Skara Braens

Part 25

Part 24 Vote Tally

Option A: 1
Option B: 0
Option C: 2

Onward!

"It's happened before," you blurt out.

Siona looks at you with raised brows.

"This thing that's happening now.  It's happened before.  They called it the Plague of Undeath."

"Iolaire," Siona begins.

"No, you need to listen to me," you say.  "In my name quest thing, I saw three people in furs.  They came to the stones with the holes in them -"

"What stones?"

"There were two stones, but had holes in them.  But that's not important.  The important thing is that these three people were accompanied by two women in white.  And one of the women, the one who spoke to me, she told me that the warriors would return to the village with news of my sighting, that it would lend them courage in the fight.  They were fighting to stop what she called the Plague of Undeath."

"That makes no sense, Iolaire," Siona says.  "How can warriors fight a plague."

"I don't know.  I wanted to ask, but eagles can't talk.  But it's happened before.  I know it must have."

"Iolaire, you were drugged.  There were no women.  You did not travel in time.  Your mind simply conjured images in order to give you a name.  That is all."

"Of all people who I would've though would believe me," you grate.  "Siona, you need to listen to me.  There is not a lot I remember about my life before I came to this place.  I don't know why I'm here.  But in the fog of my memories there are three things that stand out to me.  The first is the cry of eagles.  The second is the sound of the ocean.  The third is an old man dressed in furs, saying something to me.  I can't recall his words, but I do recall that he wore fur, fur like those three warriors in my dream.  It cannot be a coincidence.  It cannot.  This thing.  It's happened before.  That means it's been defeated before.  If they did it, we can too.  We just have to find out how they managed it."

"Iolaire," Siona says again.

"You have to believe me."

The greying woman looks at you, frowning slightly at your earnestness.  For a moment she simply sits on the edge of your bed and meets your gaze.  At length, she lays aside the washcloth she had been using to cool your head.

"Alright.  Tell me about the stones."

Unsure what the stones had anything to do with it, you take a deep breath and explain slowly, trying hard to recall your drug-induced dreams.

"There were two of them.  They were tall and vaguely rectangular and narrow.  Both had a hole drilled into their lower thirds.  They stood shoulder to shoulder, like weird, square, flat soldiers.  They were on a small island.  It looked a little like a dog with its nose in the air.  They stood on a plain."  You frown, trying to pull details for your mind.  "They were the only standing stones that I could see.  That doesn't mean that there weren't others around."

"The Odin Stone," Artair says.  You turn sharply to find him leaning against the door of your little wattle-and-daub round house, his thick arms crossed over his chest.

"There were two."

"The Odin Stone was destroyed," Siona says.

"Not the pair near Stenness," Artair says.  "There's an Odin Stone on Shapinsay.  I think it's still standing."

"There was a pair of them."

Artair scratched his jaw with his thumb.  "Oh.  The stones near Stenness used to be a pair.  Perhaps the Odin Stone on Shapinsay was as well."

"The stones at Stenness are gone," Siona says.  "What makes you think the Odin Stone at Shapinsay survives?"

"It was standing before this whole mess started," Artair said.  "What makes you think it hasn't survived?"

"We have to go to Shapinsay," you say.

Siona snorts, before realising you are perfectly serious.  "We can't go to Shapinsay."

"Why not?" you demand.

"We're needed here."

"If you are right, if I've been brought here for a reason, then we're needed everywhere.  The Odin Stone is the first lead I've had since, well, since I can remember."

"Shapinsay is lost," Siona says.  "It was one of the first islands to fall.  There is nothing there but the shambling dead.  Nothing."

"It has answers," you argue.

"It is too dangerous," Siona insists.

"Are you or are you not interested in defeating whatever this is?"

"I am, Iolaire," Siona says.  "But this... whatever this is cannot be fought with swords or guns.  It is a virus of some sort.  Medicine is what we need.  I am not a doctor.  I have not studied diseases.  The military has people working on it."

You think back to Drust and the small military facility where you met him.

"What if it's not?" you ask softly.

"Pardon?"

"What if it's not a disease?  What if it's something else?  What if the reason your military scientists have been unable to find a cure is because there isn't anything to cure?"

"What else could it be?" Siona asks, exasperated.

"I don't know," you reply.  "That's why we have to go to Shapinsay."

"I am not risking Shapinsay," Siona says, her voice becoming sharp and firm; the tone a mother would use to control an unruly child.

You look at Artair, your expression pleading.  All he does is grimace and shake his head at you.  He'll not gainsay Siona.

"Artair," Siona says.

"Yes?"

"Will you fetch Iolaire some food?  We need to keep their strength up if they're going to survive this fever."

Offering a half bow, Artair says, "Of course, little mother."  You watch him leave, struck again by just how much like a bear Artair seems.

"Lie back," Siona says gently, pulling your attention away from Artair.  She pushes gently on your shoulder.

Feeling sour about Siona's decision, you nevertheless fall back onto your pillows.  You do so in the sulkiest manner you possibly can.  Perhaps your passive-aggressive pouting will let her know just how disappointed you are.

"Artair will be here with food soon.  In the meantime, rest.  You should be trying to get healthy again."

"I'm sick because you left me out all night," you mutter.  Still, you close your eyes.

After a long moment, you feel Siona stand up from your bed and you listen as she leaves the house.  Moments later Artair walks in carrying a small cauldron of what smells like lamb stew.  You sit up immediately, suddenly starving.

Artair smiles.  "Eat up," he says, spooning some of the stew into a bowl before setting the cauldron at the edge of the lit hearth.  He walks over and hands you the bowl.

"Thanks," you say, gratefully accepting the bowl.

What do you do now?

a) Quietly plot an escape and find a way to Shapinsay on your own. Danger be damned.
b) Ask about what happened in Shapinsay. More intel can only be a good thing.
c) Nothing, just eat your stew and go to sleep. Perhaps you'll figure something out in the morning.

Voting ends midnight on the 19th of January.  Good luck, Adventurers!