Stone Talon Panacea, Part 1
Log Info
- Title: Stone Talon Panacea, part 1
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Thurid, Shalethiste, Tenoc, Rocky, Geir
- Place: The Siege of Stone Talon
- Time: Sunday, January 17, 2021, 2:43 PM
- Summary: Shalethiste, Geir and Thurid travel via Airship to Stone Talon, along with a few Sith'makar guards, Rocky and Tenoc, to help Infalia pick up the patients. The trip is uneventful, as is the landing. It is during the meeting with the officers that they discover what is going on. The Cowardly disease has mutated, and the afflicted now become delusional and raging in the final stage. The colonel is more concerned with taking Stone Talon and revenge than anything else, leaving a Lt. Colonel to deal with the healers. They are taken to a medical tent, and find it both oversized, under-used and understaffed. In the process of discussion, the army's doctor, a Plague Doctor, goes to apply a suspicious cure to one of the patients. She is prevented by Thurid, an action which provokes gratitude in the Lt. Colonel who asks her to take charge. Shalethiste realizes this is more than a simple request; it is treason for the Arvek Nar, and an appeal to the adventurers to intervene at Stone Talon. Intervene and stop the War Crimes being committed all around them.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. Rocky 6'8" 460 Lb Sith-Makar Male A grey Sith in armor, bit like a statue. Geir 5'8" 200 Lb Sith-Makar Male A short, copper-scaled Sith-makar. Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter Shalethiste 4'6" 96 Lb Shadow Elf Female A copper maned elf maiden, hued in the night sky. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Inbound to Stone Talon
It took longer than twenty minutes for the Blar Airship to get ready and leave, a couple hours. Enough to settle things back at DEVA Station, leave some instructions and take off. It took some extra thrust, even some rocking, to break it out of the ice holding it to the ground. It's not on anyone's bucket list, but it was something to see a horde of the goblin crew running from one end to the other and jumping while the Captain screamed 'Thrusters Bow!' and 'Thrusters Stern'.
Eventually there's lift off, and it's overnight to Stone Talon. The route is circuitous to avoid Bludguni airspace as much as possible. The city can be smelt before it is seen. It's been under siege for months, and it's known at least one disease has taken hold. Coming in, the Blar army is spread in a thin ring around the Bludguni city. A ring composed of camps and small outposts surrounding siege engines. The city itself, formerly Myrddion and taken during the monster invasion is composed of older buildings which are light, airy structures and newer brutalist ones. A lot of the older structures have their fine decorative features smashed off. It's a little like someone took an elaborate metal sculpture and beat another around the head until it turned into an effective club. On top of this crushed beauty, is a layer of grime from the months of isolation.
The landing pad for the airship is clearly marked. "Stations Everyone!" Captain Infalia calls, "Landing now!"
Thurid has been at the center of a number of the developments- both troubling and positive- at the waystation so it should come as no surprise that when volounteers were needed for a journey to Stone Talon, she was of course one of the first to do so. Despite the fact that it means once again traveling by air. But Thurid is, at least, familiar to and with the crew of the airship in question having traveled to Caldera Saute aboard it. And so after packing her traveling gear aboard, she will board the ship.
Their mission sounds simple on paper, to pick up more patients to ferry them to the waystation. But with the growing evidence of foul play involved in both the sleeping sickness and the bloody fingers, Thuri- and other Alexandrian adventurers accompanying her- would do well to remain wary.
Rocky is here to help. The greyscale isn't entirely clear what he's helping or how, but there are people in need, and the people in change pointed this direction. Sometimes that's how helping works.
Geir seems wary boarding the airship. Least of his concerns is the chance of accident or crashing. No, it is the possible spread of disease in close quarters. He spends as much time in the open air as possible. And unless there is bad weather, he even catches a few winks there.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Roll one of: prof/airman, acrobatics, athletics or strength DC15.
