"I trust him. I trust all of you. We have all defended each other in one way or another. I'm just saying i don't mind getting my hands dirty getting out of here. I just don't want to get my soul dirty by doing things like that and we have to say something to each other when someone crosses or is about to cross the line from doing what is necessary to doing something bad. Throwing that man in there was BAD."
"Its like stealing bread to eat when you don't have a way to buy it. There is a difference between stealing bread and murdering a family to get the bread.....yea yea I'll enplane.....what I'm saying is one is wrong but the other is just plane evil."
As the Watchmen discuss the morality of their actions, Cats gives the room a lookignover, but finds nothing of use. Meanwhile, Brother Butterfly places a hand upon the door and focuses his senses beyond. A few minutes later a scene appears in his mind's eye...
You look in upon what once was the Briarstone dining hall. Now, it’s the village of a savage tribe. Tendrils of yellow mist creep throughout the entire space, wisps endlessly lapping and fondling the bizarre encampment. Wildly burning braziers stand amid yellow tents and scrap structures. Portions of the western and northern walls have collapsed, but ramshackle barricades have risen to surround them. To the east, two sets of wide stairs climb to the floor above. Around the stairs nearly a dozen bodies hang crucified upon the walls, dried crimson streaks below them, sacks cinched around their heads.
There are a few dozen survivors camping here. All wear some bit of yellow, but they don’t all look like battle-hardened brutes or glassy-eyed cultists.
Brother Butterfly takes his hands off of the door.
He places them on his head, almost either like a prisoner surrendering, or a runner having run a sprint, and is clearly winded.
He pauses, trying to frame what he saw in the right words.
Well, we need to go through these doors. But we have to plan it properly.
There is a refugee encampment on the other side, but it's all dedicated to Zandalus. They have about 20+ people . It's like a shanty town of ragged survivors. Most don't look like "Enforcers" or toughs, but they have strung up bodies on a wall - obviously dissenters.
Thinking of options or gambits.
Well, we obviously want to dress up and look like Apostles.
But how do we spin a story that makes our survival believable.
We also need to make it so they don't try and explore the areas South.
Suggestions he makes.
He is fairly confident that Desna will let him mimic the darkness from the Attic Whisperer. At least for a short time. If we fake a story that we took on the darkness and the voices. That the room was actually a maze that took us hours to find this door.... that might be a big enough lie to smooth a transition to the Zandalus Ward.
Cats listens to Brother's description and then takes out his yellow shift robe. He puts it on and then tries to take on the same disaffected look as the rest of the
children of the corn Zandalus' minions.
"Yeah, we don't want to hurt them if we don't cat to," Cats agrees. "Maybe we don't tell them anything and just pretend we belong there. They can't know everyone, can they? Or maybe the others converted us while they were looking for the notes about Zandalus? We have those, right? We cat give them back. Or use them as a bargain chip to get to Zandalus."
I believe we made a copy of the Zandalus notes so we're happy to give over the originals.
"Good idea Cats! Now let's practice a couple of those mantra's.
"Zandalus sees" and "we were told there were cookies. "
Any others we should go over?
I also think we tell them we were sent to get records. Which we did, and got stuck between a few strange rooms. We saw other dead apostles.
There was even a winged thing that flew off with one of us into the mists.
It was then that we braved the darkness and whispers. It was like a 2 hour maze... all in the dark. With sounds and rat attacks. We used
Medicine to heal ourselves, if they ask.
I also don't think we should be zealots. That way we can maybe identify others we can save. Others that might not be murderous child killing bastards.
He says this in lower tones as he applies the yellow flame onto foreheads.
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Fearless lays his crossbow on the ground and throws the robes on over his head, allowing Brother Butterfly to paint the flame onto his forehead. It is for the greater good after all.
Reaching down he reloads his crossbow. "Let's go get us some cookies!" He says with a smile, sweeping his arm out in a kind gesturing motion for brother Butterfly to lead the way.
The following is assuming the door is unlocked , or that we can unlock it. Also, once we enter the room, you can all look at the BB spoiler above. It has a GREAT description of the room. Way better than I gave.
Brother Butterfly gives acknowledgement, and goes about setting the stage. Making certain that each "fake Apostle" looks reasonably appropriate in garb and fatigue. Even giving a shade around the eyes to feign a look sleepless nights out in the roughs.
