The Sickness is Rising

[Raithwell]

Closed to Artamos Alcor

This thread is from the Underwood Missions Board:
Flu Season

Requirements: A healthy immune system wouldn't hurt.

Synopsis: An unusually virulent strain of flu is spreading about Underwood like wildfire. It doesn't seem to be particularly lethal (yet) but doctors are mystified as to its cause. Some have even speculated that the plague is of supernatural origin; maybe even divine or infernal in nature. Investigate the source of the disease and the town will be thankful, but watch that you don't get infected yourself!

Reward: Depends on the nature of the thread and the score received.
Violent coughing, the liquid, phlegmy kind, could be heard on nearly every street corner and in every building in the small Coronian town of Underwood. It would have been easy to think that the spreading sickness wouldn’t be of much concern to Erik Raithwell, being that he was already dead, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Raith said, laying his hand upon the cough-wracked young woman lying miserably in the infirmary. To the medics of Underwood she was just another adventurer, using Underwood as a springboard to fame and fortune, but to Raith she was his daughter, and his entire reason for existing.

Literally.

Celeste Raithwell was one of the last emotional anchors that Raith had tethering him to Althanas, a fact he thought about as he watched another coughing spasm tear through her. He had died when she was only a newborn, drowning after being knocked from his fishing boat during a sudden squall, and had only reconnected with her in the last few weeks. Not that it was much of a connection, silently watching her blurry figure through the grey, hazy shroud separating the Firmament from the Anti-Firmament, but it was as much as he was ever going to get.

“I promise Celeste, I will find a way to help you,” Raith laid his hand on her again, the contact between them the only way that he could make his voice heard to her.

Whispers in the back of his mind, the voice of his shadow-self, blamed him for her sickness, telling him that he should already be out there looking for a cure instead of sitting here uselessly, reminding him that her death was now on his hands. Raith ignored his shadow’s coercive whispers. They were, after all, nothing more than his self-loathing and self-defeating tendencies and the fact that he could never get rid of them gave him a lot of practice on how to tune them out.

Raith rose from his sitting position at Celeste’s side and left the makeshift hospital, waiting patiently for a passerby to open the door so that he could slip out without wasting his energy on phasing through it. Walking through walls was just another wonderful perk of being dead, but it required concentration and drawing on the emotions that made up his form to do so. He couldn’t afford to waste any of that energy right now because, though it would build back up with rest, he somehow knew that he would need to be in top shape if he was to find the cause of the sickness and a way to cure it.

Not that he was the only one looking. A very generous reward had been posted by the higher-ups in Underwood for anyone who could bring the sudden sickness to and end. Many people had taken to trying to find the sickness’ source since it first swooped upon the town like a hawk taking its prey. But though many would-be adventurers had tried, and though rumors about its origin spread like wildfire, no one had been able to find where is came from or how to stop it.

But if trained professionals can’t find the source, Raith thought, wandering the ghostly echo of the eerily deserted streets of Underwood, how is a dead fisherman supposed to find it?

Knowing that he would need help, Raith headed for the bounty office to see if he couldn’t find a living person to throw his support behind.

[Artamos Alcor]

Artemos in his quest for knowledge, he had found himself ending up among the sick this time. Though he was meant to find a way to cure them, his personality traits he studies the sick for their sickness and how it affected their performance and life. With that information he tried to create different ways of improving either what made them suffer or try to remove it, it all came down to what he wanted to se. He needed to see the worst case scenarios and he needed to see the best case scenarios. Here was the perfect place for him to do so; here the sick came like cattle being herded. He was given limitless chances to experiment, without anyone’s knowledge of course. Nobody likes someone who gives them bad results on purpose. So he had to work with purpose and deception, often picking those without family or people that wouldn’t be missed to take the worst of the hits.

Though the apothecary was spoken loudly off for his efficiency and his work to help people, it was like flipping a coin coming to him. Either he vigorsly helped or he accelerated deceases or added new to you for studies. His recently gathered knowledge combined with the knowledge he was given from father through his dreams he had gathered information enough so that he felt he was ready to move on. Getting sick, or otherwise poisoned was a flaw that must be removed after all, if one is to become perfection, imperfections must be purged and a perfect being doesn’t get sick.

All he needed was a suitable subject he could apply his knowledge on to se if a person could survive the transformation. Creating a entirely new organ within one’s body that in all respectful ways, filtered harmful disease out, attacking and destroying them before they could feaster or gain a strong hold in the body. Opening the door for the next room, he came upon a adventure girl, according to her records, she was without friends or family…

Perfect

[Raithwell]

Nothing! No one, Raith cursed. A dark, oily chuckle in the back of Raith’s mind told the spirit all that he needed to know about what his Shadow thought of the matter. The bounty office had been completely devoid of applicants, all of the able bodied adventurers either already out looking for the cause of the sickness or doing the smart thing and running for the hills.

