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Ethyl looks at the fog with trepidation, "You are probably correct. Despite it being a shortcut. Leading us down the garden path is an idiom that that dreams and nightmares might take too literally. And clearing rubble would be rather difficult." Ethyl didn't say the real reason was she hated manual labor.
Yep 4 clw, 2 +1 nat armor amulet, and 2 silver daggers.
Ethyl regards the amulets with suspicion as Alvar explains the benefit, "Will such a device even work for me? I wonder." She collects the potions and stores them with the others and adds one of the daggers to her collection of sharp implements. She asks, "Its only a matter of who wears which."
Ethyl crosses the room shouting at the birds, "Cease that infernal racket!" She rakes her claws at the taxedermic birds, venting her anger at the sudden unexpected klaxon on them.
Ethyl fights through her fear of the fog outside and faces it. "We can cross there. The fog is thin enough to see through, perhaps a short walk won't be dangerous." She sees Nyarai's fingers disturb the illusion. "Perhaps it is only a visual effect." Relying on her keen ears Ethyl enters the room and moved to open the door outside.
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.
GM could you link the loot page up top? https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/14cHtdRCYlalCyJ02B6Jn7DjmK8BH3EvziYJ MuDh--gk/edit?usp=drivesdk
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.
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.
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."
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."
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.
"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?"
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."
I would very much like to restore my extract slots, completely tapped out. We could trade some of the less useful alchemical supplies for a crossbow. I'm looking at the two soothe syrups and the opium. And a could antitoxins depending on how good a deal we can get. The survivors might have better use of them than we do. If that doesn't work we could pool our money to get you enough, I have 52gp I could lend. Also might as well split the money we have up, everyone gets 8gp.
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?”
Work has been super busy for me lately too...
Losandro's Office
Ethyl got caught up in her emotions. Too angry to see the explosion coming, despite Alvar’s warning and her own quick reflexes. Several chunks of glass grazed her limbs and a few more embedded themselves in her face, causing her to bleed everywhere. At least the injuries were not so serious that she was in danger of bleeding out. She took a few minutes to concoct a salve attuned to her unique physiology, staunching the bleeding and speeding the healing process. Not satisfied with the state of herself, she consumed another precious healing potion.
With Winter Ethyl sniffs at Alvar’s explanation, ”Quite. The dear Administrator was made one of them, spouting fog.” Her voice trembled a little as she spoke the words. ”She was dispatched from her horrendous state and it seemed to have cleared the fog in the room. I expect that we shall venture out again once we have recovered, I know full well that our supplies are limited.” Later While Alvar found the children, Ethyl made herself scarce. She washed herself and her clothes as best she could and used a cooking fire to sanitize the surgeon’s tools she found. She had the realization that she knew exactly how to use them constructively, not only destructively. Perhaps she had been a healer like her fickle memories hinted. She found Nyarai, by far the worst injured among them, and said, ”Be still and let me look you over. I will brook no protest.” Carefully she examined the slyph's wounds, acid burns, cuts from the soulsliver’s explosion. Carefully she cleaned the wounds, disinfecting with an iodine solution applied with cotton, cutting away dead flesh that could not be saved, suturing deeper cuts together, and finally applying fresh bandages. She applied the precise amount of medicinal aid needed, time would heal the rest. She then sat Enoch down and examined him, and proclaimed, ”Your patron will not claim you yet.” She made sure that the magical healing he had received had set his bones correctly and applied the iodine solution to his lingering abrasions, but did little else for the paladin. After Alvar returned from their mission Ethyl sat them down and felt their forehead pulling away as the heat nearly burned her, ”You’re burning up. I’m not making some flippant joke. You need to rest. Let me find a compress and some water for you to drink. If you are still feverish in the morning we should consider finding the materials needed for an anti-plague treatment.”
Ethyl reels back, too late and too slowly, as the glass double of the headless Losandro slices into her. The move saved her life as it only cut into flesh and didn't penetrate deeper.
She tried to get maneuver around the headless horror and get it between her and Enoch. She tore into the monster with her claws.
Ethyl regards the queer scene with academic interest. She first made sure that "Losandro" was not moving. She whispered, "See how the laryngeal area is almost transparent and how the cut ends if the jugular look almost sharp. Further her sinister side on the floor is the dexter side in the chair. It's a three dimensional mirror copy made, of course, with glass." Ethyl cautiously approached the figure.
Ethyl regarded the things destroyed with a bit of pity, they did not disturb her at all. She took it as weak confirmation of her former profession. Ethyl tuts as Nyarai heals Enoch while ignoring her own wounds, "First we need to get any clothing off of your skin that may be soaked in the caustic pus. Then the affected areas will need to be flushed with water. I believe I have some salves that will assist with the healing process. Any any cuts I can stitch up, I'll need a fire as well. I will need to inspect you for infection as well." She prepared herself for the walk the long way around, "Don't expect me to carry you."
+1d6 sneak attack
Decided that her luck on sanity checks should translate into game mechanics and took Iron Will. Hopefully I can get a IC post soon.
Ok then... I'm going to be punished for this later I can feel it. Will work on level up soon. Not sure what feat.
Ethyl sighs as practically no one listened to her. She hesitated, waiting for people to get clear. When it became apparent that no one would she threw another dagger low between Enoch legs narrowly missing his femoral artery and piercing the malignant flesh.
