DEVA AF FFS, Part 7

Log Info

• Title: DEVA AF FFS, part 7
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Thurid, Shalethiste, Merek, Brand, Sasha
• Place: H01: Kultari Road
• Time: Sunday, January 10, 2021, 2:07 PM
• Summary: Patients are recovering, almost half of the first group. There seems to be promising results with the third group at first, but then most of them relapse. Finally, Thurid catches the Black Bog Plague and it nearly finishes two patients, only heroic attention from Thurid and Shalethiste save one, while Merek inflicts great pain using magic and cures the other. As the healers consider the aftermath, a sith'makar arrives and asks questions. How do they want to dedicate Mikilos' casting, Urtur wants to see Thurid, is that possible, and what should be done regarding a large crow on the airship that seems to be taunting the camp. The bugbear and his brother are told to wait until Thurid is better, the worst off patients will be sent to the best facility, and everyone goes to look at the large crow. It turns out to be a Witchcrow, working for the Blar Military with a message for Captain Infalia instructing her to leave immediately for Stone Talon. She preps to go while the others decide if they will go.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* H01: Kultari Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

From east to west, north to south, the Alexandrosian countryside weaves over hill, valley, and farmland. Kultari Road meanders through it at a comfortable pace. The roadside is lined with curbstones, their surfaces comfortably flat and warm, with sand pressed inbetween. At times construction meanders into dirt, and numerous pathways branch off here and there to different farmsteads.

Along this stretch is a waystation. Over its door is a carved marker with dual symbols of Gilead and Tarien, the patrons of travel and the meeting of wilderness-and-civilization, respectively. Not large, the waystation rests a comfortable ways from the main avenue, with a place for a firepit out front.

Towards the south, the sky and landscape darkens. The Felwood lies there, and an occasional screech from inhuman lungs may be heard.

Towards the east, the shining City of Alexandria.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Thurid       7'1"     249 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman.
Shalethiste  4'6"     96 Lb      Shadow Elf        Female    A copper maned elf maiden, hued in the night sky.
Merek        5'10"    215 Lb     Human             Male      A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes.
Brand        6'0"     180 Lb     Human             Male      Raven-haired Human Male with blue eyes.
Sasha        6'4"     245 Lb     Human             Female    Huge Blonde Woman
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  As the GM  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.                       
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

DEVA Station

An Inquisitor from the Temple of Eluna came by and collected the grenade. He spoke with Major Kreemo but later admitted to the Silverguards he received no useful info, they should keep up pressure on the Bludguni soldiers and see if something slips.

Patients are recovering well in the first group, the disease which makes people frightened of their own shadows. Over half are considered cured, and have been separated for observation.

Similar progress was made with the third group who have the Sleeping Sickness. At first. A dozen out of the twenty four afflicted were declared healthy, but after a few days the disease returned with increased strength, putting nine of them at death's door.

The Black Bog Plague was similar, almost half recovered, but several worsened.

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Thurid, Fort Save +4, DC18"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "And 2 patients in group 4 will die unless you can make DC35 heal check. 
                         You can assume a +6 Aid Another from PCs not here. 
                         There are some NPCs and a couple other things you might do to boost your chances."
GAME: Thurid rolls fort+4: (1)+7+4: 12 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Thurid rolls heal+6: (16)+11+6: 33
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "Second Fort save Thurid DC18, no bonuses."
GAME: Thurid rolls fort: (20)+7: 27 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "well, roll Aid Another heal, DC10"
GAME: Shalethiste rolls heal: (12)+8: 20

Thurid has been hard at work in the camp, but it seems as though the cold weather is taking its toll on the patients- as soon as she can administer to one, it seems, the next falls ill again. She is rushed beyond her capacity to cope, and she is beginning to fall behind. Worse than this, when she is washing after tending to the patients and discovers a pustule on her armpits. "Curses..." the Jotunblooded woman says. She wastes no time, though- and promptly reports to one of the other healers that she has taken ill. "Someone will need to inform Urtur. I'll keep myself to the plague sufferers." she informs them- and then returns to continue tending to the plague victims while she still has the strength to do so.

Shalethiste, in the wake of the grenade business, has returned to tending to the sick as things are easing down in regards to aggression, though the upswing in the potency of the sicknesses is concerning. She has relegated some of Arbarra's shifts to fellow Silver Guard. amongst the plague victims, as she helps within her limits, she hears some whispers that Thurid is infect, and the Mul'niessa makes more concerted effort to aid the Jotun. While her own healing gifts aren't sufficient to remove contagion, she can help abate symptoms briefly, and so she does.

