[CLOSED] PLAYER PLOT: The Ashes Underneath His Nails

[amygdalae]

WHO: Jim Kirk, Hermione Granger, Adelaide Leblanc, Herian Amsel, Anders, Inessa Serra, Raylan Gibbs, Ciri
WHAT: The Inquisition sends a group of agents to uncover the truth behind a string of mysterious disappearances.
WHEN: Kingsway 1st - 8th
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: Plotting post is here - feel free to post in there still for queries and concerns and further stuff where needed. Warnings for blood, violence, talks about death, experimentation horror, abomination-related stuff etc and eventual on-screen child death. ALSO no tag order - just respond when you feel like you should and I'll try to hit it back if it feels appropriate!!

QUICK JUMP LINKS TRAVELLING TO FROMAGE & FROMAGE GENERAL THREAD ROUTE INVESTIGATION SEEKRIT CAVE ENTRANCE INTO THE SEEKRIT CAVE CAVE INVESTIGATION - LEFT TEAM CAVE INVESTIGATION - RIGHT TEAM KID ABOMINATION THREAD BACK TO SKYHOLD

(—he remembers the chill of the frost and snow biting at bare skin, its usual pure white now tinged a horrid pink from the blood on his hands. He's far away from them now, the danger and the pain and everything else, but the blood will forever be on his hands no matter how much he tries to wash it away. His father had been right all along. He truly was a monster of the greatest kind.)

QUEST: THE ASHES UNDERNEATH HIS NAILS (PART I) The message had come swiftly, the letter itself hastily written with a shaky hand. The request itself was simple; a plea for help from a village at the outskirts of Emprise du Lion, whose people have been mysteriously disappearing over the last few weeks. Considering the ongoing civil unrest that's still transpiring in Orlais the Inquisition made its decision to send out a team of agents to look into this message and see exactly what was going on. The eight agents tasked with the mission were given enough time to prepare for the trip ahead. They would all meet up first at the Inquisition camp set within the Emprise and from there travel for about a day until they reached where their destination was - Fromage, a quaint little village that rested at the outskirts of the area. From that point on, it was up to the agents of the Inquisition to solve this ongoing mystery. The mission: to discover the truth behind these disappearances - and to stop it, if possible.

Comments

this is the worst GM comment ever i'm sorry (also cw: gross stuff??)

[amygdalae]

Herian is perfectly free to examine the bodies - or as much as she can when the bodies are all piled together in a hole that seems to have been dug for this purpose alone.

(I'm so sorry.)

It's hard to be entirely sure unless she actually... wants to bring one of the bodies closer, but it looks like each body seems to have parts of it gouged out. Like, there are probably gaps where the actual flesh and skin should be.

(I'm so sorry.)

[dashing]

"What did they do to you?" she asks the nearest body, although given their current circumstances, she momentarily reflects that talking to corpses is perhaps not the wisest course of action for their own sanity if nothing else. She cannot see well, murmuring an apology to the body on top as she sets down her staff and hauls them closer. (Not 'it', 'them,' the person who once lived in this body deserved more dignity than that.)

It takes a moment of effort, Herian leaning further over the pit, making herself look, making herself remember this. "Maker's breath."

Exhaled, more than spoken. "I am sorry this was done to you."

[amygdalae]

Now that Herian has a body to actually examine she'll be able to see that the... injuries don't seem to be entirely random - if anything it seems like they're focused on the major organs. Well, if medieval people knew what major organs were by this time beyond the heart.

Other than that, its clear that this person did not die a pleasant death, and judging from the rigor mortis and other fancy terms that haven't been invented yet the person has been dead for a while already.

Be careful of maggots.

[dashing]

"Tròcair."

Herian exhales, mercy, as she leans over the body, swallowing the feeling of nausea at the sight of writhing maggots. These people were not granted mercy in their lives. Perhaps in death the Maker can grant them peace. She makes herself look at the person's face, tries to imagine what they looked like when they were alive, who they were, before drawing back, standing, and leaning out into the hallway.

"Councillor LeBlanc? I think your seeing this might grant us insight, but cannot do justice in words the suffering these people have been exposed to."

[fleurdesel]

A pit for bodies. A pit, not a pyre, not a grave. A careless dumping of those that had been alive and if ever there were something that would result in tormented souls or angry spirits? This would be it. Compassion quails on the other side of the veil, shaken by the pain seeping in every stone, every bone. Kneeling close to the edge she peers inside, sleeve pressed over her mouth to block the smell.

It's a futile effort, but one she makes none the less. "Maker's breath-"

[dashing]

"I apologise for calling you here," Herian continues, moving closer to the pit again. One body is out, the gouges in it devastating, but she crouches down to see if she can pull out another.

