"Good my lords,"The wizard said, bowing in the formal style as he had been taught at school. "I believe Sir Nachtbrise is expecting us. I'll let him do the explaining, as you'd no doubt have some trouble believing our strange tale."

Ilsa looked at Stan. Why is making this so complicated? She coughed and wiped the snot from her nose. She took a couple steps toward the half-elf identified as Nachtbrise and said, "We're escorting you to Skyway City. Lady Kaele needs you." She folded her arms and waited for the response.

"--or your father." Roth adds to Ilsa's diplomacy as he appraises the half-elf's age, "We are looking for the leader of the Pelorites who fought Torus.  We should have been preceded by a message from Lady Kaele."

Lord Sendar remains fixed gazing at the strange vials on the nearby table.  His normally well-groomed beard is unkempt and somewhat wild.  He appears to be a healthy man in his mid-forties; however deep crows feet and worry-lines can be seen at base of his eyes.  He wears comfortable clothing, favoring browns and reds.
Milo the gnome stands back and out of the conversation, quickly turning to return to his bottles and burners.  He wears flashy clothing more akin to a court jester.
Nachtbrise also appears to be middle-aged; however his elven ancestry makes it nearly impossible to accurately estimate his age.  He keeps his graying hair short and presently appears to be in need of a good shave.  His ears are pointed, but their points are subtle and can be easily missed.  He has wide eyes and appears to have been made to sparkle, but now they appear tired and lightless.
He steps forward and nods at the party’s statements.  A sour expression forms on his face as Roth mentions Tórus.  “I am the one Lady Silvervine has summoned,” he states bluntly.  “However, as I have already responded to her, I cannot answer her summon.  As I’m sure you can easily see I am entrenched here where the need for my services is greater.”
“Services!” Lord Sendar scoffs.  The two men share an intense share before Garret looks away.  “Perhaps you should speak with them—you’ve little else to do here.”

Outside, Garret walks with your party through the dusty streets of Redding.
“Please forgive Lord Sendar,” he says at length.  “He is under a great deal of stress, and is still grieving a terrible loss.”  As he speaks, his gaze falls to a nearby stack of coffins, particularly child-sized coffins.
“Lady Kaele’s message was indistinct.  What need would she have of me?”

"She asks for your expertise regarding the Crimson Brotherhood and the Cult of Azazel," Shirok answered, though his tone was somewhat dismissive until he asked his next question. "How much do you know of this plague?"

Stan kept quiet. He wasn't a cleric; he knew better than to meddle in the affairs of priests and druids.

However, he took the time to survey the scene. He noted the symptoms of the afflicted, and any common factors such as their age or living situation. Any clue that would help save these haunted children was a clue worth searching for.

“That was a long time ago,” Garret replies to Shirok without looking directly at him.  He hadn’t avoided the half-orc’s gaze intentionally or to be rude; he seemed more concerned about this plague than some ancient cult.  The scene playing out before the party is dire indeed.  The streets are all but totally deserted.  Every so often a lone figure could be seen darting from building to building; afraid to be caught outside longer than the individual had to be.  Despite the temperate climate, the worn thoroughfares are dusty and derelict.
Stan places his attention in finding some kind of median for Redding’s plague, and before long his findings are bizarre.  There appears to be an abundance of smaller, child-sized boxes; and many of the afflicted back in the stone structure were young peoples, young adults and the like.  By the look of things, the older folk appear to be more resistant to the outbreak; a very uncommon attribute to most known sicknesses.
As the party makes its way through the blighted town, Garret affirms Stans observations.  “It attacks the lungs,” he says loud enough for everyone in your party to hear.  “It brings on high fevers and fills your lungs with fluid—mostly blood.  Within the length of a day, most are drowned in their own fluids.  It seems to spread faster than anyone thought possible.  Before dying, one can infect dozens of others, and if only by being near them.
“At first we thought this was nothing more than the spring cough; but then young and healthy men from the mines began to die.  Many people began to blame the mixed populations and seedy individuals who use our community to disappear, if you catch my meaning.  That was when the riots started, but luckily they didn’t last too long.  The militia quickly restored order, but also exposed many good men to the contagion.
“A few nights ago, Lord Sendar met with a great warrior from the far south, the Crystal Knight.  He claimed to have tracked its source to one of the smaller mines and entered; but has yet to return.  To be honest and completely frank, I would love nothing more then to answer your Lady’s summon and be rid of this place for a time; however as long as we are under attack by this influenza, I must remain here.”
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Fri 12 Feb 2010.

