Pshirriag Uif Eosuidim {Hospice for Lost Minds}

"Well if you are so keen on answers you could go try talking to old Thom. Though in the last few weeks since he was committed to that....place well...lets just say I've my doubts he'll be capable of much in the way of discussion. Some of the howls or screams we hear even from this distance...well needless to say that place gives us all the creeps."

Citizen of Port Tiller to a Witch-Hunter asking some questions about one of the patients recently sent to Pshirriag Uif Eosuidim

On the largest island in Foljeim Lake, about five kilometers north of the lakeshore town of Port Tiller is the infamous Pshirriag Uif Eosuidim, or 'Hospice of Lost Minds'. An asylum for the mentally insane, unstable and just generally incoherent, it is known for being a place where the term 'medicine' can take many meanings. Like any such facility they are supposed to provide medical care to their patients, seek to help them, or at least make them comfortable until the end. This is what is supposed to happen, and on paper what does happen. However locals in the village of Port Tiller can tell many tales of the place, and sometimes the screams can be heard, if the wind is just right, coming down from the institution. The complex is massive, the fifty or so staff living on site 'caring' for their current population of seventy or so patients, which is only about half capacity. Lobotomies of course, are considered acceptable medicine, though there are many scholars beginning to debate this concept, saying the brain is simply too complex to trust any random surgeon with cutting into it.

Of the inmates, excuse me, ahem, 'patients' here a large percentage, about thirty or so, are people suffering from 'Frost Visions' or something unhelpfully called 'Voices' with no added context. People whom went looking for the Primordial Peak, for prophecy, and survived. Most have been in the place for years, some for decades. However one is of particular interest to you, a recent patient actually. One whom made that very pilgrimage, or so he claimed, and only recently returned. An old informant, a fishmonger of no real consequence, but worth touching base with once in a while, passed on the information to you via coded letter, thinking it could be something.

You'd reached a dead end in your investigation of medical records. As had your investigation of those bodies you could find, the few whom were buried, and not burned as they should have been, when returned home to their families from that place. You inspected them thoroughly before burning them proper, making detailed notes of the.....changes, being sure you were on the right trail. The missing bodies weigh on you, and that is your concern, the missing bodies. The stories in some of these villages, the tracks. Its a puzzle that would make no sense to most, indeed most would not even look deep enough to see it, but to you it reeks of heresy.

And so after journeying across Lake Foljeim, and spending the night in a modest, but comfortable room at the inn back in Port Tiller, you are here, approaching the iron wrought gates of Pshirriag Uif Eosuidim, to question the diagnosed madman Thom Folitt. The man, whom according to your fishmonger friend, predicted to the day a raid on the town by some of the dreaded mer, which was seen off, though nearly two dozen died. Apparently he kept complaining for the last few weeks, how cold he was. In the middle of summer. As a Suranthi born man in good health by physical appearance, the tundra summer should be quite warm and pleasant to him. Given his talk of voices, and visions, and his sudden violent outbursts as he got 'too cold', he'd been turned over to the nurses and doctors here by his wife. What care he was receiving you know not. But as you approach the gates of the place, examining the property you start to feel a sense of unease. A gut instinct telling you something is wrong. Perhaps its the graveyard on the property, a disquieting sight to be sure. Perhaps its the feeling of being watched. Perhaps its the lack of windows on much of the second, third, forth and fifth floors of the building, likely where the patients wards are located. Perhaps it is the fact that you suspect one or more of the doctors, or indeed the chief of medicine of this backwater Hospice to be a heretic.

Or perhaps its the fact that you note the two dwarven orderlies you can see are openly are armed, axes and knives much in attendance. But you've a job to do, and questions needing answers, the subject to ask within the walls of this institution. So you simply check both pistols, insuring they are loaded and primed, insure your sword is secure and easy to bring to hand, make sure your cloak is not in the way of your ice blue and silver lance pin denoting your office and rank. Once sure, you approach the gate, hailing the human orderly on watch on the other side.

Purpose / Function

"The Pshirriag Uif Eosuidim, or more commonly known as the Hospice for Lost Minds, is meant to be an institute for treatment of people who's....mental...instabilities are not heretical in nature, and therefore not criminal, but are quite dangerous to themselves or others should they be left unattended. To be specific it is an institution that, according to their chief of medicine, specializes in helping those afflicted with 'hallucinations of any and all kinds.", or so the official records had stated. But as I approached the place....the armed orderlies. The lack of windows. The iron fence and gates with needled wire all about it, three meters tall. The fear and terror in the patients eyes. The distinct lack of care or compassion in every orderly I met.....well needless to say I knew I should contact you Master Vincent."

Lewis Nicols, local fishmonger and skilled boatman in Port Tiller.

Alterations

'The Labratory' a massive basement complex connecting all three builidings. Not so much an addition as a repurposing and expansion project. That and bricking in all the windows, since those stones are newer than the rest, a skilled eye could tell.

Architecture

Built of iron and granite, large stone blocks on solid foundations the building five floored construction, without windows, looks almost like a fort or castle, and less like a hospital. This is the main building of course, the one housing the patients. The roof is steep, done in a simple peaked styling, but with a large clock and clocktower built against the center of the peak at the rear of the building. Two carved ravens the size of middle school children look out over the courtyard of the main structure. The yards are dull, ill kept, barren, and generally an eyesore, the snow and ice always helping hide some of this truth in the spring, winter and autumn months. On the west end of the property the next largest structures, the two housing units providing modest, but comfortable apartments for the medical staff, and their families if they so desired though most whom have children choose not to, instead living in Port Tiller. They work their six days, sleeping here in one of the empty flats, and until after their shift on the sixth day, and then they will go home to their families for a day. These two buildings are built in a similar styling, but naturally the staff housing has windows.

History

Originally built in 1299 SuD as an instituition for the mentally unfit or unstable, back when Port Tiller was not the only community on the island, nor the was it the biggest on these islands in Lake Foljeim. For most of its history it is but a foot note, one of perhaps dozens of such 'hospitals of the mind'. However this all began to change in 1561 SuD when the facility was purchased by a group calling themselves the 'The Visionaries" and a new Chief of Medicine took over, one Olena Grafwood, a human lady whom had been studying and practicing medicine for almost five years, before her grandparents both died, and their will left everything to her, their only grandchild.

Not long after the stories and rumors began. Stories of torture, forced heretical practices, experimenting with all manner of chemical applications to the brain whilst lobotomizing the patient. MCPC shock therapy. The works. It was said the screams could be heard all about the island, and they sometimes keep Port Tiller up at night, even from that distance. It is these rumors that are the main reason why a Witch-Hunter is no surprise to the folk in town when/if one were to show up

Tourism

None, this is not the kind of place one visits for a holiday.

Founding Date

Jundar 22nd, 1299

Type

Hospital

Parent Location

Evani Baruntacht

Owner

Dr. Olena Grafwood

Ruling/Owning Rank

Chief of Medicine

Owning Organization

Cult of the All Seeing

Characters in Location

• Dr. Olena Grafwood