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Another thing, I just saw. You're all level 6 and by now you should be level 7. So feel free to level up your characters.
So you are saying, get to the door kicking? If you don't have another idea that gets stuff going, that is the default in this game. The only lead you have at the moment is the secret elevator mechanism. I don't see any NPC that could help you if you show them the mask to make a decision. There is also another approach to stealth missions that I learned from a guy that stood in front of the inferno that once was an enemy base in Helldivers II. His comment: "As long as no one gets to raise the alarm the stealth mission was a success!" What I'm trying to say is: I played Pathfinder Offline at a table. And it was boring as f@$@ with some players discussing the options to death. Best case we managed one fight on a four hour evening. On one evening the worst sceptic wasn't there and my priest of Zon-Kuthon took the lead charging through the rooms. We did 4 fights that evening, had a lot of fun and my cleric only didn't die from disintegration because one companion had a card we got at the start of the book that allowed for a single reroll of a save. Everyone has a different idea of fun. As I'm not forced to sit at teh table while discussions are going on here it's no problem to go that route. But if you - like me - prefer more action, go for it. There is not much that can go wrong.
Can we please do some jumping to conclusions to get the adventure moving again? I'll give a hint: They are not wearing alignment hiding masks because they are ashamed of being lawful good. The situation would offer itself for a nice mystery/detective thing. Sadly neither the adventure nor the game system are supporting this properly. Therefore Ernhild getting angry looks like a step in the right direction to me. ;)
Spellcraft DC20: The immunity to blood veil is just putting a constant remove disease into a magic item, but it is limited to one kind of desease. Everyone trained in crafting such wondrous items could do it.
Tisha finds that they are indeed magical, but not much else. Narciso takes a closer look at the magical properties of the masks and provides the insight that those masks hide the wearer's alignment, besides preventing infection with blood veil and some protection from bad scents.
The pseudo dragons grab the coin and the food and disappear shortly, only to reappear and follow Tisha to see when there will be more food. As Tisha checks on the physicians she finds that they come out of the alley, a bit ruffled but otherwise unharmed. Robbed of their signature costume they hurriedly do the walk of shame back to the Hospice of the Blessed Maiden.
The coming and going of the Queen's Physicians is irregular. But it seems most of them are busy in the same area. The physicians leave in pairs, walk to the city watch where each is assigned two guards and then they visit old Korvosa going from door to door looking for new cases of blood veil.
The scent of exotic wood and sawdust fills this maze of barrels and crates. A web of ropes and pulleys crisscrosses the ceiling; from one thick cable hangs a net of barrels suspended nearly twenty feet above the splinter-scattered floor below. Three great wooden doors stand in the northern wall, while leather flaps lead to the south and east.
The stairs just lead up to a track of sturdy-looking catwalks that soar over the warehouse floor below, the evenly placed and well-trod platforms supported from above by iron poles. A nice option to look at the whole room from above, spoiled by two more Gray Maidens patrolling here.
The rough functionality of the warehouse below gives way to beige tile and a whitewashed hall on this floor. Double doors engraved with images of rampant gazelles stands to the south, their once fine teak bearing obvious scores and chips from rough use. Looking around might be an issue, as Two Gray Maidens in full plate guard the hall.
There are controls that cause the lift to operate. Not so obvious is an additional control set within the slot of the operating lever is missing it's button.
Several cubbies and wooden lockers line the walls of this small workroom. Four rickety chairs surround a water-damaged table, and a well-used but solid-looking cargo lift rises up through the ceiling.
Everyone is busy with patients. One question is, if the door will make sound. If someone will notice that in all that moaning, coughing and sneezing is another matter.
The group came through a large double door at the back end.
The stinging scent of alcohol and medicine floods this dingy reception room, an odor typical of hospices—and morgues. Across from the entrance sits a long wooden desk, beyond which a stained leather curtain covers an archway, muffling the moans issuing from the rooms beyond. The warehouse’s vast interior has been converted into one gigantic convalescent ward. The stench of alcohol, sickness, and waste chokes the breath, and tight rows of low, stained cots cram the stone-floored hall. Every bed is filled with a pitiful story—men and women of all walks groaning and wheezing as they’re consumed by blood veil, their sufferings multiplied by the echoing chamber. While Tisha looks around a group of people emerges from the back. Three more doctors that move to beds and one skinny nurse, that comes towards the leather curtain.
The doctor is behind the curtain at some patient's bed. He doesn't care or hasn't heard the door.
Map provided. Around the back, several larger doors once provided access to the building’s loading bay back in its time as a warehouse, but now they are boarded up. Entering the building through these reinforced doors requires them to be smashed down ]ooc](hardness 5, hp 30, break DC 25)[/ooc].
Narciso agrees, that for only one it is probably less effort and risk. He casts message and invisibility on Tisha.
Narciso confirms, that invisibility would be an option, but points out that it is a rather expensive way to get them all in. In his opinion it would be possible to send Tisha in, disguised as a blood veil victim with a message spell, so she can keep the party updated and call for help if needed. On the assumption that the wooden building would allow for the use of the spell as long as no stone or metal walls get in the way. And that there don't seem to be armed guards around to actually hinder the party to get in in such a case.
He is still on vacation.
The stinging scent of alcohol and medicine floods this dingy reception room, an odor typical of hospices—and morgues. Across from the entrance sits a long wooden desk, beyond which a stained leather curtain covers an archway, muffling the moans issuing from the rooms beyond. "If you prefer Dr. Davaulius to tell you that you waste your and our time, I can call for him. But don't expect him to be in a good mood then." the doctor replies.
There is no one standing at the door, and the door is not locked. But as soon as Ernhild enters someone immediately comes to meet her.