"What does a man with a sword hope to do against a plague?"  Roth asks curiously at the mention of the Crystal Knight--adjust his cloak over his face as the half-elf describes the symptoms of this illness.  "I hate to see people suffer like this, but I don't know the first thing about medicine--except to stay clear of a place like this."  Roth looks around at the sick an dying, his discomfort apparent, but soon gets to business, "We know first-hand of a cult trying to bring Azazel back--for better or for worse,--and our research revealed Torus may still be out there."

Stan did not really feel like getting sick. At all. As charitable as he was, his biggest driving desire was to leave town. No, that was his second biggest. His first priority was to figure out what had happened to his wife and start getting some sleep again.

Either way, he didn't feel like playing doctor.

"What do the little birdies have to do with it all," he asked in reference to the rhyme. The party's wizard really wasn't feeling that mentally acute today.

A rhyme it's only some dark humor of little children. Porto says feeling a bit under the weather and getting worried with the the sick people about them.

"And what of the undead creatures roaming these lands?" Shirok asked. "If they were coming from the mines you mentioned, then that indeed may have been the source of this plague. Where is the mine this 'Crystal Warrior' entered?"

Shirok seemed to be completely ignoring the other members of the party, especially the ones who were advocating they simply leave.

"I wasn't aware of any undead," Garret replies.  He appears to be genuinely alarmed at Shirok's revelation.  Cofussion dominates his features as he addresses Roth's earlier question about the Crystal Knight.
"The Crystal Knight has a stalwart reputation of succeeding where others cannot.  Many of the legends surrounding his exploits are grand, and often mention his strong affiliation with the Divine.  There are more than a few bardic songs where he is regarded as a deity--or at least well on his way to becoming one.
"I believe he went into the Myrdal Vanderplot's mine.  The entrance has been marked with a large banner of the queerest yellow."

The news of Azazel's attempted revival also doesn't sit with with the old cleric.  But he doesn't say anything about it at this time.

I've never even heard of this crystal night. Porto says.

"I don't suppose you need some people to go check up one him, since he's nigh-divine and all. Still, if you were getting worried I'm sure we'd be glad to go have a look."

Garret listens to Stan as the young wizard seems to offer his party’s services, at least in locating the Crystal Knight.  The old half-elf looks around uncomfortably before answering.  “I normally don’t like speaking for this community,” he says in a low voice.  “But I won’t tell you where you can and can’t go,” he says with a sly smile.  “Nobody alive owns the mine anymore, so if you did pay it a visit I doubt anyone would notice.  To be frank, this plague is not only killing our young by the scores, but those able to work have been too afraid to leave their houses for fear of infection.  Without anything to export, we’ve not been able to trade with the surrounding communities and towns—our markets are in ruin!  It seems that those healthy enough to wait this out won’t have a Redding to return to.”
As he finishes, Garret appears to have a sour expression on his face.  It is an unhealthy mix of frustration, anger, and fear.

Roth has no interest in hanging around the sick; if he knew anything of medicine he might offer his help, in the safety of a lab, but as it was all he would be doing is endangering himself.  Roth never even understood the reason they were fetching this Nachtbrise, but since Porto seemed to be ill and the others seemed to think a Crystal Knight in the mines bight have some connection to the sickness, just abandoning this town to it's unfortunate end didn't seem to be an option.  At the very least, a Crystal Knight sounds wealthy.  Roth gives a long, complacent shrug before deciding, "Then it sounds like we're headed to the mine, on the chance this some supernatural curse and not just a plague?"

