“Your eminence! Your eminence!”
Gnosena looked up from his prayers at the sound. He turned his head to look at the acolyte wheezing in the doorway to the chapel. Every day, Gnosena meditated in the chapel, sending his thoughts to Lossounelyn and seeking guidance on how best to care for the patients residing in the temple. And approximately 1 time in 5, someone would interrupt his prayers because of pragmatic issues that arose. Hi lifted his right hand, and signalled to the acolyte to wait, and returned to finish the prayer. The acolyte was fairly vibrating with urgency, but he knew that Father Gnosena would not just abandon a prayer unfinished.
Gnosena stood from his kneeling position, adjusted his robe, and faced the acolyte. Despite his heavy metal frame, Gnosena made no sound as he moved. The acolyte, Brother Marcus, blurted out his news.
“Some of the Sleepers have woken. They’re asking for whoever is in charge!”, he said. His simple yellow robes heaved as he continued to catch his breath. Gnosena nodded, folded his hands together, covered by the sleeves of his own yellow robe, and started to walk towards the door to the chapel.
“That is good news.”, he responded. “Thank you, Brother Marcus. How many of them have woken?”
“Only three, your eminence”, came the breathless reply. Marcus had been with the temple for several months now, and as a lay brother, was tasked with caring for the patients in the hospital ward. Most of the time, this was a simple job - taking note of the patients’ condition, dispensing medications as directed, and assisting them as necessary. But Marcus had spent much of his time in the temple working with “The Sleepers” - the dozen or so folk that had been brought to the temple, and Gnosena, for their expertise in dealing with patients suffering the ill effects of head wounds.
“Let us go talk to these folk”, Gnosena replied,”They must have many questions, and I have some of my own to ask them.” He walked to the excited young man, and put a heavy metal hand on his shoulder as he reached him, guiding him into the hallway at a dignified pace, and heading back to the hospital wing.
The ward where all the patients had been housed was well lit, with many windows, open to the fall air. The chandeliers, hanging from the peaked ceiling, were barely glowing above the beds. The north wall of the ward looked out onto a green space beside the temple, and as Gnosena entered the room, he could see that three of the patients were, indeed, awake. Brother Anders was trying to keep them in their beds, but having limited success.
The first on that Gnosena noticed was a half-orc. He’d been found only a few weeks ago, unresponsive in an alleyway, under trash. Initially, the watchmen that had investigated had thought that he was merely drunk and unconscious - as so many of his brethren found themselves in Neuville. But the man did not smell of alcohol, and - after a period of time spent enjoying the hospitality of a cell at the watch house - failed to awaken. Eventually, Sergeant Chauve had him brought to the temple, where he’d been cared for ever since. He seemed quite agitated, and uncomfortable, loudly demanding his pants and other clothing of Brother Anders. In return, the unfortunate acolyte attempted to calm the half-orc and keep him in his bed until someone could talk to him.
The second waker was a tall tiefling. He was calmer than the half-orc, and, in contrast, looked towards Gnosena with curiosity and patience. He was far taller than the half-orc, and had an inquisitive air about him. He was sitting up in his bed, the yellow hospital gown draping shapelessly over his frame as he tried to understand where he was and what was going on. He’d been found in a room that he’d rented at the Duchess and Hound, a tavern in the Windbrook section of Neuville. Apparently something of a musician, he’d rented the room, and arranged to play the night of July 19th in the common room, and was found stretched out on his bed, completely non-responsive. Concerned, the owner of the tavern, one Jean Albertson, sent a messenger to Gnosena directly. Gnosena, Marcus and Anders all arrived to examine the unfortunate musician, and once they concluded that there was no obvious cause for the tieflings state, they brought him back to the temple.
The third waker was a stout young dwarf, who was looking confused and angry at his condition. His beard was ragged and somewhat unkempt, and looked out of place on the youth now that he was awake and moving. Unfortunately, the temple had no dwarves on staff, so no one had been certain about how to care for his beard - they’d kept it trimmed, but it had grown significantly in the month that he’d been here. He’d been found slumped in a pew at the Temple of Sairvintal after the end of a service, and the staff there had sent him to the Temple of Lossounelyn when they couldn’t rouse him. He’d apparently been attending services there for a few days, but no one knew much about him. His broad shoulders and the clothing he’d been brought in wearing indicated that he was from the fortress known - somewhat sacrilegious, Gnosena thought - as The Teeth Of The Gods.