GAME: Merek rolls heal: (10)+20: 30
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Merek, three fort saves +2, DC16, DC16, additional +2 on Fort DC18 on the last one"
GAME: Merek rolls fort+2: (11)+13+2: 26
GAME: Merek rolls fort+2: (9)+13+2: 24
GAME: Merek rolls fort+2: (12)+13+2: 27
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Merek casts Remove Disease. Caster Level: 13 DC: 17
GAME: Merek rolls 1d20+13: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL)

Merek looks to the patient which he's with, while he takes a moment to check up on them. When the usual method of assisting doesn't work, he begins trying to extract the disease with the magic, although it looks like the spell won't be able to do a lot. He does take a moment to check on his kit, for anything useful that he might need.

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5+4-7: (15)+5+4+-7: 17
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, do your next spell"
GAME: Merek casts Heal. Caster Level: 13 DC: 20
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Roll a caster check -10, DC17"
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5+4-7: (16)+5+4+-7: 18
GAME: Merek rolls 1d20+13: (19)+13-10: 22

Merek then takes a moment to begin to try healing them with better magic. He nods a bit while he takes the time to work, making sure to adjust the magic to assist. He does begin to work with the patient, taking the time to do general healing things while he waits to see if he can manage to at least save the patient. "You all are doing alright?" he asks the party.

When Shalethiste comes upon Thurid- she is still on her feet despite the reports of her falling ill. She has a sheen of sweat and a pallid tint to her skin and a number of swolen sores, but this doesn't stop her from working- and her indomitable will serves her well. With Shale's help, she is able to save the life of one of the critically ill patients, and she finally allows herself a moment's rest once the patient is safe for now. The giant woman sits down- a rare sight, here at the camp, to catch her breath. And to allow Shale to inspect her disease. "The season could be better for this sort of work." she says to her then. "I fear the cold is sapping the patients' strength." she tells the Paladin who has been busy helping her.

Shalethiste works dilligently and, which her demeanor is calm and certain, she still works with a proceedural care. She is glad Eluna's teachings allow her to aid the Warrior in saving her patient. As fatigue, albeit faint shows in any manifestation from the Mountain's devotee, the Mul'niessa moves to see to her, eyes concerned, "I think you're right... perhaps there is a way to more easily maintain a better climate for them?" Her voice lowers in volume, a touch to the Angorite's shoulder much as the comforting one afforded her in the aftermath of their encounter with Zanalilla, is afforded Thurid, "Are you alright?"

The Black Bog plague seems like it will claim two victims, as two patients rapidly succumb and are at death's door. They are attended dilligently, the lay healers and acolyte clerics directly assisted by the adventurer healers.

The first, tended by Thurid and Shalethiste using non-magical methods, lingers. She is seemingly about to slip over to the other side, but the warmth, the herbal solutions, the constant cleaning and attentiveness to her needs brings her around. She recovers, remains comatose, but has been rescued.

The second, attended by Merek is not faring as well under his non-magical healing, so the Seer resorts to spells. He is warned that this disease is magic resistant and it has not worked well, but he forges on. The first spell, Remove Disease is successfully cast, but there is resistance and reaction. A resistance that might seem familiar to some; the reaction is worse, the patient starts violently thrashing, foaming at the mouth. Several of the buboes burst with the black infection spraying the area. He comes awake, his eyes fixed on the Seer as he gurgles a scream. The second spell swiftly follows on the first, the effect is almost the same. A magical pushback, even more physical response. The patient is clearly in agony, his debilitated body wracked up in an arch as his muscles tense and twist him. A second wide-eyed scream, and he collapses.

"You've KILLED HIM!" screams one of the lay healers.

An acolyte cleric examines the body for a pulse. "No, no. He lives, barely."

Both have improved, have been saved from death and the magic may well have saved the second but it didn't function as expected or deliver the cures it should have.

GAME: Merek rolls spellcraft: (7)+24: 31

Thurid offers the Mul'niessa a smile at the comforting words, and she sits up straighter on the box she had chosen to rest upon, "I will be fine. I have much work yet to do, and won't fall so easily." she asserts then, and forces herself up onto her feet. For a moment she looks as though she might become dizzy at the motion, but she sets her jaw and balls her fists and overcomes the wave of weakness that rushes through her body- and then she hears screams. "Gods above what has happened?" she asks, and then begins heading towards the source of the screams.