Epic Fails will need a Reflex save to not Fly like a Rock. :)"
GAME: Tenoc rolls Athletics: (12)+13: 25
<OOC> Tenoc stands, arrow-straight. :3
GAME: Rocky rolls athletics: (12)+3: 15
GAME: Thurid rolls athletics: (6)+5: 11
GAME: Geir rolls strength: (15)+3: 18
GAME: Shalethiste rolls acrobatics: (15)+9: 24
More and more Makar are involved-- thus, Tenoc is involved, to watch over and protect and (as a side-benefit) survey potential new hunting grounds for Mictlan.
And get new stories. The goblin side-to-side relay on the ship? SO GOING TO CAMPFIRE TALES. Insane softskins.
Though the patients gather at the DEVA station also lend a sobering mark to the affair. Frail softskins.
"...is normal?" he asks of the strange rituals involved in flight. Ropes, tying ropes, untying ropes, packing and stowing and the nunpacking and.... The Hunter shakes his head with a frosty chuff. And cold, as well! No proper fires. Tragedy!
Rocky makes very good balast. Heavy, moves himself, and pretty nimble for all his bulk. The Warrior Caste also makes an effective anchor, grabbing a rope as instructed, heading over the side, and holding the ship where it needs to be. A novel experience, but really not so different from holding the leash of a swiftclaw in training.
Airships maneuver a little like inflated puffer fish. They drift in a direction, are easier to spin than change course and the response to actions lag. Air simply isn't a medium that's easy to leverage off. It's not much of a problem in straight line flight, but landing requires assistance on the ground.
'Biggie', the Airship's Bugbear, is the first. She drops a bow line, slides down it, then acts as an anchor using her own weight while she pounds the real anchor into the ground. A harder task in the winter.
As she stomps away, goblin crew jump over with side lines, land and pound in anchor pegs while the deck crew follow Infalia's orders to pull on the lines. Her temporary, non-goblin crew, are included in her orders which fortunately are very simple and loud.
It's clear the captain gets her frustrations out during landings.
Thurid does not like airships, and she is not particularly good at their operation- a fact of which she is rather proud. Prefering to travel by her own too feet, or at a push, particularly robust mule, she is more of a hinderance than a boon as she tries to follow the instructions offered. She does, at least, manage not to fall overboard which is something. She is also rather glad that Biggie is here to go climbing overboard- something she has experienced one too many times for one lifetime already. Oh how her cloud-giant ancestors would sigh and titter at this land-bound Jotun.
The copper-scale hauls on lines, as directed, demonstrating incredible strength and control over it. When the airship is finally down, he annouces, "Thiss one will prepare below." He goes inside the ship, and starts organizing pallets for the arriving patients.
Tenoc works among the ropes, clambering through lizardy effort and the added need to keep moving-- because pausing to gaze relentlessly at the landing zone and horizon might result in freezing that way!
"ONe is certain... sssk. Flying is not meant to float like fish." Idle remarks as he holds the rope (as instructed by overworked, exasperated goblin), lending weight where needed. "Ssssk. Stone Talon?"
It is a nice day for landing, fair weather clouds, a bright blue sky. The light wind from the West is the largest challenge. The Airship comes down, bow to the wind and lines up with it. The sunlight on the snow is dazzling, a wonderful white tapestry that hides the devastation of war. Blood has long since frozen and been buried. Only in the camps and around the seige equipment has it been turned to brown mud.
"Haul Aft!" Infalia shouts, "Thurid, wind the rope around your arms, brace and pull. Thrust off! Levitators to one tenth! Zeg, lift gas back one notch! All Hands, HEAVE!"
"HO!"
"HEAVE!"
"HO!"
>THUMP<
The Airship is down. A small group of officers approach.
Feats of strength are something Thurid is much more comfortable with than airship agility, and so as the order comes to haul on a rope, it is a welcome one for th Jotunborn. She winds the rope over her arm as instructed, digs her heels in, and heaves the rope as she is instructed pulling the airship in and helping to line it up for a landing. Impressive deltoids and trapezoids flex and swell as she exerts herself. She breathes a foggy sigh of relief once the airship is down on solid ground once more, and she makes her way to go fetch the gear that was too cumbersome to carry around while working on deck. Namely, her Earthbreaker, which she lugs over her shoulder as she emerges. Though- she leaves the Captain to go deal with the officers, like as she might to give them an earfull about the state of the siege.