"It seemed necessary to get a medical perspective. I will see to moving the bodies out later, when all is done."

Let them be burned. Let them have that, at least.

[fleurdesel]

"It is why I came." To see and help, even if these poor souls are beyond saving. Even if she has never seen anything so precisely visceral in her entire life as a healer. No battle, no surgery has ever been quite like this. They were testing something.

But what? "We do not know how deep the trench is, Herian. Don't."

[dashing]

"They deserve better than being left to rot. Their bodies has been desecrated. I will not leave them like this." Fire in her words, there, the slight brightening and flaring of the fire that burns atop her new stave.

It is the Spire, once again. It is leaving people who deserved better to rot instead of burn, and she cannot—

[fleurdesel]

"And we shall not leave them like this." Adelaide reaches out- resting her hand upon her student's wrist. "But we cannot save them now. We cannot save any that might remain at all if you are trapped with them. Once we are certain that the area is clear, that we have helped all that we can? We shall return and give them peace."

As best as they are able.

[dashing]

Herian is still for a moment, and inhales slowly. The smell of this place is abhorrent, and she is still for long moments before she nods.

"Of course." Adelaide is correct. Adelaide is, more often than not, correct. There is a moment, and: "I tried to—"

This is not the time, though, and she shakes her head.

[fleurdesel]

"I know." What in particular Herian tried- she doesn't know. But she does know that whatever it was? It was noble and worth doing and if it was insufficient, if it was impossible or beyond her grasp? It is no fault of hers.

One of the few things she knows in this world for certain: Herian will beat herself bloody against a wall before she gives up on anything she feels is true and just and right.

[dashing]

She looks up sharply, at that, the stormy green-blue of her gaze sharp and focused. For a moment she is very close to the young woman Adelaide taught in the Spire, an openness to her that the person she has become so often lacks. The guard is lowered, before it inevitably slides back into place.

"Do you want to examine them? Or move to match pace with the others?"

[fleurdesel]

The moment of familiarity, brief as it is, breaks her heart. To see what has become of her student, what the war and fighting has hammered her into? Children forged into weapons for their skills, loosed only to fight as armies and nobles dictate. That Herian claims the mantle of knight does not make the blood poured on her hands any better.

"...Examine them. If you are able to safely fetch a second, that would. Be helpful." She turns her attention then to the corpse, to examine precisely what was done, and how.

whoops didn't see this

[amygdalae]

What had been done is that the parts that had been gouged out look just like that - forcefully gouged out. If anything it seems like they're more concerned with getting out whatever it is than to actually... well, preserve the integrity of the body.

At least one thing is for sure - there people do not know how to do proper surgical things. Or perhaps they don't care at all. Who knows.

writing a strongly worded letter tbh

[dashing]

She moves quickly, with a practiced efficiency, carefully hooking her hands under the arms of another body. Hauling the body, she pulls it back with her, ignoring the smell, and the give of flesh under her fingers. As Herian moves, she murmurs a prayer, and lays the body down alongside the other with a quiet apology, setting her hand on its shoulder.

"Maybe we will be able to find a ledger of names."

She doubts it, but — perhaps they will find something, to let these people be identified to their loved ones.

filing a complaint w/ ur supervisor how dare

[fleurdesel]

"Unlikely." No matter how much she might wish it otherwise. An easy answer isn't going to be available for them here. Sleeves rolled back she examines the cuts- the gouges. Nothing precise. Nothing practiced. Nothing knowledgeable. "This is no work of a surgeon- I doubt they used proper tools..."

From the jagged edges and tearing-

Were these people alive when they were cut apart?

8(

[amygdalae]

There is definitely some signs of... struggling. Or perhaps thrashing. Again its hard to be definitive, given that these bodies aren't exactly fresh. Enough time has passed for the bodies to already reach the putrefaction stags, so a lot of... stuff isn't going to be particularly helpful, honestly.

[dashing]

The rotting is no easier to deal with the longer she is here, the more she looks upon their faces. In such dark, damp conditions as these, the decay has set in all the more quickly. She is reminded, for a moment, of the days following the Spire, waking up with a bloodied gash across her head, in finding the bloating, greenish bodies of those who had taught her, who she had studied with, who she had begun to teach.

Herian rests one hand against the wall, but otherwise appears unaffected. Breathe, let it pass, do not unveil that weakness, do not falter.

"Should I bring you another?" Comparison. Contrast. Just an excuse to move, she hardly knows.

[fleurdesel]

"No." Two points to draw from is not enough to establish a pattern- but it will only be more of the same. More careless butchery. At this point finding anything more would be difficult and likely? A waste of their time. The dead are not going anywhere. They can return after they finish the search. "That- this is sufficient."