It saved him, which is all that matters to Merek. He doesn't necessarily like the way it managed, although either way he takes a moment to look at the way the magic worked. "Well, he will be alright, he will still need treatment," then he takes a look to Thurid while he nods a bit, "Magical healing," he notes. "There weren't a lot of nice options."

Shalethiste smiles warmly and bows her head, "I know, you've untapped strength beyond measure, Thurid." There's a breath, lips parting for the Mul to say more, when the scream rings out and she whirls, sparing a glance to the Jotun, and proceeding toward the source of the excitement, "What's going on?"

"We need to get clean! We're going to get the plague!" The lay healer says, rapidly backing away from the bed and moving to gowning area to strip. The labourers follows to do the same.

The Acolyte Cleric remains for a momoment, "This disease responds almost as badly to magic as Salina's. It's only saving grace is it doesn't cause an infectious ooze to go glomping around. Any healing spells make it rapidly progress, it's just as likely to kill a patient as revive them. Remove Disease is useless. Heal seems about as effective as a few days bed rest."

The cleric stares at Merek, "Yes. He will be all right." He leaves to wash up with the others.

Thurid recoils slightly as she comes upon the scene, and nods her head as he Lay healer and Acolyte move away to clean off. "All this bedding will need to be burned as well, once the patient is strong enough to be moved." she comments. She glances to Merek, "I... trust your word that it was the only way, but please have care. We knew already this disease responded poorly to magic." she says to him.

Brand was in the camp and well....he is no healer. He's a fighter and a soldier, but a healer? Not at all. He's been bringing supplies to the way station to ensure that the real heroes are properly tooled for the job.

He enters the Way Station then, dressed in his armor with a cloak around his shoulders bearing the sigil of Daeus. He approaches the group in question, he asks simply. "Where am I needed?"

Shalethiste sweeps the scene with her eyes and sighs. There's a slow shake of her head and she moves to help manage the residuals while the others, more capable of lay healing, can tend the newly stabilized.

"We can only wait. If I did him a service, well. That will depend if that gave him enough to be treated normally," Merek admits, nodding a bit to Thurid. A nod along to Shalethiste while he thinks about it.

Walking right up behind Brand, Sasha smiles and places a hand on his shoulder. "First and foremost, you can get out of that armor, into some clerical vestments, with a mask and gloves, and you can assist me with treating patients." She then points at his nose. "And don't tell me no, Sunblade." She says with a smile and starts doing just that herself.

When she sees some of th lay healers scramble out to burn their clothes....Sasha tilts her head. "What happened?"

A grey-scaled sith-makar in grey robes trails in after Brand and Sasha. He is 'slight' for a lizard person, probably weighing in around 240 lbs. The robes suggest he is Vardaman, his demeanor that he's Shaman-caste, and his age and nervousness that's the copper-scale's assistant. He hasn't been seen working directly with the patient groups, though he is seen with the ones that move the patients between the castings of Mikilos' Mage's Magical Mansion.

"Ssa." He coughs. He has a hood that nearly hides his entire head, and he ducks back into it. "This one hasss. Messssagesss."

The others are clustered around one patient who is in terrible shape. Several of his plague bulbs have burst and sprayed the bedsheets, the immediate area and the hanging sheets used to separate patients. The Seer is the only one present who was directly splattered that hasn't left to clean up. The Warrior and the Sentinel have just arrived also.

Thurid nods her head again, "Either way, you should go and get cleaned up." she tells Merek. "You've covered in pus." she adds- but, she is interrupted by the arrival of a Vardamite with messages. An ominous prospect to be sure, "Good tidings, I hope?" she asks the Sith-Makar.

Shalethiste spares the entrants a wan smile over her armload of sundries with a, "Hello, and well met!" she offers, regardless. She glances to Thurid as she sees to Merek. There's a pause, then as the Mourner arrives and she straightens, her expression growing grave, "We would hear your words."

"Right, I will clean up," Merek notes, then he finds a place to begin washing that, and cleaning his attire with magic in addition, making sure all would be safe while he then listens to the sith'makar.