Cowards, the lot of them, Raith cursed but knew that it was all bluster. Celeste’s chances of fighting the sickness off without outside aid were abysmally small. He desperately needed someone to help him.

Don’t be silly, his Shadow chided, of course you don’t need anyone else.

Raith’s gauze shifted in an approximate mimicry of sighing. If his Shadow were advising him against a particular course of action than he knew he was on the right track. Still, perhaps it’s right and I can find the cause of this sickness on my own.

There were only so many options available to a being of the Anti-Firmament, and Raith had nearly exhausted what was put in front of him. With no better alternative in sight, Raith decided to set out on his own.

But first…

I at least need to say goodbye to Celeste.

Patience filled the spirit while he waited for foot traffic to open the entry to the hospital enough that he could slip through, but that patience ended when his eyes fell upon the strange man standing over Celeste.

Raith was moving in an instant, quickly crossing the gap between the two of them. He only stopped when he was near enough to thrust his ghostly hand at the man, establishing the contact required for his Banshee’s voice to be heard.

“You’re not her doctor,” Raith snarled in a voice that only the man could hear. His spite surged like a flooding tide just below the surface of his gauze and for a brief instant Raith thought about drawing on it. But he held off, forcing it back below the surface, “Who are you and what are you doing to my daughter?”

[Artamos Alcor]

The small and frail apothecary was no more than 1.64 meters tall and with a weight of 45 kg, probably less now that he didn’t eat much for work kept him busy. His red cloak kept his frail body away from sight and he was grateful for it. Taking some steps closer to the girl he stood by her side, her sickened body was pale with the cursed disease. His chirurgeon on his back came forth with 3 of its metallic spider limbs at the girl, one with a needle that would take some of her blood for a blood sample, so he could see if she had any abnormalities. Another came forth with a bandages as the third came with a scalpel. It moved in perfect union with his hands never did they get in each other’s way as his left hand took hold of her arm. His right hand pulled her clothing away from her arm to reveal her naked skin beneath so that he could draw blood from her arm. But before he could insert the needle something poked him at his subconscious.

“That statement would be correct.”The apothecary interrupted after the ghost figure had stated that he was not her doctor. Though at this point he didn’t know it was a ghost that was the source of the voice. Artamos was about to continue when he realized that he had an all too human chill go down his spine. He felt a presence almost inside him, an experience he had never had and it felt awkward for him. But before he could dwell more on the matter the voice from earlier continued his words.

“I am Artamos Alcor, an apothecary by profession, but today, I am a scientist, doctor and adventurer. By the words of that which you spoke, I could not help but notice the profound emotional attachment, and statement such as daughter suggest a relative known as father. Though I should ask who you claim to be for all records of this particular girl, Celeste if memory serves me well, and I must say it has remarkably so far, exclusively states that all relatives are deceased.”
The knowledge seeker spoke, with little affection nor did he change his tone except when stating a compliment to himself, then it was rather warm. Behind his hood, his face was emotionless as before and the whole scene had changed nothing. He continued where he let off and the needle pierced her skin, with marksmanship on her rather thin veins, where others would perhaps have used several tries. Blood pooled into the vial rapidly and it didn’t take more than a few seconds and 2 breaths before the apothecary removed the needle and the bandage came and was with the aid of his hands and the metallic limb wrapped neatly around her arm before the scalpel cut the bandages not to waste too much, he took a pin from the table and it was secured to her arm. He didn’t want to risk that a simple blood sample would cause the already sick girl to get worse. Not because he cared about her, but because the fact if she attracted anything more at this time, the blood sample and his analyze of it would be void if he were to do tests.

[Raithwell]

Seeing Artamos stabbing his daughter brought the wave of spite rolling back to the surface.

How dare he, his shadow sneered, causing Raith to reflexively reach for the metal protuberance in Celeste’s arm. His Geist powers were only useful in moving a pound or two of non-living material at a time, but that would be more than enough to tear the offending sliver from his daughter’s arm.

Wait a minute, Raith halted, his hand mere inches from the needle. The voice of his shadow snarled in the back of his mind at his hesitation. A glimmer of inspiration sparked in his mind as Artamos Alcor’s words finally registered.

