The Fellowship Grows, the Journey Continues (RP)

"I do not know...." Ezme answers Theo as she leans over Albert.

The trapper startles when she touches Albert to roll him over. "He is much warmer now!" She runs her hands over his exposed arms, observing that the hands that were laying on the staff now surge with heat. "The staff! I think it is helping him!"

Ezme rolls Albert onto his side and checks his neck, comparing his venom pool to Roald's and Lille's. The latter two continue to mostly mirror one another, though the image changes and shifts. Albert's is completely different, however. Watching it, Ezme thinks she observes some sort of large animal there, but then it swirls and shifts again... She looks up at Theo.

"The venom is still there, doing its thing, but... the staff does seem to be doing ... something. If we could just... get him to say the words, maybe he could wake everyone...?" Ezme feels stupid as she says it. Gods don't intervene in human affairs! And yet, she had seen that stick glowing, the night of the mists....

Ezme exhales, then pushes Albert onto his back again, nudging his hands back onto the staff as best she can without touching the thing. She braces herself with a long sigh, then leans forward, talking into Albert's ear. "Albert... You are stuck in dream. But you have your fancy stick in your hands. You need to say the magic words, okay? Say prayer to Mr. Fiery Pants so you can wake up. Wake everyone up...."

Albert's eyes flit this way and that under the lids, but he still does not speak or awaken. "Raynor, Raynor.... Call on Raynor..." Ezme tries again.

She looks at the staff and hesitates, then looks skeptically up at Theo. "Do you... want to try calling on Him?"

Theo's answer comes as no surprise, but it is still discouraging. Ezme looks at Albert's staff, working hard to suppress a sneer. After everything that had been done, there was no fracking way she was going to pick up that damned stick and call on "Lord" Trevant Thorne's adulated god of conquest. Raynor wouldn't give a hoot about her, she reasoned, and even if she did manage to get the god's attention, he'd probably just sense her disdain and carbonize her on the spot.

She shifts her attention to Albert's other possessions: the oozing acorns and the bottles. She handles them delicately, grunting at the differences in temperature. Careful not to touch any of the contents, she extracts a small blob of the black goo onto a leaf, then uncaps a bottle of the clear liquid and gives it a whiff. Not smelling much, she shrugs, then pours a few drops of the warm, clear liquid over the blob. The black ooze sizzles and pops, shrinking until it completely dissipates. Brows raised, she looks up at Theo.

"Well, that is interesting... But I have no fracking clue what this clear stuff is or what it would do to our friends..."

Ezmaray's head snaps sharply to Albert when she hears him speak. She listens intently to his words, then shares a concerned look with Theo. Poor Albert seemed to be struggling with the same, horrible feeling of abandonment that she had gotten from Daryl....

Ezme leans in close, talking into his ear: "We are not leaving you, Albert. We are right here, trying to help, but you need to pray to your god... You need to pray to Raynor...." She watches helplessly as another tear rolls down the older gentleman's cheek. Ezme swallows. She sits up, collecting herself, and turns back to Theo.

"Let us try moving him to the others," she suggests to the lad, careful to keep her voice calm and steady. "He is very warm. Perhaps he and the staff can help them warm up, too."

Theo nods agreement. The two of them grab the barkeep by the arms and legs, unceremoniously hoisting him between Lille and Roald. Theo places the staff back on his chest, and, as an extra measure, they position Lille's and Roald's arms across Albert's body so that their hands, too, rest on the staff. Couldn't hurt, right?

Ezme nods, satisfied. "Now, for Daryl...." she says, turning toward the knight....

Ezmaray steps over Roald's body to the unconscious young man, mentally noting as she does so how his armor is getting rained on and how annoyed he'd likely be about it when he woke... if he woke. Space is at a premium, however, and people take priority over equipment, she reasons. Ezme crouches to reopen Daryl's blankets and gambeson, resting a hand on his chest to check his temperature. He feels cool, but still much warmer than he was before the hug. She frowns, noticing that his face is twitching in an odd way, then rolls him on his side to check his neck.

The venom pool is about the same size as it had been when she'd last seen it, but now it is churning in a very agitated fashion, as if retaliating against her efforts to subdue it. Concerned, she checks the others' necks as best she can without disturbing their arrangement. Their venom pools are more active than before, but don't appear to be as worked up as Daryl's. Albert's also now seems to be moving in concert with Lille and Roald's, a fact which she points out to Theo.

"Perhaps... Perhaps they are connected, and it has to do with their physical proximity...?" Ezme glances back at Daryl as a small whimper escapes his lips. She suppresses an anxious grimace. The lad's face continues to spasm in a manner which looks... wrong. Lying on his side, his body is not yet touching the others....

"Let us... move Daryl closer to Albert, as well."

Ezmaray takes the knight's arms, Theo his feet as they attempt to position him "big spoon" behind Roald so he can reach across to Albert's staff. As they shift him, however, Daryl's entire body begins to convulse, Theo loses grip on his feet, and Ezme ends up dropping him clumsily into position. Releasing him, she watches with dismay as his unconscious form shudders spastically and begins to drool.

"What do we do?!?" asks Theo, his voice rising with panic. Ezme rolls the knight onto his side, checking his neck. She pulls back and lets slip a curse at the image portrayed by the venom pools: two round eyes... a giant, menacing grin... Whatever Daryl was encountering in that dream.. it looked fracking terrifying.

