Thorn nodded - both in acknowledgement of Giltris' statement and to give Aisling permission to follow the half-elf's instructions. Such healthy paranoia actually gave her hope for Giltris despite the female's dangerous proclivity for attempting to take enemies alive.

Besides, while Thorn wasn't particularly concerned for Sel'zir - the spider remained small enough yet to find plenty of places to hide and was unlikely to be targeted by raiders in any event - her pack was still in Vertigo and she had little chance of replacing lost gear at present, much less finding items of comparable quality in this wasteland. Best to ensure the settlement wasn't under attack then.

Aisling's Perception: 17, 12
This message was last edited by the player at 16:20, Sat 30 Jan 2021.

Erik struggled to surface his mind from the hunting fury he'd felt and left unsatisfied. With some work and the words of his hunting partners, he slowly started to come to. Meanwhile his moorbounder form ran back toward the upside down mountain to circle the perimeter as best he could. As he did so old fears of the unknown of this looming place made themselves known. Though he followed through with Giltris' suggestion his form began to tremble ever so slightly.

Intending to begin by circling clockwise around the inverse summit the moorbounder set out keeping it's senses open and aware. With his own mind near to the surface again, Erik became more and more aware of the weight of those he carried and the awkwardness of their seating. Surely there could be a better way to handle such partnerships in the future. Something that would make the ride more comfortable for both Erik and whomever decided to ride astride his form in the future.

Perception: 11, 17
Survival: 12, 20

Aisling flew off and swiftly headed to the town, searching for something...anything that could be out of the ordinary of perhaps an attack from within.  Unfortunately, she came up short and found nothing.

The same frustration was to be had by the moorbounder as well, as he searched the perimeter for any clues as to the whereabouts of this elusive Gnoll Shaman, but as the stimfay, he came up with nothing.

Before Thorin could return, though he could be seen coming out of the main tunnel of Vertigo, Alaric was already running full speed toward Althaea, though it was clear he had either not heard or was not heeding the advice of Thorin in wearing a mask. 

Althaea, What happened?  Why are you quarantined here?"

Meanwhile, Thorin, with a couple of his engineers in tow, went over to Sand to ask his advice on how they could make this temporary housing more permanent.  The engineers excited about this prospect, especially after seeing how quickly Sand was able to construct the temporary housing, decided to sit down right on the floor, their legs spread out wide almost like a child would.  They rolled out some of their plans for the second main tunnel that was meant to provide more housing for the growing town of Vertigo, and then proceeded to ask Sand a bunch of questions.  What advice did he have to ensure that while they were digging the new tunnel, it would remain safe, as well as other types of safety precautions to ensure there were no cave in's, best materials to use, etc....but they were not so subtle in sneaking in various questions about his magic and what he could do.

This message was last edited by the GM at 00:05, Tue 09 Feb 2021.

I sighed in mild frustration. He never listens.

"I was foolish. I pulled an unknown mushroom out of the back of this boy's throat and inhaled some spores. We do not know if these spores are contagious or if the illness itself is contagious. It is merely a precaution until we learn more. Once it has been determined that I am safe to be around the population, I will be allowed back inside the main settlement. Now please, go back inside so I do not have to worry about you as well."

I made a shooing motion with my hands to encourage Alaric in his departure.

As we circled the settlement, Erik's powerful muscles smoothly bunching and releasing as he ran, I feel a slight tremble run through him every time he cast a sidelong glance towards the buried mountain peak. Even in this animal form she could see the echoes of the fear and trepidation of the man within.

Leaning forward once more I reach forward and rest my left hand on the side of his neck and speak quietly, "I know you are not comfortable in Vertigo and I am sorry that I cannot spare you that; however, I am very grateful that you have chosen to stay with us. Your quick action and bravery today saved at least three lives, one a dear friend of mine. Thank you Erik, if you ever need anything of me you need only ask." With a final pat to the side of his neck I sit back up and resume searching for signs of further trouble.

Alaric grumbled, with disappointment on his face, though it was hard to tell if it was due to the shooing away of him or the fact that he couldn't be by Althaea's side. Without another word, he turned and slowly walked back to the main tunnel, his head drooping slightly.

