Party 16

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Varius frowns at Faria's statement, looking down at his torso, and for the first time, he seems to realise he is missing an arm.
"Well that's strange I wonder what happened to it I had it back with the old woman no even later than that I had it back in that underground chamber when we were fighting those things I couldn't see but was that real or was that only a dream if that was only a dream then maybe I lost it before that in which case where was I before that also how did I get here wherever here is..."
Varius follows Faria out of the room, still trying to figure out where his arm had gotten to.
 
Faria shrugs at Varius' sudden bout of talkativeness. No doubt his missing limb was disturbing him a bit, and she didn't know how fragile human minds were but her experience were they died sooner, they broke sooner, and slept a lot of their life away. "I don't know Varius. I'm not convinced we are... awake? If that makes sense. The only constant through these.... dreams? Have been you guys, as my companions, though I'm still convinced at one point Cass was a guy but our minds are addled so I could easily be mistaken. For now we should keep quiet as we move, we might need to fight again soon and I'd rather surprise something than be on the receiving end again."

'That being said, I wonder what exactly awaits us here.... did that card actually have anything to do with... anything? Or is this a combination of our thoughts and experiences. I know the other two are monks... perhaps they grew up here? Or in a similar place?' Faria continued to wonder if she was going crazy in some asylum and was playing out random events in her life.
 
Confident that his group is, for the moment, alone, the Wood Elf closes the second door and returns to the group. "Oh, Faria, he says with quiet
surprise to run into her, "I just came back to get my boots. I believe we must be alone here. At least for the moment. The door on the right, though. I kept away from it. This place is strange enough. Best to keep away from rooms with strange inscriptions around the door-way, I think."
He turns his attention to Varius, taking a seat on the edge of the pallet to pull his boots on, "I am sorry for the loss of your arm, Varius, but You'll have to keep it down. Who knows what dangers you might attract."

As he ties his laces, Astryos describes the two rooms he visited and the implements found in each.
 
Cassandra does her best to follow along with keep up with the group, trying to stay calm. The now one-armed human certainly doesn't help matters with his babbling. Glass houses, she reminds herself, I wasn't exactly a saint of patience even a little bit before. She bites her lip. She could only imagine the shock of the situation. She is unable to imagine missing any limb.
Still, she does her best to listen to Astryos's descriptions. "So a lot of junk and a scary room then...any of you good with weird symbols?"
 
"The oil could likely be salvaged. But with no flask to store it in, I don't see how we would transport it." the monk says tucking his laces into the boots.
 
Cassandra considers for a moment, then pulls a rag from her makeshift sack. "We could soak it up with some rags? Not quite the same usefulness, but better than nothing." She nods at the bucket by the table. "Unless we want to carry around a bucket of oil."
 
Astryos shrugs, getting back to his feet, "I'm more interested in figuring a way out of here and finding more friendly...*creatures* to shelter with." His voice betrays the dryness of his mouth. His stomach rumbles once more provoking a mild wince of pain. "Maybe the garden has something ripe."
 
Faria nods in response to Astryos in passing. "Indeed, I'll try and keep it quiet for now and avoid that door to take a peek in the two rooms you've already looked into. If there's no other way forward however we'll have to push through that door," said Faria glancing towards the doors direction for a moment wondering if they were just decorative or magical in nature. First door she came up to had a room full of tons of furniture, and she examined the room but couldn't properly search it without making too much of a ruckus. Deciding maybe it wasn't best to poke around the room for too long she started for the second room to investigate that room as well.
 
Cassandra follows Faria as she investigates their new surroundings. As she follows, she stops before the strangely marked door. She narrows her eyes, trying to consider if there is anything recognizable to it. After a time, however, the half elf shakes her head and sighs. She may have scratched similar images in the dirt with a stick once, but no further enlightenmint seems availabe to the monk. A part of her just considers just opening the door and being done with it, but stories of men blowing themselves apart thanks to secluded wizards not wanting to be disturbed were common enough.
However, something else clicks for Cassandra after some inspection. The hinges, the handle...they're new.
She turns to catch up with the elf as she moves to another room. "Something about that door seems important...its been rehinged recently, so someone's doing upkeep. But I cant figure it out for the life of me. Know anything about symbols?"
 
