything--and who isn't?--it's his level of concern. That's probably more to help poor Drook be less concerned, perhaps a bit of bedside manner. If it's a test, it's not a well-designed one.

Albert blinks a few times, and then looks down at Drook. "Well I just found out. And I don't have the supplies I would normally have in my lab. So...have you tried else anything, Drook?"

Coming up to pace with the undan, Albert nods his head towards his worried companion. "This is Drook. He was an apprentice of Edmund, the el who secured our passage safely through the Breathless Valley." There hadn't been time to process that yet. But there it was. Albert encourages the young man to share his own experiences, but helps to fill in any details that seem relevant.

The broad strokes, of course, are that Drook's troubles had begun following an incursion into their hideout in Light by Moon. First, Drook experienced some sort of dream visitation. Then, while trying to figure out an illusion spell, he had activated a common divination effect and found his eyes rimed with ice. Since then, in spite of his efforts to dismiss the spell, it had persisted.

Albert has theories, of course. But that's all. "He's medically fine. As much as any of us are, that is. I have sent some of my students out to look for herbs that could help to reverse the condition, but I'm aware of certain abjurative magic that may dispel an undesired spell effect." His dispassionate description of the events and symptoms of the odd condition give final way to mild resignation. "I know when I'm out of my depth, and this is one such circumstance. Whether you can help to elucidate or ameliorate the problem, I appreciate any insight you may have."

Consent gained, Albert goes to Gamberino and Iris. If any remaining in the group knew their herbs, especially a rare one such as moly, it would likely be them. "Keep your eyes to the ground," he advises. "Flowers white as milk and roots black as night," he quotes from an old text, "But don't go plucking up every white flower you see."

---

Albert knows well enough the abilities of most of those remaining in the caravan, but Luu Sânh and Chezarina remain a relative enigma. Well, Chezarina had demonstrated herself quite capable with a bow, and Luu Sânh held her sword like someone who knew how to use it. Either could be proficient with some sort of magic. But if he had to hazard a guess, Luu Sânh might be the more magically-inclined of the two. So with a bit of a hustle, Albert takes Drook towards the undan ele.

"Luu Sânh," he hails as he approaches. "When we next have a moment to pause, I had hoped to ask you a favor. Are you perchance a practitioner of magic?"

Albert takes Drook aside, appreciative of the opportunity to use his chief skillset. His mind immediately goes to his earlier concern: that a permanent spell, inducted so by Moon's magic, might be the root of the tracking. He doesn't voice the concern, but takes a few moments to do a quick workup on the boy.

Heroism +2, Heightened Awareness +2 (Knowledge), Tears to Wine +2, Strength Mutagen -1 to Int skills

Heal, buffs: 1d20 + 17 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 17 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 35
Knowledge (arcana), buffs: 1d20 + 16 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 16 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 26
Spellcraft, buffs: 1d20 + 16 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (18) + 16 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 37

There were ways for an alchemist to gain the sight: that ability to detect magic so often practiced effortlessly by those who by faith or study suffused themselves with the energy. But there were usually enough of those on hand that Albert didn't particularly bother preparing such a spell (identifier's eye). Perhaps it was worth checking with one of the others who could figure it out more readily what was going on. Of course, he didn't know the full spectrum of Luu Sânh or Chezarina's capabilities yet. And unfortunately, Drook couldn't well examine himself.

And from there, did any of them have the ability to dispel such an effect? Even if it was desirable by some, it was clearly bothering Drook, who hadn't intended for this to be a permanent change. Albert had encountered some patients, often soldiers who had faced unrecountable horrors on the battlefront, whose experience had left them fundamentally changed. They had strange, new senses, often manifesting with the language of synesthesia (if not the reality). Some learned to live with these new ways of engaging with the world. But others were too strange, and led them to madness and often...

Albert wouldn't abandon Drook to such a fate. He tells Drook what he has noticed in his examination and then explains a few things to him. "It is theoretically possible to make certain spells permanent, but the magic to do so is quite powerful. Expensive as well. I do not know anyone who has been successful in modern history, and even historical records on the subject are fraught at best regarding their reliability." He pauses and looks at the boy carefully. "Some might consider this a gift, but I sense your worry. There are ways to remove it, or at least try to. I don't have the resources available to me, but perhaps someone in our caravan does. And if they do not, I know of a flowering herb that can produce similar effects, if we can find any."

He smiles. "So then: shall we see if we can find anyone to help us?"

Albert pays little mind to the sermons. He usually didn't, no offense intended to Zephyr. Those who benefited from them could listen.

