Where'd They Go? Part 8

Log Info

• Title: Where'd They Go? Part 8

• Emitter: Whirlpool

• Characters: Seldan, Schara, Aryia

• Place: Temple of Eluna

The Elunans show you to the room. They're not about to leave him unsecured. A young champion, a half-elven man of clearly mythwood-elf-descent given his dusky sin and pointed ears, sits up straight when you arrive. He looks at Seldan with just a hint of hero-worship in his eyes before he waves you in. Manacled to the bed is the hollowed out figure you fought earlier. He's staring blankly at the ceiling. It's like he doesn't even notice your arrival.

Aryia sizes up the half-elven man as they're waved in, brow raising at the minor hero-worship as the short mul woman follows in. She leans against the wall on the inside, crossing her arms as she looks at the husk. This is what she disarmed earlier in the day? Looks like that dagger drains one's spirit and body.

She clears her throat, waving at him to get his attention.

Seldan inclines his head politely to the young Silver Guard, before stepping inside. "Her light upon your path, Silver Guard," he greets formally, in his lilting Myrrish accent. His attention is caught by the man manacled to the bed, though, and he murmurs to the Silver Guard, "Has he responded at all?"

SHaking his head, the half-elven youth replies, "Not a word. Not even a twitch far as I can tell. If he's in there, he's locked in." He snaps his fingers. "Beyond my means to know much more than that."

Schara joins the others in arriving at the holding room for the person they found, and the artificer waits behind the others, just in case. She already helped bring them here, but she still wasn't sure how safe it would be.

"They are still alive at least right? Why would they not wake up?"

Aryia rubs her face, thinking back on how she got Daed out of his daze. "Sometimes some shit is so bad you retreat deep into your mind as its the safest place to be," she answers to Schara with a few motions of her hands, a mild frown on her face.

She walks over, crouching a bit to get into line of sight with the practically catatonic man. Squinting at him. An idea crosses her mind, and she starts to rifle through her bag. "Don't smite me," she gestures to the two Silverguards with a light smile as she pulls out the statuette of Taara they collected a while ago.

She holds it in front of the man. "Hey. Your Dark Lady is here. It's safe," she signs slowly. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Were I to have committed such atrocities, I would not wish to wake," Seldan offers sadly, turning to regard the man manacled to the bed. "Be it a thing of evil or nay, still does the burden of evil committed lie heavy upon the soul. We must determine whether it is the dagger that yet holds him, or his own nightmares." He nods to Aryia at her statement, although he remains some paces away, eyeing the statuette of Taara warily. "Leave not this room with that visible," he warns.

There's no response.

He's barely even blinking. Alive, awake, but not 'present'. Perhaps he's locked away in his own mind, or maybe there's not enough of him left to interat with. It's a question, isn't it?

<OOC> Seldan says, "Detect Evil"

"Yes but, why?" The artificer wonders. "Did they not want to do this? Or did someone give them the dagger unknowingly?"

Schara takes a look at the man, and back to the others. "Have you tried much to attempt to wake him, yet? Any medicines or spells for such a purpose?"

"Trust me, I don't even want to be holding this thing," Aryia gestures to Seldan to alleviate his worries before she squints at the still man. A huff escapes her. "I figured old comfort might snap them out of it," she mentions before stuffing the statuette away. "I agree, I wouldn't want to wake either. Or- that's a lie. I'd prefer to face the consequences. But minds are weird like that." She looks to Schara. "I think they were handed the dagger, or it was hidden until the final moments. I don't know." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Seldan does not answer immediately, narrowing ice-blue eyes and studying the man for the space of a couple of breaths before nodding. "The evil afflicts him no longer, or at the least, it has left no trace," he tells the others. "He reeks not of evil, now, though be assured that the dagger he wielded so does. "He may yet be under enchantment, however." He removes his gauntlets, and sets them aside, on the floor near the door, eyes on the man. "If an enchantment yet lies upon in, I would learn more of it."

"Well, I don't really know what to say about this, I'm not good with people at the best of times." Schara sighs. "Maybe they are enchanted to stay asleep then, maybe? Wouldn't that be easy to check and remove? I'm not sure, but if he doesn't have any other magical artefacts on him, then maybe it would be possible to just remove whatever magic is causing it?"

Aryia just gives the biggest shrug to Schara. "I have no fucking clue. It took me a long, long time to get over my own shit to start remembering things," she signs. The fresh off the ship mul'neissa, scared and can barely write. Now sitting here on her haunches, perplexed on how to get a comatose guy to wake after that guy inflicted uncountable horrors.

Certainly a change of pace. "Maybe so," she nods to Seldan as she rises. "If he's got an enchantment, I can hold him down if he goes wild from it being removed." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Despite your presence, well... nothing happens.

