1.1 - In Search of Sanity - Prison of the Mind

Keeping his cards close to the vest, so to speak, Grim settles in for a few hands to pass the time.

The information in this journal was game-changing. Did he have a better idea of who Dragon Eyes was? Did he have another tool against the changelings?

The guards seemed like nice people but he couldn't discuss this in front of them or the poor demented man in the corner. He had to wait until he was alone with the others, the only ones he could trust, but that didn't mean he could do nothing right now. He was, after all, on watch.

አስማትን ፈልግ።

With a whispered phrase, he opened his senses to the arcane wavelengths again and trepidatiously looked around the room.

Grim is up early the next morning. His night has been filled with the odd whispers of voices that seem familiar, but he can not identify them. He pulls out the Harrow deck and removes the slip case from around it. Then, shuffles through the deck a few times. He can feel the energy in the cards. The cuts the deck an draws one card.



Turning it over, he finds The Empty Throne: A Lawful Good card in the suit of Crowns. Crowns influence charisma and being the first card, is also in the traditional position of a positive past. His past? He hoped so.

There is a sense of loss that is palpable. The depiction of the ghostly image, signifies that those who are gone will always be with us. They taught us important lessons, if only we choose to listen. Were the whispers trying to tell him something?

This card in a reading represents information brought from a far-off or ancient source. Grim placed the card face up in front of him and fanned the rest of the deck facing away from himself. He let his hand glide along the tops of the cards; stopping at one that seemed to call out to his preternatural sense. He drew it forth and placed down beside the first. The Locksmith!



As he gazed upon the second card, the image within seemed to move slightly. He focused on the card. Was it his imagination?

He found himself embroiled in the book as the rest played cards. The journal was enlightening, and its implications frightening. He pondered on the mention of the head of the Accusers with strange eyes, wondering if it could be the Pugilist, but that idea didn't sit well with him. Even if pieces were missing, each of his companions seemed to still be themselves, and she didn't strike him as the type to lead an inquisition. Plus, surely one of the orderlies would have recognized her if she was the same one mentioned.

He didn't bother to check on the guards or his companions with the newfound doppelganger distinction, as they had an established difference in personality and urge to attack that would have been obvious after any real length of time. Without much speech or fanfare, he passed the pin and journal to the others to read at their leisure (making a point to the Meteor Man to pay special attention to the magic text on the last few pages) before uneasily falling asleep for the evening.

Though the journal's revelations of the shapeshifter's origins was incredibly disturbing, he was more upset by the lack of evidence of himself or his party. They could possibly be the group under Administrator Lassandro's watch, but there wasn't enough to go on. His troubled mind ached with unanswered questions through his slumber.

Awaking in the morning, he felt marginally better. Ready to take on the rest of this accursed asylum-no-longer and ferret out more clues. He perused his grimoire and ritually called out to the ambient spirits once again to borrow their power as his own as he wondered if the guards would provide breakfast.

"Just a prayer that we'll all get through this alive and well and still be ourselves," he said to Mura when his arcane utterance startled her, and that was very close to the truth.

He felt true relief and hope for the first time since waking up now that both he and Glasses could possibly identify these skinwalkers, and he slept as soundly as he could once his watch was over. One brief and fitful rest later, his mood remained more positive even though he felt grimy.

"I'm going to use a minor spell to clean myself up. Don't be alarmed," he said to the others, Mura in particular.

ክብር

As he ran his open palms and spread fingers over every inch of his clothes, an opalescence disintegrated the grime on them. He even waved his fingers over his head and face and open mouth.

"There. Much fresher. That'll do until I can find a nice tub that doesn't have unsavory things bobbing around in it."

Most of you awaken on your own accord, Mura standing guard however many hours later its been. She looks at Axon warily while he magic's the dirty and grime away, but says nothing. The rest was well-needed and well-earned as you all feel the muscles relax despite the lingering soreness from yesterday's events.

It's not long after everyone is awake and situated that Captain York arrives with two other guards in tow. 'Guards' is a loose term, as they appear with little in the way of weapons. Mura and Avice hand their their crossbows over to the men, and Avice the sword at his side. It's clear there are not enough weapons to go around.