He then pulls out a rope for all of them to hold onto. This prop will help to believe that we traveled almost endlessly in the dark.
When ready, he preps the other Watchmen as he will make the area dark (like the Attic Whisperer did) .
Desna- You are the light of my world. Grant us this ruse so that we may confront The Yellow.
Cast Darkness so it ends at the doorway. Cast Luck for my next D20 rolls.
Opening the door, he stumbles through. Leading the others with their hands on the rope.
He has prepped Fearless to exclaim, " Zandalus Sees" as soon as possible. Then Brother Butterfly will chime in with his diplomacy/Guile.
diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24
Bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
luck bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Note: I have a minus one for Charisma due to the Punks Disease. I don't know if that's negated here as a circumstance bonus or not.
He also closes the door after a few rounds- but first Making certain to make a show of the darkness room still persists - He wants his ruse to not be blown by the darkness spell wearing out.
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Cats follows Blufferfly as they walk back. He tries to seem appropriately diplomatic or bluffy, as needed.
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11 Diplo/Bluff to aid
"Yeah." Cats mugs, trying to avoid saying 'cats' instead.
cats. Cats. cats. CATS. cats. Cats. CATS.
Shut up! SHUT UP!!
Cats has a pained look on his face.
After getting in character as wayward Apostles in Orpiment, Brother Butterfly darkens the room once more and opens the way into what was once the Dining Hall of Briarstone.
The Watchmen arrive into is a place much changed - a camp of survivors resembling the village of a savage tribe. Tendrils of yellow mist creep throughout the entire space, wisps endlessly lapping and fondling the bizarre encampment. Wildly burning braziers stand amid yellow tents and scrap structures. Portions of the western and northern walls have collapsed, but ramshackle barricades have risen to surround them. To the east, two sets of wide stairs climb to the floor above. Around the stairs nearly a dozen bodies hang crucified upon the walls, dried crimson streaks below them, sacks cinched around their heads.
There are a few dozen survivors camping here. All wear some bit of yellow, but they don’t all look like battle-hardened brutes or glassy-eyed cultists. Still, most bear a wild-eyed look of madness that was previously contained within the Ward of the Wicked and upon the sudden arrival of a new group a small crowd begins to form brandishing mismatched and improvised weapons. Bits of conversation make it to your ears as they consider what to do.
"You recognize 'em?"
"The one with the crazy eyes looks familiar."
"Which one's that?"
"He's only got one crazy eye."
"Yeah, but which one is it?"
"Could be the mark of a shapechanger..."
"Wouldn't they pretend to be one of us then?"
"Well, the yellow..."
"I mean their faces, idiot."
"I like the little one. He's cute."
"No, the other one. The young one."
"He's not young enough for you I think."
"You just want him for yourself!"
"Nah, I'll take the halfling."
"I can taste shapechangers. Let's cut out the fat one's liver, have it with some fava beans and a nice chianti."
Good reference, Rah.
Cats' face is increasing strained as if something was *wrong*.
cats. Cats. cats. CATS. cats. Cats. CATS.
Shut up! SHUT UP!! SHUT THE CAT UP!!
He looks around, trying to feel like he fits in.
"Hey, where are the catting cookies? We were told there would be catties." Cats blinks as if he can't believe what he said then looks down at the floor. There is relief in his face.
We are on a mission. We have knowledge in our heads that Zandalus sent Apostles into the chaos to get. He wants to know what we know.
Zandalus will be unhappy if you mess with us! We want our cookies!
Staring at the one that made a threat on my liver.
My liver likes where it is right now.
Slightly turning to The Mariner.
Big Guy, why don't you tell these yahoos what will happen to them if they mess with us. If they don't immediately move back 5 feet, why don't you SHOW them what will happen to them! After slicing a few --Maybe toss KidToucher into the darkness maze with the whispers and sobs, and the Gibbering Mouthers.
Turning back to the more aggressive of the masses. I suggest you go on about your own business and leave us to ours.
I am trying to keep this more diplomatic, and let The Mariner do the intimidating. I don't know If I just did a Bluff, or Diplomacy, or if I was just supporting The Mariner in Intimidate. If it was Bluff, Please note I told nothing but the truth. You decide- here's a D20 roll.