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"Let's save the possibly trapped or magical or warded door for last. I'm not familiar with glyphs or wards really but our cities defenses did have a few here and there. Wall duty brought me close to a few places where you were only allowed in with a specific badge that was enchanted to not activate the traps on city weapon supplies. Hopefully this place isn't like that but just in case I'd leave that for later until we secure the other rooms. For now help me check this second room will you?" asked Faria as she walked over pulling down the thin sheet over the window and briefly looking out of it, and then began to search the room until she found the chest. "Speaking of such things..."

Faria carefully examined the chest for a moment before slowly opening the chest with the machete wedging it in and using the extra leverage to carefully open the chest. She was fully expecting to find monk robes or something similarly mundane. Indeed it was mundane but something she recognized. A field kit for sewing up wounds, or treating injured people along with a few other items. Tinderbox would be good to get some better light for Varius, along with the lamps scattered around. She picked up a knife out of the box, and as Varius checked in the room she tossed the Machete to him. "You'll make better use of that I think," said Faria holding the knife. Even though it wasn't meant for combat she had studied enough things to know where even a small blade could hurt or seriously damage someone. "Let's quickly search that third room and then we'll pass into that glyphed door."

'and hope it's not magical symbols...' thought Faria.
 
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Varius, still muttering to himself, tries to take the offered weapon three times before he remembers his current situation and grabs a hold of it with his other hand. Quite distracted, he falls behind the rest of the group, wandering slowly through the building as the rest of them press on ahead.
 
While the others search the rooms for themselves, Astryos makes his way down the hallway, peering through the cracked open door. Taking note of the windows he turns to return to the others when he hears the sounds of monsters. He freezes when he hears a door open. He takes another step. Freezing again upon hearing voices.

We're not wights he thinks to himself. We're in no condition to fight. His stomach rumbles with hunger. This matter must be resolved without violence. Straightening up, the elf steels his resolve, opening the cracked door. He stands in the doorway, presenting himself non-threateningly to greet the kind voice with a volume loud enough for his companions to hear, "Sir, I fear there has been a grave misunderstanding. I assure you I am no wight. Or undead of any sort. My name is Astryos Kokkynos." Astryos coughs to clear his parched voice, "I must apologize for alarming your friend. I am afraid I am quite unsure of where exactly I am. Only that I am rather parched and famished. Might you have some water to quench my throat?"
 
As Astryos pushes the door open, everyone can see the large room beyond: the windows and low shelves, but also a large desk against the left wall, with pigeonholes full of rolled up papers. There's another, closed door across the room, in front of which you can see the top of a railing that must belong do an unseen staircase descending to the left. This is where the footsteps, as well as the cacophony of animal sounds, are coming from.

Long, lithe fingers reach up to grip the railing. There is a pause, and then a tall, handsome human man with curly dark hair and thick eyebrows leans forward and smiles at you in wonder. Most of you are no judges of human age, but you could safely guess he entered the second half of his life some years ago. He caries himself with the bearing of a prince, though the clothes he wears are almost as plain as the ones you woke up in.

"Well look, Bella: It is not one of Otto's discoveries who walks among us here in the East Wing, but four! And now to settle this undead question." He utters a few quick words none of you understand, then smirks and nods. "No, Bella, precious. No undead today. Come up. Come on!"

A woman who is part equal parts owl, bear, snake and humanoid—Astryos has seen her before—peers charily around the corner. Her cowl is raised to cover her head. She clicks her beak and blinks.

"Now the question is," the man continues, addressing the four of you, "if not undead, then what by Lathander's blazing light has transpired here? I can attest that Otto, whatever his foibles, would know four living creatures, as you walk and speak and breathe, from four corpses in a hole in the ground, so there will be no denying, you were dead. Now, you are not. Please, if you have been sent back by some deity, pray tell which. Was it Torm? I suspect Torm."

Gazing back through your ranks, he seems to notice Varius' disfigurement for the first time. He frowns, then bites his lower lip and shakes his head from side to side. "Oh no. No. This is... I am sorry, my son." A tear wells up in his eye. "That should not have happened." He covers his eyes briefly with his hand and breathes deeply. "We're going to make that right. Everything can be repaired."

"Bella dear," he says to the woman who still lingers at the top of the stairs, "fetch water and food for these people. And close the door please."

"Yes, Abbot." Bella grunts and goes back down. A door closes and the bestial noises subside.