“Yes, I’m Celeste’s father,” Raith spoke to the man again through his Banshee powers, “and it’s true that I’m dead. But my soul remains in the Anti-Firmament, tethered by emotional anchors that I’ve left behind.”

Raith reached his other hand out and passed it over Celeste’s blanket, using his Geist power to attach thin strings from his own gauze to the fabric. Gently he applied what little pressure that he could without snapping the strings, which was barely enough to pull the blanket up under Celeste’s chin.

“Celeste is one of my anchors,” he returned to speaking to Artamos, “and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that she’s safe. If you’re both a doctor and an adventurer then I assume that you’ll be looking for a cure as well. Perhaps we can work together on this. What say you?”

[Artamos Alcor]

The apothecary looked at the vial of blood as the metallic spider limb brought it up to his face. The blood within was all too normal to the human eye, yet he though what it may reveal with the right amount of knowledge and research. The spider limb tucked the vial away beneath his robe and the needle retracted to his spine and inside the robe once more.

“aha, most peculiar. A deceased father, a ghost if one likes. Most interesting, very interesting indeed. Would you mind if I ask, to be subjected so some research on the matters? What I mean to ask, may I conduct experiments on you to categorize the state that you find you’re self in and catalog it scientifically for later use if such would become viable?”
The little red robed man walked around studying the being of pure will before him as he tucked his daughter inn like any father would to a little child. The knowledge seeking fellow found it amusing considering that his daughter was old enough to go about adventures single handed and survived alone for this long, yet where treated like a child. He realized that in his thirst for knowledge and find out more about the state of this man and find how it could contribute to eliminating flaws he had forgotten to answer him on his question.

“Oh by that one might think you are correct, but for the matter my intentions where purely on the scientific of finding out how this new disease work, affecting people and how to counteract it simply by removing the flaw on which it flourish upon. Like someone that attracts a cold, such flaws of attracting a cold can easily be removed by warm clothing or better yet alter the body to produce more heat when required to counteract against the body temperature being reduced. Her blood sample, that I took might tell me more when I see for abnormalities and compare it to what I found in others that suffer similar fates. “
Though he had spoken in lengths the frail man seemed not bothered with it, more the opposite, he seemed amused and rather good spirited when he was allowed to speak on intellectual levels with people. He loved to play with words and he never did lie, though he did always choose his words in such way that one could conceive it as a lie, yet he simply twisted his way around so that no statement was falsely made. All the while he studied the man who lived in the anti-firmament, taking mental notes on attributes he could imagine it would have, what flaws it would bring but most, what flaws it removed from possessing a human body. Then without warning a though struck him like a bolt from clear sky, like an mathematic would suddenly realize a little change in the puzzle would reveal the answer… if he knew the cause, he could study the disease from the source, instead of its result. He knew that in order to effectively find and create a cure one should have the source, and in that they would be in a way searching for the same thing and a smile crossed his face, interrupting whatever the other person could be saying, or whatever he would do as a response, whit a sway of his hand for silence and to halt.

“I accept companionship on the quest to the source of the troubles. I think that would be in benefit of us both”

[Raithwell]

Raith watched in amazement as Artamos’ eyes trailed over him. He hadn’t been a spirit long, but in all that time he had not yet met a single person who could see him across the gap between the Anti-Firmament and the Firmament into the realm of the dead. Raith studied the man almost as carefully as Artamos studied him, the ability to see the spirits would be incredibly valuable to Celeste when she recovered, but in the end could not figure out how the medic was able to perceive his invisible gauze.

Perhaps, Raith pondered, it’s something that comes with those spidery metal arms coming out of his back. If there was anything specifically defining about the frail doctor, it was those shiny, twitching extra limbs. They were odd and, quite frankly, disturbing, and Raith had to remind himself that he wasn’t someone who should be judging what was disturbing and what was normal. Watching those odd limbs twitch, a question formed in Raith’s mind.

If you can see me, then can you hear me? Raith asked, talking his hand off the medic so that his Banshee power wouldn’t be able to communicate across the rift. But if the medic could hear him, he didn’t make any sign of it and merely went back to studying the vial of Celeste’s blood that he had taken.

Damn, Raith cursed. Being able to talk to his companion without having to establish contact would have been extremely useful. But Raith could make do without it if, at it appeared, that would be an impossibility.

“I’m glad that you’re willing to let me join you,” Raith said, once again establishing contact with Artamos in the method that he knew the medic would be able to hear. “Do you see anything there that might give us any clues on where to start?”

