428 posts in this topic

11 hours ago, mathiau said:

"Speaking with four persons is very hard for me and Poller genuinely needs to see a doctor so I suggest we go ahead while you two work the quirk of your part?"

Aln shook her head at herself. "I'm sorry, Folorian, I forgot. We'll follow in a moment; it might be better to stagger our arrivals, anyway." She looked at her friend for a moment, suddenly aware of the risk he was taking on the basis of her theory. "Good luck. I don't know how dangerous this might be, but... just try to stay safe."

Aln looked back at the spren so she didn't have to watch the other group leave. "You'll probably be best suited accompanying us. Depending on the strength of your bond, physical proximity to one another may be a requirement to avoid Cognitive drift. If you're worried about being harmed, you need not; few things can directly damage a spren."

@Random Bystander @Ashbringer

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Macks eyes opened briefly, his chapped lips opening to emit a small groan for help as a man passed by his crumpled form in a misty alleyway. 

The man turned, his eyes widening. He walked over and picked Mack up, his brown curly hair and mustachioed face seeming oddly familiar. 

 

Mack drifted again into unconsciousness. After what felt like a couple of seconds he opened his eyes again. This time in a brightly lit hospital. His head swimming, he looked around noticing a nurse call button on a controller lying in his bed. Mac pressed the button as he looked around some more. He was wired to an IV, and there was a TV on the far wall, playing the news.

Suddenly the door to his room opened, revealing a nurse hurrying toward him.

But as the nurse walked into the room, his mind jumped into overdrive, overpowered by centuries of memories that weren’t created by him. In his mind's eye he saw a spiritweb overlaying her; his eyes conditioned by the eons of unwanted memories trapped in his skull to find the points where a well placed spike would heal his current ailments. His hands immediately started drifting to the nearest metal object he could find, trained by a lifetime of murder and stabbing, he was stuck with despite it not being his life. But before he could stop moving and start to push the memories away, as he usually did when they overpowered him, he felt something else come into his mind. This uninvited companion however wasn’t a person however, instead it was something more primal, a force, it seemed. 

Mmmmmmmm it hummed. Without warning dozens or hundreds of vignettes rushed through his head. Images of well dressed men standing in alleys, silhouetted by the light of a fire that Mack could tell wasn’t quite an accident. Images of piles of corpses, constantly growing in the name of science. An image of a large spike, covered in carvings dedicated to a new world. These weren’t his memories, or the other man’s memories, but they weren’t just pictures either. Mack could understand things about them that weren’t obvious from a single glance. 

Mmmmmmmm the force hummed again. 

Welcome back. It communicated. Not through telepathy or sound, but through meaning? He could tell that this thing, whatever it was, was pleased that he was here.

We have won. Again without language, Mack felt unadulterated elation both from the thing and from himself. Yet there was no reason he should feel this happy right now, almost as if the force was commanding him to feel that, and so his did. Again vignettes flashed through his mind, of two worlds. One torn apart by hate and danger and conflict, and another perfect. Free from those things that distracted and annoyed the forces ... creator? Mack saw images of this world, and the people inside that were happy, and peaceful. Without a history that was meaningful. Yet the thing didn’t care about the history. In fact it didn’t care about much of anything, except for accomplishing its purpose. It didn’t need context or meaning, all it cared about was doing what it was made too. At this revelation however, Mack furrowed his brow, wondering what its purpose was. 

Immediately the force changed, first with confusion, as it thought that he should clearly understand what was happening, then immediately switching to more vignettes to try to explain the situation. These new vignettes showed a tall imposing blonde man enjoyed a long earned break, relaxing with his daughter. They showed a man, or demon, who was finally able to escape the legends and myth, and enjoy the freedom of anonymity. And they showed a hemalurgy dressed as a gentleman lying in a hospital bed?

Mack’s eyes widened as he suddenly realized what was happening. He had recognized Voidus, the Stranger, and the Gentleman Hemalurgist himself, who the force thought Mack was. 

NO. He mentally exclaimed. Fury rising inside him as his, Mack’s, memories of the so called Gentleman of Hemalurgy bubbled to the surface. I am NOT him. The things recoiled.

Oh, it seemed to say, thats od…

Mack looked up at the nurse as she approached his bed, she was saying something he realized.

“I’m sorry,” He interrupted, trying to smile, “Can you say that again? I zoned out for a sec,” 

The nurse looked at him apologetically, “Sorry! I was asking if you were ok?” 

Mack glanced down, noticing that he was gripping the metal rim of his bed and that for some reason his heart was pumping, as if he were angry. He tried to relax himself. Why was he angry? He tried to think, yet couldn’t remember anything. 

“Yeah, I think I’m fine,” He mumbled, “Err do you know how I got here? All I remember is a well dressed man carrying me in an alley.” How did he get into the alley? His mind started running, trying to remember something with the urgency of a gazelle fleeing a hunting tiger. He quickly glimpsed a memory of him stumbling away from a ruined hellscape after freeing... a god? Voidus! Thats right he had been trapp...