Land. At last! Tenoc unentangles himself from the array of lines and cables, slithering down to the deck like some great scaly spider. With less eyes. Glad to no longer be doing the strange, mysterious arcana vital to sailing a skyship-- and gladder still that his legs do not quiver as the deck takes on a relative stillness! It is after several minutes that the Makar emerges from belowdecks with a sigh of relief, exhaling as he removes the leahter cover from the tip of the greatspear.
And puts it slowly back on again as a dozen harsh glares come his way. Grumbles and mutters about piercing the airbag. AGAIN.
Tenoc steams briefly, but resecures the cover. Moving over, he rumbles a greeting towards Thurid, tail thumping behind. "Peasss-=- ssk. Peace again, Rambreaker. This one hopes-- no greeness?"
Shalethiste, wizened after the trip to Caldera Saute, is still clad in her full kit as she worked during the trip, and now, as the ship comes in for landing, the Mul tries to redeem herself on that score by working the rigging properly as ordered. This, she does with a notable, almost spiderlike traverse through the rigging, securing knots and knocking ice free of the control surfaces. She is momentarily distracted again by the subtle, if profound difference in regard as she stares down the expanse toward the closing land. A grim horror, but no fear, a resolution that she will not suffer this to befall Alexandria, and she is back to it. As the ship finally sinks to the ground and the anchorlines are being set into place, she gets the all clear to descend to the deck itself to await the clearance to disembark.
The goblins are back on board, cheering. Any landing you walk away from is a good one. Captain Infalia looks at the approaching squad, straightens her back, squares her shoulders and descends the gangplank to meet them. She glances at her non-goblin crew as she does, part invitation, part plea for help.
Three hobgoblins are approaching, one would assume. Two are clearly military officers, in standardized armour, with rank and medals and all embellishments military, fancy chains and pauldrons. The third is completely conccealed from head to toe in a heavy leather coat, leggings, helmet hat and a bird-like mask. A Plague Doctor. Even his or her eyes are obscured by the tinted and smoked eye-pieces.
One leads, the other two follow. The lead salutes Captain Infalia, glowers. "You're late."
She glares some more, "We have patients for pickup. Some. There's been new developments. The doctor will explain, the Lt. Colonel will provide some assistance. The city has broken, and I'm going to get back to that." She seems ready to leave after her stern welcome.
Rocky chuffs softly in acknowledgement, the solid thump of his tail puncuated by the sharp crackle of frozen snow.
Thurid offers Tenoc a broad- but tired- grin at his own greeting, but soon enough there is business to attend to. She does move down the Gangplank, eventually, as Infallia seems to prefer that she does. Her enormous maul is lugged off her shoulder, and upturned to rest against the wood. She places one foot upon it, and leans on the haft as she listens. "What of the populace?" she wonders, perhaps out of turn, "From what I overheard, the missive spoke of soldiers for pickup. But like as not the disease is not confined to those fighting?" she asks.
Tenoc rumbles quietly, sharp eyes glancing, lazy, glittering as they moves from the Captain to the other commander. Still now-- Important Things to hear, if not quite understand. Sssk. Fighting?
Shalethiste catches the invitation and, like her fellows, finds her way down the gangplank. She glances to Thurid as she speaks, drawing up to the Jotun's side and regarding their... liasons with a poised reserve.
Infalia grimaces a smile back, showing off all her sharp pointed teeth. "The Crow was delayed." She gestures to Thurid and the others. "These are the Medical Staff, the have some questions."
The lead officer looks up at Thurid. Tenoc, Rocky, Shalethiste are examined next, the Sith'makar cursory, the Mul'niessa in a more lingering way, before she faces Thurid again. Her eyes roam quickly once more, searching for insignia detailing rank, unit, and finding only the Angoron Holy Symbols. She nods, "They didn't send humans. Good."
"If the civilians surrender, they are spared. They usually don't. There is a hospital and Temples inside. My troops haven't reached them yet."
She glances over her shoulder at Stone Talon, "I wouldn't waste time on their civilians."