“Good day to you all,” Gnosena began, “and welcome to the Temple of Lossounelyn in Neuville. You’ve been under our care for some time now, and you are quite safe. I’m sure that you have a number of questions, but I hope that you will allow me to examine you briefly before asking them. You see, you’ve been here, and unconscious, for quite some time, and we have had no idea why.” Immediately, all three patients turned to look at him. The tiefling and the dwarf both looked grateful and nodded, while the half-orc looked somewhat annoyed.
“Do you know your names? And what is the last thing that you remember?”, Gnosena asked them.
“My name is Ourgal TreuKhai’D”, said the tiefling. The Lentan name and accent surprised Gnosena, but only slightly. After all, Neuville was a major trading center, being so close to the passage to the Northlands, so travellers and merchants from all over Do’kreksh were found in its streets. The tiefling’s waved a strand of his long blue hair from his face before continuing. “I’m very confused - the last thing that I remember was arriving here in Neuville, and now I find myself without my goods and clothes, and in your temple.”
The dwarf was next to respond. His voice was pleasantly deep, and he was calm and measured in his questions
“My name is Steveigh Oakenbarrel, and the last thing that I remember is being in the marketplace. How did we get here, Father?”, he asked. Gnosena noted that he’d addressed him by the correct honorific in his answer.
“I’m Gnorth of the Bloor Clan”, responded the half-orc, with an irritated tone of voice, “And I want my fucking pants back. The last thing that I remember is being fully fucking clothed and heading out to get a beer.” The heavily built half-orc spoke with the accent of one raised in Pohevia, and Gnosena could see the muscles in his bare arms shifting as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Frustrated by his situation, Gnorth attempted to sit back onto his bed, but slipped slightly, and slammed onto the thin mattress heavily, nearly falling off.
“And I’m D’ral,” came another voice. Everyone turned to look at the young dragonborn. Sitting up from his bed, the slim youth looked confusedly at everyone, and around the ward room. “The last thing that I remember is heading from a scribe’s shop, and going to find a place to sleep. I don’t understand how I ended up here.” Gnosena noted that the scales on D’ral’s arms were glittering and flexing as the young man turned to look around. While he’d been unconscious, those same scales had been dull and inert. D’ral had been found out back of a grocers, at the delivery dock, unconscious like the others. Despite carrying several scrolls and papers, he did not appear to have been robbed - a fact that surprised Sergeant Chauve when he arrived with the dragonborn youth.
“Thistle here… and last thing that I remember was arriving in Neuville and beginning to look for my father’s friend, Tradlem Jak”, came a voice from another bed. A young man, slightly built with a light complexion and thick brown hair, sat up in his hospital bed, and ran his hand over his face and hair, as if waking up from a brief nap. His accent declared him to be Bostian, and a long way from home. Looking at Gnosena, his yellow green eyes showed confusion and concern at what was happening. Thistle had been found unresponsive at The Farrier and Fletcher tavern, in his room.
“I am pleased that you all remember who you are. I was concerned that you might not, after all the time you spent unconscious. Many of the patients here suffer from severe amnesia when they recover, and I’m glad to see that none of you have been so afflicted.”, Gnosena started. “You have been here for various amounts of time, and we have striven to take care of you while you have been in our care.”
“How long?”, asked Steveigh. The dwarf seemed angry, not scared, as he asked.
“Today is September 12, 2022. You, young dwarf, have been here since August 13th.”, Gnosena responded. Shock ran across Steveigh’s face, and Gnosena turned to the half-orc, who was currently roaming the ward.
“Gnorth, you’ve been here since August 25th, and D’ral has been here since August 17th.” Both looked shocked at the declaration.
“It can’t be September - I just got to Neuville on August 12th - how can it be a month later already?”, the dragonborn youth exclaimed. Confusion and sadness were written across his face as he tried to come to grips with the situation.
“And you, Thistle, you’ve only been with us since the third of September.”, Gnosena announced. Thistle seemed worried and angry at the same time. His brow furrowed as he did the math, and his mouth set in a grim line.