?: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Diplomacy +9 or 10. Bluff. +2 or +3. Plus we have convincing truth. Intimidate Support = +3.
Seeing the inside of this room makes Pinkies skin crawl and once he hears the way some of these refugees are talking about Fearless and himself his nerves get the better of him and he starts to pace back and fourth. In an effort to keep from lashing out at these miscreants about their behavior he pulls out his marble eye and pops it into his mouth.
perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14
Fearless points up at them, he never did learn how to shut his mouth. "I ain't no kid. I though Zandalus hired on the smart lot in this place! Now go get us the cookies before I go get Zandalus! The only mark of the shapeshifter is on this fool..." Fearless points his thumb to Brother Butterfly. "...And that is because he has proven himself to be on Zandalus' side MULTIPLE times." Fearless makes sure he highly exaggerates the word multiple as he mostly believes Brother Butterfly and the others to kill him at any moment anyways.
Diplomacy or Bluff Aid Another: 1d20 ⇒ 16
The Watchmen's disguises, along with a few choice phrases of praise to Zandalus, and some not-so-subtle threats, give the crowd pause long enough for a man dressed in the coat of a Briarstone doctor to push his way through. Brother Butterfly and Fearless remember him from their first day in Briarstone - a patient named Wren Elbourne.
“Good!" Wren declares loudly, "More come to gaze beyond, to serve the orpiment! Welcome, friends!” He approaches with open arms and empty hands. As soon as he’s close enough, he desperately whispers.
“Nod and follow me if you want to live.”
Brother Butterfly nods along, and gives the "come one lets go and follow" hand movement to the rest of The Watchmen.
Thank you, this is the welcoming that we anticipated after the trials and tribulations suffered in the rooms beyond. We are here to serve. Especially to help the mutes, and the stutterers and those that are thrown into the asylum by accident or their family wishes to hide them here.
What is the roll to send subtle messages that we recognize him and that Mura and Juglan and Bates are safe?
Fearless subtely catches Brother Butterfly's secret wink and follows along. This is it. It is happening. he grips his crossbow tightly as he follows Wren.
Fearless soon realizes it isn't as bad as his mind initially led him to believe and watches as Pinkie stuffs away his glass eye and looks up at the man's empty socket. "Say Cyclops? How did you lose that anyways?"
Wren leads the Watchmen in Orpiment through the crowd of madness, weaving among sleeping pallets and makeshift tents, stepping over a few patients too traumatized to do more then clutch themselves in fear, to the northeastern part of the dining hall where an area has been set aside as a sort of hospital. Bedsheets have been hung as curtains to provide minimal privacy for sick and injured patients. Once out of sight of the crowd, Wren turns to Brother Butterfly. "I don't know how you survived, or managed to get a hold of those robes, but I'm trusting that you are not like the zealots in here." His eyes glance warily at the Mariner and Pinkie. "And that you aren't going to do something too crazy, like tell anyone that I'm not a real doctor. Almost everyone left is from the Ward of the Wicked, so they don't know any better. The rest are catatonic, or too scared to turn me in. When the riots swept through the asylum I managed to convince the leader of these Apostles, an old man named Zandalus, that I was a new doctor here, just arrived. I'd never met Zandalus before, and he didn't seem to care who I was as long as I remained useful. I know some minor healing magic, and so far he's tolerated me as long as I tend to his cult."
Fearless, I think you mistook Pinkie's glass eye as a replacement for a missing one. It's not. The glass eye was found in the pocket of a dead patient a while back.
before walking off with Wren, BB closed the darkness door. Maintaining the illusion.
"We pride ourselves on being smart!
Giving a good old Baron Munchaousen smile while curling his curly mustache.
"Those that you knew in the common room are safe, but food will run out in a couple days. We are looking at getting to the kitchens to help them, then find a way off this island.
Anyone that is not a murderous sycophant can come with us when we escape.
Do you know more buzz words we can use to fit in?"
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"Ferget all that mousy rouse - where's the big Z sleeping? Cut the head off the snake ya'know?
At this, BB has a pained look on his face.I'm not so certain Mariner. We shouldn't abandon this guise so quickly - especially since it's working- we are in the middle of CultVille. Information is King. We need more information.
