Heimurn Chronicles (No, SV, you're a young valkyrie in the middle of a bizarre and dangerous journey)

With the restless spirit encaged inside of a luminous orb, the decrepit objects predictably stopped falling down or flying at your companions. While your eyes were locked on the dark haze within the enclosed barrier, you cast a cone of light at the spot where you sensed the spirit's anchoring item.

"The bound is there," you commented your action, "please, make haste, for I don't know how long the ghost will be disoriented."

Instead of a vocal reply, the sounds of your companions digging through indoor debris reached your ears. Some moments after, you sensed the shift of the item's location, and a few seconds later, a wooden to the touch object was shoved into your free palm. As it did, the disturbance of the shade grew, with it starting to bang at the inner walls of the sphere.

"Please, watch over me, for I'll release it now and work on the conduit." You proceeded to take a seat on a ruined heap that once might have been furniture once you spoke out, studying the item in your hands. It was an old, mildew-covered wooden figurine of a horse, donkey, or another hoofed creature, roughly cut out from wood by an amateur. Most likely, it was hastily carved from a chunk of firewood, so the gifter would buy some moments of peace by distracting a child. This notion narrowed down the possible personae of the spirit, which only made you feel tenser.

But regardless of your sentiments, there was nary any time to waste. And with this sense of urgency, you dropped the barrier and lightly basked the toy in some arcane energy to make the host pull back its projection into the object. It worked as predicted, after which you covered the small item with your hands and focused on the soul spark trapped within it, finding out that your initial fear was correct: the soul in question lacked the complexity and inevitable scaring of a mature one. The soul's memory whirls were scant compared to the relative sizes of the psycho-emotional layers and the core. But even then, an ugly singular abscess with signs of corruption protruded from the poor child's soul, rendering their soul unfit to slink from the realm they would never be able to experience in full.

Cautious and disheartened in equal measures, you sighed and attempted to focus on the wayward soul harder, just like you did with your unsuspecting companions earlier. The resonating feedback came in almost immediately, filling you with a sense of helplessness, fear, and loneliness. Due to one reason or another, no one has witnessed the last moments of this kid's life. There was no one around to save them or at least to grant the comfort of a company in the final moments. And even more: midst the great fear of the world outside and crippling helplessness, this child seemed to yearn for a particular company - a presence that never came. Even after its mortal body perished, the soul remained paralyzed by the incomprehensible worlds outside, still yearning for that particular companionship to allay its fears. Times went by, and something began to fester in the poor soul, filling it with bitterness and grudge for everything living, which likely included the looters who picked this place clean yet failed to meaningfully interact with its last dweller. This grudge began to overtake the soul and corrupt its memories fiber.

You recoiled from the surge of sensations, but the aftertaste lingered. Realizing all this made you even more anxious: you wanted to help the poor spirit in the same manner as the one bound to the ring, but... But what if the infant's soul won't be able to fight back the corruption? What if granting the poor child's its final wish of companionship won't neutralize the chaotic infestation and won't let it pass on? What if you won't get another chance to practice separating a soul from the tendrils of chaos anytime soon while Karl needs your urgent intervention? One, two, three seconds of considerations passed, and then you exhaled and sent the "I'm sorry, little one" signal to the soul concealed within a wooden horse.

And you indeed had reasons to apologize in advance: with one hand still clutching to the toy and with the other one conjuring a concentrated fang of thaumaturgic energy set onto cleansing aspects, you set your mind on trying to carve out the corruption from the spirit. Slowly, you sunk the shimmering cone into the binding object while maintaining the link to the soul inside it to get track of the readings of possible changes caused by your manipulations.

The developments came in instantly: the exact moment the thaumaturgic beam touched the gaping dark spot of the void contamination, the latter unfurled itself onto the afflicted spirit, digging deeper towards its core and contorting the soul's memory, reason, and emotional layers. You haven't even fully realized what happened when nigh-immediately, an overpowering mix of dread and anguish surged through the established link to the "patient" spirit. The feeling was that of being abandoned in an endless, cold, unfamiliar ocean, prompting only one desire: finding a shelter and eliminating everything from the "outside" in it.