"But your attempt to help by coming here is misguided. The best way to treat blood veil is to use divine magic, as you for sure know. We are here for those that can't get that. For lack of money or lack of clerics who can aid in this way." "And our treatment is still experimental which can't be handed to the untrained. There is no vial to administer to the suffering." The doctor looks Ernhild into the eyes "So the best course of action for you would be to return to the temple and help the people in your way, and send those you can't help to us. Beyond that we can't help you as we have our hands full as it is."
Sitting in the shades somewhere the entrance is in sight for a few hours shows some of the doctors coming and going but the most traffic is people in later stages of blood veil walking into the hospice.
How it actually went: Clara comes out of the bath again. "You can go first." she generously offers." On closer inspection it becomes clear why: There is no water in the tub and a serious lack of modern plumbing. Tarjun walk in and cries behind the closed door "Aw, come oooon!"
When Tarjun gets out, he is much cleaner, and smiles at Clara like a cat who's just got the cream and a canary to spread it on. "Your turn!" The water in the tub is... a sight. Possibly an entire batallion just had their annual bath in that tub after returning from the war. It's hard to say. "You didn't pee in it, did you?" Clara inquires. "No," Tarjun replies very sincerely, and with more than a bit of pride. "They wanted me to have a real wash, right? So I did." Jewel walks up and looks in the tub with Clara. Glaring at Tarjun she growls. "I'll help you. And I'll heat some water so you don't have to take a cold bath, like he did." Glancing at him she mutters, "I hope you get a fungus!" While there isn't a faucet to fill it, there is a drain. Then Jewel turns to Erastil, holding up her tiny bow carved out of an elk antler. "MITTE AQUAM SINJE PLUVIA." The holy light of Erastil's intervention fills the room and shines into the hallway accompanied by the noise of a waterfall. Followed by a "CALEFACERE!" that shines the flickering octarine light. With that done Clara can finally take a bath too and does so by applying soap and water generously. "JEWEEEEEL! Please come and rinse me down." Clara whines as there is no way to get the soap out of her clothes that she is still wearing in the milky water of the tub. Jewel enters, looks at the mess and tries some other cleaning magic. "AQUA PURGARE!" Again the divine light shines from the carved badge she holds up. "HEY! I'm no food to purify!" Clara protests. From the other end of the hallway out of the dining room Donna shouts "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THAT BATHROOM?!?" "I PLEAD THE FIFTH!" Clara hollers back.
As the cinematics in our heads seem to diverge again, here an attempt to align that a bit. How it's supposed to go:
Once the boy is out of the bath Clara complains "I'm not setting foot into this mud soup!" After calling in Jewel for help they try to figure out a way to pull the plug on the tub without reaching into the water. After the tub is drained, the first bucket full is used to rinse the tub. With Tarjun standing on the side grinning, revelling in his new role of spectator it is now Clara's turn to haul buckets. She isn't happy about that from the start she mutters under her breath about "Dirty boys. Such a nuisance. One could believe they are made out of dirt and stink." After a while Jewel helps with filling the buckets as Clara is a bit short to operate the pump efficiently.
The bath door closes again and after a while with a lot of sploshing and bubbling noises, a soapy Clara appears in the hallway again. The bath looks like it got hit by a flood by now. "Jewel, you have to rinse me!" Clara whines through soapy squinting eyes. Jewel leads her out to stand under the pump and then operates the device, showering Clara with cold water until the whining turns into annoyed complaining again. At last Jewel makes Tarjun and Clara stand outside, while she mops up the bathing flood in the bath and all the way through the hallway outside.
The former warehouse at the docks is accessible from all sides. The main entrance to the hospice is a wooden door that is kept locked after dark. Around the back, several larger doors once provided access to the building’s loading bay back in its time as a warehouse, but they are not boarded up. The building has no windows.
Carowin doesn't like that suggestion. He stays back though til you made sure there are no undead left. A quick search of the premises brings up no further zombies.
"How about you take this crazy woman to prison? Or far, far away from me anyway." Carowyn suggests. "I'll follow you out of the house at a safe distance and then... contact an undertaker." He buries his face in his hands.
"Why, what? No one had any symptoms of blood veil at the party!" Carowyn objects.
"Yes, I'm Ausio Carowyn. My wife is Olauren Carowyn. She was dressed as a Galtan queen, her sprawling pearl-studded gown flowing around her and an elaborate, powdered wig nearly brushing the ceiling."
"We were greeting the Westerkiers when the elven acrobat we hired as an entertainer went crazy. I saw her open fire on one of my guests with her crossbow, laughing all the while in the most frightful, shrill way. I’ve been locked in here for days, and every time I got up the courage to sneak out, I heard that horrible laughter above." the man tells. "Do you know what happened to my wife?"
"B-b-b-ut there is the crazy woman!" He points the painting knife at Jolistina.
Behind the door is a small workshop that was converted into a studio. among the painting supplies, is a tawdry-looking divan, a small shrine to Shelyn, several scandalous portraits of a woman that looks somwewhat familiar, and a man. He brandishes a dull paint knife at Briggi when the dwarf enters trying his best not to shake too obviously.
You get no answer.
The door is locked from the other side.
Tisha: No trap visible.
The polonaise moves on and in the next room there are some stairs leading down. A well-stocked wine rack and several large casks line the
Narciso's poor man's fireball ends the banquet.
Initiative:
Tisha leads the polonaise through the rest of the floor. Eight corpses sit at a finely set dinner table, looking at one another blankly. Of the eight, four are zombies who mechanically go through the motions of eating the rotten food on the table before them, spooning it back into their mouths after it dribbles out onto the table from their slack jaws.
Decades of practice finally pay off and Briggi clubs the elf.
Tisha: Friends in a very broad definition of the word. Like not killing each other on sight.
Ernhild walks over and makes sure the elf has no option to leave.
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