[Artamos Alcor]

The apothecary didn’t know that the ghost was unfamiliar that people were unable to see him. But if he had known, he would suspect it to be something with the fact that he had been created by father and in his infinite wisdom had seen it fit to give him eyes that could see him. The child’s father retracted his arm from the frail man and he turned to continue his work, the metallic spider limb came up, 2 of them on each side of the portal stolen child and he gently touched them both and they became instruments of study instead of syringe and saw. He had just used his biomagic to change the way they would assist him. He had done so many times in the past and it was almost as a second nature to him by now. Taking the blood sample he put it on the table, along with 5 others. 6 blood samples, he mused, 6 people. Or rather 5 that he could subject to his research, this girl had a ghost father that would wouldn’t without objections let him do as he liked. The spider limp on his right had a mixture of things the apothecary couldn’t even name, but the alchemist downstairs had made it without question. It would aid him a great deal in his search of abnormalities.

The apothecary had a dream once, and he opened his book to search for it, simple flickers of his hands searched the book as his spine assist continued to prepare the blood samples. Then he found the page and began the input to his brain, he needed all the focus he could have for this task.

“Look, I don't mean to be rude but this is not as easy as it looks, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me.”The apothecary took a deep breath, focused his mind as he put his mind into the instrument of his left as it dipped into the blood of the first sample. He became as if he transported himself into a microscopic version of himself inside the blood sample. In there he swam, perceiving himself as he where in the real world, but quickly found the ways lacking for moving and searching and perceived himself as a fish, and he became one and swam among the blood. The mixture that had been added held the white cells at bay, they were attacking the mixture leaving the apothecary alone for his work. He made mental notes of what he could, outside his mental frame his hands where held firmly on his book so that any mental notes he made they would be recorded there. He continued like this for several long hours, each sample taking an hour at best.

When he was done, he had filled 2 pages of information, which he couldn’t understand. It was so complex, so difficult, like written with science that would not exist for another 2000 years. He would need to sleep on it, put his faith in his almighty father would deliver him the information tonight. He walked over to the girl, touching her belly several times in different places. Then going upwards and finally he put his hand on her hearth, to a father it would seem perhaps if he was touching her inappropriate.

“She’s getting weaker…”He said before her father could initiate any respond to his sudden start of touching. The apothecary had found one thing in his study, this virus, this sickness, was not deadly yet, but it was evolving, it was simply on the first step towards… destruction.

“This sickness that is spreading, it… is devastating. I don’t know how to explain it, but I think I know somewhat the effect of it. I need to trust in father to deliver me but, this sickness is not yet deadly, but that is because it’s like a seed in the soil. When it spreads, it grows out of the soil. Soon, the flower will blossom and when it does, it will be a plague that sweeps the land of its people. I think I know something that will give the girl a fighting chance, though I have not tested it yet, and its only a basic idea… will you allow it?”

[Raithwell]

The medic’s words rang in Raith’s ears like a funeral dirge, which is exactly what they were. He turned to Celeste and looked at her still form through the gray, blurry haze of the veil that separated his world from hers. Raith didn’t need the Artamos to tell him that his daughter was dying and he didn’t even need to feel the thinning of the emotional tether that held them together to know what was happening to her. The living possessed a sort of warm glow to his deathly eyes, a sign of the verge and life that pumped through them. But when he looked at Celeste he could see how that light had become muted and dim.

Raith turned back and reached out for the medic once again but stopped himself when he remembered Artamos’ request to keep from distracting the medic’s attention to his work. Literally going one step further, Raith backed up until Artamos was well outside of the aura of discomfort that constantly radiated off of Raith’s ethereal form. If the odd, soft spoken man had any chance of saving Celeste then Raith would do everything within his power to help him.

It was only when Artamos requested his consent that Raith once again approached him. A ripple of pride flowed across Raith’s form for the briefest of instants when the medic sought his approval. There wasn’t much that Raith would be able to do to stop the man if he decided to go ahead without Raith’s consent, but still he deferred to Raith’s parental status.

“Of course you have my permission,” Raith said quickly, once again reaching out to establish the necessary contact. Raith thought about the short time that he had spent with his daughter. He had spent entirely too many years apart from her to let her go just as he had come into her life.

“You’re the professional and I trust you to your trade. I figure that I’ll only be a nuisance if I stay here so I’ll head to the bounty office where we can meet up when you’re ready to start our search for the illness’ source.”