The sudden yet oppressive burst of dread and tension burst in so suddenly and intensely that you nearly blacked out of your own senses, not even noticing the disruption of the link to the target spirit. By some wonder or your natural resilience, the faculties began to come back to you within a few moments since the overload. You could hear the debris within the hut rattling and flying chaotically, causing Ren and Seph to themselves and you from this havoc. You felt disgusting - not as much physically but psychologically, with the echo of the abnormal anguish the spirit was experiencing stuck in your mind and heart. But all the malaise paled before the rapidly-emerging acknowledgment of what you just did: you made a mistake that deteriorated the state of the spirit you were sent to allay. Perhaps, terminally so.

A flash of recollection from the night when you failed to save that dying man forced its way up in your mind, followed by an indescribable cocktail of regret and defiance. This sensation gave way to a ray of reason: you still had to act now and postpone regrets for later, as this wasn't over yet.
This internal directive rendered you deaf to the unaddressed comments of your groupmates and senseless to what was on your mind in favor of narrowing back on the possessed fetish in your hands.

And the damage was extensive: the memory traces exuded from the soul spark were tattered, and so were the deeper layers, riddled with the entropic tendrils in the same manner diseased flesh would be with abscesses. Bar the core, over the one-third of the soul saw the damage, with voidling contamination burying deeper with each passing second, even with if noticeable deceleration. Your first thought was of the ways to limit the spread of the contorting energies while you work on burning it out. The only method that came to your mind was an attempt to artificially bind the soul to its anchor in the same way you tried with the assault victim a week ago. Hence, you proceeded with phase-like attempts to "freeze" the "patient" and chisel out the contamination.

Your hypothesis was only partially correct: the binding did limit the spread of entropic processes, but patches in a complete artificial stasis also proved to be more persistent against your magic. Extrapolating from this observation, you changed the tactic to combining stasis phases to keep the voidling tendrils' motions above zero but still manageable. With trial and error, you acted on this hastily-generated plan. The manipulation performed on the ghast's anchor also seemed to decrease the intensity of the poltergeist activity, giving your companions enough breath to wonder if "it's over?" and exchange nervous looks.

Eventually, you burned out all the entropic energy from the soul's layers, but the inflicted damage now stretched to under a half of the spark. Forcefully detaining the spirit through pulling the metaphorical leash between it and its bound object, you realized that, if only it was a living person, you would've either driven them irrevocably rabid or just killed them. All because of a grave mistake at the start of "treatment." Regardless, there was no way a soul like that could see peace, so even while you technically succeeded in separating it from the aethers of the void, you still failed. Or did you?

Not daring to look up at Seph and Ren, who were likely perplexed by the sourness of your physiognomy, you settled down on making the last-ditch attempt to send this spirit off. If your theory on soul structure and functions was correct, you still had an option to "cut out" the core from its destroyed outer layers, freeing the spirit from its memories and, effectively, from its "self." Yes - it sounded insane if not preposterous, but the alternatives were even worse, and it wasn't like the spirit in question had much to lose anymore.

With a nervous sniffle and shivering hands, you enacted the plan under the gazes of your friends, who caught wind that not everything was going well. To achieve the projected result, you proceeded with "cluttering" the core with highly concentrated volumes of thaumaturgic energy focused into a narrow beam. You were afraid that bombarding the soul's heart with thaumaturgic force would damage it, but as if in confirmation of your theory, its structure proved resilient to the anti-arcane effect. After a few more moments of the procedure, you nervously released the bind upon the spirit to see how it would react to what you have done.