With no explaination coming, Sasha just shakes her head. "Get this area cleaned up." She says pointing to the splattered ward. "And yes..do be careful." She says before the sith-makar in Vardaman robes appears. "Greetings." The appearance of the sith-makar doesn't seem to darken her mood at all though.

The sith backs up. He does no bear good tidings. She is a big female. His robes are volumnous, his hands disappear into them. "No."

"Questionsss." The word leaks out of him like air draining from a balloon.

"The new cassting. Of the magic house. Mikilosss... needs to know. For Sssleepersss? For Plaguess. For Both?" A small writing pad and a lead stylus appears from the sleeves, ready to note down the answer.

"There isss. A raven. On the airssship. It caws 'Fail'! It isss unsssettling."

The hood turns in Thurid's direction, his eyes glitter deep within the shadows. "Urtur asskss for you."

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So the first thing he's asking."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Okay. I am hearing 'worse off from both groups. Urbarra yes, Urtur no'. Make some poses answering the sith to that effect and I'll have a pose please."

Thurid nods her head, "I cannot go to him. I am sick with the plague, I won't spread it afield." she tells the Vardamite. She pauses and sighs, "Which he will no doubt take as sign of weakness. But, it cannot be helped. I will need to remain with the plague victims until I am recovered." she says then, not harboring doubt that she will indeed recover. Or at least not showing it.

"Good idea. All right. Take the worst of the patients." Sasha says bluntly, but gestures to a tent that is.....secluded from the rest of the camp, and has guards around it. "He stays in that tent. He's been known to be violent and must remain under guard....to keep himself from attacking others, like he did one of the lay healers." She then gestures to another. "Urbarra. Take him. He has the plague and must recover, and 'disappear' before the one in the tent can be taken. Otherwise, all of the healing will be for naught when he kills Urbarra."

Brand looks around the place before Sasha snags him. "I see. I am not a healer, but I'll try my best." He immediately starts to seek out such vestments and get changed...though he keeps his knives on his person just in case.

Merek nods a bit to the people while he begins to assist with the patient he seems to be working with. There's not a lot to add, at least at the moment.

Shalethiste frowns some in thought at the question. The bird is... new, that will take a more considered anaylsis, later. In the meanwhile, she glances beteeen her fellows as the others make themselves known. A quiet, 'hmmmm', then of Thurid, "Has the Puppy abided his conditions, thus far?" as she sidelongs a look to Sasha on her words, "Perhaps an accomodation can be arranged, within what limits lay within the spell. A door that allows vision to his visotors, so he cannot ambush them, if he takes that whim... and a door that requires the work of two hands in tandem to open, that he can't escape should the need for... malice overtake him."

"Urtur? Urtur is here?" A deep bass voice calls from the far side of the Way Station. There's the sound of a bed creaking; they weren't designed for a Bugbear's weight. Urbarra has woken up, perhaps it was the comforting screaming sounds. They are known to enjoy those. "Want to see Urtur."

The greyscale is quickly writing down the responses. Worst, both, guards, his best guess at the spelling of a couple names. "Thisss one will tell him.. no. For now. And... ssspecial door."

"He is still a patient." Thurid says as she scowls over at Sasha, "Holding a grudge against a patient, witholding care from them because of their actions..." she shakes her head a bit, then, but leaves it at that. She needs to save her energy, not launch into an argument. And then Urbarra arrives, and she pinches the bridge of her nose, blining tired eyes. "Not yet." she tells Urbarra. "Not until you are both well." she insists.

"All right. Go with that." Sasha says to the sith-makar. "yes he is still a patient....and he is a danger to everyone in this camp, sick or well. What I am doing is separating him from the rest of the camp...to make sure there isn't another incident like he did when he woke up. If the rest of the healers, including myself, is the subject of another of his rampages and we all get hurt...who will take care of the remaining patients?" She then looks to another patient. "I don't expect you to like what I am doing, Thurid, but it isn't a grudge. You can choose to believe me or not."

Merek looks then to Sasha, and lifts a brow at the woman. "Ah," he then takes a moment to look in on the person in question.

Brand finally comes back wearing a Clerical outfit, with gloves and a mask on his face as he goes up to Sasha. "I definitely missed something." He says with a slight frown behind his mask, but he looks ready to go. "Alright, point me where I'm needed, even if its just as simple as handing tools to those more experienced." He tells Sasha with a light smile. Though he does look between Thurid and Sasha in a slightly uncomfortable way. "Let us focus on healing for now and save disagreements for another time."