They are the very tiny blue and orange blobs next to Alvar and Nyarai. Took me a minute to find them.
Ethyl calmly advises, "Keep your distance and use ranged weapons. These things will explode in pus if we kill them. I hope I don't need to tell you what that will mean for all cuts and abrasions we've accumulated." To punctuate the point she drew one of her daggers and threw it at the nearest, . And then took a step back.
Ethyl clears her throat and asks, "Shall we?" She moved back to the corridor and moved to the next door.
"There is no way to know one way or the other currently, perhaps once we escape this nightmare we can verify the stories our minds are telling us." Ethyl moved to the next door, made sure it was safe, and peered inside.
Ethyl looks at Iosif confused, "Fish-people?"
Of Ethyl is disturbed by the gore she doesn't show it. Ethyl looks at the design on the signet ring, "I'm not familiar with this family. Hmmm. I doubt they need it anymore."
A ting of fear colors Ethyl’s next words, "It goes to the gardens. I'm afraid if we uncover the tunnel it will let through the yellow fog outside. If we have no other option..." She moved to the nearest southern door and ever paranoid checks it for surprises.
Ethyl regards Nyarai and wipes her pointed fingers with a cloth. She says obliviously, "I'm not sure what you mean my dear. In the academic sense, yes, I must socialize to maintain proper brain functioning." She considers for a moment, "I suppose I have had brief flashes of episodic memory, but it has not been useful or relevant to our current circumstances, so I didn't bother sharing. Although, I was working on a cure for Gillamore Plague and the principles maybe could be applied to ghoul fever. Should one of us succumb to the disease, I may have a viable treatment with sufficient supplies."
Ethyl wastes no time, she steps up to the transformed person and swipes her razor-sharp claws at the undead.
Ethyl thinks for a moment, "Treatment options to assist the body's immune system exists but there is no cure I know of. "Don't get bit and test fate," she suggests helpfully before continuing south.
Ethyl takes out an inkpen, wets it, and starts taking notes. "Perhaps one in the process of being made. Losandro was completely unresponsive, he is clearly in the throws of a nightmare. We should observe what happens to him. I don’t think removing the restraints is warrented at this time."
Ethyl spins around and finds her face to face with Enoch, "Leldro?!" She shakes her head clearing the vision from her brain. She mutters, mildly annoyed at the distraction and lack context surrounding the sudden memory, "Intrusive thoughts, no matter." As Enoch opens the door she warns, "Something is in there."
Ethyl follows along with the rest of the group not wanting to brave the asylum by herself. She approached the nearest door and listened for any thing that might be lurking within. If she heard anything she warned the group before carefully opening the door.
Letting y'all know I've got a pretty terrible cold so bot me if needed.
Ethyl reflects back on her only episodic memory of treating a young woman. "I believe I would have fit in with the doctors here, despite their reckless administrator. But I suspect the pay was better working for Count Lowls."
Ethyl muses, "It's logical in a way. Because reality is merging with the dimension of dreams people's worst nightmares are being made manifeste. The note, I suspect, is a memo about how the staff were speaking in passing about Mrs. Freeling's heart exploding. Normally this is preposterous, barring magical ritual, but the source of that rumor must have been a heart condition. For which she was likely being treated. Mrs. Freeling being a lay person takes the nurses at their word and then her treatment stops due to, well, everything. Her pysche experiences traumatic fear about her heart literally exploding and it is made manifest. The cure is her normal medicine. Why any medicine worked rather than the specific one is a mystery. " Ethyl motions back the way they came, "Let's rest and recuperate before venturing further."
With sufficiently high heal score healer’s kits become more cost effective than CLW wands. I forget when the break point is.
I have the loot logged. Did anyone want one of the potions? I want the healer’s kit. Next level Ethyl will be a proper doctor with all the tools needed for
Ethyl watches as the paladin touches perfectly good bandages, tinctures, and other remedies and then promptly ignores them. Rolling her eyes she dutifully follows after the man and collects them. Upon seeing the note she confers with Alvar outside, showing him the note. She motions towards the corpse, "Mrs. Freeling I presume. Perhaps we should give her her medicine."
Ethyl shows the remaining Apostle in Orpiment no mercy as her bloodlust takes over.
Ethyl's quick reflexes serves her well as she steps closer to the nearest cultist, she appraises them warily, outnumbered and cut off from the rest of the group. She rips and tears flesh. She yells out, "Quit your babbling Alvar! More cultists."
Ethyl gently pushes Nyarai out of the way so she can climb through the window. She tries to stay as quiet at possible but she catches her foot as she goes through and tumbles to the ground knocking the breath out of her. Righting herself quickly she perpares for the worst.
Ethyl lets Nyarai poke her head through the window with mild interest, "Perhaps we ought to return to the Chapel and Winter. We are all afflicted with minor injuries and I'm sure your magical protections are waning Alvar. I would like to spend some time with the patient records and the library to see if they yield any useful information." Her curiosity gets the better of her however and she looks over the slyph's shoulder, "Maybe one last room. Medications could prove useful."
"If it's a ghost of this woman," she suggested while pointing at the improbable corpse, "perhaps we ought to identify who she was. That may shed light on why she haunts her body rather than moving on." Ethyl begins committing the woman's visage to her memory so as to describe her later.
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