Thurid continues leaning on her hammer as the officer speaks, "Good." she says, on the topic of civilians being spared if they surrender- that's a proper way to wage war, after all. The next comments draw a brief scowl from Thurid, and she steps off her hammer, hefting it up once more to rest across broad shoulders, "That is why you are a soldier, and I am a Warrior." she offers, dispelling her scowl with a bright grin. "Your war is no concern of mine, only the disease and the diseased." she says then. "I'd see to them."
Rocky chuffs again, a distinctly less happy sound. But while the warrior caste may not like the realities of war, he voices nothing against them now.
Tenoc 's gaze roams in silent survey, noncommittal as his tail moves in slow bemusement. Hunter's understanding of the strange divisions in softskin society-- he rumbles, chuffing a breath into the air. Warrior-things. Support, in silent, grim array. Tailthump.
Shalethiste's eyes narrow slightly, but she holds her tongue, at least for the begining. The Silver Guard allows Thurid to speak without her imput as she is both a more established healer, and got more of the missive than she did. She is largely peacekeeping, with a bit of support, but as she finds a pause, the Mul ventures, "Have any new strains emerged?"
"Yesss... The disease... has changed..." The Plague Doctor steps around the Colonel to address the group. The voice is indeterminate, very rough and wheezing as if the speaker suffered fire or acid damage to their lungs. "Patients are cowardly... at first. Frightened of their... shadows. Delusions... take over. They hide... make lairs. In the final stage... any threat makes... them rage. Attack."
The other officer speaks up. She gives a quick salute to the group, "Lt. Colonel Gadrany. Most of our afflicted soldiers fled into the surrounding countryside during the Delusionary phase. We had to restrain the rest."
"Deserters." The Colonel says, her war face firmly in place, "Not worth time either. They'll get a trial, a court martial and a proper execution when we track them down."
The distant sounds of battle in the city punctuate her words. "The war is my only concern and I'm going back to it. Deal with the Lt. Colonel, she'll provide what assistance is available." With that said, she turns on heel and marches back into her camp to her command table.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Sense Motive for anyone that wants to roll/has it. DC20 and DC25" GAME: Thurid rolls sense motive: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Tenoc rolls Sense Motive: (18)+3: 21 GAME: Shalethiste rolls sense motive: (5)+7: 12 GAME: Rocky rolls sense motive: (4)+2: 6
Rocky nods, accepting the opinions as given. Not -agreeing- mind you, but accepting.
Tenoc gazes lazily as the Colonel leaves, painted face a mask above inscrutible features. "...a poor chieftan," he remarks at last, rumbling darkly. Steam wafts from his nostrils; the Makar turns his gaze out on the city-- smaller than Alexandria, but still-- grimacing. It smells to keen senses, even from here. He glances at Thurid, tail curling behind him. Direction.
Thurid listens along to the doctor, tilting her head a bit at the unusual cadence of their voice, but not enquiring after it. She casts the Colenel another glance, adjusting her grip on the hammer, but does not do anything rash- turning back towards the Lt when she is directed towards her. "What treatments have been attempted?" she asks simply, "And can we see those you have restrained."
Shalethiste considers the Colonel evenly at her less impressive height and replies, "The compulsions of this disease are strong, that the victims flee so is not their fault." The plague doctor's information draws her notice and the Mul turns her eyes in that direction with some small hesitation, a lingering split of focus in case there's some offense given, but it lingers not overlong.
"Many treatments..." The Plague Doctor wheezes, the voice muffled by their leather mask. It's followed by a sound, which at first seems like laughter but turns into a coughing fit.
"I'll answer Dea, don't strain yourself." Lt. Colonel Gadrany interrupts with a strange glance at the doctor before looking up at Thurid again. "We've used non-magical methods. This is time consuming, the recovery rate was high until the change. Spells, like Remove Disease, Heal, are as effective as they normally would. We don't have many clergy capable of performing miracles at that level. More soldiers succumb than can be cured with their daily gifts."
She pauses, squeezing her lips together, "There is also the need to use that divine power for the soldiers that can still fight, in empowerments, advantagous affects or hostile ones."