No, that didn’t happen. Weird destroyed cities, gods, wars, that would be crazy. Who was Voidus? Probably a character in a story. Must have been a story or a film. Immediately Mack felt a sense of satisfaction. Yes, a story, or a film, or something else. The thought came to his head suddenly, and yet he knew it was true, to some degree or another. The alternative was crazy and weird.

Mack thought back to the last thing he could remember, he had been running his shop, the craftsmen. In the nalthis location, when he had been pushed into an alley? That must have been it. And then the oddly familiar man must have carried him to a surprisingly modern hospital for nalthis.

The nurse checked a clipboard, “it says here that you were picked up outside an alley by the ambulance, and have been unresponsive for a couple days.”

That’s odd, the well dressed man must have just dropped him at the end of the alley for some reason, not taking him to the hospital. Why would he do… ehh it probably wasn’t important. The man might have been in a hurry. Mack’s nagging suspicion was squashed. No need to question it. That’s what happened. He remembered it after all, his memory wouldn’t lie. 

Mack smiled at the nurse, “Thank you, could you uh bring me a glass of water? I’m parched,”

As the nurse left the room, he closed his eyes again. Everything was fine, he was being taken care of and nothing was out of the ordinary, and yet for some reason his mind was still turning. He couldn’t quite recall what it was thinking about, but his unconscious mind seemed to be running at 100 mph. Oh well he thought. It’s probably not that important.

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Sorry, I haven't had a chance to get Mack fully approved, rest assured that Voidus is gonna take a look at it when he gets the chance, but he and Ene are both really busy. And I can't really approve my own character. I will be working on a full bio in the next couple of days and post that, but I figured I might as well introduce the character right now.

For those confused about whats happening at the beginning, Mack, back in era 1, had his mind hijacked by Mac, the Gentleman Hemalurgist. Even after Mac left, Mack's mind still had thousands of years worth of memories stored there, and if he's not careful they surface and some of Mac's instincts to chart out spirit webs and spike people come out. The World-Forgery saw these memories, and thought Mack was Mac. Mac was authorized to know about the forgery and everything, so the Forgery didn't change his memory right away. When Mack said he wasn't Mac, the forgery realized its mistake and corrected for it by separating Mac and Macks memories inside of Macks head. Occasionally going forward I plan to have Mac's memories bubble up and clue him into whats happening with the world.

 

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Poller steadied himself. His bronze was running low... or, it seemed... something was different. Had he drifted off?

"We should go, then... I guess," he said, rubbing his forehead. Wait, would Folorian have heard that? He wasn't entirely sure how to get the Lightweaver's attention. Aln knew how, most likely. "I don't know the Einladung that well, but I can probably find my way around if I need to. Get in, get my head checked out, try and find anything relating to the Dark or memories going weird. Meanwhile you guys sneak in and look for anything they're hiding."

Well... here goes nothing.

Poller took a step forward. Toward... who knows.

@Rushu42 @mathiau

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So current plan:

Aln + Zaria sneak into the hospital, find Byron, find perhaps other secrets

Poller + Folorian enter hospital normally, probably find Mack

Cassie + NullBlade + anyone else who wants to join up come in later, someone finds Sanax

May or may not get attacked by Alythia and Friends

 

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Sounds good, Ash sorry I'm not caught up with this but does Poller have a character sheet that I can read, or whats going on with him?

@Ashbringer

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9 hours ago, MacThorstenson said:
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Character sheet should be here:

TL;DR, Poller's an assistant of Cassie's at the Emporium, selling metals as well as his own candies. He's also both narcoleptic and a Bronze Ferring, which leads to him relying on Bronze a lot to both sleep and stay awake through 'episodes'.

(And he's beginning to remember some old-timeline things about the Seven Day War (or some skirmish) where he may or may not have been killed by a Shardblade, which is why he's along with Aln and Folorian. Although I realize I don't know how long ago in time the War was...)

I really need that About Me page... but that's a big undertaking especially with SE and Faleast.

 

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33 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

 

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Thanks!

 

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Posted (edited)

Aln waited for several tense moments as the other group left, then gestured for Zaria to stand near. She took a deep breath of light, allowing the surging storm to reinvigorate her, then carefully began to breathe it out into a Lightweaving. It was a complex illusion, one that she'd only pulled off a few times before, but she was pleased to discover that it came somewhat easier, this time. Remind me to make a note of what else changed after the 3rd Oath, she thought to Pel as she worked. 

Eventually, the stream of stormlight ceased, and Aln took in her handiwork. It wasn't true invisibility, of course; that was incredibly difficult to manage, if not impossible. Nevertheless, the shifting cloak of illusion was a sophisticated enough camouflage that it should satisfy casual observers, provided they stick to the shadows. "Try to stay near walls and corners," Aln said to Zaria. "I should be able to maintain this for long enough to get us into the building, at least."

So saying, Aln slipped from their street corner and began her slow creep towards the back entrance of the Hospital.

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Man, it's exciting to get a chance to actually use Aln's Surgebinding. I don't think it's come up much before. Now I just have to wait for an opportunity to Lightweave a laser...

@Random Bystander

Edited by Rushu42
Forgot to ping
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12 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

Poller steadied himself. His bronze was running low... or, it seemed... something was different. Had he drifted off?