Besides, it'd be incredibly out of character to not take a break.
Everyone in this cult is selfish and looking for cookies or for ways to get in favor with Zandalus. If we play the selfish role correctly, we'd grab and eat a cookie or two -- especially after we went through a harrowing experience. Maybe relax and unwind for a couple hours. To immediately jump up and say, we are going to see Zandalus might be suspicious. At the least, they see through the ruse. At the WORST, they think we have something VERY valuable that we want to get to Zandalus ASAP and they will conspire to take it from us.
Looking at Cats and Pinkie and Fearless -
Do you think you can reasonably mingle? Maybe know a bit more?
I'd like to "discretely" gather a list of survivors for Captain York and Lady Winter. We also do need to have some kind of view of the kitchen and the rooms West of here. MOST IMPORTANTLY - Don't tell anyone about the fact there's other survivors. This cult , well - is a cult.
Does anyone have any gameplans for stealth or subterfuge?
Then, turning to Wren he poses a question.
Did you happen to own a Viol before the Riots? We found an amazing Viol- regrettably without the bowstring. if it is yours, it's back at the safety zone.
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"Yea,...maybe you're right,...too soon. Eat some cookies, drink some toilet wine, then when they least expect it", the Mariner makes a mashing motion with fist in palm, "BOMP!!" a little louder than he should but adds to the crazy.
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"Zandalus took Briarstone 5, maybe 6 days ago?" Wren replies to Fearless, seeming unsure. "It's hard to tell time with this mist everywhere."
"We have plenty of food for now. The apostles killed the head chef, but spared his assistant, Ivory. Food should last a couple months as long as she's here to manage the kitchen, but I'm afraid she will only last as long as her cookie supplies. She's scared witless by the other apostles and getting food out unnoticed will be tricky without her help."
"Keep your voice down." Wren hushes the Mariner when he suggests going straight for Zandalus. Peeking past the curtains to make sure no one overheard the mutinous words of the old man, he says, "Zandalus and his closest followers keep to what remains of the halls upstairs. No one is allowed up there, though. Zandalus’s thugs stand guard, but worse, that weird mist collects up there like a snake in a hole. Who knows what they do in that fog? But we all hear the chanting and screaming...
even though we try not to.”
As he talks, Wren keeps glancing at to hooded bodies strung up on the eastern wall. “You seem like you might be strong enough to take out some of Zandalus’s guards, but there’s an army of them. And he's got the Bag Lady leading them. Even if you beat them all, Zandalus himself is still locked away in that maze of fog upstairs. So, it seems to me, the only way to get out of here is to get rid of that mist—and I have a hint of how.
“Zandalus calls his most devoted acolytes his oneirogens. Most stay locked away with him upstairs, but at least one watches over the northwestern tower. I don’t know what she does up there, but I think she’s alone. If you got to her, you could probably wring some of Zandalus’s secrets out of her, maybe even learn how to get rid of this awful mist. Once it’s gone, what you do about Zandalus is up to you.”
So, it seems to me, the only way to get out of here is to get rid of that mist—and I have a hint of how
FINALLY! Something simple and straight forward in this (pardon the pun) Mad house.
In this exact linear progression. We mingle and learn more about some of the survivors and the apostles/acolytes. If anyone can learn what an Oneirogen is - let me know.
Next, we travel to visit Ivory. *I* talk her into sneaking food out via Fearless's Haversack. And I KNOW I can succeed in convincing her to do it.
He smiles thinking how his charms will easily win the day. He even takes a glance at a pouch that has some cologne in it.
When people are asleep -Pinkie or Fearless make a quick run back to the Sanctuary - drop off the food - and we make our way North West so we can explore and kill the Oneirogen in the NW tower.
Ticking off the steps on his fingers.
One, Two, Three. BOMP.
Easy as Ivory's cookies!
A smile that almost reaches his ears is upon his face.
Okay guys. Step one: Mingle.
knowledge religion or Planes about Oneirogens : 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22
"You want to risk all of this for sneaking out a little bit of food? Winter will be good for a a day or so while we finish this Shapeshifter. What if we get caught or another door begins to bleed? This place is getting crazier and crazier with each passing moment." Fearless looks questioningly at Brother Butterfly.