The colonel doesn't answer Shalethiste, she ignores her as she walks away, forcing the Lt. Colonel to respond, "Your observations are true, but the rules are simple. If they run they're treated as deserters or else everyone else will, then later claim they were sick and recovered. They are ordered to ask for restraints before that happens."
She quotes something goblin, and doesn't seem convinced when she does so.
"We have the restrained patients, you can load and leave with them. If you wish..." Gadrany hesitates, looking off in the distance, at Stone Talon, back at the group. Whatever she was going to say, she doesn't. She repeats, "if you wish."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So more sense motive rolls or k/mil theory if you want insights. or trade a re-roll" GAME: Tenoc rolls Sense Motive: (14)+3: 17 GAME: Shalethiste rolls sense motive: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Rocky rolls sense motive: (4)+2: 6 GAME: Thurid rolls sense motive: (13)+7: 20
Gadrany seems disappointed with the orders she's given, concerned about the deserters and the enemy-sick, civilians, most likely. This is uncommon but not rare. She also is responding to Thurid as if she's a superior, the salute and introduction being most obvious demonstrations of that. Perhaps she believes the Jotun is an Ogress or respects her cleric status.
It is beyond obvious, their war is not being 'nicely' waged here. Long sieges usually mean starvation, eating all the animals, disease, and when the surrounding army breaks in, the attackers can be brutal. It sounds like their commander, the Colonel, hasn't issued any orders to hold back.
Thurid nods her head slowly as she listens along once more, "I think I understand. Higher ups are more interested in putting more enemy soldiers in sick beds than getting their own out of them, and neither side gives much heed to what happens to those caught in the crossfire." she says absently, disapproving- while Angoron might be reknowned for his fighting ability, he is a god of personal battle rather than war. Nevertheless, the warrior-cleric seems accustomed enough to the reality of Kor's works. "I'll take a look at any patients you have for me, whether they are flying back with us or not." she says simply, to the Lt. "And whichever banner they fly, or don't." she adds.
Tenoc thrums a warm, long breath. Eyes sharpen as he glances about, tail quivering; eager to move, to walk alongside, he spares the departed Colonel a last glance before his eyes settle upon the LtC's group, the plague doctor again. Eyes the Doctor. *Obviously* burdened by the afflictions of Evil Spirits. Sith Wisdom!
And absent, idle sketch on the air. Keep evil things from following home to Mictlan. Sssk.
Rocky mimics the simple ward in the air. The greyscale isn't usually one to indulge in such things, but these are not usual times, and every little bit helps.
Shalethiste's hilt, red leather wrapping, further spiraled by twisted wire of silver and white gold, creaks slightly under midnight fingers as certain realities of this battle become more apparant to her. She remembers her oaths, and the price of picking a three-way fight, here, and swallows her bile before reaffixing her eyes on those of the plague mask. "How many souls are afflicted?"
"That's the size of it." Lt. Colonel Gadrany says, sounding disappointed somehow, "Come this way."
"My treatments..." The Plague Doctor wheezes, the leather suited individual gestures at Gadrany. "Successes! ... (gasp) ... tell them."
"Yes! Rrr..." Gadrany responds as if ordered, still leading the way to a medical tent. "Doctor Deaztor produced several startling results. Her alchemical concoctions, well, there is one which seems to be a sure cure, two different ones which address the cowardly and delusional symptoms, one calms, the other puts the patient to sleep."
She hesitates, looking at the Doctor, who nods enthusiastically then starts coughing again.
Gadrany grimaces, "the fourth version gets the patient back into fighting form, for a while..." She opens the flap to the medical tent. Inside, there are two hundred beds, barrack style and stacked. It could accomdate four hundred patients. There are a lot less, perhaps thirty. All restrained to the beds.
"Thirty one..." Plague Doctor Deaztor says.
The Lt. Colonel is clearly leaving something out.
