Borkka
"Be still, Yornalla," You say to your companion, turning then to the magician. "Speak, Malkarus, you have much to explain."
"I'm afraid that there will be much that I cannot explain. Three days ago a man rose from sleep, grabbed an axe, and approached his family. Only his son survived, after having to end his own father's life. The boy claimed that the eyes looking at him were not those of his fathers. It was as though someone else was looking through his eyes and controlling his body.
"When night fell, many of the people rose from their beds to cause havok. Many people died that night. The city streets were rivers of blood. Several of the survivors came to me in the hopes that I could save them. Alas, all I can provide is shelter from their former friends.
"We struggle to stay awake, but this is not something that everyone can avoid. There were originally fifty-three men, women, and children in here with me. We are a little over a dozen now.
"I am sorry, Borkka of Madonn, but I cannot help you end this." His eyes look tired as he says this last bit, and his voice cracks as though he is about to weep.
"The people of the city who are no longer people of the city have attacked my estate relentlessly, hour by hour. Thankfully the door held, but they have tried to come in through several windows. Fortunately we are able to... Dispose of them quickly when they come in through the windows.
"They have been quiet since night fell yesterday, and we were not sure what happened. We were ready to investigate when the two of you began pounding at the door. We were convinced they had returned.
"I must say I am a little releaved that you are not them."
Yornalla looks at you, seething with anger. "It is Valrye," she says, "I told you we should have gone after her! We could have ended this, Borkka!! Alkar could still be alive!!!" Her voice chokes out and she begins sobbing again despite all her efforts to bite back her tears.
"Valrye?" The wizard says doubtfully. "The witch? That woman is not powerful enough power to do something like this. There are far stronger forces at work than she, or I for that matter."
"Who, then?" You ask, more to yourself than to anyone there.
Malkarus answers. "I'm afraid I cannot answer that for you. But I believeI can find them."
"How?" You ask.
"Through magic, of course," He says with a weary yet somehow arrogant grin curling at the corner of his mouth. "Waiting here is a death trap, I would much rather accompany the two of you on your noble quest."
"I'll be honest," You say, "I do not trust you, mage. How can I be certain that you will not simply be leading us into a death trap?"
"I don't know that you can be rightly certiain, brave warrior. But I don't see any other options presenting themselves." He tells you matter-of-factly.
You are an expert tracker. The huntsmen used to rely on your tracking skills to find the game. Perhaps you can just track the sleep controlled masses to where ever they may be. Hopefully you can track them to whoever is controlling them, but who is to say that is where they've gone?
Maybe you should bring Malkarus along and have him use his magic to find the master of puppets? He seems interested in the campaign. But you've never trusted him. Even now, in the midst of all of this catastrophe, you cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss about his intentions.
You look to Yornalla and gaze into her red rimmed eyes, hoping for something that would tell you her opinion, but she seems to be looking at something far off. A tear rolls down her cheek. Much pain sits within those dark orbs.
You look around at the eyes of everyone else and see the same despair and agony.
But none of that tells you what you should do.
It's just so hard to think anymore...
"I'm afraid that there will be much that I cannot explain. Three days ago a man rose from sleep, grabbed an axe, and approached his family. Only his son survived, after having to end his own father's life. The boy claimed that the eyes looking at him were not those of his fathers. It was as though someone else was looking through his eyes and controlling his body.
"When night fell, many of the people rose from their beds to cause havok. Many people died that night. The city streets were rivers of blood. Several of the survivors came to me in the hopes that I could save them. Alas, all I can provide is shelter from their former friends.
"We struggle to stay awake, but this is not something that everyone can avoid. There were originally fifty-three men, women, and children in here with me. We are a little over a dozen now.
"I am sorry, Borkka of Madonn, but I cannot help you end this." His eyes look tired as he says this last bit, and his voice cracks as though he is about to weep.
"The people of the city who are no longer people of the city have attacked my estate relentlessly, hour by hour. Thankfully the door held, but they have tried to come in through several windows. Fortunately we are able to... Dispose of them quickly when they come in through the windows.
"They have been quiet since night fell yesterday, and we were not sure what happened. We were ready to investigate when the two of you began pounding at the door. We were convinced they had returned.
"I must say I am a little releaved that you are not them."
Yornalla looks at you, seething with anger. "It is Valrye," she says, "I told you we should have gone after her! We could have ended this, Borkka!! Alkar could still be alive!!!" Her voice chokes out and she begins sobbing again despite all her efforts to bite back her tears.
"Valrye?" The wizard says doubtfully. "The witch? That woman is not powerful enough power to do something like this. There are far stronger forces at work than she, or I for that matter."
"Who, then?" You ask, more to yourself than to anyone there.
Malkarus answers. "I'm afraid I cannot answer that for you. But I believeI can find them."
"How?" You ask.
"Through magic, of course," He says with a weary yet somehow arrogant grin curling at the corner of his mouth. "Waiting here is a death trap, I would much rather accompany the two of you on your noble quest."
"I'll be honest," You say, "I do not trust you, mage. How can I be certain that you will not simply be leading us into a death trap?"
"I don't know that you can be rightly certiain, brave warrior. But I don't see any other options presenting themselves." He tells you matter-of-factly.
You are an expert tracker. The huntsmen used to rely on your tracking skills to find the game. Perhaps you can just track the sleep controlled masses to where ever they may be. Hopefully you can track them to whoever is controlling them, but who is to say that is where they've gone?
Maybe you should bring Malkarus along and have him use his magic to find the master of puppets? He seems interested in the campaign. But you've never trusted him. Even now, in the midst of all of this catastrophe, you cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss about his intentions.
You look to Yornalla and gaze into her red rimmed eyes, hoping for something that would tell you her opinion, but she seems to be looking at something far off. A tear rolls down her cheek. Much pain sits within those dark orbs.
You look around at the eyes of everyone else and see the same despair and agony.
But none of that tells you what you should do.
It's just so hard to think anymore...