To your mild relief, the soul's processes did not kickstart with the intensity it demonstrated at the beginning of the failed "treatment." The soul's intact halve's flows appeared more harmonious, if not slower, similar to those either sleeping or close to awakening. This hinted that your idea might have worked, but there was only one way to test it: re-establish the link and see what's left. Hesitant and somewhat guilty, you proceeded with probing the mangled remains of the spirit, fearing if you shattered it completely. The imprint's first results remitted your anxiety: what once was a scared, abandoned, lonely child desiring to see itself led to the end of its existence and increasingly malign for the denial of this comfort was now a creature no longer aware of anything including itself. It felt confusion and a sense of emptiness that was. However, this emptiness was slowly filling up with the fragments of memories you thought you'd cut out, sipping back like from someone else's nightmare.

The urgency was apparent: the cut you've made in its soul would soon self-mend, and the way to non-existence would again be blocked. Mustering the courage to face the result of your decisions, you invoked a weave of thoughts and emotions, transmitting to the confused ghost what amounted to "You must go now. Forgive me, and may you find peace." If only you were able of the mind magic or if this ghost knew how to reply, you might have got to know its final thoughts before you nudged it into non-existence with the spirit arcana, but it was not meant to be. All you've got left was an old, darkened toy horse in your hands, no longer bounding anyone.

"Ren," you spoke quietly while resisting tearing up, "The spirit has departed, but the residual memories engraved onto this toy can easily attract and sustain a voidling. Would you please..." It felt harder to finish the input than to begin it, but Ren understood you anyway, taking the toy from your hands and fiddling with the torch without dropping a word.

"Lu, are you alright?" Sephorah squatted near you, putting a hand on your shoulder and looking at you concerned, "you got us worried, especially when you seemed like passing out."

"I'm fine," you retorted while covering Seph's palm with your own. Still shaken a little and with the vestiges of the poor soul's imprints on your mind, you weren't that fine but opted to keep up appearances anyway: "things could've gone smoother, but what's done is done."

"Oh please," Seph muttered while giving you a squeeze, "that ghost did not pay us anything for you to be down in the dumps over this."

Instead of responding, you forced a smile while staring at Ren reducing the formerly haunted toy to ashes.
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The route back to Rene's ruined belltower was somewhat awkward. While you were thinking of the ways to elaborate the events to your "contractor," Seph and Ren aimed the fulness of their collective attention at you, with the awkward part being them pretending to not monitor all your motions and body language. With all their superficial differences, you found it hilarious how they tend to act similarly in some cases. It felt like they were participating in some undeclared game of who would keep a closer eye on you. Maybe it was due to the remnants of the departed ghost's experiences or otherwise absolutely unreasonable, but you found this attitude of Sephie and Ulren toward you as heartwarming.

Although, even with this distraction, the final form of an answer to Rene was eluding your grasp, making a part of you wish to just turn, head home, and forget about these nocturnal adventures and their dispenser. But, feeling ashamed from catching oneself musing such thoughts, you deemed your consistency in higher regard than a chance to avoid responsibility.

When you arrived at the spot and glimpsed at it through the nether eyes, Limbus had a brand new surprise for you. Instead of the glowing yellow-ish walls of the once intact belltower, you witnessed raindrop-like faintly-glowing gray particles ascending nearby and emerging from the invisible barriers. It was like observing heavy rain in reverse from inside a building made of immaculate glass. In the depth of the surreal shelter, you saw outlines of furniture: baskets, tables, chairs, and even bowls and candelabras as if drawn from the awoken memories of their owner and given shape by the netherworld's weird aethers.

There was also a glowing figure of the presumed owner resting by what could only have been a window once. Rene's spectral cloud seemed brighter than a couple of hours before, pulsing steadily if slowly. The well-being of the once-collapsing spirit appeared to perk up noticeably with the resurfacing of its memories, but the "body" language of the person in question wasn't hinting at any form of jubilation. You could feel that they were aware of your presence, but, on some deeper level, it did not feel like there was much happiness tied to this knowledge.

We have unshackled the child's spirit You weaved a signal for Rene, to which they replied nothing.