Instead, he uses the remaining energy from his concoctions and celerity-driven modules (those that once activated simply had to be metabolized or allowed to run their course less risking catastrophic failure) to soar low through the air. He maintains a vigilant perimeter as the group traverses the roads, wondering if any of them had been tagged with some sort of sensor...

"Ky La," Albert whispers, his lip twitching. It's as much cursing the inquisitor in his mouth as a correction. Albert puts his hand on Gamb's shoulder as he recounts what happened, eyed closed, nodding. "You did well, Gamb. So did Wash. So did Edmund" He turns to the other survivors. "So did all of you. Helping each other. Surviving."

The loss of Washakie is a stunning blow. But it sounds like the young man went out exactly as he had lived. Helping people. Albert hadn't discussed the gods with Washakie to even know whether he had been religious. But if he had been, then Albert hopes that whatever he served was welcoming him now.

And Albert feels guilty, even though he knows it's irrational. They had no reason to believe that they would be followed, and the wall had been important to follow up on. But the guilt lingers, for each loss.

"Edmund paved the way for us and...stayed behind," he says. He doesn't know if there was more. Edmund was strong in his own right. He might survive, if he wanted to. The worst thing, though, would be for Moon to capture him. Albert wouldn't will that on even that jackass Harold who had won last year's research grant out from him.

Albert didn't want to keep leading like this. He was a teacher and a doctor. The weight of loss was heavy enough already without feeling like it was his fault.

But they clearly weren't safe. They needed to keep moving. And even the places that they found that might seem safe for a moment would likely not stay that way for long.

Why? Why did Ky La chase them? Torture them so?

Feeling his throat tightening involuntarily, Albert takes a few calming breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Pursed lips. Just like he taught back in Light. Increase the resistance and prevent aberrant ventilation on either extreme. Allow the muscles to relax. Cycle more oxygen into the blood.

"What happened?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm with the knowledge that one in five of the people he had been traveling with had just been lost. It's not accusatory. It's just...he wants to know.

Albert screams for Edmund on the other side, knowing with near certainty that his friend and colleague can't hear him. He's too frustrated and (admittedly) frightened to be impressed by Chezarina's display of prowess, though he's sure to notice that before too long. Instead, he lets down his practiced guard in spite of being in front of so many of his students and keeps shouting. Tears streak down his face. He knows that when he turns to look at who is left, he's going to find himself even more distraught. He isn't ready. Please, not yet...

C'mon, Nivi Rhombodazzle, I've been good this year.

Dismissing Heightened Awareness to gain a +4 on the check

Initiative, HA: 1d20 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 4 = 10

Whyyyyy?

No, no, no...

Things had been safe. Or safe enough, at least. What had Albert missed?

He hits a few buttons on his wrist and aims at Abbygailiwy. "No you don't," he whispers. The hoses on his left arm begin swirling with fluids of different colors and viscosities, imbuing his next shell with a substance that--when exposed to oxygen and heat--would become incredibly adhesive.

Been a busy week, but I'm still here (and very busy)!

This Abbygailiwy had been an uncertain creature. Albert had merely raised a few possible options to start a discussion and felt that his organizational input had been ignored. But no matter.

He had smiled at Chezarina's thought process of going under and begins discussing the tunnel creepers that he could make facsimiles of. But he hadn't considered the Runts and their prospective reaction.

But Edmund's sudden revelation strikes him as very odd. Of all the possible magic, Albert put the least stock in divination. Prophecy and vision could easily be explained by rogue neural impulses and the brain's near-infinite capacity to seek order in noise. But of course, Albert finds himself in the minority of that.

And then Edmund makes his most haunting, cryptic declaration. Was he aware of an attack suffered by those they left back in town?!
"Edmund, what are you--?!"

The Professor paces back and forth as Edmund refuses to answer questions and instead begins acting mere minutes before a group comes rushing up. Albert's eyes glaze over the group, counting, trying to account for who was there.
"Le do thoil nach maith liom mé a tachtadh ar mo anáil féin," Albert swears. "You comin' with or not, me birdo?"

But he feels like he already knows the answer. As soon as the last of the group aside from him and Edmund are through, Albert gives a nods and rushes through.

"Well that's unnerving," Albert says, pointing out what he's noticed. "It looks to have been a sylph before becoming possessed. The possessing creature has caused and is continuing to experience trauma. Note the burst blood vessels around the eyes, the jagged scratches in the flesh. Edmund is right that this appears like Smoke. And then there's a pulsing energy within, sort of like...I think they're called Stars."