Shalethiste considers the others, then makes her way to set her burdens in a proper receptacle. She's said her peace on the accomodations, but as the ladies start to debate the matter, but nods as Brand chimes in. The Mul drifts toward Urbarra and says, "Please, abide a little longer, and.... what lay between you can be resolved when you're hale and hearty." Something about the bird is bothering her, but let's put the pin back in this grenade before pulling another.

Urbarra is not the worst off plague patient, and not the best. Those familiar with Urtur can see a resemblence. He has a similar set of fused fingers and a large ankle that gives him a limp. Possibly a family resemblence in the face, difficult to say unless one is familiar with goblinoid features. He has a calmer face. He limps, he smells, he's in danger of breaking his buboes open. He moves right into Shalethiste's personal space and stares down at her. "Need to tell him things."

The greyscale sith turns his hood, to watch Sasha, then Thurid, Sasha, then Thurid. He makes an extra note beside the 'special door', 'extra secure' and 'two hands'.

"The Airssship Raven?" The sith'makar hisses.

GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Shalethiste rolls diplomacy+2: (1)+1+2: 4 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Brand rolls Diplomacy: (7)+9: 16

"What I believe matters little." Thurid says to Sasha, "What I know is that Urtur is sick, and perhaps his violence is part of the sickness. Others with the disease have been restive as well. But they are also soldiers, and disoriented besides. They fell asleep on the road, amidst a war, and awoke surrounded by strangers." she reminds Sasha. "I might be inclined to lash out as well." she reminds the other cleric. But her attention returns to Urbarra, "Return to bed, please. There will be time, once you are both well, to discuss, or to fight if you must- but that time is not now. You are in no condition to speak, he is in no condition to hear." she says then.

Brand looks upon Urbarra. "If you wish to fight, we will consider it, but it cannot be now for you are still sick. You might be feeling better, but even still...it is safer for everyone, including yourself, to go back to bed. I know it is painful, and I know it is unpleasant, but it is for your own good and the good of everyone here."

"Ha ha! Always fight. Sometimes talk." Urbarra laughs, amused and without malice. He slaps Thurid on the shoulder. Shalethiste gets a look, then a pat on the head, then she's used as a crutch when he turns around. All his weight rests on her, enough to align posture and spine. He circles. With a little push-off from the Mul'niessa he hobbles back to his bed, scratching at places and things he shouldn't. "Listen to your Ogress."

The acolytes and lay healers return wearing fresh vestments, and with additional bedding supplies. One of them looks at Brand, having caught his offer. "We need to strip this bed, the sheet-walls, take them to be burned." They proceed to do so, unclipping the partitions. Two are washing the floor. It's easier to bring a new bed in, so they decide they'll transfer and take the old one to be cleaned.

The greyscale Varadaman watches, lingering out of the way by the door, hidden in grey vestments.

Sasha moves to help with stripping the bed and burning the affected sheets to assist.

Shalethiste frowns slightly as she doesn't seem to be making quite the impression she'd intended. It's all over his face. She really needs some kind of training or.... something to compensate for her interpersonal handicaps, but... to whit.... wait, it she a crutch?? Her eyes widen some in surprised indignation as she tries not to collapse under Urbarra's weight with a groan. Ouch. "Thanks...." she exhales in a slightly pained tone, then, "Alright... is the bird doing anything else?"

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Shale and Thurid can roll Intelligence, DC20 to learn something"
GAME: Shalethiste rolls intelligence: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Thurid rolls intelligence: (10)+1: 11

Thurid nods her head and offers a grin to the Bugbear as he returns to his bed, turning her smile to Shale, where it becomes a bit sympathetic when she is used like a crutch. "Right- the talking Bird." Thurid says then, "I know a Wizard in Alexandria, I think her familiar was a Raven." she recalls.

Brand takes a deep breath as the big bugbear decides to go back to bed. His attention shifts then to Shalethiste and he follows slowly behind. Thurid and Shale likely have this under control. He smiles though, and mainly just waits on standby

Merek takes time to tend along to the bugbear. He nods a bit while he begins working with the patient.

"It isss... ssstaring." The greyscale emerges a little from his hood, enough to look at Shalethiste directly. "The healersss are worried. The guardsss want to shoot it. The druidss... want to talk to it."