The moorbounder huffed a sound of acknowledgement at Giltris' kind words. The trepidation remained but the nervous trembling seemed to decrease slightly. It took some time to complete the task but eventually Erik and the others arrived back at the entrance of the town. Carrying the two of them this far had obviously put some strain on the man turned beast as the moorbounder's paws and lips had become slick with sweat or salivary glands activating to keep the body cool after the extended exertion. Interestingly the same strange tattoo gills that had so forcibly become a part of Erik seemed to be present in his moorbounder shape as well only making their presence known now. Opening and closing slightly as if panting like an animal attempting to regulate it's temperature. Whether that was effective or not was not apparent.

As the moorbounder approached where Sand was being interrogated and Althaea was shooing away Alaric its pace slowed and finally stopped. The large creature crouched down and waited patiently for the others to dismount. Its head turned to a fro as if looking for someone or something. And then the form began to shrink and melt away. Fur receding and becoming hair, paws becoming hands and feet and shield and wand, feline-amphibioid head becoming Erik's face and beautiful beard. Well mostly beautiful beard. In the moments he had been Erik in the fight it had become a little disheveled again but nowhere near like it had been before Althaea's work the day before. Crouched in that primalistic, near animal stance, with those odd gills still panting Erik now looked around with his own eyes rather than the moorbounder's.

Not knowing what had transpired he made his way toward Althaea. "Good? People saved,    okay?" Remembering what Andraste had said about one of them being her friend he looked back her way, worry in his eyes. Asking about her friend, his way of thanking her.

As he was working on those shelters made of magically shaped earth, Sand heard Scamp coming back to him before feeling the familiar weight of the mechanical owl on his shoulder, before the bird started hooting loudly where his ears might be, had he had any. Sand nodded his head as the familiar’s chatter recounted the gnoll attack that had happened beyond the walls, away from him.

The construct paused in his spellcasting, to reflect on the events. He had not run towards the danger, like Erik and the others. Instead, he had elected to do what he was best at, building something, that ultimately proved useless. Slumping his shoulders, he looked at the almost finished shelter he was creating out of raw earth. Would it be enough? Had he done the right thing? He didn’t know. How would his companions that had rushed ahead see him now? Would he be seen as a coward? Was he? He didn’t know.

Focus returned to his eyes and he realized that he had attracted a crowd with his building, the architects and engineers marveling as his earth magic. Some started to ask “subtle” questions on how he did, but the construct was too intelligent to fall for such clumsy attempts. And, for once, he blessed his speech impediment in the common tongue, leaving more questions than answers in his replies.  They were well meaning, thinking of Vertigo’s future, but the construct mechanical heart was not really into it, worried for his friends and how they would react that he stayed back in this fight.

The rest of my companions returned and I noticed Erik coming towards me, asking about the others.

"The two that you carried for a moment appear as though they will be fine after some rest and recuperation. Rolland however, remains unknown. I pulled a mushroom out of the back of his throat and I may have contracted whatever ailment he suffers from. For your own safety, please keep your distance until more is known."

Thorn dismounted with efficient grace before instinctively turning to their mount, who had run hard and would need to be walked before she could rub him down. She could make do without a scrape, but perhaps she could borrow one from the settlement? As he melted into his true form, Thorn chided herself. Habit had made her forget: Erik was human and could tend to himself.

As she pulled back her hand, Thorn caught a glimpse of her skin. The coating of brown dust made it look dull and unhealthy, but also normal, albeit more tan than rich copper. She let the familiar pang of longing shoot through her; denial or suppression would only make her easier to manipulate. Then she brushed away the dirt. Skin like a fresh bruise, hair like aged bone. She was what she was.

So were the people of Vertigo apparently, who were using the opportunity presented by Althaea's quarantine to gather information about Sand's abilities. Typical. However, she was pleased to observe that he was not so naive as to fall for their unsubtle attempts. And that she had made the correct decision not to reveal the magical properties of her mushrooms.