"We have our catting orders, halfling," Cats replies to Fearless. "Lady Winter needs food. So, we bring food. That's the deal. Sometimes you follow orders." Cats hears the words that come out of his mouth and realizes that he might be used to taking orders...or at least it comes naturally.
"Besides, not sure *you* want to be around a bunch of crazy people when they start catting hungry," Cats says mischievously. "Here in these parts, they may a mean halfling soup." Cats teases outrageously.
Cats goes to mingle, trying to act like the rest...crazy.
He'll look and snoop. If he finds something that might be useful to others, he might even quietly pocket it.
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26 Sleight of Hand
Coudl someone move Cats to the left side barricade on the map? Won't have access to PC until tomorrow.
Cats will see if there is access to the outside as well, and see what the weather is like out there now.
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d4 ⇒ 4
Oneirogens were once normal mortals who have suffered a rare but terrible curse. Within them lies a sliver-sized tear between planes, a crack hardly larger than a pinprick that destroys everything they once were in an endless deluge of planar power. Created by magical mistakes and otherworldly conjunctions, oneirogens wander in a haze as living husks whose grip on any reality has been erased. What little remains of their minds is bent on self-preservation, even as they are locked at the center of storms of strange powers endlessly streaming from their mouths and nostrils. The death of their personalities might be a mercy, but what lingers on are primal beings, slaves of uncontrolled planar might. While the portal trapped within an oneirogen might connect to any plane of existence, it most commonly provides a path to the Dimension of Dreams. As mortal minds already drift toward that realm, breaches between the waking and unconscious worlds might occur when potent magics attempt to tamper with the boundaries of dream.
Many oneirogens are linked to the Dimension of Dreams—they spew a sour, yellow fog. Creatures that enter this fog often fall into a deep sleep. Additionally, they do not receive natural healing from resting for the next 24 hours. The creature can attempt another Will save every round to wake up and can be woken up as if it had been affected by the spell sleep.
You recall the fate of Doctor Losandro, and the multicolored mists spewing from her mouth. You believe she may have been a corrupted and incomplete form of the oneirogen curse.
Fearless and Cats have a brief disagreement about pilfering food, and Wren weighs in on Fearless' side. "If you aren't in dire need then I wouldn't take the chance. If anything goes wrong it could bring a crazy army down on you."
Cats moves out to mingle, joining the masses of unwashed madness. The kind of patients here are much different then the benign folk of the Common Ward. Unpredictable, dangerous. The Twin would have felt right at home.
As he checks the barricade he finds that the weather outside is stormy, with winds assaulting every bush and tree in the northern courtyard. Nearby, a man with a scar across his forehead chuckles. "'Bout feeding time fer the ghoulies. Are ye gonna be ther supper?"
The Mariner adds, "I'm with Fearless on this one. Hell, I'll be done eating what we steal away in a napkin by the time we get back to the captain. I say since we're in, we stay, waiting for the b*+%~%#-bird-one eye lady to show up and bash her. We got one chance, and it's either to save the day or save a dinner." he looks back masking sure no one sneaking around,"Even this guy agrees!"
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"Are ye gonna be ther supper?"
Cats looks at the man, then back outside.
"Ain't Zandalus taken care of them ghouls yet? How many do you ponder are cat there? 5? 6? More? Might be we might spread the word of Zandalus better if we could get to the other side. Ain't cat right?" Cats replies, examining the barricade in detail.
Can you describe the barricade in more detail? Is there a way out here? *Can* there be a way out here?
Thinking about what Wren and Fearless said. Weighing and measuring.
I value Fearless's opinion, and part of me agrees with him. IF we can find a way off the island in less than a day or two, you have a valid point.
With that said, I am a sociologist of sorts. The mental welfare of the survivors is part of our duties. We need to regularly give them better and better visions of hope.
If we are gone for more than a day, it will be assumed that we have perished to the frights of this place. But, if you or Pinkie can sneak back, give a thumbs up, drop off a haversack filled with food ( up to 80 lbs -and not a napkin worth), we have bolstered their confidence and held back the pall of this place for another length.
At the least, a search party won't stumble into this room and blow our deception to hell.
Taking a pause ...