He hesitates some more, inhales, his head darting to look at Sasha, Brand, Thurid, Shalethiste, Merek, the activity beside the bed. "It isss... very big."

The healers get the new bed beside the old, a thick sheet is slid under the patient and healers take up corners, Sasha assists, Brand is called in from Standby. "On three. One. Two. Three." They move as one and the patient is transferred. The old bed is pushed out.

The greyscaled messenger watches the proceedings. Nodding, "Yesss. Actss. Like a familiar."

Shalethiste spends a moment rolling her neck to work the new kinks out of it, meeting Thurids sympathetic look with a somewhat embarassed one of her own, but she bows her head. She approaches the Sunblade then, and gently reaches out to clap his shoulder, "Thank you, sir, for your help. I fear.... gentle reason will ever elude me." The Mul turns, then to the Sith and she bows anew, "Let's see what, if anything, this familiar has to say, then, hmm?"

GAME: Merek rolls diplomacy: (16)+28: 44

Merek looks to the party, and nods a bit. "I am going to stay with the patient, and protect all of them. Tell me what the familiar offers when you can." He will stay about so that no more issues come about after they take off. He feels that's important in its way.

"Very large?" Thurid asks, "How large?" she wonders then. And she chuckles a bit at the topic of the druids wanting to speak to the raven, "I am sure they do." she nods her head slowly. She peers over at Shale, "I will accompany you but I will keep my distance. I am beginning to feel stronger, but I may still be infectious." she adds then.

"Thiss way." The greyscale turns and shuffles outside, then around through the snow towards the South field and the grounded Airship. His grey vestments hide him almost completely, with only a hint of feet and tail sticking out, and the occasional flickering of tongue as he checks to ensure he's being followed.

Fortunately for Thurid and her concerns, the South field is all but deserted.

The raven-sized crow is heard as soon as everyone is outside, and visible from any vantage one can also see the Airship. A large, bouncing dot on top of the ice-covered gas-bag, it hop-hop-hops, perches, calls out loudly, ".... FAIL...." and then randomly glares. It watches as the group approaches right up to the gangplank and mooring lines.

It flies down to the airship's railing. It is a huge crow, larger than a raven, easily the size of a goblin or a dog, with green eyes that have an unnatural, malevolent intelligence behind them. Once it has stared at each person in turn, it squawks, "... in...FAIL..ia."

GAME: Thurid rolls perception: (20)+6: 26
GAME: Shalethiste rolls perception: (17)+4: 21
GAME: Brand rolls Perception: (4)+5: 9

It has a message tube on it's right leg. It also has a VERY SHINY. OH SO SHINY medalion around its neck.'

Shalethiste blinks. She's never seen a vulture with a full head of feathers, before. Or is it an eagle with a black beak? She watches the... creepy eyed bird settle in on the railing, considering the various spots of jewelry. It's as it expands on it's vocabulary that the Mul steps closer, "Someone should fetch the Captain."

Thurid nods her head, "Aye..." she says then, leaning a bit closer to peer at the medallion around the bird's neck, "What's that you're wearing?" she wonders, tilting her head to the side a bit.

The large bird gives Shalethiste an evil stare, and Thurid a more evil one. There's the sense it's holding back too, that it could glare with some punch. It doesn't like the attention to its jewelry. "Mine!"

It's hard to get a good look, the crow doesn't like that, but the medallion is highly polished steel.

The suggestion to send for the captain gets the crow's approval. As no one leaves and the greyscale is the current messenger, he does so, trudging in a straight line across the fields towards the Airship crew's camp. He cuts a wide, deep path through the snow, each step breaking through the crust. A lizard in the cold is not often quick. Is he slowing down the further away he gets, some inverse version of Zeno's paradox, it's hard to tell. When he becomes a small grey dot in the distance among the hobgoblin tents he is replaced by a rapidly approaching one.

Captain Infalia arrives at a full run. She looks at the giant crow. "Oh rip my ears off." She holds out her left arm and the crow hops onto it like a falcon. It does not rip her ears off. She opens the message tube.

Thurid offers the bird a Broad smile as Infalia is summoned, "I have my own one, I don't need yours." she tells her, and then shows off her less shiny (although it does have some brightly colored feathers and bits of twine) ram horn charm. But then infallia is approaching, and chat time is over so she looks towards Infallia, "Good tidings?" she wonders, eithr oblivious, or simply deliberately assuming the best of every message received.