And on that subject, if Althaea was correct about the cause of Rolland's ailment, perhaps Thorn would be of more use than she had supposed. But first, their little bivouac lacked something important. "I'll fetch our packs. For everyone?" They would all camp here, she thought. Althaea must. Sand didn't seem to breathe. Giltris would stay with Rolland. Erik was uncomfortable inside Vertigo. "But I would hear more of this mushroom when I return."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:54, Sun 07 Feb 2021.

In the maelstrom of activity announcing the arrival of the newcomers and the return of their saviors, the construction of the new shelters passed almost unseen. With the help of the engineers and architects of the city, once they got tired of trying to get Sand to say how he was moving and shaping so much earth easily, the work got much faster, but still at a slower pace than what the construct could have done by himself.

During a forced pause in the earth moving, the Vertigo craftsmen busy building a wooden framework for another hut, Andraste came to Sand and asked if she could borrow the decanter from him. Nodding his head, he accepted and showed her how the magic item worked. Upon learning that it was to get cleaned, he even told his half-elven friend to share the water magic with the rest of their companions, before returning to work, the framework completed.

All in all, after about an hour, the extra huts were ready, much more sturdy than what he had envisioned to do. Happy, he accepted the thanks of the craftsmen for his help and left them. Spotting Althaea near the new refugees, he approached her. A quick look at the state of the poor elven lass had him reaching for his tools, through which he started casting his healing magic, using all the feeble energy he could gather to alleviate the pain the bard was obviously in (2X Cast of cure wounds for 17 HP of healing)

How is Althaea feeling? Sand sorry Sand not followed, Sand thought attack would reach Vertigo.

With a fixed visage, it was really hard for him to show concern, so he cocked his head to the side, shoulders slumped.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:37, Thu 11 Feb 2021.

I looked in the direction of the artificer as I heard him begin to speak.

"Currently, I do not feel any differently than I normally do after a fight. However, there was a burning sensation in my throat upon initially breathing in the spores. I do not know if that means I, too, will begin growing a mushroom in my throat or if my body is heartier than that of Rolland and will not succumb to their effects. Only time will tell unless there is someone here who knows more than what they are saying or have yet to be informed of the situation. Thank you for building me this temporary housing while we learn more of this mystery ailment."

Once Thorn returned to the group, I pulled out the mushroom again and laid it out on the ground in the center of everyone. I explained how I pulled it out, the feeling I had upon breathing the spores, and everything else I had learned from my own findings and those I had discovered with the help of Thorin.

As Althaea explained what it was that happened and what her concerns were, Erik watched carefully for Giltris' response. He was worried about her friend and now about Althaea as well. As Sand did his best to mend her despite most of the damage seeming to be internal Erik considered his own potential solutions to the problem. He had on rare occasions, and nature willing, helped out his beast friends when they came to him sick or injured. Maybe he could do something similar here.

Cautiously he continued to approach and began examining the mushroom while asking "Rolland or Althaea need more help? Can maybe make mushroom disease roots    in throat..  wilt."

"I would say Rolland first if anyone. We know for certain he has contracted it. If this spell or ability has limited uses per day, I can wait until tomorrow."

Erik nodded and said nothing else in common. His guttural growling/incanting began slowly building though. Finding where Rolland was being kept he knelt down near him and lay a hand on the very same throat that had had a mushroom hidden inside it. Erik's head bowed his hair falling in front of his face baring his back to the group. As the sounds of his call to nature fell from him a small tattoo that looked almost like a pinprick began to shift along his back and down his arm toward Rolland's throat. As it came closer it took on the shape of veins that looked empty but as soon as the vein-like tattoo came to Erik's fingers it kept going sinking into Rolland's skin and latching onto something there. In moments the ink began to darken and withdraw back into Erik's arm seemingly pulling something with it, something intangible.

The something quickly was devoured by the tattoo as it shrank back into its original pinprick size and moved to where it had been on Erik's back. The beast man deflated as the guttural sounds stopped. He looked tired but not exhausted.

"Do not know if   worked.  Can tell sure tomorrow... Not today. Need to figure how to read it..."