[Artamos Alcor]

The apothecary removed the clothing of the girl’s torso and brought out his book, flipped the pages. Rapidly flipping pages and looking at the girl, going back and forth between the two of them. If he had been more human when it came to work and research he might actually have taken the pleasure of seeing her naked skin, but as it where he did not. He was not the regular kind of guy, he was a scientist, a man who cared not for pity things as intimacy, his love for his work was all he had. He did understand the fundamental need for most people to engage in physical contact and the creation of endorphins, but he needed none of that. If he was down and needed endorphins he could simply used his bio-magic to increase the production, it was that simple. He was a master of his own body, through his magic he could simply just regulate whatever he needed to match what was required of him. Coming up on the page he needed he had stored some research on how to create a poison removal effective system. It was not an easy task to do and under the circumstances he would need materials to use, preferably a living one. The apothecary turned to the dead father, it was apparent that the small red dressed fellow was tired, even sweat had formed on his brow. The work to find information in the blood had been taxing on his endurance. But he was a stubborn fellow when he had this golden opportunity to attempt to take his research to the next level.

“I need a human, the closer to your child’s age the better, preferably the same high and age, and quickly, bring it here, I just need to fine adjust what I am about to do and I’m afraid my endurance has been stretched.”

[Raithwell]

Raith turned and looked disbelievingly at the medic. Ghostly eyelids blinked several times, Raith’s instinctive body memory taking over before he remembered that he had no need to blink anymore. It took him a couple of seconds after that for the fact that the medic could see him and thus it was rude to stare at the man to filter into his thought stream. Immediately, the ghost turned dropped his gaze from where the man stood, instead seeking refuge in the study of his wispy, colorless hands.

How the hell am I supposed to do that? Raith thought, turning his hands over and back, again and again. How was he, who couldn’t even touch a living person, supposed to bring an infected person back to the medic? Did the medic even want an infected person? What if he wanted a healthy individual? Raith looked back up at the medic for a moment; saw the fatigue writ large on the man’s countenance. Already having been admonished for interrupting the man’s concentration, the spirit was loath to do so again. He whipped his head around frantically, looking across the wavy, mist-shrouded Anti-Firmament at the horrifying amount of people laid up in the makeshift hospital. Each and every one of them showed the same diminishing life glow as Celeste. They would all die if he did nothing, yet he was at a loss for what to do.

How sad, the voice of his shadow spoke over his shoulder, that all this death is because of you. You’re a killer … no, a mass murderer. Erik Raithwell, the man who murdered his daughter. His shadow was right once again, he realized, and Raith felt the inky darkness of his spite boil up inside him. For one brief moment he felt the overwhelming urge to just let go and let the warm darkness embrace him, but a hacking cough from Celeste’s bed brought him back from the edge.

No you bastard, Raith cried, pushing his spite away with all of his will. I’m going to find a way to save her. I’m going to find a way to save them all.

Heedless now of any need to conserve his strength, Raith pulled on his emotional reserve and thinned his gauze out, becoming fully insubstantial. He barreled out of the hospital at a full run and he kept running through dusty alleyways, street by street, until he at last found what he was looking for. A young woman, easily within a year or two of Celeste’s age, scurried furtively through Underwood’s nearly empty streets. She appeared to be in the early stages of the sickness, early enough that she was still alert and mobile. Knowing what he must do, Raithwell ran up to the young woman and drew on even more of his emotions to force his body through the barrier between the Anti-Firmament and the world of the living.

“You there,” the manifesting spirit commanded in a hollow, deathly tone. Raith’s sudden appearance shocked the young woman to complete stillness, and she merely stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth locked in a silent scream. “Listen to me,” Raith went on, hoping to shake her from her terror, “I’m here to save your life. If you want to be a hero, if you want to live, then I need you to go to the makeshift hospital on the other side of the town.” But the young woman remained locked; showing no sign that she even heard a word that Raith said. It would take more effort to shake her out of her stupor, and though Raith was loath to do what he knew he needed to, Celeste’s welfare was at stake and that’s all he needed to know.

Raith drew on his emotions again, though this time it was the negative, destructive emotions that he drew upon, his spiteful emotions. The spirit’s manifesting form instantly took on a sinister, evil appearance. His skin shrank until it was tight on his bones and his darkened into black pools. Slick chains pushed out of his skin and inky seawater wept from his pores. This was his death form, his shadow, and Raith hoped that it would be enough. “If you don’t go to the hospital on the other side of town immediately, then I will make sure you never have the chance to die from the sickness.”

This finally seemed to get through to the young woman and she fled at top speed, her silent scream becoming all too audible. Still, she was fleeing in the direction of the hospital and that was enough for Raith, who released his hold on the world and faded, unseen, back to the realm of the dead.

Remaining Vigor: 3
Accrued Spite: 1