"And then things get worse?" Thurid ventures, to complete Gadrany's unfinished sentence. But, they are soon enough upon the sick. Thurid unslings her hammer from over her shoulder, and sets it down so that she can head on over to inspect the nearest patient. "Like a beserker shrugging off their wounds only to succumb to them when the adrenaline fades." she adds after a moment. Drawing near the first patient, she stoops down to examine them.
Tenoc accompanies the group, breaking away when all come to the medical tent. Only keen knowledge or another Makar might pick it up-- the Hunter shudders upon coming to the Sickness Place, stoic as he turns to stand guard at the entry. Stone, stillness-- unable to bring himself to cross the simple threshold.
"This one will await here if needed," he offers the jotun Warpriest, nodding to Thurid and the others as he steels himself outside. Hoping against hope-- not needed!
Rocky passes though without pause, understanding the hesitation in others, but such is not his role. If he is to be injured, he will be injured. If he is to be ill, he will be ill. So be it.
Shalethiste sees the Sith draw up to stand post and she nods, a faint quirk of her lips, the span of eyelid to flash understanding and acquiescence without making an overt display, while still carrying forward herself.
The size of the triage is... something, though the comparatively small sample of restrained patients is too ambiguous to be a clean positive or negative. Instead, trusting Thurid's judgement thus far on the medical side of affairs, absorbs the information with only a faintly looser grip on her blade. "The cure takes too long, or is too difficult to acquire reagents for, then...?" she wonders in a uniquely... Charneth tone.
Venom boiled down, served over ice.
Serves six.
"Yes." Lt. Colonel Gadrany answers Thurid, fixing a frown on her face. She leads through the aisle of beds to the occupied ones. There is one nurse, off occupied down the line. Gadrany stares at Shalethiste, empty of expression, "when it doesn't work, they die fast."
Patients are tied, hand and foot to the bed. Each has a mask covering their eyes, and a lot of wax cotton stuffed in their huge goblinoid ears. Despite this, the one Gadrany approaches twists in terror at the sound of footsteps and thrashes on the bed.
At DEVA station, each patient is isolated in their own tent. Silence and muffling spells are used, and the nurses approach carefully. This patient, all of them, are the same as the ones at Alexandria, but so much worse. There are secondary wounds around the wrists and feet from the bindings.
"Yes..." Doctor Deaztor eagerly moves toward the patient, pulling a glowing potion bottle from somewhere in her cloak, "Do you want... to fight? >cough< >cough< ... The fourth cure... works best if they... run the right way." She's ready to pour.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "that's your DC for an Init roll or a reflex save to react before the good doctor pours." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Thurid, Shale, Rocky may roll. Tenoc you're too far away." GAME: Shalethiste rolls reflex: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Rocky rolls reflex: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Thurid rolls reflex: (19)+2: 21
Rocky isn't clear what's going on, but understood 'fight', and tenses for battle.
Shalethiste is only brought up so short by the reply, but, apparantly, it's enough. As Frau Doktor deigns to bypass all the formalities and go straight to the live demonstration of Treatment Number Vier, it takes the Mul just that little half second longer to process, particularly as she's latched onto the notion, "You should have at least six assistant in-!" She realizes that's transpiring and starts to reach out with a Sildanyari /NO!/ but one way or another, the deed is done ere her hand reaches it's goal.
Thurid's large hand snaps out and around the doctor's wrist. She squeezes tight- not tight enough to cause harm, but enough to remind the doctor of her strength. "A cure which kills the patient in the end is no better than a stroke of mercy." Thurid says, "One which thrusts them back into battle before doing so is worse." she says, and then pushes the doctor and their cure away from the patient for the time being. Her eyes flash like distant lightning as she looks about the place, "There are too few nurses and doctors here, and too few patients receiving besides. A nation that treats its soldiers like this is doomed to fall." she insists. "A nation which treats captured cities like this is doomed to be torn apart by unrest." she adds a moment later, turning to loom over the doctor. "These patients are in my care as of this moment. I will not allow harm to come to them."
Tenoc's placement is subtle-- the calm of the breeze before the whirlwind. Just a movement, a step. So idle. From the side of the entry to standing before it. Spear in hand, eyes glittering as he gazes in sentinel survey.
