Insight 13 (rolled in gamelog)

Boyd nearly chokes on his spit when he hears what they're being offered, but he plays it totally cool. Cool as a cucumber. "So, uh... Yeah well, I think your boys found the right people for the job. We're, uh, professionals. Fixers. The lot of us. But, um, we'll need to talk it over. Pay this Pacali and Fortuna a visit, see what they know. Maybe take a look at some of the afflicted. Anything else you can tell us about this ailment before we start looking into it, Lady Isolde?"


Boyd has no idea what his companions really do, but they seem competent. Most of them. Probably. Deception: 19

“”A down payment and all… this is starting to sound serious! Of course there’s no point in running off, that’s the thing about life, there’s no where to run that is any further from death you see, all a blink of an eye away compared to the stars and sky” he looks to the heavens a bit, standing stoic and silent for a few seconds, then raises an arm to shoot off another… he looks at the group suddenly, “ thought I was gonna shoot a couple more off eh?” Chuckling to himself. 

“Say Issie, Are we at risk of catching this just by being here? Cause dead I can do, but sick…. The snot and the inflamed tonsils, that’s just too much to put us through… that’s gotta count as some type of cruelty to humanoids or something! Teleport ‘‘em in just to watch the contagion spread!” He remembers the coin, and turns to the group to see who cares about coin more…

“ but gold with nowhere to spend it is also its own issue, and gold spent in your carnival we might as well call a stimulus package eh? So Where’s the good stuff? In the kitchen behind the candlestick next to the mustard?” He looks around to see if anyone in the carnival has quality armor, weapons or obviously magical items. “And did I head you say magical tattoos?”

Ermasnietsz's Insight check:

Tearing her eyes away from Lady Isolde with some difficulty, Nikita takes a moment to make sure to properly greet Ermasnietsz.  "Well met Aye-ma-neoh."  Nikita tries her best to pronounce it correctly.

That question on what kind of magic was used for summoning us was spot on.  Another fellow spellcaster, I'd wager.  But with magic far different from my own, I sense, as with Nick Nack, and perhaps a couple of the others as well, from the sounds of it.  And all but myself and Boyd from farther away than I would have imagined probable.

Gathering herself and putting on the blank, amiable face once more that the leader of her coterie had taught her to wear, Nikita breathes once, then faces Lady Isolde to add her two bits.

"Lady Isolde.  You have summoned us here, an odd ensemble, some from much farther away than I suspect even you or Tindal are willing to believe.  Yet it begs the question - the magical solution for disease typically does not involve forced teleportation and planar travel.  To start with, I'm told there is a restoration spell that is powerful but relatively mundane in comparison, though I cannot cast it.  I suspect there are clerics or others, even here in Saltmarsh, that might avail.  You, or this Professor Pacali or Madam Fortuna must have already tried this and failed if you are now resorting to this more... exotic approach?"

"And I think we have a right to know everything you know about the incident you say Claude encountered during the summoning, since I'd say it's had quite a significant effect on several of us, at least."

You watch as sadness sweeps over Isolde's face as Faila enquires about the sickness, "It started with Harold.  No sooner than we had entered Saltmarsh he came down with, whatever it is."  It is clear to see her upset as she continues, "He's one of the older members of the Carnival, him and his wife Agatha; thankful she appears to have been unaffected... if she should contract it."  Isolde lets the thought hang and she fights back tears.

"The illness has sapped most of his strength, his energy, he seems a shall of the man he was, all prematurely aged."  Isolde says, shaking her head, "That's who I am taking you to see now.  There is more, no spots on the skin... but their skin... it flakes."  Sadness is replaced by fear as she continues, "It falls off them Faila.  Like dried mud being scraped from the bottom of your boot, its crumbles into dust."

Isolde seems deeply relieved by Boyd's assurances, "I knew that I had to cast a wider net, so to speak.  To attempt to bring those capable of solving and curing this illness to the Carnival.  The pamphlets were designed to attract only the capable and those that were looking to leave behind their current lives. I, I..."  It all becomes a little overwhelming for the normally composed Ringmistress, she looks Boyd in the eye, "Thank you, all of you.  I shall take you to see Harold now."

"I am afraid I do not know Mr Nack."  Isolde starts in answer to Nick's question, "As I mentioned to Faila, Harold's wife has not contracted the illness, yet she resides with him.  In truth, I do not know the nature of sickness, how it spreads."  She smiles as Nick mentions a 'stimulus package' and allows herself a little chuckle.  "I must admit, Mr Nack, you do have a certain way about you.  Oh, trust me, the Carnival has a lot of 'good stuff' from magical tattoos to other delights."  She says mischievously.