Did you know it already? you followed up with less confidence, to which the fog-like shape barely nodded.

Choice. Why? was the first patchy response the spirit gave you after a long pause that almost made you consider leaving. This response was also a confirmation of your inquiry.

They weren't beating around the bush, didn't they? Uncertain of outcomes. A friend in a similar condition. Must learn to help. You formed the answers, even if faint-heartedly.

The spirit's "head" part of the haze turned towards you for a few long moments and then back to the phantom window through with they were staring at the ancient rainfall from their recollections. There was no other feedback, and even without any magic, you could feel the air of disappointment hanging in this phantasmagorical abode. Acknowledging that even the dead might have limits to hospitality, you formed one last request, hoping there would be an answer as gratitude for the first gig: A few nights ago, three men were killed nearby. Do you know who did it?

The glowing shape looked at you again before standing up and, presumably by you, turning in the direction of the event. It took fewer moments for them to form an answer than before. Hunter. Raven. Betrayal. Overtaken. Vengeance... Just as you parsed this string of words and associations, the shade looked at you for the last time and added up to the previous missive: Alone, please. And with this, Rene's form gradually dissipated into the green ambiance of Limbus. They returned to whatever was their anchor to this world, with their parting message, even if ridden of anger, hinting at the end of your exchange. But now, you had something to be more concerned about.

"Sephie, Ren," you drew the attention of your companions while slinking out of the Limbus and momentarily massaging your sore eyes. "The entity who killed those kherees might have been one of them before being overtaken by a demonic presence. And, allegedly, it hunts their own out of vengeance."

Ren's impenetrably neutral face cracked in wonderment. Seph's amber eyes widened in surprise.
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On the return way to Hjorn's yard, Ulren and Sephorah were absorbed in a conversation way too lively and heated for the hour of the night it was taking place on. Profusely using uncertain or rather conspiratorial nouns like "them," "that party," and "the subject," they were going through all the possible versions of how and why a kheree hunter would seek to hunt down their own former comrades and if the testimony of the "unlikely witness" can even be trusted. And when they ran out of versions, they began to think aloud whether it was worthwhile to "play the cards" or keep them for a better chance.

Resigned to your own devices, you reflected on the ghost's "treatment" experience in depths, synthesizing some postulates that might be crucial for when you would try to treat Karl. Namely, the reaction of void corruption to thaumaturgic influence, the adverse dependency between the contamination's activity and resilience, and the role of haber vitae - the innate vitality - in the subject's overall resistance to manipulations. With these insights, you also thought of how Isaac's help might play a big part in remedying Karl.

Lost in thoughts, your hand brushed against the silver medallion that harbored Mia, which made you recall the original reason for the nocturnal detour. But along with it, a distressing assumption caused the latest exploit emerged in your mind, forcing you to stop in your tread and to slink into the Limbus.

Have you strolled enough? You addressed the wondering message to the beast in the amulet, but no reply came.

Mia, are you there? You procured the trinket from the pocket, suppressing the rising suspicions. And yet, no answer was obtained.

Are you afraid of me now? You decided to come out clean instead of beating around the bush or feeding yourself with baseless optimism.

No. The short answer finally came in, wrapped in annoyance vibes similar to those of a living cat distracted from such essential activities as self-grooming or sleeping. Still, her typically feline-style haughty feedback made you exhale with relief; perhaps, even puzzling yourself about why you care so much about this.

Are you afraid of yourself? The ghost cat's sudden follow-up shot down your easement abruptly. As random as it felt coming from her, the inquiry made you instantaneously pout, frown, and indignantly chunk the possessed trinket back to the pocket without any answer. You'd struggle to pinpoint what exactly struck your nerve, but before you had a chance to vent, your gaze fell on Seph, waving a hand at you; "are you coming or what?" was written across her face. Of course, you obliged, rustling with feathers under the cape while catching up with the exotic duo, a bit embarrassed for creeping them out with your supernatural acts.