He stops and turns to the others. "I don't think it's wise to try to go in after it. We could try to lure it to us. But I'm not generally able to undo a possession, so any methods that I have would almost certainly be lethal. We should determine our goal with the creature. Mercy killing? Rescue? Capture? Study?"

As they approach the corrupted Elen, Albert does something that might seem odd to those witnessing it for the first time. He checks a few of the exposed wires and hoses on his metal outfit before covering them with panes of tempered glass, and then reaches to several parts around his suit of armor. Turning dials and pressing buttons, he presses a hand to a tree to steady himself and grunts in pain. A pulsing hum takes up to add to the chorus of birds and bugs in the nearby trees and bushes as the tubes filter a painter's palette of colors downstream, presumably into Albert. He shivers and takes a closer look at the strange elemental within the Valley.

Knowledge (planes), yellow-gray elen, heroism, ha, t2e, mutagen: 1d20 + 17 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (20) + 17 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 42

I'm almost frightened by the size of that roll for what it will mean when we fight this. Time to go set up the altar to Nivi Rhombodazzle again.

Albert's brow rises, displaying furrowed wrinkles. "That is precisely what I believe," he responds. "They may be more easily able to bend the natural laws to their will through powerful magic, but...that is all."

To Albert, the notion of divinity was misplaced. The gods were likely merely elen who had discovered some font of power and secured it for themselves. That they fed on worship and provided a fraction of their power in turn simply meant that there were parts of their font that remained difficult to explain with current techniques. But it could all be explained.

Before he lapses further into heresy, he pulls his helmet up, draws out his sword, and moves to follow Edmund.

Albert smiles and nods at Zephyr. His was not an uncommon view among Sylphs who had long felt abandoned by Fallen Sky. Zephyr struck him as odd for continuing to hew to the old ways. Yet they coexisted.

But Edmund's declaration draws him to immediate attention. "Within or without the Breathless Valley?"

Was it one of Moon's, like those of crackling lightning throughout Ramé? Or was it feral, owing no allegiance to any except itself?

He stands, knees creaking as he does so, nodding at his sling-armed friend to lead the way.

Albert nods, the subtlest curl of his lip betraying the return of an ounce of hope. "Signorina Chezarina," he repeats. An unusual fritan name, but still in keeping with some of their traditions. Maybe she was from one of the outlying regions. "Although my friends would disagree with me, I am also not much one for mysticism. For me, even the strangest things can be explained by the natural laws of the world." He takes a breath and utters what he's sure Zephyr and Edmund would consider blasphemy. "Even the gods."

"I like the cut of your gib, miss...?" Albert says, letting his tone rise a bit at the end to hopefully prompt the ifrit woman to name herself.

Albert points his thumb approvingly in Edmund's direction. "That's about the size of it," he says with a shrug. "Least not a good reason we know of. Why does a god do anything?"

And getting out? Well, that was why they were here, wasn't it?

Albert breathes in deep and sighs. "I don't think I've properly had time to process it yet. It's just been survival mode. I've had more fitful sleep, and less of it than I would have liked, with unpleasant dreams. That's balanced out to a certain extent by the camaraderie of our fellows, colleagues, acolytes, and students. I am--and many of us are--likely still in the acute phase for developing post-traumatic stress disorder. Puzzles might help to diminish the occurrence and persistence of my symptoms."

It had been a pilot study on elen returning from the Front. But as he realized the prevalence of intrusive thoughts working through his mind, he recognized that this was a reasonable time to consider turning the pilot into action. What better place than the field?

Of all the elen, Albert was probably least familiar with undines. Ifrits and sylphs had been much more common in Light, and he had occasional oread students. But for whatever reason, undines were just...well, less familiar. And he had no colleagues with him to check anything. So what he saw was what he got.

Albert frowns at Luu Sânh's question. "Rough, yes. It was..." Metaphors didn't become him. His eyes droop down. "Five days ago I was working in my lab and then...my most senior student seemed to suddenly have a manic episode. I excused himself from his bench and encouraged him go to his office to try to calm down. After a couple of hours I went to check on him. I just heard mumbling from inside the office. When I got in there, he was..." Albert's hand claps to his mouth. "He was drawing on the walls of the office with his fingers. With...his blood. Formulae, schematics. Every surface was covered."

Albert's hand slides up to his forehead. "It had only been a few hours. Oliver had been prone to fits, but never...self-harm. I figured I'd try to offer him a sedative, clean his wounds, and do a full work-up. When I called his name, he turned around and had this...wide smile on his face. He started laughing. Then he grabbed his pen and stabbed me."