Trust. Confidence in allies! Ssk.
The Plague Doctor hisses. Caught, she still attempts to reach and pour but is utterly restrained in the Jotun's grip. The words sink in, she stops struggling.
"No Doctor! He didn't cons..." Gadrany also moves to stop Doctor Dea, also too slowly, her arm starting a block after Thurid has already moved and prevented.
The Lt. Colonel looks up at Thurid. Arvek Nar compartmentalize everything, emotions are boxed up and rarely shared. Discipline is everything. There is a hierarchy. Order must be maintained. Nothing shows on her face, it's in her eyes. The expression of a drowning man.
"Yes. Take charge." Her words come quickly, she repeats, her voice firm, "Take charge."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Sense motive DC20" GAME: Shalethiste rolls sense motive: (15)+7: 22 GAME: Tenoc rolls Sense Motive: (9)+3: 12 GAME: Rocky rolls sense motive: (14)+2: 16 GAME: Thurid rolls sense motive: (7)+7: 14
Thurid rubs the back of her neck then, as she seems to have taken over the hospital, intentionally or not. "Alright then." she huffs. "We'll need more nurses. This hospital has capacity for many more patients, are there healers enough to staff it?" she wonders. "If so, we could admit more patients." she says then. She looks over to her companions, "This is my fools errand. But I intend to remain and help the sick here. I will not think less of any of you if you return with those we were sent to collect in the beginning." she offers them. Back to the Lt.C "We'll need supplies as well. I've not enough magic to treat them all, but I will spare what I may for the worst afflicted. For the others, we'll need to prepare mundane tinctures."
Tenoc looms in place. Mostly. Wards and grims and glowers as needed!
Shalethiste's fingers curl back toward her outstretched palm as Thurid takes matters in hand. The Mul's interposed gesture withdrawn, she straightens, considering the patient a moment, then turning a unveiled glare of dire portents toward the Doktor. The words of the Lt. Colonel catch her immediate focus, however, hold it, then there is a minute nod and the Silver Guard steps around the cot to gently clap Thurid on the arm, "A moment, Warrior?"
Lt. Colonel Gadrany nods to Thurid, something unreadable in her expression. "Yes, I'll get more healers. Doctor Deaztor you are no longer permitted in this tent or to treat the patients." She heads outside, passing Tenoc, sharing a strange expression with him as well.
Thurid nods her head slowly and pushes out another breath as things seem to be progressing in a direction she prefers, but she turns her attention to the hand on her arm and then looks down to Shale. She offers a small nod, and then moves aside for some semblance of privacy while the Mul speaks.
Rocky chuffs quietly. Did they just go from helping things to running things? Eh, he's still just helping. Well, trying to. When it comes to hospitals, he's more familiar with being the injured.
Tenoc spares the passing commander a glance, silent as he gazes on. A chuff of smoke, warm breath-- he lets her part, unmoving as he returns his gaze in outward contemplation of the grounds. And silent, gleeful bemusement. Already composing the tale for the campfires: "'And lo, Mighty Healer disapproved of medicine hut, and did take it, because she is large, and bitey, and learned well percussive maintaining of things.'"
Shalethiste spears the Doctor with another, warning glare, then, on Thurids assent, the two drift off a little ways where the Mul downturns her chin a touch to let her hair spill down at such angle as to obscure her lips from the side, while allow her yet to sideeye the native 'healer'. "Gadrany's put her foot under the anvil." she murmurs softly, "i expect no more leniency for what she's done for us, here, than there would be in Charn. Our recovering patients at home could use a friendly face when they recover, no?" As the Mul speaks, in case any ambitions take root in certain soil, there is the movement of her thumb, and a half inch of gleaming midnight peeks out from the mouth of her scabbard.
The poor thing just needs to breathe, you see.
There are illusion pictures, the old and young woman, the vase and two speakers, the snake and the spearman. Pictures which appear to be one thing, and even if the second image is known, it can take a while to resolve. There are more elaborate versions, repeating patterns, which eventually trick the eye and reveal something hidden in the depths. It wasn't visible, then it is. Like magic.