"Please, please, come in here," the man says, gesturing into the large room with the desk. "I'm sorry, there are no chairs. Why, all-knowing Oghma, are there no chairs in here? Do you want to sit on the rug?" He gestures to a large, worn carpet that covers much of the floor. "We'll sort all this out. Hello Astryos Kokkynos. They call me The Abbot, but only because I live here, the Abbey of Saint Markovia."
 
Varius looks down at the ground, where he has been offered a seat, and then back at the strange man calling himself "the abbot". Instead of sitting down, he takes a step forward, drawing himself up to full height. Looking down at the abbot, he tries to fold his arms across his chest, only for his remaining one to fall limp without the support of the other. He seems unconcerned by the strange, chimeric creature that had just left, nor by his unfamiliar surroundings. When he speaks, it's in the slow, steady tones of someone who's doing everything they can to keep control of the situation.
"I want my arm back."
 
Astryos nods politely, "The rug will be fine. I hope you are able to he—" the wood elf has a brief fainting spell but catches himself on the door frame. Staring at the ground he tries to maintain his composure but his thoughts seem to be elsewhere. Eyes fluttering, he stands back upright. "Forgive me, Abbot. I became suddenly feint. I fear my hunger is far greater than I had suspected."

His emerald eyes fix on Cassandra for long moment before following the Abbot to the rug.
 
Cassandra, after following the others, considers the man before them. He seems alright to the half elf, but something about his behavior made her uneasy. Then again, I've been uneasy since I woke up the first time...or were we still sleeping in that dark place? She grimaces, listening as the man speaks. She begins to respond, when something that the Abbot says resonates with the monk. "Saint Markovia..." Cassandra mutters to herself before clutching her head. She staggers, her vision blurring. Visions fill her head, memories perhaps. They are strikingly vivid, and for a moment the half elf is lost in them. The moment passes, as does the pounding in her head. She blinks, squeezing her hands, the soreness she remembered now long gone. Remembered..or imagined? Just what was that?

She shakes her head again. "Well that was weird" she mutters to herself. For a moment she feels a set of eyes on her, and catches the other monk looking away. Did he something too? she wonders. She unsteadily following Astryos into the room. If that was a memory, maybe we need to stick around here, something about this abbot seems to be helping...whatever that was. As she sits on the rug, she hangs on to what she saw, trying to commit details of the face she saw, and the name spoken. Aurica...
 
Faria looked around to get a bearing on her surroundings before looking over at the ‘Bella’ who had her hood drawn up. Faria waved over to the girl before turning her attention to the abbot who was asking about which gods. Some of them she recognized others she didn’t. “Not sure if a god plucked us from where we were but I am thanking Tymora for our luck in meeting a well-mannered person, though I suspect she wouldn’t take the form of an old crone. At least I’ve never heard of any such stories,” said Faria trying to compliment the man before them. As he confirms they were dead she grits her teeth for a moment feeling some of the dirt crunch in her mouth from the vomit she had done earlier.

The Abbot sends Bella to fetch them food and water, to which Faria’s tummy gives an appreciative sound of approval as they walk further into the room. When offered a seat she instead leans with her back against the far wall listening to the conversation at this point. For a moment she went into herself wondering how she had gotten into this mess at all. The next moment she is somewhere else staring down at a town from a higher spot within the abbey.

Faria turns to look at the man who mentions her ideas about the defense of this… abbey... city...? Were all good ideas and he would let Saint Markovia know. She oddly felt a bit of pride at this. Despite on some level instinctively seeming to know of what the man speaks her mind pulls forth no more answers. “What castle?” asks Faria looking out over the imagined landscape for any sign of it, but as she turns back to look at the man, she’s already back in the room. Fairly sure that she had just asked that question out loud she shrugged at her own question.

“Sorry, old memory I think… is there a town down the hill from here?” asked Faria latching onto the two questions she had. “Being dead and brought back must have… confused some things. I apologize for my weird behavior… abbot? I notice you did not tell us your name. I am Faria Alderwood, a pleasure to meet you.”
 
The Abbot grasps Varius' intact shoulder. "Of course you do, and we will do that. But you need nourishment first, or what's going to become of you? A man, much less a man who's been just dead, doesn't tolerate such a procedure while trembling from lack of food and water. You can rest that adage on the bountiful bosom of Chauntea."