Again, Fearless and Wren are right in not making moves to blow our cover. So, if getting the food works out, we will do it. If not, we should at least look for ways to get one of us back for a 5-10 minute update and come back. A diversion looks pretty easy to set up around here.
We have drugs, Opium, a casual conversation with the guards on duty is all we need.
Feeling that he has said his peace, he watches the others mingle.
He likes the cleanliness of the pseudo "hospital". He is not interested in shaking hands with "the grubbies" in the shanty town.
He takes a 10-20 minute look around the hospital to see how he can help those that are injured (heal skills, no spells).
Beyond that, he starts writing lists on how Wren can reorganize the slums and team up people to clean the common room. Making Action Item lists for "Blue Team" and "Green Team" - 8 teams in total.
Whitewashing, Hooded Hangman disposal, and sweeping are examples of chores for each team to do.
Not understanding that no one cares about his lists or that there's such a reign of chaos that organization is a laughable joke. He works intently - crossing things out and reassigning. Never getting the lists to a point he actually tries to implement them or to have Wren put them into action. Hopefully the others get back with intelligence or get moving so his lists never see an attempted reality.
Pinkie whispers to Brother B "I don't think getting out would be a problem. A couple of us could always just tell them we are going looking for more stuff. Getting the food into a pack unnoticed would be the problem." Then he shrugs and adds "We could also put a couple of these evil creeps down while they sleep.......I told you no on that....If the boy don't want to do it I will just give the word........Don't listen to him."
The barricade is about 4 feet tall and manned by a few Apostles who keep a wary eye out for trouble.
Crossing the barricade counts as 2 squares of movement. The barricade provides cover, but only to creatures within 30 feet of it. An attacker can ignore the cover if they are closer to the obstacle than their target.
Map Notes: The map got bumped. I have fixed it. Also, there are two doors that lead to the kitchens along the northwestern wall that weren't obvious while the map was misaligned.
Fearless would never admit it but while these sort of things don't seem to naturally scare him they do unnerve him a bit as he has never seen their like before. At least as little as he can remember.
"We will get the food. I just don't want to get caught."
Or left behind....
"But with only one of us returning how do we fend off against those flying bastards if another one shows up? That creature took off with the Twin in a single swoop!"
He waves his hands in the air, unsure what to do as his bare feet plod back into the dining area to mingle or see if there is leftover breads or meats to take back.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
Fearless grabs a few meals worth from the stock and openly places them into his pack. Even if another apostle looks at him questioningly he glares back. "What!? You never seen anyone have 3rd breakfast or second supper before?"
Seeing that there are two doors that he can view, BB opens each of the doors and looks inside. He doesn't go inside yet, just wants to see what he is dealing with to form a game plan.
He will probably follow Fearless into his room , using his diplomacy and words to gain confidences.
diplomacy +10, but plus 9 of still with affliction. Also, is anyone good at cooking?
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As the group begins to spread out and mingle Wren places a hand on Brother Butterfly's arm, and presses a couple potion vials into his hand. "Take these. They might help you."
A potion of cure moderate wounds and a potion of remove disease.
Intent on finding food to stow away, Fearless soon realizes that none is kept in the dining hall. He and Brother Butterfly eventually head for the kitchen by way of the northwestern doors.
They discover that the asylum’s kitchens have suffered heavy damage, both from the quakes and from being a primary target for looting. The pantry and a storage room to the northeast have both collapsed, and a line of large rocks deliberately cordons off the westernmost door. A row of fireplaces still stands intact among heaps of barrel-sized pots and cooking implements.
A cauldron over the kitchen’s westernmost fireplace clatters as if some boiling brew were within, yet the fireplace it hangs within is cold. A semicircle of rubble marks a 10 foot area around it.
There is no food in the kitchens either, but supplies can be seen in a preparation area through doors to the south. There they find a plump woman working at a table preparing cookies, with a few Apostles loitering about nearby.
When Fearless enters and begins to take some supplies they confront him.
"Hey! Who're you? What do you think you're doing?" One demands. The other stands at his shoulder, and echoes his words like a pirate's parrot. "Yeah! What're you doin?" He then launches into an impromptu song.
"Better not steal those cookies! No no no!
Takin cookies is a bagging offense! Yeah yeah yeah!
You'll get bagged!
You'll get bagged!
You'll get baaaaagged! Yeah!!"