There is the big picture with pockets of detail. It's hard to put all the pieces together. The city is under siege and has been for a while. It's finally broken and the soldiers are making their last push. Both defenders and attackers have suffered a disease which renders them cowardly, and now, violent. Civilians are caught in the mix, likely suffering as well. The colonel has a callous and indifferent attitude towards both her own troops and the enemy. Surrender is taken if offered, but there didn't seem to be a place for prisoners in this camp. Perhaps few did, perhaps it is hard to surrender in just the right way. The sick are being tended in horrible conditions, by a doctor who seems more interested in using them for her experiments than curing them. The second in command has just asked a third party, a civilian of another state, to take charge. Then obeyed her orders. This is treason. All the pieces fall in place and the picture resolves. Like magic.
The Inquisitor asked for evidence of a war crime. This is the evidence. This is the war crime. It is happening around you. In the tent. In the city. In the surrounds. The Lt. Colonel can't stop it on her own.
But...
She's not alone anymore.
Thurid nods her head a bit then, "Agreed." she says to Shale then, "I've half a mind to take my hammer to any skull allowing this state of affairs to continue, international incident be damned." Thurid says to Shale then. "But I don't want to put you all at risk, nor Infallia and her crew." she adds after a moment. Her jaw sets as she glances out across the beds, the patients within. "But this is abhorent. It cannot be allowed to continue."
Rocky is a warrior, but that is no way means he approves of war. To fight an individual is one thing. To fight a people, a nation? That's quite something else.
"Bevels on the blade." Shale remarks crypticly with a little nod, then, "I would not see mischief befall you, Thurid, but one of us must accompany the patients back to Alexandria to begin treatment and report on landing." She gives that a moment, then, "But, we should consult Gardany for specifics."
Tenoc stands stoically. Takes occasionaly moment, to walk from one corner of the entry to the other, glancing down, back. Return to entry. Post rigid, grim, vaguely menacing.
As if summoned, Captain Infalia appears. She nods at Tenoc as she sips past him and ducks into the tent. She stays ducked, as if she was below decks, the posture doing terrible things for her scrawny appearance. She lopes up to to the group, glances at the Plague Doctor then asks, "Are we ready to start loading? Crew wants to leave. The screams and the smells are getting to them."
They are omnipresent, distant and persistant, the sound of on-going war.
"I think I know her." Infalia goes conversational to have some noise to cover the screaming-silence. "The Lt. Colonel. As Gadrany the Blade, one of the gladiators in Stone Talon arena. Blarite, a few years ago, when things were... friendlier and travel was still possible. Good fighter. Honourable. Took a while for it to click. So, estimate on the leaving?"
"That was another lifetime," Gadrany says, entering the medical tent again. "More healers are coming. Colonel Ezrechu will come to see what's going on when she hears. That's when you should make your move."
"It won't be long now. Be ready."
<OOC> Shalethiste considerate swordswoman. Let it breathe properly and your strokes will sing true. >.>
<OOC> Tenoc X3
<OOC> Shalethiste says, "We can be HEROES... just for one day...."
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods!
<OOC> Tenoc much approves. Ponders. "So-- someonme back to report to Inquisitor, while other stay and make sure 'evidence' doesn't spontaneously vanish into thin air?"
<OOC> Tenoc says, "...and work on changing pain tent into proper medical environ?"
<OOC> Tenoc toss ideas!
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "There are lots of options."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "It is 7EST, and I wanted to get past 6. It's a little early but could go to endposes, or go a few more. This is the sort of thing I'd want to continue during the week."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "not all monsters are dragons, and you could be heroes for more than one day too."
<OOC> Tenoc totally puts on clerical robe. Healer Dragon Lookalike? :3
<OOC> Tenoc leaves for others to decide direction. Happy just being Big Bad Guard. Loom, grr! :
<OOC> Thurid says, "Thurid is ready to crack skulls :D"
<OOC> Cryosanthia waits on Tenoc pose, "also, if you have questions like, 'could we do X' or something, feel free to ask. I don't want to suggest too much in case it seems like railroading
<OOC> Tenocack! Tappita--