When Faria waves to Bella, the hybrid woman looks behind herself and to the sides before blinking and waving back with her ursine paw. Then she's off downstairs on the errand the Abbot has given her.

Once Bella has departed, the Abbot regards you all and shakes his head in wonder once more. "I see you've been busy arming yourselves up here. Quite understandable. What must have gone through those heads?"

Bella returns before too long with a bucket of fresh water and a tureen of lukewarm vegetable stew with bits of meat in it. She gathers some mugs and bowls from the shelves that run below the windows and serves helpings out to all of you, leaving the food and drink in the middle of the rug when she's done.

The Abbot calls Bella over and whispers something to her. She swivels her head to look at Varius briefly, then goes back downstairs.

"Yes," says the Abbot to Faria's next question, "there is a town below the abbey. Its name is Krezk. Does that ring a bell?" The name does seem somewhat familiar to all of you. "The people there live a simple, communal life, in harmony with us. An idea: We will inquire and see if anyone in Krezk knows you."

As you eat, Bella makes repeated trips up and down the stairs, carrying large bundles of linen which she takes through the door to the hallway and into the room where the small wooden chest was. With each pass, the bestial sounds from below rise and fall as she opens and closes the door at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Faria," continues the Abbot. "I've grown so used to being called 'The Abbot' that I did not state my given name, Sharath. I am, bless Ilmater, an outsider like you."

"Once you are done eating," he says to Varius, "we may attend to your arm. If you will just join us in the chirurgery." He gestures towards the room where Bella has been bringing her packages. Bella ambles on ahead of him, disappearing into what you've come to think of as the last room on the left.
 
Varius grabs the bowl of stew offered him, drinking straight from it in lieu of his ability to use a spoon. Draining the bowl in a single go, he drops the empty bowl back down onto the rug.
"There? Are you quite satisfied now?"
Waiting impatiently for the strange hybrid woman, Bella, to finish running around, he finally seems visibly relieved once The Abbot invites him into the next room, and quickly follows the strange man through.
 
Astryos sips at the soup intently, not wishing to rush his first meal in, how long has it been since I last ate? He sips a laddle of water from the bucket, listening to the Abbot's offer to Varius, "Abbot," he asks curiously, "What are all of those animal noises? And, please excuse my forthrightness, but, will Varius have his arm back. Or will he be more like Bella, here?"
 
Faria frowned at the thought of someone else recognizing her but her not recognizing them. It would be a situation she was not used to. When Varius drank the soup very quickly and demanded to be get his arm back Faria put a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Calm Varius, he is going to help us. Let us not sour the waters with our new friend," said Faria as she leaned close to his ear and whispered the next part. "We still do not know if he's trust worthy or manipulating us careful. I..."

Faria couldn't finish the words and instead leaned back to her standing posture. She sniffed the soup for a moment before starting to eat it. "Krezk," she said testing the word out in her mouth. "Yes I think I've been there before. Maybe I made a few friends down there. If I did I'm sure they'd recognize me, I'm VERY protective of my friends. Do you have any friends in town Sharath?" Faria finished the bowl letting the warm contents go to work on warming up her body.
 
"This celestial music, and marvel you should at its symphony and song, is nothing more than the myriad conversation of Bella's extended family, who live here with us until their treatment is complete. Not all of them are as perfected as Bella; part of our work, a large part of it, is the repair of this lineage, the polishing of certain atavistic blots. In the mean time, however, the Washems do not let themselves be forgotten. They bring us Milil's blessings."

"Now to the appendage. Which arm do we restore? When Gond and Sune collaborated on the mortal creatures, did they favor one perfect limb over all others? They did not, and neither may we in the current circumstance. The erstwhile arm of ... Varius, you say ... that specimen is no longer available to us—no longer on hand, proclaimeth the Mistress of Revels. But if you think on it, Varius, did you have a choice in that original arm? You did not. But now, by this miraculous inversion of Kelemvor's course, you will. Behold!"

Reentering the "chirurgery," you see that Bella has arranged a gamut of arms on one of the long side tables. "Go on, Varius, take your pick," says the Abbot. "Or, if nothing suits you, you may stay here with us until Otto, our excavator, discovers even more. You may even return later to see what he's found, should you wish to beat the world single-handed for a time."