Turning back to Erik, I uttered a quick, albeit genuine, "Thank you." Excusing myself from the druid, I made my way into one of the newly constructed huts that would be my "home" for the foreseeable future.

I focused my attention on making the space livable, since a dirt hut is the last place I would be caught in normally. I laid out my bedroll and blanket in one corner of the hut, sighing at the lack of a matress I had once again grown accustomed to. Using a piton from my pack, I hung up the tapestry I had found in the abandoned palace in the desert. I then laid out my armor and weapons and put my pack next to it.

Once that was done, I knew it was just about time for lunch. Considering I could not go inside like the rest of my companions, I settled for some rations from my pack. Once I had eaten my fill, I spent the rest of the daylight hours between sparing with the dummies outside and trying to remember any information I had read about plants such as the mushroom we found and their effects on the body, but no matter how hard I tried, no information would come to me.

I ate more rations for my dinner and decided to settle down for the night. The night was going to be lonely and wanted to get it over with.

Morning came, clear and cool; I chose to check on Rolland before I did any preparations for the day. He had been in rough shape when I saw him last. I kneeled down next to him and began examining his neck and chest where I had seen black, vein-like tendrils the day before then moving on to a more normal physical exam.

History: 3 (1d20+2)
Medicine: 14 (1d20+2)
This message was last edited by the player at 02:32, Sun 21 Feb 2021.

As the ink began to darken and withdraw back into Erik, so did the black from Rolland's veins, once again becoming the normal, if paler look of Rolland's own skin.  In doing so, Erik made a grave mistake, as he could feel the disease itself, a fabricated darkness riddled with necromantic energy, infecting him as he absorbed the ichor like substance into his body.  The freckle sized tattoo now sprouted black veins of its own, spreading out from all of its sides.  Almost as quickly, a seeping pain found purchase and dug its tendrils into Erik's lungs, immediately taking his breath away.  Bouts of choking ensued, Erik clutching his chest at the sudden tight grip from within.  Half a minute later, the spasms subsided, and Erik was able to finally catch his breath.


Erik: 13 poison damage, poisoned and exhausted level 1 conditions.

As Erik's spell comes to a close, I see the familiar vein-like tendrils sprouting out from a point on his back. Alarming, as this is not the normal effect of such a spell, I moved to examine him. Immediately pressing Erik to open his mouth so I can check his throat before moving on to examine the other exposed parts of his tattooed skin.

Medicine: 22 (1d20+2)

As he caught his breath and Althaea pressed to examine what was going on, Erik didn't stop her but he didn't do much to help the process.

"Back, back.. I fix this." The words were soft, sharp, and rushed. He turned his back on her so as not to breathe her way just in case which actually gave her time to examine his back where the tattoo and the strange disease were mixing together in a fight for his lungs. Weakend from the experience and hurting he began again the guttural incantation he had used on Rolland moments ago and placed his hands on his chest exactly opposite of where the tendrils had taken root. As he began a thought occurred to him. It had latched on to him when he pulled it from Rolland and he didn't want that to happen to someone else so he started running quickly until he was a fair distance from the others. As the incantation came to a close the tattoo did it's work having new energy coursing through it and devoured the infection whole before expelling it from his body.

Erik breathed heavily for moments more motioning for anyone who might approach to stay back. At least until he was sure it was gone. And when he was sure he finally relaxed and then just lay down on the bare ground and curled in on himself. That was an experience... He'd have to be ready to go through it again tomorrow if anyone else was infected.

Erik came in as Sand finished casting his spells to heal Althaea, and the moorbounder did the still surprising transformation into his human self. Sand looked on as the black fur recessed, the muscles transformed, and the bones popped, revealing the tired druid. He then watched as the tattooed man casted a spell on the injured man with the vines on his skin, that seemed to ease his pain a little bit. But he was not out of the woods yet.

Sand will watch over man during night. Sand not afraid of… that.