Isolde considers Nikita's words, before smiling to herself, "I knew I would be able to find the right people for the job.  I admit it was a bit of a punt.  It's that deductive reasoning and outside expertise that will undoubtedly serve you well for the task ahead."

"This malady is unlike any that I, or Madam Fortuna or Professor Pacali, has heard of within all our travels; frankly, I do not know if there is a magical solution for it.  You are correct that I have sought expertise prior to you.  But I suspect,"  Isolde lowers her voice, "That our affliction is intended, that there is some greater mystery at work.  Why?  Because we have experienced a cold-shoulder of sorts from the authorities here.  They seem quick to close doors rather than open them, so to speak"

"I need people not directly associated with the Carnival - I needed outsiders, adventurers.  Why else was my task to find who, or what, is responsible first and foremost and a cure second?  Should it not, if I thought there was a cure, be the other way round?  We have consulted with Priests from the Temple of Procan, yet they have been quiet regarding the nature of the sickness.  No spells have worked.  An ex-member of their order, Nathaniel, upon hearing about the curious illness, has been assisting us with those afflicted."  Isolde says despairingly.

Sighing heavily, she continues, "I shall take you to see Claude after you have seen Harold.  The incident I refer to has caused him to hide away from visitors...  He will hopefully agree to see you.  In truth, I do not know what went wrong, suffice to say that Claude bears the scars of the magic he cast to bring you all here."

Moments later you all arrive at a large tent, it is white and unadorned, outside it is a woman in her mid-thirties, her face is worn and her eyes red and blotchy.  She dashes to Isolde and flings her arms around Isolde as you approach, "He's dying, isn't he Isolde?  I'm losing him".  Isolde comforts the woman, the tone of her voice turning sympathetical, "Agatha, now you listen to me... We've brought people to help.  Let's not lose hope."

Isolde looks over towards you, "Just inside the tent.  Harold should be with Nathaniel."

You enter into the tent and are instantly struck by the fact that it has been turned over to a makeshift hospice of sorts; medical looking implements clutter shelves and work-stations, little thought has been given to cleanliness.  A prematurely aged and haggard man with a trimmed white beard totters around, he wears a badly stained robe.  "No good, no good at all," he mutters to himself, "first this business, now poor Esther and Billy missing.  No good at all."

You watch from the entrance as he shuffles over to a patient's bed, the stench of death and cadaver is in the air, almost causing you to gag.  The hospice, for what it is, looks to be well surprisingly well equipped and spacious, all things considered.  "Poor Harold, not long now... Poor, poor Harold."  He continues muttering to himself, "Agatha will be beside herself.  It's no good."  Sighing heavily and shaking his head he appears to have not noticed you, too engrossed in what he is doing.  "Procan knows Nature is a foul, untamable mistress," He says with a head shake, "This ain't her though... this is different."

He slumps heavily into a chair beside the patient he was seeing, removes a bottle from inside his robes and takes a swig.

Ermasnietsz will nod to acknowledge the acquaintance of Nikita, but she decides to halt the plan of plaguing the lady with farther questions. She observes the plea for assistance, helplessness of the people of her planet of origin and finally she finds herself appalled at the thought of encountering some kind of deadly epidemic.

"I've seen hell in the lower planes of the multiverse. And I did find a little piece of heaven in Toril. What's this thing? It's a disease that might not be visible in hell or heaven, even unknown to a planetouched creature like me."

Nick starts singing “only the good die young!”  Then nick’s facial expression slowly goes from whatever to somber remembering seeing his whole village laid out on top of each other, no care, fully indifferent whatever took their lives so callously…

“Sicknesses care not how they ravage the body mind or those around them, they are as raiding parties on the peaceful.” He feels sympathy for the distraught partners of the dying, not really the dying themselves. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna figure this out. And first thing to note is if restorative spells of all types have been tried and failed, then surely we are talking about a more sinister plan.  Perhaps there is a curse or wave of necrotic energy pointed at the carnival… some idol we must crush, be it object or person. “

He thinks back to the offered sum, to himself quite a large sum for anything but a metaphoric dragon banker to horde… “perhaps someone out there does not see the carnival as a servant of entertainment, but of a sort of unwanted taxation, one who comes into town and takes the coin from pocket or youth and elder alike…  I mean surely all this coin you all possess comes from the people who come to watch yes? And any ruler would much prefer this n their coffers…” he plays with his own chin with his mage hand set to visible,  almost like his mage hand is an extremely natural appendage of his, and not a spell he has to worry about manipulating and controlling. It is part of him. 