The professor closes his eyes. "I've been stabbed before. You don't get to be tenured faculty in the Order of Blood without getting stuck with a few needles, dealing with an unruly patient, that sort of thing. But...his face." His brow furrows. "I shut him in there and went to clean myself up, ask for a colleague to help. But everywhere I went...there was blood. And mirth."

Albert nods at Luu Sânh. "That's right--my mistake."

When Edmund announces himself right after Luu Sânh had expressed a reservation, Albert chuckles grimly. Well, that was that. He hadn't been sure whether the el with his arm in a sling would have gotten his message at the distance between them, but he had. Good enough.

"Nonsense it was," he confirms to Chezarina (though he doesn't know that name yet), approaching gingerly. "Creeping madness, taking people I've known for decades from curious and helpful to gleefully savage in a matter of flickers." He sits down and gazes into the fire. "I'm glad to know we weren't the only ones to make it out."

Albert rolls his eyes at Zephyr's audacious drama. Well, they had a flair for it after all, so why not?

"It's good to meet you, Thuàng Nê Luu Sânh. Better you by far than Inquisitor Ky La, speaking of madness" He shivers at that memory, still barely days on. He points up. "Don't mind Zephyr; they're fast and probably wanted to catch up with me in case you wanted to do me harm." He smiles, uncertain whether that wasn't still the case, but hoping that they were reaching some understanding. "May I call you Thuàng, or have I chosen the wrong given name?"

Albert regards the undine and ifrit nods, greeting each of them briefly in turn in their native tongues. "Name's Albert Glazier. I'm working with a group of refugees from Light who we smuggled out from Moonfall. One of my friends noticed this--" he points to the shimmering wall, "--Breathless Valley in between us and Hearth. So we're investigating."

He relaxes a bit and nods his head once more, using his head to gesture since he's retaining his upraised hands to show himself as nonaggressive. "What about you elles?"

Smoke? And as the adage goes, where there was smoke, there was usually fire. Given the controlled wisps, the fire was likely controlled as well. Were there others out here? And if so, were they friendly?

Albert taps at his ear-bound messenger and hopes that Edmund and Zephyr are close enough to hear without too much static. <"I believe I have found others outside the barrier. I'm moving in to investigate.">

Stealth: 1d20 + 2 - 5 ⇒ (6) + 2 - 5 = 3

Albert isn't even trying to be sneaky; his very presence announces itself easily from far out, the clank of metal plates and the hiss of rudimentary hydraulics allowing the creatures of the forest ample notice to move away if they are afraid. He even calls out in the common tongue. "Whoever has the fire, I'm coming towards you. Hopefully you will wait there."

The figure that emerges from the tree line looks from the neck down like a silver golem glimmering with a yellowish luster where the Sun's rays strike it, abjurative runes carved in the open space. Wires and hoses peak out from between and within the plates in exposed, unprotected casings. A large circular battery encircles the left wrist. From the neck up is the head of a sylph, pearlescent skin giving way to a thick tousle of hair in shades of amethyst, lilac, and lavender. Even from a distance, golden eyes complete the face of a man with light, early-onset wrinkles around the eyes and forehead. The figure waits there at the trees, holding his hands up in a show of not meaning any harm. "Do I have your permission to approach?"

On it! Welcome, y'all.

Albert watches the demise of the rock carefully. He isn't sure exactly what he expected, but it wasn't that. "If we can go around, that would be safer than even trying--" he points to the now-vanished rock "--that."

The professor looks left, right, and up. "Let's scout in all three directions until we have a good sense of what sort of barrier we're dealing with. Our short-wave communication devices will not be particularly useful after we get out of sight, but I spent the morning working on a relay that should boost the signal and allow me to reach you if I find something. Let's meet back here in..." Albert considers the situation. Fifteen driblets out, fifteen driblets back. That should be enough, right? "Half a candle."

Unless Zephyr or Edmund have anything else to add, Albert takes the leftward path to see how far this wall went.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 5

Zephyr's effusive praise catches Albert off-guard, and he tries to pick up their sincerity. He thinks that his friend is being genuine, albeit a bit self-effacing, but he can't always tell. "Uh, thank you," he stumbles. As his stone soars towards the wall, the professor watches the ripples and gasps. "A Breathless Valley," he hisses. "It ought not be possible. It's like...Zephyr, have you heard of this phenomenon from up north? It's just...vacuum. It's unclear what sort of membrane exists between us, but if we were to go a bit further it would be..." Albert grimaces. He didn't need to go into the gritty detail.