He pointed at the weird mushroom extracted from Roland’s throat and gently gathered the man to bring him to one of the shelters. Without windows, it was dark in the earthen hut and he used his tools to perform a simple trick on a rock stuck in the ceiling, making it glow. Now able to see, he created a soft earth bed and covered it with a blanket before moving the man on it, covering him with another blanket. While his knowledge of human anatomy was lacking, he still performed a examination of his patient, at least to have a point of reference.

Then a long wait started, that he spent reading his spell book and continuing to repair the smashed rock that so fascinated him, all the while taking his rest and making sure the man was still breathing and comfortable.

Medicine roll : 19

Thorn approached the camp with the last pair of bags only to see Erik, near Rolland, panting on the ground. Apparently, his restoration attempt had achieved somewhat . . . mixed success. As Sand helped the human to one of the huts, Thorn carefully covered her nose and mouth with her towel and approached the mushroom from upwind, halting a considerable distance away. From here, all she could determine was that its cap was blue with spots of some sort. But perhaps there was a way to get closer safely. . .

Thorn knocked on Sand's door and, upon receiving his permission to enter, found the construct diligently undertaking more repairs. "Sand, I may be able to identify the mushroom, but I can't get close enough without risking infection." She had never encountered one quite like him in any sense, and had little notion of his capabilities: he was an artisan and a mage, but could apparently use divine healing magic as well. Puzzling. "Could you create some sort of transparent barrier over the mushroom that would contain the spores but still allow me to examine it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:40, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

As he was installing Roland on his bed for the night, Mathorn came to the artificer and asked for a favor. Instantly, the gears of his mechanical brain started to turn at the intriguing prospect and he nodded his head. Wanting to be fully understood, he spoke in Elven.

That is certainly possible, for a short time. If the mushroom…. Is that what that thing is called? Yes it would work, but only for about an hour. Water will be needed. Come.

Getting out of the shelter, he approached the mushroom and went for his decanter… before remembering that he had lent it to Andraste not long ago. Thinking quickly, he went to a barrel of water, the liquid not too clean. But it didn’t disturb him. Speaking a few arcane words, he manipulated the water to expulse all impurities to the outside, before freezing about a gallon of it. Taking that clear ice, he brought it to the mushroom where he again manipulated the water to encase the fungus in a clear globe of ice. Presenting the globe to the elven huntress, he nodded, satisfied. Still speaking elven, he gave his last recommendations.

This should allow you to examine this… mushroom… safely for an hour, the ice will melt after. Make sure to be at a safe distance when it happens.

Thorn nodded to her understanding to Sand before kneeling to study the mushroom. This close, she could see that the spots were a vivid green hue, the deadly gills tucked neatly under the cap. It looked familiar, but she had encountered this variety so rarely, recalling the details took a moment. She closed her eyes, searching her memory.

"Twilight Caps. Videre Spongos," she informed the others. "Normally harmless. Not rare, exactly, but particular about their habitat: cavern mouths, mainly, and always near the sea. The locals may know more. Either way, we should dispose of this before the ice melts."

Having shared all she knew, Thorn departed to a quiet, shady place in the camp and settled down with Aisling in front of her. She removed a packet of strangely-colored leather from her cloak and unrolled it to reveal her tools. Most were typical of those carried by tinkers, crafted from the same dark metal as her weapons. The more unusual ones however, looked like they had been adapted from scavenged parts. She selected a brush, held out her stimfay's right wing, and began painstakingly removing the dust from his delicate clockwork gears. Afterwards, she cleaned herself as well as she was able under the circumstances.

By nightfall, she found herself in the utterly unfamiliar position of having little to do. Her weapons were sharp, her gear carefully tended. She gazed up at the slim crescent moon. Beautiful. Perhaps she would rest here tonight. She conjured some mushrooms for the next day, warded the location with her alarm spell and laid down in her bedroll to watch the stars before drifting into her trance.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:42, Mon 22 Feb 2021.