"We should go, then... I guess," he said, rubbing his forehead. Wait, would Folorian have heard that? He wasn't entirely sure how to get the Lightweaver's attention. Aln knew how, most likely. "I don't know the Einladung that well, but I can probably find my way around if I need to. Get in, get my head checked out, try and find anything relating to the Dark or memories going weird. Meanwhile you guys sneak in and look for anything they're hiding."

Well... here goes nothing.

Poller took a step forward. Toward... who knows.

@Rushu42 @mathiau

Folorian followed after Poller, losing focus of the other members

"Have you been here before or should I take the lead? I've visited the Cognitive wing once, to see if they could help me with my bane" While they hadn't been able to decrease it's intensity they had given him very good advices about copping mechanisms "I'd rather not take the lead though, with my weakness it'd make things really weird" Not really hard, just weird.

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My only issue with that plan is Cassandra and Null are consulting about Soulcasting Savantism, which would either be something for the Spiritual Wing or for the Physical one, and Sanax is in the Cognitive one so 18th would have to find a way to join us.

@MacThorstenson@Rushu42

@18th Shard@Random Bystander

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1 hour ago, mathiau said:

Folorian followed after Poller, losing focus of the other members

"Have you been here before or should I take the lead? I've visited the Cognitive wing once, to see if they could help me with my bane" While they hadn't been able to decrease it's intensity they had given him very good advices about copping mechanisms "I'd rather not take the lead though, with my weakness it'd make things really weird" Not really hard, just weird.

"I've been before, but I'm not really used to the outside of it... the few times I've been I'm usually out cold. Get knocked out, someone panics and sends me here, and then I have to deal with that... not the best. But I'll probably make a better navigator."

Poller didn't know what to make of Folorian. He was a Lightweaver, that much was clear. And his bane made it so he could only focus on one thing at a time... he hadn't offered any hints about his boon that he could remember, but what little Poller knew about the Nightwatcher was that her gifts were more subtle then her curses. Still... it was intriguing. 

"If you're looking at me, does that let you see where I'm going or how does that work?" he asked.

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14 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

"I've been before, but I'm not really used to the outside of it... the few times I've been I'm usually out cold. Get knocked out, someone panics and sends me here, and then I have to deal with that... not the best. But I'll probably make a better navigator."

Poller didn't know what to make of Folorian. He was a Lightweaver, that much was clear. And his bane made it so he could only focus on one thing at a time... he hadn't offered any hints about his boon that he could remember, but what little Poller knew about the Nightwatcher was that her gifts were more subtle then her curses. Still... it was intriguing. 

"If you're looking at me, does that let you see where I'm going or how does that work?" he asked.

Folorian thought for a few seconds about the clearest way to explain it "I don't consciously see or hear anything other than you right now so no, I don't see where you're going in the sense you're asking. On the other hand I unconsciously see and feel everything a normal person in my situation would so I technically do see where you're going. Which is why I don't trip on my own feet or bump into people."

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Posted (edited)

Emily downed another cup of coffee, glancing at her watch. 3:30. Another two and a half hours til I’m off. Hopefully, the caffeine would last that long. She’d already had to grab more cups from storage. Today was her fourth 12-hour this week, and she was one of the lucky ones. Most the other nurses were already on their fifth or sixth. They’d given Emily a day off after her second shift to make sure she was over the concussion, but she knew that was a luxury she wasn’t going to get again.

Emily checked the information for the next patient’s room. Callan Tekiel, age 43. No Investiture or abilities. Reported hallucinations of his office collapsing in on itself before passing out. On coming to, he began trying to scratch out his left eye, screaming about getting ‘them’ out of him. He was sedated currently, and restraints had been tied around his limbs to prevent him from injuring himself in the event he came to again. She Read his pulse and temperature - 36.9°C and 65 BPM. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong, and Callan wouldn’t be a danger to anyone, so she marked the room okay to move a second patient into. The upsurge of patients over the past week was forcing them to put patients two to a room. 

Another call light went off from down the hall. Josie’s room. Emily ducked her head in to see Josie hiding in the corner, sobbing into a pillow. Josie’s glasses lay on the far side of the bed, like the pink frames had been tossed aside. “Nurse Emily, make them go away, please.” Josie rocked her head back and forth, hands cupped around her eyes as if to shield her vision from a bright light. “What do you see, Josie?” “The monsters, make them go away. I don’t like them, they’re scary.” The six-year-old kept crying. Emily looked around, trying to find something to do to help. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do. Normally, Emily would just mark this down as a normal night terror, but the amount of hallucinations and nightmares incoming patients were reporting was too high for them to all be coincidences. She gently picked Josie up and laid her down in bed. She asked the charge nurse to call Josie’s mom. 

“Emily!” A nurse a room over called urgently. The patient was an elderly woman, her eyes closed and body limp. “She’s not hooked up to a monitor! What’s her pulse doing?” Emily grabbed the woman’s wrist, Reading her pulse. Her heart beat irregularly, as if there were two pulses beating on differing frequencies, making it impossible for Emily’s powers to give her a number, then stopped altogether. “She’s flatlining!” Emily immediately started chest compressions, but her heart was sinking. CPR wasn’t likely to resuscitate someone with this frail of health. Emily kept going until the emergency team arrived to take over. Emily left the room, checking distractedly on the next patient. About 25 minutes later, the code team finally called time of death.