“who are the local power players of this region and the last one your troupe passed through? We might start there…” he looks toward issie. 

Faila enters the hospice tent at Isolde's bidding, moving quietly in her new colored cloak. She looks around, taking in the clutter, the medical instruments, the stains, dirt, and seeming disorganization.

"Hello sir," she says politely to the attendant taking a drink. "Nature is terrible, sir, but if you please, there are powers in the body too, let's give them space to let them work. Let's clean up. I'll help you. I'll clean the bedding, clean all the surfaces. Fresh air, sunlight."

She turns to look at the patient laying in the bed, and frowns. Leaning closer despite the smell, she tries to see if she can get a sense of what's wrong.

Then, unless impeded, she doesn't wait for permission but starts picking up and cleaning the tables, the dried herbs, the instruments. As she touches the herbs, some of them seem to spring back to potent life, bright new leaves unfurling from the once-dried stems.

Medicine: 11

Nikita is starting to think she may have fallen in with the right group.  Thoughtful and capable so far.

She approves of the strange gnome's line of questioning on the local powers in Saltmarsh, and even more so of the Faila's immediate actions in the hospice tent.  Without getting in the way of the young woman's work with the herbs and the patients, Nikita casts Prestidigitation to assist with the mundane cleaning of any grime or dirt so Faila can focus on more important things (attempting to help with Medicine check).

Nikita makes her way over and squats down so as to get at the same level as Nathaniel to make sure she is not literally talking down to him.

"Father Nathaniel, my name is Nikita.  Lady Isolde has called my associates and I together to try to help.  Thank you for your work and inspiration in this terrible circumstance.  What specific things are you seeing to convince you that this sickness is not natural?  And why do you think your former colleagues at the Temple have largely withheld their help thus far?"

Nikita wants to ask who "Esther and Billy" are as well, but will hold that question for now.  She guesses that Boyd, being at least recently from an isle on the Azure Sea, may also be familiar with priests of Procan, so she attempts to make eye contact with him and invite him to join her in speaking with Nathaniel (former priest of Procan) in case there are some traditional forms that dockworkers and sailors would know to use.

(As an aside, when there is time, Nikita would tell the non-Oerth party members that she understands Procan to be a chaotic god of oceans, storms and sea life, deferring again to Boyd in case he knows more).

Boyd watched Faila cleaning up the place and nods in approval. "Good idea, lass, get the bad air out of here."

He then sees Nikita's summons and steps over to speak with the priest.

"Fair winds, father." He says by way of greeting. "Anything we can do to help?"

((For this next section I shall attempt to answer each PC in turn.  I shall leave it up to you to decide whether you are present for the answers others receive (if not there is going to be a LOT of jumping back and forth).))

Ermasnietsz - ((I assume that you said this aloud in the presence of Isolde, if not please disregard))  Isolde looks at you confused, "Planes?  Multiverses?  Hells and heavens?  In truth I am not sure about any of those things. But..." she lowers her voice, for fear some unseen being may be listening in, "It did occur to me that this malady might be otherworldly in nature, or magical.  For surely nothing natural would cause the symptoms we have observed in those suffering.  There is also the case of what happened to poor Claude."  She once again brings up the name but does not elaborate.

Nick - Isolde looks deeply relieved and assured by your words; drinking them in as deeply as a parched traveller would do, should they happen on a clear stream.  "Necrotic energy?" She asks questioningly, "but who would wish the Carnival any ill?  We've only been here for a matter of days."

As you list the potential motivations for why the Carnival may have been targetted, Isolde's eyes light up, "Now that you mention it, not everyone seemed overly thrilled at our being here.  I do not have names but I know that the Council of Saltmarsh signed off on our visit and there were some that opposed the decision.  Thomas Dolan," she pauses, "He is the man to speak to.  He's based within the town, a local merchant - a real rags to riches story.  It was he who first suggested that the Carnival should stop at Saltmarsh."  ((see spoiler))

"Local power players?"  Isolde thinks for a while, "Not sure - you've got the Priests at the Temple of Procan, the Town Council, the trade guilds, I also heard there was some trade delegation from Iuz in town.  Dolan would be the person to speak to about all that.  Oh, there is also the local paper, The Weekly Wail, they have a press within the town I believe."