Shalethiste is too old to get into a glaring match with a bird. She meets the evil look with a sort of tacit indifference, the curiosity hardly worth the headaches involved in getting a hands on look, but the medallion gets a momentary squint to try and refine detail. She's covered in shiny-shiney, besides. There's a look to InFalia as she arrives, and the Mul' gives a polite, "Good evening, Captain. What is the word?" She wants it to be a good one, but is cynical enough after recent bumps in the road that at least some of the wheels just came off.

Brand says, "I'll let you deal with this, I'll go back and assist the others."

"No. Never when one of those..." Infalia starts to grumble, her brow furrowing as she removes the paper from the message tube and unrolls it. She catches herself, her voice switching to an overly cheery one, "... amazingly wonderful absolutely delightful, bestest ever messenger Ravens show up."

The dark bird stares at her. It's smart. It comprehends what she's doing. She was flattering though, and perhaps it doesn't fully understand sarcasim or smoke-blowing.

"Air Command orders me to Stone Talon. Pick up more diseased soldiers. Bloodied Bloodsuckers." The hobgoblin fumes. "Rip my entrails out and use me for tetherball. They said I'd never have to go into a warzone. Pineapple spreader."

She reads further, scowls, "They want to know about sightings of my ship near the Skycurtain mountains." Infalia fixes the giant crow with a stare of her own, "My ship is my own and I go where I want and I was never there. I'm not some rack-wound lackey."

To the others, "I have to prep to go."

As the Captain's tidings could certainly be better, the Mul fixes her a sympathetic smile, "I see, we will see the camp is readied. Are there any numbers?" The rest prompts a furtive look to Thurid, they visit may have to wat a wile longer, if not see another means of transport, but, still, "May the Sky Dancer light your way, Captain. Fly safe."

Thurid ahs and nods her head slowly, "More sick? Does it say whether they have the same ilness or a different one?" she wonders, but then Infallia is heading off and she nods her head, "Aye, fly safe." she agrees with the Mul, whom she looks towards. "Well, S'pose we'd better tell the others to expect more sick." she says.

Infalia hasn't headed off, more inside her ship. She emerges quickly enough with a cage full of rats and a couple attached artifice devices that seem to handle food, water and heating. Not waste removal though, the cage stinks of rodentia.

"It's expecting a Snack Rat," the hobgoblin gestures at the Crow, who is very interested. She writes a quick message on the one she received and rolls it up into the tube. "Tell them I'm on my way, and I don't know what they're asking about. Here, have a bunch."

The cage is opened, with a shake several rats are flung out onto the snow. Being light weight and dark coloured, they both stand out and don't break through the crust. With squeaky-squeals they dart in all directions an the giant crow dives after them with a happy caw!

"I wasn't anywhere near!" Infalia shouts as it goes hunting, slapping her cage shut and looking around. "No numbers. Ship can only carry sixty, so, no more than that. Hopefully. No details."

She exhales, her shoulders slumping, "I'm still down crew. Your Silverguard commander wanted to go to Stone Talon? I forget, I offered. You two are useful if you want to come, could supervise care on the trip back. Brain peeler my guys aren't good for that." Shalethiste watches the feeding with some distaste, but, things being what the are....

Sigh.

"We will need to ready the camp and..." a glance to Thurid, "Load preliminary supplies that we can begin work at once." Hrm, "How many hands do you still need, Captain?"

Thurid nods her head, "Aye, I'll have to make sure I'm no longer infectious before I come along." she says, "But I'd be willing to lend my hands again." she says, with a sigh. Not that she is particularly entheusiastic about airship flights. "And do you know what afliction ails them?" she wonders.

"Biggie is better and I think one of my gobbo guys is in the North field, so I'm down two." Infalia says, "A couple more for defenses could be useful, but.. that reduces the passenger patients. So not a lot..."

She rubs at her forehead, "Dunno what Imma gonna find, maybe needs triage. Yeah, some supplies. I gotta get my guys, we have to break off the ice, fire up the engines. She don't just go on a snap an' they said immediately."

The hobgoblin stares at the small half-circle of observers. A trudge-trudge heralds the arrival of the greyscale, he's returned through the snow. There is the flutter of wings, a caw, a squeak and an evil bird is well rewarded.