Emily ducked into the bathroom for the first time for the afternoon. She closed the stall door and took a few heavy breaths. She’d had a couple patients die on her before, but it never got easier to handle. She breathed deeply, trying to keep her emotions in check. She rinsed her face off while washing her hands. Dark circles underscored the exhaustion in her eyes. Back out for the next few hours. Her headaches were getting worse again. More frequent. Just another couple hours, and then you can sleep, Emily. You’ve got this. She grimaced, pushing the growing headaches to the back of her head, trying to keep a clear mind. She rubbed her forehead, then went back to work.

 

Sanax sat in the darkness. There were too many people around, too many screams and talkings and words. Too much light, tangled in mangled knots instead of tranquil language. Too much forging and gorging for hordlings. Eyes watching and seeing and seeking and peeking and tweaking, minds breaking and faking and shaking. Sanax’s eyes darkened a shade, and he saw into Shadesmar. Where normally rivers flowed and bent and twisted around walls spun and bent in tesseracting shapes, now that flow diverged like hydrophobic water, fragments of stone labyrinths suspended in inexorable stasis. And under and around it all, strings. Invisible strings, no less tangled because the people couldn’t see them. Tangled in mangled knots instead of tranquil language. Sanax didn’t touch the cords, shining in colors that human minds couldn’t see. The cords shone of course, not Sanax. The light didn’t like him. The void pulsing in his mind beat a counter-rhythm, like a note ever so slightly offtune. Like a bad alloy pulsing in bronze or a tonedeaf listener singing a chorus. Weathered metal studs pierced the blood flowing around him like buoys, floating like leaves lost on a tide. It fell up and then down. And beneath it all, strings. Tangled strings of light. Sanax hated the light. He grasped one of the threads and broke it with a dark smile. Heartbeats, pounding in his hand, like crickets chirping in reply. Then silence. No more lies and light and life and listening and limbs limply lying in this line. A tear fell down his cheek. In shame or relief? And then the screams came again. Other screams crowding and digging and waving and pounding. Sanax closed his eyes, praying into an abyss that his ears could close and shut out the screams. He could hear them even when he tried not to now. The screams wouldn’t go away. Even Emily couldn’t hear them, but Sanax could hear them. Words, screaming in his head. He wouldn’t listen. They were lies. But wouldn’t the lies tell him who was lying? No, he wouldn’t listen. He wanted the darkness. He wouldn’t listen to the light. Pressure, building, spilling, cascading, dancing. The lies were too loud to ignore now, screaming into the only part of Sanax with any Connections left. Sanax slumped in his chair, clenched fists falling back into open hands. He saw the lies.

Xanas paced an office, alone save for Tsarik. The inkspren sat, legs crossed, in a chair, sword laying delicately across his lap, armor glinting with a gentle sheen. “Their minds are not, yes?” The inkspren gestured to the report laying on Xanas’s oak desk. Another Denizen had broken. It was not an uncommon fate among Denizens - there were Alleyways off limits to all but the most senior department heads to prevent unnecessary insanity - but these were particularly troubling. Spikes failing. Stable ones, with millenia left before they would have mutated into other invested isotopes. Even pure metalled spikes had failed. Wiped as cleanly as a Leecher could clean them, cleaner even. That was the fifth Denizen this month. The beasts of the Alleys were more active as well. The Thurain alleys had had to be closed, before anyone else was eaten. And throughout it all, Cam’s letter sat threateningly on his desk, unanswered. The other forms had long since been sent to HR, but this remained. His agents were still scouring the city for leads, but so far, nothing. Xanas felt a pressure in his neck, a tightness of some darkness closing in around the Alleys. It had been centuries since Xanas had had so many unanswered questions on his plate. And the headaches were growing more frequent, the blackouts far longer. During the last, he’d seen windows like those of old Alleycity buildings, fracturing, and within the pieces, darkness. A deep void, swallowing him. As the thought crossed his mind, pain flashed across his vision like lightning, and he felt his eyes closing. Lightheaded, he stumbled toward Tsarik. Then the darkness captured him, and he fell into oblivion.

Edited by 18th Shard
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Aln waited, perfectly still, beside the back door of the Hospital. She was good at holding herself motionless; as a child, she had practiced for hours in the garden beside the ardentia, sitting so unmoving that the skittish grass forgot her presence and unfurled around her. She had been even smaller then, and the tall grass had hidden her completely from searching eyes. Even many years later, the habit returned easily.

Eventually, the door opened, and a tired looking man stepped out, wheeling a cart of black plastic bags. She slipped inside as it swung closed, trusting that Zaria would follow in her own time. The plain white corridor and harsh fluorescent lights did not afford her many shadows in which to conceal herself, so she dropped the camouflage, replacing it with a facsimile of the man she had just passed. The dumpster he was likely heading to was across the square, so she'd hopefully have time to get out of sight before he returned. Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging under the combined influence of stormlight and nerves. She forced herself into a measured, if somewhat hurried, walk, and rounded a corner.