Less than ten minutes later, the outline of the now-so-familiar smithy's palisade came into view. It was only about a week since you found - even if a humble one - shelter behind it, but the feeling of secureness and coziness were already cropping up. Considering the springy and cheerful gait in which Sephorah flit into the yard the soonest Ren opened the gates, she was also beginning to feel at home. By the time she cheerily slinked back to the shed, most likely content about herself tonight, you and Ren were still slugging through the yard, both lost in thoughts. You continued to digest the night's spirification activities, and Ren almost certainly pondered on the hint regarding the local murderer's identity. Struck by a sudden realization of time and place, you saw a perfect opportunity to communicate a thought to conclude this night.

Gently if a bit suddenly, you clutched to Ren's palm and froze on the spot, drawing his attention and preventing him from going further.

"Hey, Ren..." you spoke quietly.


[] "After Seph revealed to me her story, I can guarantee that her unforeseen companionship tonight translates as "I have nothing and no one except for you, so I want to be helpful." Doubt she would say it out loud anytime soon, but it does not change the fact she really cares for us. I see how you are sticking to the promise of not antagonizing her, but would it be too much of me to also ask you to show her at least a little appreciation? Perhaps, something even tiny or symbolic, just so she would know that she isn't alone and we care about her, too."

[] "In front of others, you can pretend to be an impenetrable wall all you want, but I see how nervous you are about our involvement with kherees, the reveal we've just got, and this whole expedition in general. And if this wasn't enough trouble, I swear you feel somewhat regretful around Hjorn, not even mentioning other things you hold inside from before we met. You told me that I'm the reason you altered your course in the past. Should this be how you really feel, it would only be fair for me to hear your concerns and help however I can. If you believe I can be of your help, that is..."

[] Write-in

[] Actually, no - you don't have anything you'd like him to ponder on in particular. At least not yet. So, just give him a grin, pass it as playfulness, and maybe pass it as a cute gesture of gratefulness for him watching over you despite all the entailing inconveniences.


Your sudden move predictably caught Ren at a disadvantage, causing him to grumble something under his nose in a pretty confused manner. You, however, are confident that his attention was picked. And the proof of that didn't hesitate to show itself: it was now Ren who clutched to your hand, preventing you from heading to the "shed hotel," as your group nicknamed your shelter. Needless to say, you weren't expecting this turn of events.

"Hey, Lu," Ren softened the grip of his massive paw on your palm and squatted in front of you, more or less lining up with your face, "you don't look all that cheery behind this "I'm so deep in thoughts that you'd have to knock on wood to catch my attention" face of yours. Did something happen during these eerie errands that sour your mood?"

His tone was simultaneously tired, soft, and somewhat concerned. Even without conjuring any light, you could feel him seeing through you and your body language. The backside of the coin of knowing someone well: the chances are, they would know you about as good. All you could do in this situation was to come out clean and dry; after all, you promised yourself not to make him coddle and comfort you into the sound state of mind like he did after that failed attempt of yours to save the assault victim.

"Yes, in a way." You began, steeling your voice and stiffening up, "Rene - the spirit of an ancient shaman - expected me trying to be a gentle guide for the soul trapped in the abandoned house. But instead, due to the poor thing's void contamination, much like what threatens Karl, I chose to try removing it first. It did not go well, and I effectively butchered out the poor soul out of its binding for having no other options left. In the end, the child's soul was freed but not without harm, I learned a lot about how to treat Karl, but Rene saw his trust in me misplaced. Regardless of their possible hopes on my account, it is no longer relevant."

"I see," Ren commented, holding out a slight pause while staring at you, "Deciding to act on what you think would be best despite what's expected from you. Now, this brings back memories... But think of it this way: the lil' ghost no longer toils; we are better off in terms of intel than just a few hours ago, and you have a firmer grasp on what to do with the mage. It may not be perfect, but it's still net positive overall."