((Nick Nack - Please make an Insight check))

Faila - The old man jumps as you start to speak, quickly hiding his bottle back in his robes ((Insight check please Faila)).  "Whats that?  Oh, can I help you, my dear?"  He says kindly, "The names Nathaniel, but most call me 'Nate'.  Cleaning?  Oh uh, yes, very important to clean.  Must keep things tidy, also not good for patient - no ma'am."  His hand slightly shakes as he scratches the back of his head.

Harold lies in bed, his skin crumbling away from his bones.  What looks like dust, but upon reflection must be skin, clings to his pillow and bedsheets.  In some areas, the flesh has almost worn away to the bone, but there is a distinct lack of blood.  His breathing is laboured and has a deathly rattling sound to it.  As you near you see that he is staring straight up and their is a frozen look of panic on his face.

Faila's Medicine check:

Nikita - ((I shall assume your events happen after that of Faila's post.  I would have allowed the use of Prestidigitation to grant advantage to the roll, but the check of 11 was enough to discern everything (it was pretty clear).  Regarding Procan, both you and Boyd (and potentially Ermasnietsz) would have a pretty good knowledge of the core tenements of the faith.))

Nathaniel looks up from cleaning his workstation with what looks like a sweaty rag, "Ex-father I'm afraid," he says wistfully, "I'm afraid I was defrocked some 4 years ago."  You sense a sadness behind his eyes as he puts down his cloth and looks at you.  "She's a good sort, that Lady Isolde.  Many people," you watch as the old man holds back tears, "Many people don't like to acknowledge I exist, I'm afraid.  An awful sort of bother to not be acknowledged by one's peers."  He coughs uncomfortably, "Those at the Temple of Procan seemingly have better to do than assist their fellow man in attempts to cure this damnable illness."  His words ooze with bitterness.  ((Please make a Persuasion check))

"What makes me think the illness is not natural?  One might call me a bit of an expert on such topics.  Why, was it no more than 10 years ago that I was giving a lecture at..."  Nathaniel stops short as he is interrupted by a wail of sorts coming from a bed in the opposite corner of the tent to Harold's.  Upon entering you did not see that the bed was even occupied, for large amounts of blankets covered the individual sleeping there.  That was until she sat up suddenly and started shouting at the top of her voice, "FACELESS MEN!  Demons entering the camp - took poor Esther and poor Billy... Demons I say, faceless demons!"

"Procan protect!"  Curses Nathaniel, "Not this again."  He speedily makes his way to the woman sitting up in her bed.  "FACELESS MEN!  They're the ones what took 'em!" the woman, covered in sweat, yells.

"Nance - please."  Nathaniel pleads, "We've been over this.  You had a nightmare, an awful nightmare."  Nathaniel proceeds to comfort 'Nance' and give her a drink of something that calms her down.  "Nancy Carver," he says by way of explanation, "One of the workers here at the camp.  Not altogether there, I am afraid to say."  As you look at Nancy you see a once-pretty young woman, in her late twenties, with curly blonde hair, her looks now marred by her hollow cheeks and the dark bags under her eyes.

Boyd - "Find who done this," Nathaniel says simply in answer to your question, "I've no doubt in my mind that this sickness has been inflicted on the Carnival.  Thought Procan alone knows why they would do such a thing.  Billy seemed like a good kid, hadn't seen more than 14 years, I hold hope that he yet lives."  He takes a moment to think, "Esther is a local, her mother, Maureen Freyn, lives in town.  Used to be the talk of the town, at least when her husband, Sir Charles had still been around.  She was widowed some 4 years ago."

"They was on a date, I saw 'em,"  Nancy pipes up, eavesdropping your conversation, "right handsome couple they was too."  Nathaniel nods at Nancy sympathetically.  "Of course, of course,"  Nathaniel says as he lies her down, he gives you an apologetic look.

Ermasnietsz snaps the lid of the pocketwatch close and the item shows its true form once it ceases being a spellcasting focus- a wand.

"Excuse me, Madame."

She departs from the immediate vicinity of the lady and pulls out a large gold coin. It fits perfectly in her fist and contains an engraving featuring a flying wyvern.... the coin is some sort of insignia. Head means I'm going to stay here till the party finds the main culprit. Tail means I had better turn my tail and run away.

She tosses the coin upwards and catches the spinning item with both of her hands. She observes the result of the coin toss gingerly, then gets back into the meeting room.

"I'm really concerned about the well-being of Claude since both of us belong to spellcasting class. Perhaps, he can explain what happened during the casting time. Where do we find him?"