As she'd hoped, a desk sat at the junction, guarding a somewhat busier hallway, lined with patients' doors and harried staff. Behind the desk, an older Selish woman sat filling out reports, exchanging the occasional word with passerby. Pel, she sent to him, go see if you can read those papers. She should be keeping track of patient arrivals and maladies. He broadcast his agreement, and the little patch of light drifted from her pocket and slid along the floor. She watched him go for a moment, then turned her attention to the attendant, squinting in an attempt to make out the words she was exchanging with a nurse. 

"...113's still out," the nurse was saying. 

"Coma?" asked the Selish woman, reaching for a pen. The nurse shook his head. "Never seen anything-" 

A pair of doctors walked past, obscuring her view. When they were gone, the Selish woman was talking again. "...Alleyverse, what do you expect?" 

The nurse chuckled. "That's the truth." 

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries, then the nurse walked off to check on another patient. No one appeared to have noticed her yet, so she twisted to look down the hallway in the other direction. There were more people, walking back and forth, their conversations swirling around their heads like personal thunderclouds. Are hospitals normally this busy? Aln hadn't had much experience with those modelled on the Earth system, and it was a far cry from the clinics of her homeland, or even from the famed hospitals of Kharbranth. If there were Dark Alley agents monitoring the building, they'd have no difficulty concealing themselves amidst the bustle of bureaucracy. Not for the first time, Aln wished for the powers of A-Bronze or the ability to peer into the Cognitive Realm, some way to detect out-of-place Investiture. 

"I'm back." 

Pel spoke quietly into her mind, but Aln couldn't prevent herself from jumping slightly. I'm not very good at espionage, am I?

"You are not," Pel agreed.

Have you found anything?

"I have discovered the location of the Cognitive Ward; it lies to the south. I have also discovered that 11 new people have been admitted to the Cognitive Ward over the past week, and 8 of those were reported to be suffering from nightmares, hallucinations, or memory loss."

Aln felt a surge of excitement. That'll be what we're looking for, then. She exhaled another breath of stormlight, transforming her clothing into the same white lab coat and trousers that she'd seen the doctors wearing. After a moment's thought, she conjured another illusion, of a mobile phone, and held it to her face. She then stepped out of hiding and strode purposely down the southern hallway, talking to herself in Alethi and nodding occasionally to people she passed. At each step she expected someone to stop her, to call out that they didn't recognize her, but no one did.

As she walked, heart pounding, a room number caught her eye. 113, the same that the nurse had mentioned. She made a quick decision and turned into it, knowing that hesitation would only raise suspicion. The room was thankfully empty of orderlies, and she looked quickly toward the bed, wondering what had been strange enough to remark upon. Her eyes widened. Is that Ben? The festival seemed like months ago, with everything that had happened in between, but really it had only been a few days since she had met the young Cadmium savant. How had he ended up in the hospital? 

She took a step forward. He was asleep - no, not asleep; there was no sign of breathing. He's in a time bubble, she realized quickly, an incredibly slow one. And he's managed to localize it entirely within himself, rather than affecting the sphere in his immediate vicinity. Incredible. From there, though, she wasn't sure what to do. She didn't feel right just leaving him in this state, but she hadn't brought any equipment capable of dispelling allomancy. She wasn't sure what would happen if she touched him - would she be included in the time distortion? None of the phenomena usually present at the border of a bubble seemed apparent, but with nothing but her two eyes it was difficult to be positive. It wasn't as if she had many options, though.

Keep an eye out, she said to Pel, then hesitantly reached out a hand and touched Ben on the shoulder.

@Ashbringer

 

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Poller took a deep breath. "Alright... let's do this, then. Keep watching me."

He carefully pushed the main door open. Reception looked... busy, but not too busy. Enough that there wouldn't be too many people who would overhear what he said. Unless they were trying to, which he supposed was the point. He walked over to a desk, making sure Folorian followed behind. Storms, how was he going to do this?

"Er, hi," Poller said. The receptionist made a show of looking up from her papers, but she'd noticed him before. She had a tin earring on. "What can I do for you?"

"My name's Poller - no last name, as... er... I'd like to check in to the Cognitive Ward," he responded. "For a few different things. I've got narcolepsy, and I've been using Feruchemical Bronze to correct it, but I fell over and whacked my head and it still feels a bit woozy... I think that's the Cognitive Ward, but I'm not entirely sure." Receptionist: noting things down, disinterested.

"And... since then, I've been... I don't know how to explain it. I've had memories that I don't remember... snippets of events that I know I haven't lived. Fights against... dark things."

If the receptionist found this surprising, she didn't show it - but she did make a mark in the margins of one of her forms. Then she ripped off a sheet and handed it to Poller. "Alright. Cognitive Ward's busy but we should be able to get something in today. I'll call your name when we're ready. Is this a guest?"

Poller glanced over to Folorian. "He was there when I hit my head... he doesn't talk much but he wanted to help. And... I don't really have anyone else to help me."