"You... aren't wrong," you muttered. Even though it was clear as day he simplified the situation to make you feel better about it, there was hardly anything you could've used to argue for the contrary.

"You are a fine lass, Lu, and I endorse what you do and did. So, don't let the frustration or uncertainty weigh on you - there's a lot good you are doing and plan to do." With saying that, he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. Maybe it was the lingering vibe of loneliness imprinted from probing the now-departed child's soul, or, perhaps, Ren's palms and words were just that warm, but you felt this warmth rubbing inside of you.

"Thank you," was your heartfelt if a bit shy response over a faint involuntary grin, "As you said - there's a lot of busy work waiting for us, so let's have some rest while we can afford it."

"Sure thing, Sunny," Ulren replied and gently patted your blonde head in his benchmark manner. You tried to put up an act of being embarrassed, but you loved each moment of it.
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Comfort, softness, and warmth. You experience all of these at the border of awareness and drowsiness. Your fingers return the sensation of brushing against feathers. Big, warm, silky feathers. You purr like a cat and try to dig your hands and frame deeper into this comfy surface. These sensations make you feel safe, wanting to leave the daily troubles behind. But as you luxuriate, the cozy superficies in front of you twitch, shaking off some of your content obliviousness.

You try to resist the advance of awareness, but the entity in front of you repeatedly moves, leaving you no choice but to slink out of the comfy oblivion and see what's happening. With a grumpy moan, you open your eyes and witness yourself clutching to an enormous mound made out of well-groomed brown & beige feathers. They shake more actively as you release them and step back.

Huh? I think I've seen this pattern somewhere; a random thought sparks in your reactivating brain.

As you begin to suspect something, the "hill" turns around, revealing a crooked beak and two humongous amber eyes. They are unblinking, and their gargantuan pupils appear to stare into your very soul, emotionlessly and almost insultingly studying.

It's... an owl? A chunky fat owl?! Wait a moment, where have I seen this before? From the very depths of your memory, a specific recollection desperately tries to break free from under the layers of information and experiences you've accumulated. And the closer it gets to the metaphorical limelight of your attention, the more you feel the unease as if you won't like what would come next if the association proves correct.

As you struggle with the resurfacing recollection, the humongous owl head twitches weirdly, blinks, and turns around, re-exposing its "nape" to you. But not even a moment passes, the feathery surface shakes again, and from below, a pair of jumbo-sized glowing jade eyes accompanied with a second beak emerge. The creature opens the latter and produces a loud, uncanny screechs. You see the reflections of a solemn mountain and a tower in the void-like pupil of the monster's glowing eyes before the sheer surprise and intensity of the scene washes you away from the dream.

You wake up with a gasp to the mad pounding of your heart and the shock of what you have just witnessed.
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For the next ten minutes, you sat in your bedroll, wiping the light sweat from your forehead and then trying to rationalize the nightly delusion. Contrary to the feverish state you found yourself in upon awakening, your mind was now in full swing, and memories appeared to flow unobstructed. That creature... wasn't it the very first living being you saw after waking up in the middle of the Vustmark woods? How come you still remember it to see in your dreams, and what does it have to do with you? And, if this is one of your "special" seer dreams, what is it about a mountain and a tower? Can the prior one be from Eldhaetaed where the Rhoths reside, or, perhaps, that mythical one Amalia mentioned - Grathofd? Same for the building - it could easily be either Bael or the Westlander's holy Obsidian peak. Can this whole dream, if it is to symbolize something, hint at you being watched by something or someone associated with those landmarks? All these questions give you a headache; better to ask Amalia when she wakes up.

Speaking of which, you finally looked around, finding your friend fast asleep and noticing the first dim rays of light making their way through the cracks and crannies between the wooden planks. The hour must be right before the early dawn, with the sun peeking up within less than ten minutes. Putting aside the securely-memorized dream, you proceeded to fix Amalia's blanket, which she probably pushed away during her own dreamscape adventures. She does not produce any sound after you enacted your caring intentions, but the corners of her lips lifted up a little.