"Yes, flying up will be useful, Albert confirms. "We should assess this systematically. We have a few ranged options before we resort to subjecting any els to contact with it."

Albert tosses the stone up into the air and backs up to a distance of just over 30 feet from the invisible Caith net. "This would have been an easy shot back in the day," he says. He spins around once to build momentum as he charges forward and hurls the stone at a specific point up on the barrier, arcing it so that it would descend and--theoretically--land about 5 feet on the other side of the invisible wall. That would of course be if the rock made it through it at all and was not either bounced back or vaporized on contact.

Zephyr could fly up once they knew even more.

Later on, Albert could cultivate some tunnel creepers to see if the wall extended below as well. That would take an entire day, though. It would be worth it if it helped them through this problem.

Albert had taken some time to get into his suit of armor, but without Zephyr warning against any particular dangers he had not activated any of the modules as of yet. He prayed this would be a day of chemical rest where his body could recover.

The wall, however, promises nothing. "I'll be," he says with a whistle, gazing at the ripples. "Any idea how far this stretches? Up, around?" He points to the ground. "Perhaps even below?"

The professor drinks a tipple from a bottle of tea he had brewed in the morning that tended to give him a moment of extra clarity when the sun got too hot.

Knowledge (planes), clarity: 1d20 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 17 + 1 = 30

He picks up a rock from the ground and feels the weight in his hand. "Have you tried to see what contact might do yet?"

He wants to throw, but doesn't just yet. That would be part of the study, but not the first step.

Oh!

Being lifted was a different sensation altogether than using fuel and wings to thrust into the air and stay aloft. It felt...well, nice, in its own way. When he flew, he could still feel tethered to the ground as if by an invisible thread, ready to fall if he stopped persisting. This was...

Easy.

The news, however was not.

"A barrier?" he questions uncertainly. "Oh what sort?" Shaking his head, he hesitates and waves his hand. "Never mind. You're right--let's see if Edmund is feeling up for a trip."

We go to gather Edmund and try to encourage him to come with us! And if not, then to the barrier!

I love the questions, but they're all above my paygrade ^_^ I'll let The Declarative field those.

The sweat of late morning pours down Albert's neck and back as he perches at the top of the building with a smattering of components. He clearly didn't need to be wearing a golem-like suit of armor to work himself to fatigue. He wipes a damp cloth across his forehead, his legs wrapped around an antenna and his abs fully engaged to keep him upright instead of tumbling backwards. A hot soldering iron hisses in his other hand as he looks up to see Zephyr and Anan returning. He waves, turning a switch on the iron off.

"What does the Sky say this morning, Zeph?"

"Four to six candles," Albert tells Iris and the rest. "Check in with each other once a candle with updates. And watch the Sky."

Well that seemed to go well overall. The world as classroom made for curious interactions, the sort that some scholar of social dynamics would likely want to write a treatise of.

Albert climbs his way to the top of the mesh to begin his work, hoping to see Zephyr and Anan coming back from their scouting.

Albert nods. "That seems sound, Iris. We were limited in what we could access easily on short notice in Light. Ramé may not have the breadth of supplies, but we're at least nominally safer here." He solicits opinions from others, but feels the tenor going in Iris' direction instead of Gamb's. "Good. We should stay in teams of no fewer than four during supply-gathering."

The professor brings out his ear-held short-range Message communicators, now fully charged for the day. "Use these to stay in touch whenever you go out of visual range. If you're ever more than 200 feet from each other, they won't work at all, and we know they're already going to suffer from interference. So they might not even work up to that distance."

Then he brings out a larger, much more complex device. "I'm going to try to set up a relay node atop this building that will hopefully strengthen our signal throughout Ramé and potentially enable communication beyond. To do that, I need to better understand the mesh around this building. If we can replicate it where go after this, it will prove to be a great boon when Moon wanes."

That meant he would be busy for a while. The others probably understood that as well. He was relying on them to take care of themselves. Trusting them.

Albert nods at Washakie's preliminary diagnostic postulation. He knew he'd made the right decision to bring him in. He'd found that, especially with their society's history of monastic training, Orean philosophy was often well-ahead of Sylphan in their understanding of the mind. "Perfect. Thank you."

It was good to be aware of your blind spots, even if you couldn't fix them. And Albert had plenty.

After all, even with perfect understanding, nothing could be reduced to zero risk. Training served to minimize risk, not eliminate it entirely. It was best for training errors to occur when the outcome would not be affected too seriously, and with patients who had demonstrated themselves to be understanding.