The receptionist nodded, and Poller went to go sit down, away from the other waiters. "Well, that's a start."

* * *

Byron had stopped watching.

It wasn't as bad as the other times. If he was outside, the sun would flash on, flash off, flash on, flash off... cadmium didn't affect light, for some reason. The hospital kept the lights dim - it still hurt his open eyes, but at least it was constant.

Faces flew by. They were the only thing that had changed, only marker in time. He hadn't prepared for this. He hadn't... what had happened?

And then there was a face he recognized.

Time seemed to stop, for once from Byron's point of view. He could see Aln standing above him, reaching down... but his bubble was still on. Within his chest instead of around him, yes, but it was there. He hadn't turned it off... so how was he seeing events that should be happening thousands of times faster?

* * *

Ben's shirt ruffles, but the flesh below is as cold and unmoving as stone.

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Sorry for the delay... it's been weird.

Aln wouldn't get sucked into the bubble unless she somehow put her hand through Byron's chest - it's sort of surrounding his heart, and since his body's in contact with the bubble it's affected by it.

@Rushu42 @mathiau

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On 4/30/2021 at 3:47 PM, Ashbringer said:

Byron had stopped watching.

It wasn't as bad as the other times. If he was outside, the sun would flash on, flash off, flash on, flash off... cadmium didn't affect light, for some reason. The hospital kept the lights dim - it still hurt his open eyes, but at least it was constant.

Faces flew by. They were the only thing that had changed, only marker in time. He hadn't prepared for this. He hadn't... what had happened?

And then there was a face he recognized.

Time seemed to stop, for once from Byron's point of view. He could see Aln standing above him, reaching down... but his bubble was still on. Within his chest instead of around him, yes, but it was there. He hadn't turned it off... so how was he seeing events that should be happening thousands of times faster?

* * *

Ben's shirt ruffles, but the flesh below is as cold and unmoving as stone.

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Aln's eyebrows raised. The time bubble didn't extend as far as his clothing, but it didn't seem to be localized to the surface of his skin, either; making contact with the edge of a speed bubble should have resulted in a number of disturbances, but instead she hadn't been affected at all. Could the bubble somehow be contained within him? She'd read a paper suggesting that sufficient cohesion of a Cognitive aspect could allow such an effect to occur, but seeing it in practice was an entirely different matter. Whatever the case, his savantism was clearly far more advanced than she had originally assumed. Leaving him in this state was doubtless very dangerous.

Aln didn't have many options for reviving him, though. She could, she supposed, summon Pel as a Shardblade and stab him with it, which would likely provide enough of a shock to the system to get him to temporarily drop his bubble. With quick enough application of Progression, she might be able to pull it off without any lasting harm. It was an inordinately risky move, though, and one that was unlikely to win his favor, so she dismissed the idea. She hadn't enough time to run and get aluminum, either. A hospital of this size might have a chromium Misting on staff, but requesting their assistance would alert any watching DA agents of her presence. 

Aln leaned towards him slightly, listening for sounds of breathing. He was almost certainly moving too slowly to be aware of his surroundings, but there were enough anomalies in the situation that Aln only felt slightly foolish as she spoke. "Ben? Ben, if this message is reaching you in any way, listen: you need to stop flaring cadmium. You're currently doing potentially irreparable damage to your Spirit Web."

That was probably futile, she told Pel, but possibly some part of his subconscious will register that message and at some point he'll awaken. Aside from that, I'm not sure what more we can do to help.

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Posted (edited)

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Contain very minor RoW spoilers

As if Folorian would stop looking at Poller, he didn't say anything but was slightly annoyed that he would think he needed to remind him how his bane worked. And he now he was looking behind him like he risked to lose his way any seconds Preservations's wings! That did not look suspicious at all.

He asked Kerr to warn him if Poller said something and used the time the Receptionist was taking notes to take memories of her. As every Lightweavers Folorian needed a focus to create illusion, his was memories freshly taken out from his metalminds, the main issue being that while the illusion was up the memory faded at the normal rate which for an image a person was quite fast, meaning that the each of theses illusions could only be used once.

"Alright. Cognitive Ward's busy but we should be able to get something in today. I'll call your name when we're ready. Is this a guest?"

The receptionist had started speaking again, time to focus on both of them again

"He was there when I hit my head... he doesn't talk much but he wanted to help. And... I don't really have anyone else to help me."

The receptionist nodded, and Poller went to go sit down, away from the other waiters. "Well, that's a start."

"Yes" He whispered "Honestly I've seen far worse starts for infiltration missions" And even some of these had succeed "Though it would probably be better if you didn't constantly looked behind you to check on me, I can take care of myself and you look very suspicious while doing it"

Quote

We forgot to ping Random

@Random Bystander@Ashbringer

Edited by mathiau
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Vis enters the clinic, walks up to the front desk and asks "Do you have any Ien bandages, or was that something only the Craftsmen guild did?"

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21 minutes ago, Tani said:

Vis enters the clinic, walks up to the front desk and asks "Do you have any Ien bandages, or was that something only the Craftsmen guild did?"

The receptionist let a hint of quizzicality creep over her bored expression. "We don't really sell medical supplies here; you'd be best looking in a shop for that. Are you injured?"