He just keeps staring blankly into space. He's skinny, like he's not eaten in quite some time, or even taken care of himself. The blood and dirt were awashed away by the Elunans, cautiously.

GAME: Seldan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 16 DC: 20

“That remains to be seen, Mistress Schara," Seldan replies politely. "And that very thing do I mean to learn. A moment, please." With that, he draws a swift, simple sigil in the air with his hand, and speaks a single, stentorian word. A field - a veil, almost - if bluegold-silver appears before his eyes, obscuring them somewhat, and he peers closely, but the twist of disgust and anger that soon overtakes his features is telltale enough. "The dagger yet holds him, I am certain of it."

His features smooth out, then, into his usual unflappable mien, and he takes the last two strides to the edge of the bed. "Gather round, all of you," he directs, and flicks a glance at the Silver Guard. "You as well. I will need to ward us all ere I attempt to dispel it. The possibility that the magic may attempt to seize any of us is very real," he warns, making an arcane gesture of dismissal. "All of us must be within the ward, ere I attempt to dispel it."

GAME: Schara rolls spellcraft: (6)+11: 17

The artificer tilts their head to one side as they gather around the unconscious man. "Are you sure this isn't related to the dagger?" The artificer asks Seldan after a moment. Schara stops, takes another crystal out of one pouch, pops out the right lens on their helmet and slots the rounded crystal into place instead, which stops to glow slightly once attached with a green light. "No, I can't tell for certain that the dagger isn't involved with this lingering enchantment." She states after a moment. "I think we should be fine, but, I'm more worried about them if you break it. It might cause some unintended consequences to them if you try to sever the magic present."

Aryia doesn't need to be told twice as she steps forward, closer to Seldan at his urging before she too frowns. "Good assessment, that makes sense. Alright," she agrees, bringing her hands up to get ready to shoot forward if need be. At least the pugilist has learned thus far not to touch potentially dangerous things, even if they seem benign. Like a catatonic guy. Don't want that dagger's hold to slip over to her. It makes sense with Aryia-logic. She gives a glance to Schara. "Someone forced them to do it? Maybe? Shit. Well, we'll find out soon enough." <Handspeech/Tongues>

GAME: Seldan casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 16 DC: 23

"On the contrary, MIstress Schara, I am quite certain that it is," Seldan replies evenly, waiting to see if the others step closer before doing anything further. "It is why I have drawn close, that I may include him in the ward as well. It is my hope that the ward shall shield him, as well, although-"

His eyes lower to the bed before him. "It is not impossible that I shall kill him, much though I intend it not so," he murmurs. "But - I dare not leave such a tie in place. Who knows what shall befall, do I not at the least try."

"Oh, well, I guess that makes sense, yes." Schara nods once as she keeps close to where she thinks the wards will be. "Will the dagger be safe where it's being held when you do that? Or will it start seeking out someone nearby when this link is severed? I wouldn't want the man from before to be in danger because of it, but you're right that we can't leave it like this, even though the risk is concerning."

GAME: Seldan casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 16 DC: 23

"The wards upon the temple vaults should more than see to any attempt that thing might make to seize another," Seldan replies to Schara, already beginning to draw a series of sigils before him. This is a spell with which he is quite familiar, a series of complex sigils through it be, although when he speaks the words of power that bring them to blue silver life before him, that they are interlocking with, and all governed by, the crescent and sphere of Eluna's holy aegis. Another word, and they split, to repeat themselves in a circular pattern. He gestures this gradually to the floor, and it is easy enough to see where the circles will land, to see the ward's boundary.

Once that is done, and all have drawn within it, he begins a second spell, this one far stranger and unusual in technique. Several sigils, again, but these burst into a violet fire before him on completion, and he stares hard at the man before him as he shouts the final word, one of stark magical negation. The violet sigils turn black and - reverse, turn inside out, and attempt to pull the magic in the man with it.

GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+16: (2)+16: 18
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+16: (2)+16: 18 (rpp)
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+16: (14)+16: 30 (rpp)

.... it is ... hard to watch.

Not because there's any flashy magic, sparkling lights, or epic darkness flowing out of the man, but rather, the contortions on the emaciated man's face. His eyes fly open. His mouth twists into a pained grimace, a rising horror coming across his features. Confusion, then the light of realization. He tries to raise his hands to claw at his face, but the manacles prevent it. He starts to scream, his voice marred by dehydration and unuse.

But it's a pure, real, visceral scream of horror that's unlikely to leave your nightmares any time soon.

Indeed, it seems to be little easier for the paladin-sorcerer, whose even features settle into a rictus of concentration. He seems to be - actively battling - something, his casting hand raised over the man, the black sigils lingering far longer than they should. Sweat beads on his brow, but finally, they vanish, just as the man lets out the blood-curdling scream of horror, and he releases a hard breath, staggering and sagging against the side of the bed, dropping to one knee as if after battle.

-To Be Continued-