"The group I got there, first time, all have the Cowardly stuff." She explains, "It doesn't say if there's anything new." Shalethiste gives a frown and she nods, brushing back her hair, "We may have some laborers free enough we can help you with the on-ground prep." The fear infection was... managable, in it's way, but, as the sith returns, she wrangles her thoughts in that direction, "We are to expect more patients, in what time it takes for the ship to reach the Stone Talons and return. It was the epicentr of the fear plague, but we have no idea on numbers. Less than sixty is a best estimate." Another brush of the hair, and, "I should consult Ser Seldan on this."

Thurid nods in agreement when it comes to speaking to the Silverguard, "Aye, and I ought to see to urtur before going anywhere. He said he wanted to see me, and I fear another incident if I leave him waiting too long. So I'll see to that, if you'll see to Seldan?" she adds,

"Sssaa." The greyscale's notepad and pencil emerge from his sleeves again. Notes are slowly made. A nod, with the nose of his snout sticking out past his cowl, "Thisss one. Tellss Sshaman Geir."

He starts towards Mikilos' Mage's Magical Mansion and warmer spaces, his hood turning to watch the crow in its hunt.

Infalia nods, makes a small bow, sets the cage on deck. "Ok. Gonna get my guys." She tears off back towards her camp, shouting once she's there. The words are indistinct but likely some variation of 'sober up, we're lifting off, prep the ship'.

GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (14)+2: 16
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Sense Motive DC15"
GAME: Thurid rolls sense motive: (15)+7: 22

This request didn't go 'through channels'. Military to Blar diplomat to Alexandrian diplomat to Temples to you. The Blar military just decided unilaterally to send more patients to the station, telling only the Captain doing it - it would seem.

Shalethiste nods as the Captain starts to stir the crew, then with a thoughtful, "Let's hope this run is smoother than the last." to Thurid, she turns and follows the Sith as it's possible Seldan is where he is heading so they can have that conversation...

Everyone splits up to get to their tasks.

So many have been saved, but more are coming.

And out on a snow covered field, rats run for their lives, a winged terror on their tails

Using the MMMM Decision

<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So the first thing he's asking."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "The Mage's Magic Mansion can hold about 16 patients, you've been using it for ones about to die and they tend to survive because it's great with all the unseen servants and food and stuff"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "You have 11 plague patients in the way station, you could put all them in. You hve 9 Sleeping Sickness patients, you could put all them in also. in both cases, you'd have a little left over for the other group, or you could split it more evenly."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "of the 9 sleepers, it's 1/2 blar, 1/2 bludgun, of the plauge, all Bludgun"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so your option is also 1/2 blar patients (total 8 from somewhere) half bludgu (another 8) and you could select worst off of both groups along those lines too. It's a strategy decision."
<OOC> Sasha would select the worst of all groups first.
<OOC> Shalethiste says, "worst off, if they're that bad off, peacekeeping will be less a concern"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "due to the nature of the MMM, each patient gets their own room, air supply, etc, so mixing and matching disease groups is fine as they're all isolated. More care has to be taken in the Tents / Way Station regarding that."
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "Okay."
<OOC> Sasha says, "Well...there IS one exception in mind."
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "Urtur."
<OOC> Shalethiste says, "there is that."
<OOC> Sasha says, "That Urtur twerp. Remember I said he gets treated last in all cases?"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Also Urbarra"
<OOC> Sasha says, "Yeah. If he turns bad. Uhm.......he'll go last. :D"
<OOC> Sasha says, "Urbarra can go with the first group."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Urtur is in Group 3, sleeping sickness, Urbarra is plague, group 4, he's in the room you're in right now"
<OOC> Sasha says, "Urbarra goes with this group."
<OOC> Sasha says, "Urtur can suck an elf."
<OOC> Cryosanthia looks at Shale...
<OOC> Shalethiste says, "Not this elf"
<OOC> Sasha XD
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Okay. I am hearing 'worse off from both groups. Urbarra yes, Urtur no'. Make some poses answering the sith to that effect and I'll have a pose please."
<OOC> Sasha says, "Shall I?"
<OOC> Thurid is in agreement that worst from both go to the MMM, but Thurid will insist that that invludes Urtur. He might be a bastard, but he's also her patient.
<OOC> Shalethiste says, "he gets a special room with a door that takes two hands to open"
<OOC> Sasha says, "along with guards...."
<OOC> Sasha shall pose it...
<OOC> Sasha says, "thurid won't agree initially, but...."