Quote

As a note for future reference, the receptionist is an NPC, which means that there's no specific person in charge of writing them. You can feel free to write NPC responses to your character yourself.

 

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On 5/3/2021 at 5:35 AM, Rushu42 said:

Aln leaned towards him slightly, listening for sounds of breathing. He was almost certainly moving too slowly to be aware of his surroundings, but there were enough anomalies in the situation that Aln only felt slightly foolish as she spoke. "Ben? Ben, if this message is reaching you in any way, listen: you need to stop flaring cadmium. You're currently doing potentially irreparable damage to your Spirit Web."

That was probably futile, she told Pel, but possibly some part of his subconscious will register that message and at some point he'll awaken. Aside from that, I'm not sure what more we can do to help.

Byron could hear her.

Why - no, how could Byron hear her? His ears were as stationary as the rest of him... the sounds shouldn't affect his ears. It never did before. Why did it now?

It didn't matter - he didn't think he could stop this. He'd been trying. But it took time to come down from a burn of this... his strength. Not even considering he could barely change.

How long? Days? Weeks? He'd been.... not a week. He knew that much. He'd run out a week of doing this. Beyond that he wasn't sure. Would he stop before running out?

He tried to blink. That was fast. At this rate it would take... maybe an hour... maybe Aln would notice...

Spirit Web. Aln had mentioned that. Cassie had mentioned that. That what he - what they were both - doing wasn't a good thing.

But it was too late for that, anyway.

Centuries too late.

On 5/5/2021 at 2:23 PM, mathiau said:

"Yes" He whispered "Honestly I've seen far worse starts for infiltration missions" And even some of these had succeed "Though it would probably be better if you didn't constantly looked behind you to check on me, I can take care of myself and you look very suspicious while doing it"

Poller winced. "Sorry, I... I'm not very good at this."

Someone walked up to the counter, and the receptionist seemed to be going through the same steps. Best not to stare.

"You think they'll just call us back? I'm not good with hospitals, or... people."

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Posted (edited)

On 5/5/2021 at 8:42 PM, Rushu42 said:

The receptionist let a hint of quizzicality creep over her bored expression. "We don't really sell medical supplies here; you'd be best looking in a shop for that. Are you injured?"

"No...

"Are there any Ghostbloods here currently? I've been trying to make contact with them."

Quote

I dont know the answer to this question, someone who does know please play the receptionist for this answer.

Edited by Tani
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18 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

Poller winced. "Sorry, I... I'm not very good at this."

Someone walked up to the counter, and the receptionist seemed to be going through the same steps. Best not to stare.

"You think they'll just call us back? I'm not good with hospitals, or... people."

Neither was Folorian, he generally left human interactions to Alanis, though even her wasn't that good

"A nurse will come for us when someone can take care of us, it could take a lot of time depending on how overwork they are"

He remembered the minds of Savant looked different from the Cognitive and decided to peer into it, like with most thing his bane made the process harder as his brain didn't readily accepted the flames in the CR and the bodies of the PR to be the same and he had to peer slowly to convince it

No, he has not.

Kerr? Are you speaking to someone?

You know your firth truth.

His first truth? Yes, it was about what he and Aliece had done about... about what Aliece had tried to do to him

What don't you say it?

I'm trying, I want to says the words, the words want do get out. But it's like... if I say I'm not sure whether I will still be able to remember in any other way than... that.

Even if you won't, not saying the words won't change a thing.

I think you're right but... My mind think you're right, the rest of my being? It's just terrified.

Quote

Side note, Folorian is still focusing on Poller, there's a close in his weakness that allow him to speak with Kerr without focusing on him because otherwise nothing works

6 hours ago, Tani said:

"No...

"Are there any Ghostbloods here currently?"

The receptionist suppressed a laughter "Child, this is an hospital, not a place where conspiracy theorist shares gossip"

Quote

The Ghostblood are currently widely unknown to the public, even if they were not no one would just go and give away the identity of notorious assassins to unknown people

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On 5/7/2021 at 4:41 PM, Ashbringer said:

Byron could hear her.

Why - no, how could Byron hear her? His ears were as stationary as the rest of him... the sounds shouldn't affect his ears. It never did before. Why did it now?

It didn't matter - he didn't think he could stop this. He'd been trying. But it took time to come down from a burn of this... his strength. Not even considering he could barely change.

How long? Days? Weeks? He'd been.... not a week. He knew that much. He'd run out a week of doing this. Beyond that he wasn't sure. Would he stop before running out?

He tried to blink. That was fast. At this rate it would take... maybe an hour... maybe Aln would notice...

Spirit Web. Aln had mentioned that. Cassie had mentioned that. That what he - what they were both - doing wasn't a good thing.

But it was too late for that, anyway.

Centuries too late.

Aln watched Ben carefully, looking for any signs of change. Were his eyelids moving? Probably just blinking. Still, any movement was it good sign - it seemed to indicate that Ben was at least conscious within the bubble. Aln didn't want to think about what would happen if he were trapped in this state while unconscious. She looked around the room, considering her next move.