(To be sure, a patient who believed that their pain was divinely inflicted might be among the best patients for a young student, though Albert wouldn't say so out loud.)

"Good work, Mato," Albert offers. "We'll debrief later."

---

As the excitement of the morning winds down, Albert calls a few of the more senior, leadership types together. He invites Edmund, with the caveat that he's under no obligation to step up if he's feeling out of place. Fredrik would be a perfectly fine second.

Gamberino had expressed his doubts about the leadership and decision-making protocols the day before. Had Albert not done the same thing when he was younger, he might have gotten upset. But noticing it had helped him to shift his orientation a bit, to continue to include Gamberino in the growing council of sorts of those who were stepping up and speaking up. Disabuse the young of the notion that age meant much, enable them to try and fail (with a safety net if possible), and you could cultivate stronger leadership.

Still, Albert was going to let his instincts move and serve as a chair.
"This location is relatively safe for now, but I think we are all of an accord that Hearth remains our destination." The professor looks around the circle to see if there was agreement. "The question before us, then, is whether we take another day to resupply and recuperate before we move on. It was late when we arrived yesterday. We should have more time today during which we can operate more securely. Taking stock of our supplies and morale alike, what are your impressions?"

A new NPC, actually! Gam is not much for mental maladies.

"This is Washakie of the West Tribe," Albert says, bringing in a tall oread with amber brown skin and a crest of green pine needle hair. Washakie of the West Tribe was a shaman of his people who had come to Light from his Way of the Branch monastery to see what sorts of learning was being done in Sylphan society. He had already been a gifted healer before enrolling in the University of Alchemy, and although he had none of the formal Fritan or Sylphan education he easily surpassed most of his peers. It had been humbling for Albert to go through some lesson on this or that condition, which had eluded him and his colleagues for a decade or more, only for Washakie to explain that his tribe had described the same problem many years prior and developed a cure. Albert, so reliant on technology and advanced alchemical techniques, began soliciting Washakie for his knowledge on traditional Orean remedies.

"Washakie--this is Bye."

Unfortunately, the el is harder to deal with than Albert expected. Washakie does ask a few questions during the session before Albert calls it so that Bye can rest. Albert looks fatigued from the session, but Washakie seems invigorated. They debrief, Albert curious about Washakie's observations, and together plan a prospective course of treatment. Washakie might actually be a better person to work with the el.

---

Albert usually woke early to brew some hot beverage with whatever he had on hand. Coffee was hard to come by on the road, but there were numerous leaves and flowers that he had gathered to brew some tea. It's another piece in his apparatus for mixing chemicals, checking his batteries, and readying himself for a day beyond Ramé. He is in the midst of his liquid preparations when the ting, ting, HOWL disturbs him (and likely rouses the rest of the group whether they were ready for it or not).

Yet unhindered by his suit of armor, Albert covers the distance between his morning place to Edmund in a few paces to see the el cradling his hand. Recounting two clangs instead of three, he anticipates what has happened before he even sees the injury. Zephyr is the first to speak words of comfort. Albert breathes deeply and sighs at Edmund's religious obstinance.

This was the problem of religious superstition as Albert saw it. Taking deep meaning in moments of happenstance allowed a person to retain injuries that could otherwise be healed. It wasn't madness of the sort that held Bye in an uncertain grip, but it was a feature just as resistant to change. Albert looks over his gathered students. "Which of you has the least experience in setting a break?" he asks. As the students glance around, hands tentatively rising (no one wanted to be the first to admit a lack of experience, Albert points to the first one whose hand makes it past their shoulder and calls them over. "I'll observe. Call any second to assist you. Please look over the injury and ensure that it will heal properly so that Goodpriest Edmund can return to his forge in due time. Is that acceptable to you, friend?"

Class might not be in session, but that didn't mean learning would stop.

Glorious!

I am still new to the lore of Volcano's Land, but Light has (had?) several universities for learning and training. The Northern Magerium could be a good place for the undine magus to have trained.

Although Albert is not teaching there, he has academic collaborations with their faculty. In particular, his student Iris has been doing a dual-title between the School of the Woven Spirit and the Order of Celerity. So he might at least know some of the folks over there. He has probably taken some workshops at the Academy of the Bladed Savant over the years to maintain his martial prowess.

Hurray for more friends!

It was a busy weekend for me--haven't really been able to/had the energy to check the boards since last Thursday. I'll chime back in ASAP.

Greetings to Chezarina and to Slowdrifter's to-be-introduced PC!

Albert has invested some feats into being able to heal people rapidly for high amounts. So it's up to you whether you want to invest in other emergency stuff. Nine times a day, I can heal people for at least 20 hp as a full-round action (usually much more).