Ermasnietsz - Isolde nods at you.  "You'll find him in his wagon near the troupers' gallery tent.  Can't miss it - it's the only wagon painted black.  Why he felt the need to paint such a beautiful wagon black is beyond me," she says, sighing.

Heading off on your own ((unless others wish to follow)), you quickly find Claude's wagon; not only has it been painted black but the windows have been boarded up.  A sign hangs from the door, it simply reads, "GO AWAY!" in crude, red paint, lettering.

It is then that you notice a tall shadow looming over you.  "Seems to me that ol' Claude don't want to be disturbed." A harsh, deep, woman's voice says, "What d'ya want with 'im anyways?"

You turn to see a strong, muscular, 6-foot tall, half-orc woman, her grey-green skin glistening in the morning sunlight, "You ain't one of the locals, is ya?"

((Nature check please))

“Thomas Dolan eh? Well if that’s the lead then that’s were we gotta start! He brought you to town, like you guys brought us here, so in some ways my gripe is with him anyway!” Nick chuckles at the thought. 

“And councils… I don’t trust councils and boards, those things are just politics gone wrong. I suspect if Dolan can’t help, we just gotta find which council member isn’t saying what they thinking and we got ourselves a other lead!” 

Nick sits down to think, drawing a list of to dos in the dirt with his mage hand, snapping his fingers to make it invisible so it doesn’t block the text as he writes and thinks.  (IRL lefties will feel me on this lol)  

[insight: 22] 

Boyd yanks on his belt to get the hem of his trousers out of the mud and says, "Right. I suppose those're some clues to go off of then. This 'Nance'" He gestures to the pile of blankets, "I get she's gone a bit mad, but you think she saw the kids the night they went missing? Where'd you find her like this? Or where does she live? And is she just a bit daffy or has she come down with the same thing what the rest of 'em got?"

He then questions about the church of Procan, "What do you mean they aren't interested in helping? Most of 'em what I've known have been good blokes. Some better than others, but most of 'em ready to ease the misfortunes of life." He also asked, somewhat concerned or confused, "Being acknowledged is rare to you, sir? I don't follow. Was that before or after you were - er, what was that word you used? The one what meant removed from the church? Were you with this particular temple for long? You seem to be acknowledged now, if only by ol' Nance there."

He also turns to his spellcaster companions, "Well I don't know anything about what you lot are talking about with worlds and maltyverses, so you'll have to let ol' Boyd slide on this one. I can lance a boil and put a damp cloth on someone's forehead, but I've never seen anything like this before. He looks like my garden if I don't water it for a while."

Faila leans over Harold, watching him closely. Even Nance's crying out doesn't distract her much.

"He's dying," she says, after a minute. "But you are right... this is not in a natural way." She gives a puzzled glance back to Nathaniel and Boyd. "Why would the church not help?"

She finds a set of clean linens for Harold's bed and gently moves him to replace the soiled ones. Leaning over him again, she crosses his hands on his chest and puts a stalk of herb in his hands, where a bright flower buds and opens up from it. Druidcraft. "Goodbye, Harold," she says quietly, and then looks back at the priest, wondering if the dying man needs any spiritual help from him.


Nature: 4
Insight: 9

Persuasion check for ex-Father Nathaniel if still needed:  5

Nikita does think speaking with Claude is next (as I think I mentioned before), though it's true we have tons of leads now.  I think Nikita would have left Boyd to speak with Nathaniel and politely take her leave to trail behind Ermasnietsz on her way to see Calude.

Assuming she is nearby, at the sight of the half-orc woman, Nikita would make sure her longbow was within a free action of drawing and nocking, without actually doing so or looking threatening in any way.  "I think Claude might want to speak with us.  We are here on behalf of Lady Isolde, and only to help.  We want to make sure he is ok and find out what happened so we can find out who is doing this - to him - and everyone else."

(OOC:  I'm cancelling the crossed-out text above as I did not notice Lady Isolde mentioning the trade delegation from Iuz)

Upon hearing Lady Isolde mention the trade delegation from Iuz, Nikita would freeze.  She would try her best to retain a blank expression, but it would be difficult for her.

Deception check:  19

Either way, that would probably hold Nikita in the hospice tent long enough not to follow Ermasnietsz towards Claude's wagon.

Further edited to add after seeing Deception result:  Nikita sucks in her breath, clutches the hilt of her rapier and goes white as a sheet.  All fairly unbecoming behavior, to her shame, considering a man is in the process of dying.