Quote

Do you have a plan for how Aln would be able to free Byron, or are you just intending that she moves on? Aln doesn't have anything to dispel investiture on her at the moment, and she doesn't want to ask the hospital staff lest she accidentally reveal her position to the DA. Probably if nothing further changes she'll just leave a note explaining things for when the hospital staff comes back, and head off to the Cognitive Ward without him.

 

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Posted (edited)

Emily looked over the forms quickly. Poller, adult male, ethnically Scadrian. Bronze ferring. Narcolepsy. Came in because he had passed out and injured his head. The receptionist had dashed a mark on the side indicating he was having hallucinations, hence why he was checking into the Cognitive ward. Emily sighed. Hopefully, this wouldn't be too complicated; they only had so many open beds.

Emily washed her hands again, activated the chromium medallion at the door to clear any Investiture from her body, and then opened the door to the waiting room. "Poller!" she called out. A young man, early twenties, with bronze earrings and a cane, walked up toward her, accompanied by another man who was probably in his thirties. The second was dressed like a Terrisman, with shining earrings. Probably Poller's emergency contact - she glanced down at her clipboard - Folorian? She vaguely remembered hearing about him from another nurse, John. He'd said Folorian had come in due to a unique bane from Roshar - no peripheral vision or something like that.

“Hi, come on back,” she said. She led the two to an examination room, where Poller sat on the exam chair, Folorian sitting on a chair off to the side. Emily began a basic orientation check. “Alright, so I just have some basic information to get from you. What’s your full name?” 

Poller answered, “Poller. No surname.” Emily made a checkmark, then asked, “Ok, and could you tell me where you are right now?” “Einladung Hopsital.” Another check. “Alright, and could you tell me what the date and time is right now?” “4th of Scholus... not sure the exact time. ...Like 9:00 or 10:00 or so?" “Okay. Could you tell me what’s brought you in today?”

Poller started telling his story. As he spoke, Emily made a note on the clipboard: A&O x4. Poller seemed fairly aware; he was speaking clearly with no slurring and only a little stumbling. His eyes seemed to be focusing on her correctly, with regularly shaped pupils. Emily made another couple of notes: GCS E4, V4-5. She’d check on his motor skills after he finished talking.

@Ashbringer @mathiau

Edited by 18th Shard
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It's the 4th of Scholus?

 

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1 hour ago, Tani said:
Quote

It's the 4th of Scholus?

 

Quote

Roughly. Keeping track of time gets a little confusing around here, but we had the festival set on the 1st of Scholus, and a few days were implied to have passed.

 

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Laurelai strode towards the reception to the hospital, a confident stride though she continued to mentally monitor herself to ensure it wasn't a departure from normal. A lifetime of watching people and trying to divine their nature and history from simple clues had given her an acute awareness of how she herself behaved. And the events of the last few days had certainly been enough to shift her usual personality quite substantially, which was to say nothing for the presence of several small pieces of sharpened metal that had been embedded in her flesh, enough to throw off anyone's normal gait.

"Morning." Laurelai said as she arrived, pleased to note that the receptionist seemed to register no obvious difference in her behaviour.

"Morning." The receptionist said, sounding professional until she had to suppress a momentary yawn. "Were you on earlies? I'd thought you were usually lucky enough to get the day shifts."

"Usually." Laurelai said, returning the jealous glance with a sympathetic smile. "I swapped yesterday, after the festival my sleep cycle has gone to damnation so might as well try and be useful if I'm awake anyway."

"Oh yes, staying up all night will do that. But shouldn't you know better?" The receptionist smirked as she gave Laurelai a faked glare of disapproval.

"Oh you know us, do as I say not as I do." Laurelai finished with a smile. "But I'd best be getting to it, I'll do the rounds first unless there's anything urgent?"

"Don't think anyone's in critical that you can help with."

Laurelai gave an understanding nod and straightened herself back into her usual professional posture, pulling a coat onto herself to hide the slightly less practical dress underneath. A hastily chosen Nalthian dress with a sash so bright it hurt the eye to look at. Not one of her favourites and hardly something she'd usually wear at work, but the recent... distractions hadn't allowed her to clear her thoughts enough to pick anything more appropriate.

"Well I'm off then. Sing out if anything comes up." Laurelai said, giving a casual wave goodbye as she waded into the corridors of the hospital and the familiar battle of life that was waged there every day.

But unlike every other day Laurelai looked not towards the nurses in the halls or the patients in their rooms, instead she looked directly forwards at the station where records were held. Lita had been able to find enough information to get some ideas of where to look, but the patient files themselves would be far more useful in what they were looking for. As long as she wasn't needed urgently, Laurelai should be able to find what Lita had asked her to look for. Strange patterns, increased cognitive ward patients. Memory loss.

"And if we're lucky, perhaps a peek behind the curtain as to what's really going on." Laurelai muttered, hand raising to the piece of cord around her neck with the coin around it. The coin was heavier than normal today, heavier than any of the thousands of times that Laurelai had weighed it to try and understand where it had come from. But this weight had little to do with material or gravity, it was the weight of mystery. And perhaps now she could lighten that load just a little bit.

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