If considering previous associations, Albert is essentially Lord Iron. He was a Professor of the Order of Blood at the University of Alchemy in Light (and sometimes Caith coach). The Declarative has been kind enough to allow me to reflavor many of the alchemist's base abilities to be much more tech-oriented, allowing me to straddle a steampunk aesthetic with early voltaic cells and radio technology.

Tomorrow, when it was safe, Albert was going to have to install a node somewhere here in town for his [url=https://aonprd.com/SpellDisplay.aspx?ItemName=Whispering%20Wind]mind-range communication[/dice] device. He'd probably only be able to access it from a few miles away, maybe 8 or 9 at the most, but a relay network with enough hands to manage it could potentially get messages back and forth from towns like Light and Ramé rapidly!

Albert catches himself in that sort of a thought. Here he was hiding from a malicious, powerful being that had caused people he had known for years, decades even, to fall on each other with fists and knives. And he was thinking about normal. Was it hopeful? Delusional? Likely a mixture of both, generated by his mind to try to cope with an unfathomable situation.

Speaking of unfathomable situations, Albert finishes his rounds of initial checking in on students and colleagues for now to go and speak with Bye. He sits down at a table with the el in a room with a desk and a few spread out chairs that probably served as someone's office. A small book and a pen are just in reach, ready for Albert to jot down notes. "Bye: is it all right if I bring one of my students in? I'd like to talk with you about the last few days and see if we can't understand your situation a little better. If you're not comfortable with that, there's no problem. He's here more to observe me than he is you. Is that all right with you?"

Regardless of the el's response (a positive which triggers Albert to tap a quick <"Come in>" in his earpiece, and a negative which triggers a <"Next time"> tap instead), the professor begins doing a abbreviated neuropsychological battery. Cranial nerves and reflexes are tested seamlessly alongside the acquisition of an abbreviated medical history (focusing on recency over distance) and assessment of over two dozen cognitive factors.

All of my buffs have likely expired by now. Fingers crossed!

Heal: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (2) + 17 = 19

Unfortunately, this particular battery was distant for Albert, and he finds himself stumbling over his recollection of what ought to come next. He was still a professional, able to do better than most of his students on even his worst day, but he'd be lying if he said he would give himself a passing grade for his conduct. He'd still be able to come with a diagnosis, but he kept second-guessing himself about the way he had worded certain questions and whether that had influenced Bye in his response. Agh, this was why he hadn't gone into psychiatry. Els were complex enough biological systems without considering the idiosyncrasies of elen behavior.

That's very exciting!

I'm a real-life bard. Jack of all trades, master of none, with enough garbage trivia to convince people I know what I'm talking about. Huzzah!

Sylphan 'wasteland' whiskey was the closest that most sylphs came to understanding the nature of firewater. It was a small miracle to find, and even if it was to be gone by the end of the night it would be worth the time and energy it had taken to get it. The Hearthsblood red, too, would be enough of a tipple to bring flush to cheeks devoid of it for much of the last week. Albert packs the bottles into a bag with ample insulation between them. The last thing he wanted was a bag of broken glass smelling of stale booze.

Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 16 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 16 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 37

Most of my buffs are about to expire, so let's enjoy them while we've got them!

Albert marvels at the cage on the far side of town, parsing a schematized version of what he was looking at into circuits and trying hard not to keep himself from doubling over in laughter. "Brilliant," he says to those near him. He wasn't jealous: merel impressed by the ingenuity. The physickers might not grasp it, but someone with cross-training like Iris would almost certainly figure it out. If they didn't get it before going in, he'd use it as a teachable moment once they were safely ensconced.

"We have less than a candle until Moon's power waxes again," he says. "We should be safe here, but we need to do a few things first." Albert begins directing people he knows with knowledge and facility of wiring, soldering, and such towards what needed to be done. Others without such skills could move inside--carefully, and with constant communication back outside.

Albert draws closer to Bye as the addled el rambles. He'd seen this sort of thing in his training, but the elen mind had not been his ultimate focus. Still, there were ample theories about the connection between the body and outward manifestations of behavior. And depending on the nature of the bodily affliction, he knew oof (and had the materials to address) several of the things that it might be.

He'd want to do an evaluation with Bye to assess his current physical and mental state. But if the moonsickness could be addressed, Albert would find a way.

He had to. He wasn't willing to abandon Light. They needed time. Resources. Plans. Knowledge.

"Well, Bye," Albert says, "We'll figure out what we can. And what we can't, we'll find a way to live with."