Done with Amalia and witnessing Seph missing, you drowsily wake up your supernatural senses, registering her soul spark giving off readings of methodical movements in the yard. Curious, you lifted up your frame and peeked through the tiny window hole, catching glimpses of your exotic friend performing well-measured, smooth moves. Apparently, she had her short night's rest and was now practicing choreography outside while everyone else was enjoying their last dreams. Even entranced by her motions a little, you found this scene of her lonesome exercises somewhat sad: she doesn't appear eager on letting others witness the multitude of her facets as a person, preferring to hide behind the mask of an unconcerned swindler. It wasn't something from the realm of unexpected, considering how much she was hurt in the past, but perhaps, you still harbored hope for her to get her share of healing and shine on the world like she dreamed of a long time ago.

After reassuring oneself on Sep's whereabouts, you shifted your inner gaze towards the boys. Ren's spark appeared to be situated by the wall and somewhat elevated but still dormant. Apparently, Ulren got snuffed out while taking off his armaments or having a seat before making it into his bedding. Poor Ren - if it wasn't for Rosaline's etiquette lessons in which she forbade you from ever encroaching on unsuspecting men's privacy, you would've definitely snuck behind the curtain separating the boys' side of the shed from the girls one if only to cover him with a blanket. After all, the group's most stoic member deserves care too, even (or especially) if he never asks for it.

As for Isaac and Jory, you did not need to use your souls' reading to verify their presence: the healer was snoring a bit (did he have his nose broken sometime in the past?), and the alchemist was mumbling incoherently, possibly haunted by some of his many fears. Karl's soul was of more interest to you: miraculously, the degree of the chaos aether infestation spread remained stagnant after all these days. But alas, the strength of his soul spark's shimmer, and the density of the intermediate layers felt enfeebled. Karl might have withstood the deterioration until now, but the resource of his soul for prolonged resistance was now significantly depleted.

With all your groupmates ' statuses acknowledged, you flopped back into the sleeping roll, staring at the ceiling. It didn't feel like you'd snatch any more rest after that freakish dream, so you might as well plan out the coming day.
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Unless the treatment option is picked, Karl will make ailment rolls.

Karl's void contamination state:

3 (base) * 4 (severity) X 2 (spread) -> d2 12 willpower checks for resistance.
In case of failure(s), the CON / WIS attribute check(s) against harm is 7

- each set of resistance checks would happen after each story day or two
- each failed willpower check warranties +1 to severity for the next round
- two or more failed resistance checks warranty +1 to spread for the next round
- if the sum of willpower rolls surpasses the sum of willpower checks warranty by twice, 1 spread is subtracted for the next round
- if the sum of willpower rolls does not surpass the sum of willpower checks by twice, the target receives -1 to willpower for the duration of contamination.
- each failed willpower check leads to either CON or WIS attribute checks, which are the sum of the base and severity

Lucifina's treatment capabilities:
3 (base) * 4 (severity) X 1 (incompetency) -> 1 independent arcane skill check -VS 1 base * severity tests (12)
Automatic success if picked, considering Lucifina's 12 Arcane skill value.

Don't forget to pick Lucy's input towards Ulren.

Lucy's plan of action for today (pick one):

[] Come in contact with Elgar. Perhaps, it's not too late to oblige his plea for help shedding light on his Mentor's disappearance (Karl's state might deteriorate. A new quest will be enacted. Will expire if not picked).
[] Attend Karl. Luckily, his state did not degrade, making this the best time to solve this problem (An event sequence will be started. Lucy's proficiency and Karl's state guarantee success)
[] Attend domestic and provisional issues. Namely, rearming, asking for a new outfit, trying to learn about Jory's "pet project", and maybe asking for an armor piece? (An event sequence. It will not expire if not picked this turn. Karl's state might deteriorate.).