As Erik comes to a stop, sides heaving as he takes deep breathes, I carefully dismount and pause a moment for my legs to adjust to being on solid, non-moving ground. Sand is nearby constructing a shelter for the unconscious Rolland, Thorin having decided to bring him inside the walls despite my warning, while Althaea sits nearby her eyes shadowed and looking more dishevelled than normal. Rolland may not have woken yet but the steady rise and fall of his chest gives no cause for concern and while Althaea appears troubled I cannot see anything of immediate concern. The Half-Orc and Goliath look much better than before, Sand must have given them water and tended to their injuries. What I do not see is Thorin or Sebastien. Why do I always have to go looking for those two whenever I need to pass on information! And they are always in different places too!

In...two...three...out..two..three. Just breath in and out, let it all go. They are both busy, it is unreasonable of me to expect them to be here just because I am in a hurry. Shaking my head causes a small cloud to drift down from my hair and I am grateful for the cloth I had covered my nose and mouth with earlier. It may not have been perfect, the feel of dry grit coating my tongue and teeth is testament to that, but it is so much better than it would have been otherwise. The fine grit has gotten everywhere, I can feel it grinding in every joint of my armour let alone the grey-brown paste it has made on my gambeson when it mixed with my sweat. This will take forever to clean and dry properly. But that will have to wait until I have reported to the town leaders.

But a small delay will not hurt. I walk over to where Sand is working and ask him to borrow his decanter. He is kind enough to loan it to me and gives me a brief demonstration on how to use it before returning to his work. And with that I head inside the main settlement to deliver my report. I find them both in their offices and report on the number of Gnolls seen, that we were unable to locate the Shaman and/or the source of the dust cloud, and that we saw no sign of anyone using the incident as a distraction to slip inside the perimeter.

Afterwards, I head outside and find a quiet area nearby where Sand built his shelters and begin taking off my armour, carefully inspecting and setting aside each peace. It has held up well to everything on this journey so far but it might be a good idea to have Sand look at some of the straps, they are starting to show some wear. Out here, this gear is my life and it must be treated with respect and care. When I have all the pieces laid out I use the decanter to wash away all of the accumulated grim before drying each piece with a cleaning cloth and applying the necessary lubricants. That done, I do the same for the rest of my gear, carefully cleaning out all of the dust that had seeped in and refolding my few spare clothes. Once that is done, I strip down to my underclothes and use the decanter and meager soap to wash myself, spending particular effort to make sure I get all of the dust out of my hair, before quickly changing and washing the last of my laundry before leaving it to dry.

Once all of my things are ready I head back to the shelters where people are beginning to settle in. Thorn has brought everyone’s gear here and is looking at something with Sand, Erik is curled up a little ways away from the rest, Rolland is still asleep, and it looks like the day has caught up with the other two refugees as well having collapsed in the back of the large shelter. That is alright, questions can wait right now it is important that they feel safe. I leave Sand’s decanter with the rest of his things and take a seat on an overturned bucket outside the main shelter, unarmoured but with my sword at hand, and write in my journal about the day’s events; I have a feeling another item has been added to our to-do list.

The night watching over Roland felt weird for the construct. He was not worried for his own health, as the propagation of the sickness seemed airborne, and neither he or his two mechanical companions breathed. But he had seen the look of worries from his flesh and blood friends and he wanted to help. He didn't even know the man, did not know why he was here, but he was very sick. Somewhere in the mechanical shell, there was a genuine desire to alleviate suffering in any kind, so he had volunteered without much thought to watch over the sickest refugee.

But now, after spending time decifering the spell book and painstakingly repairing that carved rock, he had time to think during his forced pause that he had to do every day. There, in the middle of the night, with the snoring of Roland being the only sound in the hut, the construct rehashed the same questions he had been asking himself since he woke up from the ice, a little over two years ago, to discover a devastated world. And he had the inexplicable feeling that the rock would bring him some answers, thus he was rebuilding it fragment by fragment. What force could so pulverize a piece of jade that much?

Another night without any answers passed and after checking that his patient was still living, he got out of the hut to see the first signs of the settlement waking up. The man wasn't going anywhere, and he needed to make sure that he wasn't contagious anymore, after Erik's spell on him, so he turned his attention towards the stable, where the druid seemed to have established himself. Instructing Clacker to not let anyone in or out of the hut, he went to fetch his friend...