Albert has knowledge (engineering) and craft (alchemy), but I don't know how useful those will be towards repairs. But he has plenty of tools, elbow grease, and ingenuity! Let's MacGyver this ish! And once inside, I'm happy to do a Heal check with Byron to figure out what sort of maladies he may be suffering from.

There is a cluster of strange-looking buildings on the far outskirts of town, seemingly covered in a fence, or a mesh of wires. You cannot make sense of it, but what you do know is this - there are no lightning nests anywhere close to it. This could be a place to shelter away from the light of Moon.

Did somebody build a FARADAY CAGE?!

If Gam was still trying to be sweet on Iris, he'd have to watch himself. She was showing that she'd take no prisoners in a battle of wits. Love is a Battlefield...

Albert is just about done with his inventory when he receives the message from Zephyr. There were more processed and preserved foods than he would have preferred under normal circumstances, but these were not normal times. Fresh produce wouldn't last long right now. But cans, dehydrated, salted, and such--yes, these would do. There was even a bit of medicine, but mostly other supplies to stanch bleeding and secure breaks and sprains. It's enough that, unless they're stuck out in the wilderness for a couple of weeks, he probably won't run out of his own alchemical supplies either.

So the professor tries to make out Zephyr's message through the interference. It's a little hollow and tinny sounding, with all sorts of noise meaning that he has to pay extra attention to understand it.

<"Understood, Zephyr. If I don't hear from you in 10 minutes and cannot reach you, I will bring a group towards you.">

That should give them enough time to finish this up this current scavenging effort before they take shelter.

A nice bottle of alcohol might be a good find, too...

Well, Gamberino's "explosion" was a mild one. Albert nods. "If they're both fine with that, then it seems sound to me." He looks at both Edmund and Iris for their own feelings on the matter, and then begins rattling off the most immediate needs of the camp for the groups that will be going out.

"We're looking for whatever we're low on or that will get used rapidly. So food is the top priority, followed by medicine. If you see something that can be used as a weapon, grab it if you see something and have enough room for it. Look for restaurants and stores before you waste time looking for larders in homes. If anyone finds an apothecary, let me or one of the medical students know so that we can assess what they have. Let's go."

Perception, see invisibility: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (16) + 19 = 35

If Albert absolutely needs to find something, he has an extract of acute senses prepared to give himself another +18 on top of everything else. (It doesn't stack with Tears to Wine, but that's it.)

Active Buffs

Albert gathers the group together again after the initial quick scouting, introducing Byron to the group and asking Iris to look after him. (I.e., keep on eye on him.) He then reports what he knows about the current situation. "It looks like there were reasons to abandon the town. There are nests of potentially hostile elementals throughout that I believe must be avoided at all costs. Given current conditions, it will become less safe in two candles. I recommend that we take one hour to gather supplies and then put an hour between ourselves and the town so that we can set up camp elsewhere." He pauses, recalling Gam's earlier outburst. "Does anyone have objections or other recommendations?"

Albert quickly taps a message to the others, rapid short-and-long tones conveying the message on his short-wave channel broadcast.

<"There are lightning elementals around that may not be open to company. We have found a sylph who we're bringing back to the main group. The town may not be safe. Be prepared to vacate.">

Knowledge (planes) on Moon's nadir, Ht Awareness, Heroism, Tears to Wine, Mutagen: 1d20 + 17 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (18) + 17 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 40

Sense Motive on Byron, Heroism, T2W: 1d20 + 1 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 1 + 2 + 2 = 23

I'll wait to see what those killer roll brings me. But Albert was hoping to take shelter here in town for the night. If the suggestion is that we won't be safe here, it looks like we have two options: 1) make it safe by force, or 2) risk it again on the road. Albert knows it could be risky, but he's willing to face down some lightning elementals. I have a feeling Zephyr might feel differently.

Albert isn't precisely sure what the el means but picks up on the repetition and draws on some of his older learning about psychology. Traumatic stress. Possible obsessive compulsions. Unlikely delusions, given the horrific realities of what they had all experienced in the last few days, but those weren't entirely out of the question.

"Yes," he says, calm but insistent. He realizes, almost too late, that the agreement was a tacit promise based on incomplete data. That had been a sticking point in the medical community of Light. Which is more helpful to the patient with a potentially terminal diagnosis: false hope, cold reason, or hedged bets with detached uncertainty? Which respected their autonomy more? Which led to better health outcomes? (And, for the administrators, which was less likely to lead to lawsuits?)

"Yes," he repeats, his voice gentler and his hand held out in invitation.