York spends a few moments with the yellow-robed man who sits still in the corner, mumbling the same few words over and over when the captain asks him questions. Frustrated, the captain turns to you.

"Hope you all had a decent night," he says with a weak smile. He looks like he got significantly less sleep than any of you. "It's certainly not what it could be, but it's not much worse than anything else we have right now. Come on," he waves you to follow him, "I'll show you around a bit and introduce you to Winter. She's waiting for you in the chapel." He starts to turn away then turns back. "Thank you, by the way. You really cleaned up - thanks to you I was able to convince a few of my men to go back out and look around. Hopefully we'll be able to pull some more resources into camp soon." He turns back and heads out of the room, expecting you to follow.

As you head out of the room from the south-east door and head south. As you reach the southern end of the hall, you see a large, intricately carved wooden set of double-doors on the western wall and two smaller doors along the southern wall. At the eastern end of the hall, a set of four bedsheets have been clumsily switched together, creating a curtain that obscures the area behind it.

York leads you through the large double doors and into a large chapel. Improvised pallets are clustered beneath sculpted divinities, and cooking fires burn beneath cracked windows. Panes of violet and blue stained glass form spiraling patterns between prisonlike bars, while dozens of candles flicker from modest alcove shrines. Around twenty other people crowd this room. While some of them look familiar to you from their positions as guards, most appear far less able to defend themselves even if there were enough weapons to go around. The majority of them look scared, cold, weak, or injured. True to York's word, three of these survivors appear to be only children, sitting near an armed man in the south-west corner.

York leads you to a woman standing in the center of the room. She is tall with long black hair and pale skin. She wears black leathers with the hint of a chain shirt underneath and a polished dagger at her hip. A long black cloak hangs down her back and a necklace with a spiral-like emblem is around her neck. Her eyes strike you upon first seeing her, as they are of two different colors - one yellow, one green. Her face bears a stoic countenance, but she nods to you as you approach.

"Ah, you must be the gallant warriors Captain York has been telling me about. My name is Winter Klazcka, though I never claimed the title, I suppose I'm what passes for an authority around here, though the Captain does more than he lets on."

"I understand you did us quite the favor in dispatching a few of those fiends north of the barricade. Thank you," she says with another slight tip of her head. "I suppose, given what you've done, you're probably not doppelgangers yourselves. Regardless, you've more than earned the right to be welcome here." She gestures around the room. "Do no harm to these good people, and we will take care of you as our own. Now if you'll excuse me, there is much for me to do. As soon as someone can get around to it, we'll get breakfast together for all."

Elias is a little curious at the fact that Winter was wearing a necklace with the same symbol that's on his tabard. Looking around at their new surroundings he takes in the lack of hope on the faces of the people that are watching them.

As Winter walks away, Elias asks a simple question. What can we do to help?

"I hope your people out there return safely, Captain York."

He discussed with the others how to use the supplies discovered, and suggested they split them with Winter.

"I have no doubt we'll be heading into the asylum again soon but these people need these items, too."

He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or saddened that conditions behind the barricades were as described. The poor children.

"Thank you for letting us help, Winter. My name is..." he began, hoping his true identity would flow out naturally but it didn't.

"I don't know what my name is. None of us do. We only know that the things out there have to be stopped."

He paused, considered, and risked it.

"Is it possible to have a word in private here? There are things we've learned which we should discuss with you and Captain York, and I hope you can shed some light on our own situation."

You also notice that upon Winter's chest is pinned an emblem just like the one you previously found in the tank with the ghoul - the emblem of the Ustalav Royal Accusers.

With the brim of his hat pulled down even more than usual and habitually tugging at the scruff of beard on his chin, Grim watches and listens. He notices the emblem on Winter's lapel and his eyes narrow. A royal accuser.

Being Varisian and from the region, he knows the significance and prompted by the fellow with the glasses discussion the previous night, Grim had a strange feeling when seeing it again. Almost as if there was something he could almost remember.