Without giving it a second thought, Ezme dashes to fetch the acorns and the glass vials. Two ideas had occurred to her a few minutes ago, but she'd been unsure which was the better one to attempt first. Now there was no time for debate.

She holds up the acorn. "This stuff knocked bear out cold. Maybe it will do same for me. If I can enter shared dream, I can help Daryl and tell Albert what is happening, tell him to say prayer to Raynor...."

She hands Theo the glass vial.

"If that fails and I am not able to help, backup plan is you... pour this on their necks? Or maybe have us drink some? Just make sure it does not burn us first...."

Wide eyed, Theo shakes his head in refusal, but then Daryl at their feet cries out something illegible, his body still seizing up. Ezme looks at the knight, then turns her gaze back to the acorn in her hand, her expression resolved as she looks about ready to consume the dark ooze.

"Wait..." Theo finally manages to say, holding up his hands and shaking his head wildly.

Ezme looks committed, but then suddenly stops and looks up, her eyes locking on Theo's. She is clearly not seeing what's in front of her, however. The trapper pushes by the lad, bounding over their prone companions to her pack and digging out the leather-bound journal.

"Tell me you've changed your mind..." Theo says, anxiously toddling up behind her. "We have no clue how that honey will affect you..."

Quick as she can, Ezme scratches something down in the journal and rips out a page, shoving it at the mayor's son.

"My family's address in Dalhurst. If something happens to me. You must make sure they get the money. Any money! Money for my sisters!" She turns back to the acorn, readying herself to consume the dark goo. "Theo, I know you are shy, but if I ... Please don't let me freeze to death. Please." She swallows nervously and glances at him. Taking in his frantic expression, she rests a hand on his shoulder. "You will be okay."

"Ezme, no! Surely there's another--" Theo starts to wail.

"Just make sure that Daryl is touching that staff!" Ezme interrupts, pointing at the young knight. With that, she gulps the stuff down before Theo can stop her.

The blackened honey is surprisingly sweet, almost sickeningly so. She lowers the acorn. "I do not know if that was enough," she says, sitting down behind Daryl. "Men are smaller than bears, but all the same I may need to--"

Mid-sentence, the woman goes slack, toppling over onto Daryl and Roald.

Albert strains to move, he scratches the fur... no... skin on his chest. His other hand is clenched tightly around his staff as if in a death grip. That wasn't there when he fell asleep. His hair and clothing is soaked is sweat, though he's not feeling cold. He tries to speak but the only thing his ears hear back is "whuuurh" He must not be fully awake yet.Theo leans over him with a worried expression as Albert rubs the sleep out of his eyes. "Mornin'" He manages to get the word out.

Lille wakes with a start, but relaxes on the bear as she becomes more conscious. No, not a bear. This is Albert? She stays lying close, with her hand on the staff as she sniffs in the scents. Sweat dominates the bouquet, and a hint of the sickly sweet honey from Ezme. But even though the smells are mostly human, there’s somehow a hint of bear mixed in.

She struggles up to sitting, completely disregarding the fact that she’s wearing only her underwear and chest wrap. Her concern for Ezme comes alive as she sees the trapper not stirring like the others. As Theo moves in to action, Lille drags herself over and tries to support the larger woman as he does his work.

Roald wakes up and his first intention is to turn around to his side and sleep some more.
That's weird... I wasn't sleeping... was I?
Then all the events from the past night flash before his eyes. He sits upright,... too fast,... the world starts spinning and he has to lay down again. Roald takes a few deep breaths and composes himself. He slowly sits up again and checks the camp. Everybody is standing by Ezme, or he suspects it is Ezme, because he cannot see clearly who is vomitting all over camp.
Slowly he stands to take a closer look.
Sooo tired

"Is everybody alright? "

Ezme had been on her knees, whispering fervently to her goddess, when the living darkness encroached. Her prayers were stifled as it invaded her mouth and writhed down her throat to rile up her stomach. She'd worked hard to keep the contents down, for some reason fearing that, by vomiting, she would be losing what remained of herself in this dark place. She'd fought and fought for what felt like minutes, until the lack of oxygen finally smothered the fire within and she submitted. Let oblivion take her. She was done.

Except... she wasn't.

When Ezme's eyes shoot open, she finds herself propped upright, surrounded by her companions, the contents of her stomach all down her front. Gasping and sputtering, she launches forward out of Lille's arms and looks around her as water streams from her eyes, slowly piecing together where they are and what had happened. So, she wasn't dead... As it all falls into place, the trapper catches eyes with Theo, then leans forward, hiding her face behind her hands. "Aughh..." She feels nauseous still, shaky, and wretched as a sick bear. And she didn't like people seeing her like this.

Upon hearing Roald's voice, she wonders if she could have brainstormed a more humiliating scene if she tried... Oh yes, yes she could, and it would probably involve wearing that dumb leotard.

"Just peachy," Ezme manages to croak back to Roald from her curled position, surreptitiously wiping the vomit from her chin onto her soiled shirt. "Do not mind me... Theo told revoltingly bad joke, and I throwed up... Strong gag reflex, you know...."

She breathes deeply and tries to quell her shudders.

Albert had gotten up slowly to check on Ezme after Theo's worrying explanation. "Lille, help her sit up. I'm going to get a wet cloth."

When he returns, Ezme is already coughing up the goo. With a worried heart, Albert wipes her face softly. "Don't worry, Ezme. Just let it out."

The worried face turns to absurd laughter when Ezme cracks another one of her signature jokes. "She's already back to her old self." He nudges the others, smiling.