The detached appendages on display are:

  • A lithe, pale gray, hairless arm that might have belonged to an elf
  • A muscular, human-sized arm with two tattoos: a honeybee and a crossbow
  • A monstrous, furry arm with sharp nails
  • A quite small arm, perhaps that of a halfling or a human child
  • An arm coated with irregular chitinous plates
  • Something that resembles a small tree branch more than an arm, though it does end in finger-like tips. Small spines protrude along its length.
  • An arm quite reminiscent of the severed miner appendages from the passage you were in between your time in the grove and the abbey. It twitches now and then as it lies on the table.
While Varius considers the options. The Abbot answers Faria's question about friends in Krezk. "The Quiet One, she who gives the boon of friendship has reserved her greatest gifts to be shared among peers. When one, in such situation as I find myself, is regarded, rightly or no, as of a higher station, true comradery becomes elusive. Nonetheless, I am on close terms with the Burgomaster of Krezk. I can and will send you forth with a warm letter of introduction."

The following arms have additional properties that will become readily apparent:
  • furry monster arm: unarmed strikes do 1d4 piercing damage
  • chitinous arm: unarmed strikes do 1d4 bludgeoning damage
  • treelike arm: bleeds sap, unarmed strikes do 1d4 piercing damage, you may make a ranged attack with the spines (30/60) for 1d6 piercing damage. If you take 5 or more HP of fire damage from one source, the arm catches fire.
  • zombie arm: if you take 5 or more HP of slashing, piercing or bludgeoning damage from one source, the arm falls off and acts on its own (not under your control) until reattached.
 
"You are very well versed in the gods it seems, and perhaps your faith is spread out among a good number of them which is quiet impressive," commented Faria leading with that before another question to his particular wording. "You said one such as you... did you mean human compared to elf? Or did you mean something else entirely by higher station?"

There was definitely something odd about this one that she couldn't place her finger on but if he wasn't willing to share it she wasn't going to press much further. After all he had provided them food, and aided them without any apparent advantage to himself. There was still the possibility of manipulation towards an unseen plan but that was becoming more unlikely in her mind as the interaction continued. "Hey Sharath? How long ago did St. Markovia die? I mean she existed at one point right? And.... how did she end up dying?" asked Faria. 'If that was real it will give me a time frame for possibily how long I have been dead, and how... I died.'
 
Finishing his soup, the Wood Elf moves to inspect the arms with the rest. A look of concern crosses his face at the macabre sight. He speaks up, "Abbot, Where did you procure such a variety of limbs?" Astryos touches the furry arm, "This one inparticular seems to belong to the arm of a Lycanthrope in its hybrid form." He looks to Varius and speaks sympathetically to him, "I can only imagine the loss you are feeling. The choice is ultimately yours, however, do not curse yourself for the convenience of a second hand."
 
"These materials," says the Abbot, indicating the arms on display, "Are excavated by Bella's brother Otto, and he is quite capable in this task, sniffing out what is no longer needed elsewhere. The grounds just outside hold a vast repository of such. Some are from those who once toiled here, others are offered up through unseen channels in the soil—truly a great mystery and wonder. We will have to ask Otto, but a believe you yourselves came to us by the latter."

"An additional benefit of Otto's work is that any unstable forms he retrieves may be fixed, allowing the tethered souls to depart. Even if they cannot go far in this land, their torment is greatly lessened thereby."

To Faria's questions, the Abbot says, "Where I look, I strive to see only equals. But these poor, frightened people of Krezk, focused as they must be on day-to-day survival, they look on the work we do here and see something above mere comprehension of food and shelter and keeping predatory monstrosities at bay. We dig for the roots of what ails this land. It is in this distinction that the perceived difference in station dwells, so I believe in the very least. In Krezk too, sadly, they are not yet ready to see the beauty in Bella and her kin, though the Washems descend from elves, as foresaged by your question."

"This place's namesake, Markovia, was already long departed when I came here many, many years ago. And what remnants of prior work you see about you are from those who came after her, even. When we are done in the chirurgery you may see such relics and mementoes across the courtyard. Thought some areas I have had to seal off for safekeeping until Otto finds all of the unstable forms for us to fix."

"Legend has it that Markovia met her fate contesting with the tragic, cursed lord of this land. Where she confronted him with hatred, We arm ourselves with love. Thus will all be free."
 
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