"We fought the undead last night, and the plague immediately affected those of us who dealt with it too closely. Nor would a hero such as the Knight come to such a place without dire need. Even if the undead are not the cause, the chance that they are must be dealt with." He reached up to pat Neya's flank and spoke something in the odd tongue he used to speak with her, her head turning to him with some surprise. She looked at him for a second before nodding, although she did appear slightly worried.

"Please, lead the others to the mine," Shirok asked Nachtbrise before he turned away, starting to walk back towards the village as Neya remained with the others. "My skills will be better turned towards tending to the ailing, in case there is no reason behind this plague." He didn't seem to be prepared to listen to any arguments.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Tue 16 Feb 2010.

"Hell no," Ilsa objected. She had been following along, listening but not caring, hoping their time in this town would soon come to an end. It was clear to her that she would not be allowed to subdue and drag Nachtbrise back with them and would instead have to do him some favor involving a mine to get him to come with then. She had sighed and comes to terms with this reality when Shirok spoke his plans--plans she did not like.

Whether or not he was prepared to listen to any arguments, she was going to give him one. Or a boot up the ass. "You do not send Neya away to do that which you must do yourself. You are a great shaman and healer, Shirok, but your place belongs with us. If we go to the mine, we all go. If we stay in this damned place, we all stay. We are Snake Tongue. We band together and crush our enemies. We do not mope and sulk alone. We fight."

Nachtbrise shifts uncomfortably in the heat of the day as Ilsa voices her concerns to Shirok.  The others hold themselves; now willing to go, but unsure at how this might play out.  They all watched eagerly as they awaited Shirok’s response.

Shirok quickly turned to face Ilsa, try to keep his voice calm. "I have no intention of 'sulking.' The healer does not charge into battle if there are wounded to care for, and a warrior can do nothing if they do not assault the enemy. You can best fight by preventing any more lives from being claimed, and I can best fight by trying to save those already claimed.

"This is not an enemy that can be crushed by force alone. The mine is the base, but every infected is an outpost. There is no victory unless they all have been dealt with."


Neya whined slightly at his words; apparently she agreed with Ilsa.

"So, you're going to send Neya and I off to fight without a healer? You can fight the outposts, but unless we destroy the base, there will always be more. To do that, we need your power. Without it, you are sending us to our deaths." Ilsa set her jaw and stewed for a moment. She then called Neya to her. "Come. We shall be leave your master to heal those not of his tribe."

"Shirok, consider your placement from a healer's perspective. If you leave now it will be like cutting out a vital organ from our troupe. Likewise, if we stop the catastrophe at the mine, it will be the disease that has lost its heart, not us. The rest of the body will heal itself once the cancer is rooted out.

"Before we go anywhere, though, I'd like a good night's sleep."

The wizard's eyes are unfocused, his gaze wandering and unsure. Soon he will fall asleep in the street.

"I trust in your strengths. I know that you will survive, with or without me," Shirok said slowly, trying to impress upon both Ilsa and Neya the seriousness of his words. "But this plague is something that should not be. And I must try to undo it."

With nothing else to say he turned and began to walk back towards the village, his heart heavy. Within the day, Nachtbrise had said. Ilsa and Neya would survive the battle, just as they always would. But this disease, regardless of where it came from, was something they could not fight alone, and if Nachtbrise was correct then they had less then a day. He would not let that happen.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:32, Tue 16 Feb 2010.

Neya whined as she watched Shirok go, though the wolf remained where she was beside Ilsa. She looked around at the others in the party, looking a little lost, before finally settling on Ilsa, her eyes plainly questioning.

If it's only his healing that you fear is gone then you can all stop worrying. Porto says as he twirls a gnarled stick in his hand. Have you all forgotten that I know a trick or too in the art of healing. I can mend a soul like a cobbler, pun intended. Besides should my "bag" o' tricks run dry I always got this nifty little toothpick. Porto says trying to boost the confidence in the other members of his party.