“And how long have I been here?” came another voice from behind Gnosena. Gnosena turned to look at the patient that had spoken. Standing beside a bed, the fellow warforged looked at Gnosena, and their body language showed more curiosity than concern.
“You’ve been here since July 23, brother.”, he responded, “You were brought in to us after you’d been found inactive standing behind a gem merchant’s stall. Fortunately, the gemcutter was more concerned about his stock than about the money he could have made by scrapping you for parts. Unfortunately, there are too many in Neuville that still don’t consider us to be ‘people’. What are you called? And what is the last thing that you remember?”
The warforged nodded, his dark metallic head moving smoothly as he did so.
“My name is Kairn, and the last thing that I remember before reactivating here is talking to a gnomish tinker in the Ironsprawl about some raw materials I was looking for. I clearly remember everything of the day that I went there, on July 21, and discussing the need for some particular alloy ingots - but I cannot remember what I was trying to build, or anything that happened after I left the shop.” Gnosena watched as the newly awakened patient went through a subtle series of movements - diagnostics to check their physical condition and finding that they were working normally. Gnosena turned to the last patient, the tiefling.
“And you, Ourgal, you were found in a room at the Duchess and Hound, unresponsive in bed, on July 19th.”, he told him.
“Almost two months?” came the response, shock and grief mixing together in that one phrase. “But that makes no sense? Why did this happen to us all?”
“That’s a mystery that I don’t have an answer to yet, unfortunately.”, Gnosena replied. He could see fear, uncertainty, and anger on their faces.
“Does this sort of thing happen often here in Neuville?”, asked the dwarf.
“No, it has only been happening since the new year - in total, there have been twelve sleepers found around the city, and you six are the only ones to have awoken so far.”
“Why us? And how did you wake us up?”, asked Ourgal.
“We didn’t change anything. Your treatment has been the same since you were brought here - we washed you, fed you, cleaned you, and took care of your bodily needs while we investigated your condition. While you wouldn’t respond to most stimuli, you would feed yourselves when presented with food. Other than eating, you were completely unresponsive while you were in our care.”
“Then what changed?”, Ourgal pressed.
“I’m really not sure. The only thing that was different about today is that about 3 or 4 hours ago, a group of thugs forced their way into the temple, broke open the storage lockers with all of your possessions, stole some things, and fled when I arrived back at the temple and confronted them.”
“Somebody stole my stuff??? I’ll kill them!” raged Gnorth. He stood up, stumbling slightly, and clenching both fists.
“Where are our things then?” asked Ourgal. Gnosena walked to the storage lockers, as the newly awakened patients followed. Opening the door, he revealed a series of closed wooden boxes, each marked with a different Autiersian symbol. There were twelve boxes in total. Gnosena pulled the boxes out one by one, and handed them over to the patients, making sure to confirm that each was getting the correct box by comparing the symbols on the boxes to the symbol on the bracelet each wore. As each received their goods, Gnosena retrieved their bracelet.
Quickly, the group returned to their beds, and began to take inventory of the goods in the boxes.
“I’m missing my bag of writing sand”, came the cry from the dwarf.
“Me too!”, replied D’ral.
“My fishing gear is gone”, complained Thistle.
“And my theatrical makeup”, said the half-orc.
“I appear to be missing a tinder box. How annoying. Still, I have everything else.”, reported Kairn.
“As do I - except for my necklace. That seems to be missing”, responded Ourgal.
Gnosena made mental note that each of the wakened patients was missing something. The patients that hadn’t had anything stolen remained as they were before the incident.
“Please, feel free to dress yourselves in your usual garb.”, said Gnosena. “If you wouldn’t mind, I have a few more questions for you. I’d like to learn as much as I can from you to try to help my other patients”. His hand waved to indicate the remaining six unresponsive figures. Gnosena and the attendants helped the six newly awakened patients pull the privacy curtains around their beds, and they quickly dressed. Once they were all dressed in their street clothes, Gnosena invited them to sit at the table at the west end of the wardroom.
A discussion followed, where Gnosena learned that before today, none of the group had ever met or interacted with each other. While some of the group had just arrived in Neuville, others had been there for some time before being found. The only thing that all six had in common was a spiral scar on their bodies. The dragonborn and half-orc were both scarred on their chests, while the tiefling’s stomach was scarred. The dwarf’s scar was on his upper right thigh, while the Bostian’s was on his upper left arm.
“So, none of you have ever seen that mark before, and none of you remember getting it?”, asked Gnosena.
“No - I don’t like scarification.”, responded Steveigh. He looked at the scar on his leg, and concentrated for a few breaths. The scar glowed slightly as he did so, and Gnosena recognized that Steveigh was using magic to investigate it.
“It’s magical!” came the shocked exclamation from the dwarf.
“Yes, they all are magical - that was found shortly after the first patient was delivered to us, and every subsequent victim has had a similar scar on them somewhere. We did everything we could to investigate what you all were suffering from, and spared no effort. While your scars do have a faint aura of magic, I can confidently state that none of you are cursed, or suffering from a disease. I don’t know why you were unconscious, or who’s responsible for it, but I don’t believe that any of you are a danger to anyone but yourselves.”
“Maybe my father’s friend, Tradlem Jak could shed some light on this.”, said Thistle. “I should go see him. I have to find him, first, but maybe he knows something about what happened to us. He’s a smart guy, and was always well informed back in Klakknes. ”
“Wait a minute”, interjected Steveigh. “You said that the only thing different that happened was the robbery. Is that normal in Neuville - for temples to be robbed by gangs of thugs?”
“No, it’s not normal at all”, responded Gnosena. “In fact, the Temple of Lossounelyn has never before been robbed. Given that we provide medical care to all who need it, we’ve had no interference from any of the gangs in Nighthorn or any parts of Neuville.”
“So, having, what, six thugs force their way in and rob you was unprecedented?”, asked the dragonborn.
Gnosena nodded in agreement, and Steveigh spoke up in response. “Then I think that’s the first thing that we should dig in to. They robbed the temple - that’s not normal. They stole our stuff, and we woke up. That’s different. I don’t know what’s going on, but that seems to be a good place to start.”
“Fuck that!”, interjected Gnorth, “I want my shit back! How can I perform without my theatrical gear! Nobody steals from me and gets away with it.” Holding his lyre, he strummed angrily, and set about tuning it while continuing to talk. “If only we knew where to find these scum that stole from us. Did you recognize any of them, Gnosena?”
“Yes,” replied the cleric. “One of the men that robbed the temple was a young man named Gianno Twothumbs. They all covered their faces, but I recognized the stitching on his left hand that I’d done three weeks prior. I was very disappointed to realize that he was returning our kindness by robbing us. He’d been here on the 10th as well, with two others that I didn’t recognize, supposedly looking for a friend of theirs. I brought them into the ward here, and they said that their friend wasn’t here. They must have been scouting the temple, so that they knew where to go when they came back”
“Can we go to the watch about this?”, asked Thistle.
“Well, Sergeant Chauve was the watchman who ended up bringing most of the sleepers to us. You can ask after him at any watch house, and I’m sure that he’d be glad to tell you anything he knows about this. He and I have had several conversations about this, and I know that he’s been concerned about the continuing appearance of sleepers throughout the year.”
“Do you know where we could find Johnny?”, asked Steveigh.
“It’s Gianno, not Johnny, and as far as I know, he lives somewhere in the Nighthorn district, down by the river. I do know that he spends a fair amount of time with his friends at the Yellow Pig Tavern. That might be a good place to start. But be careful - that’s not a particularly safe area of the city.”
“Thank you for taking care of us in our time of need.”, said D’ral. “I know that we are all grateful for your care and support when we needed it.”
“Oh, child - it was our duty to do so.”, Gnosena replied, “I appreciate your thanks, but I would do the same for anyone that needed me. The world is better off when people take care of each other. Sadly, that’s not a popular mindset in these days.”
D’ral shook Gnosena’s hand, and turned to the rest of the wakers. “I intend on finding this ‘Johnny’ and ask some hard questions. And I intend on retrieving what was taken from me. Are any of you coming?” he asked. Quickly, the wakers all agreed, and they prepared to head out into the city.
“Fare well to you all. If you find that you are experiencing any further symptoms, or if you find out any further information, please let us know. There are still six sleepers in our care, and I would welcome any and all information that might help them. And, as well, if you need our aid, please feel free to return or contact us. You can contact us through the staff at any Temple of Lossounelyn, and our doors are always open.”, he told them, rising and walking them through the temple.