"Cats" |
Cats stands bolt upright, his hands leaving their defensive posturing on the chair and immediately going to straighten is matted hair and long beard: features he neither wants nor recognizes.
He stands at near attention, trying to smile, embarrassed for speaking so harshly through the closed door. Everyone else seems to have disappeared to Cats.
"Oh, sorry! Cat in, cat in, please!" Cats says, trying to smooth things over. "We were just discussing our dreams and nothing bad at all, I assure you."
Cats smiles, and tries to fix his hair again, tucking in his shirt and wishing he spent a bit more time in the wash basin. And that he had a razor.
"Fearless" |
Fearless backs away as she opens the door. "Another Doctor? How many are there here?"
He stumbles back as the doctor and her retinue make their way in. He holds his plump hands up. "See no ghouls. Can we go now?"
"Brother Butterfly" |
in a whisper Oh great Traveler, please give me the wisdom and the words to finally let them see the truth!
I cast a luck spell.
Good doctor, I wish I could report that we are doing well, but the truth is the far end of the spectrum. Didn't you hear how unnerved we were while you were at the door? I, for one, am about to crawl out of my own skin.
dramatic pause
You see, we have gone THREE DAYS without proper grooming and cleaning. And while I have been promised a razor for myself and my companions -- we are scruffy and mangy and all out of sorts. I find it somewhat difficult to understand - after saving the lives of your fellow orderlies: Gellan, Lanard and especially Roote – that we have not earned a simple shave and a haircut. I would totally understand if we would need to be watched while shaving but there is not a problem in this world that cannot be solved without good personal hygiene and grooming.
diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Luck
diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
"The Twin" |
"First, I feel fine aside from the massive headache. " he said as he rubs the wound on his head.
"Second, I don't eat meat. So, neither bloody not cooked. " he says, grimacing at the thought of biting into the flesh of any creature.
"Third, I don't know anything from before being here. Are there graveyards on the grounds that I don't know about? If so, then maybe. " he says with sarcasm as his finger gently feels out the gash in his head, grimacing in pain when the finger probes too far.
"Why are you asking these questions? " he asks, curious about the reasoning of the new doctor.
-Posted with Wayfinder
DM Rah |
Doctor Chawaar offers a clinical reply. "Last night a patient attacked a pair of orderlies. Cannibalistic intent, along with certain physiological changes, indicate a rapid-onset form of ghoul fever. Such things do not arise spontaneously, which means a new patient may be the source. Six were admitted yesterday. None were given a thorough medical exam. You are one of them, and must remain in quarantine until I clear you." Gesturing to Klades on the table nearby, he adds. "I must also quarantine those you have come into physical conflict with, which is a growing number of other patients and staff, including our head orderly."
His exam complete, Doctor Chawaar steps aside with Doctor Oathsday, continuing their argument from earlier about proper admittance procedures. On her home turf, Oathsday stands her ground and ends the harassment by kicking the man out of the infirmary.
The day passes as you rest under the watchful eye of Oathsday, the orderlies Denman and Campre, and a young woman with auburn hair who serves as Oathsday's assistant, Doctor Lovelan. Campre watches you like a hawk, scowling at every word you say, obviously holding a grudge from previous encounters. Oathsday mostly ignores you, letting Doctor Lovelan tend to your needs, which she does with patience and compassion.
In the evening another doctor arrives to take over for the night shift. Built like a pear with spindly arms and legs, and a chin so weak that it nearly meets his Adam's apple, Doctor Latchke is as lazy as he is unattractive. Almost immediately he feigns interest in finding a research book in the library and leaves Doctor Lovelan to handle things in the infirmary.
At dinner time Doctor Lovelan brings you a tray with vegetable soup, fresh bread, and a tasty looking cookie. Looking at your forehead, she asks about the markings on your body.
"I have seen tattoos before, but nothing like yours. They are quite amazing. Denman says they represent the Harrow?" She leaves the question hanging, giving you a chance to engage, but not demanding it.
"Don't waste your time on that one." Campre says from a chair near the door. "He's got delusions of grandeur."
DM Rah |
2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Doctor Lovelan lives up to her name. She is quite lovely, both physically and in personality. Though a little shy, she smiles easily as she goes through the motions of a very basic exam - checking your eyes, teeth, heart, and asking a few questions about dietary needs or desires. She also seems to listens in a way that previous doctors have not.
To Fearless, she replies, "I suppose you might think we have a lot of doctors here, but we all serve the patients in slightly different ways. Doctor Chawaar is an internalist, specializing in diseases of the body and mind. His work is mostly theoretical, and conducted through research in Briarstone's extensive library. Until yesterday he had very few patients. Doctor Oathsday is mostly a chirurgeon, as is Doctor Latchke, who works the night shift. Doctor Losandro runs Briarstone Asylum, and is also the head Doctor and only true alienist. I am studying the ways of the mind too, and hope to become an alienist as well someday. But for now I work under Doctor Oathsday in the infirmary during the day, but help out where I can."
At Brother Butterfly's request for grooming supplies Doctor Losandro gives a good natured laugh. "As it turns out I found a note about just that. I think it was accidentally discarded. Anyway, I had Denman here bring some things." You notice the young orderly hanging back at the door has a small bucket, a mirror, some soap, and some fresh towels.
"Here you go." Denman says, placing the items on a small side table.
"We will have to supervise, of course." Doctor Lovelan adds. "Some patients have issues with sharp objects."
Meanwhile, Denman is checking his pockets as if something is missing.
"Do you have the razor?" He whispers the other orderly, who shakes his head. "Could've sworn it was in my back pocket..."
The location of the razor becomes apparent when a female patient steps to the doorway. Pale and glassy-eyed, her name is Ilesi, a patient you've seen before in the Dayroom. Blood flows freely from the flayed skin of her left arm, splattering her gray dress and and the floor at her feet. Held up in her right hand is the errant straight razor.
"So sharp..." She smiles before collapsing to the ground.
DM Rah |
Doctor Chawaar has little bedside manner, and wastes little time trying to explain anything to his patients. Once his "exam" is complete he departs, abandoning you in the nearly deserted section of the Ward.
Time crawls as the day passes. The Twin's fate remains a mystery and the orderlies that bring you a meal that evening are close-mouthed and keep their distance, treating you like a doomer*. Eventually, sleep overcomes you.
*Doomers are victims of slimy doom, a disease more horrific then leprosy.
You find yourself once again in the strange city of your first dreamlike memories. You wander the city, lost among streets that remain unfamiliar, and suddenly changed when you turn back. A far off scream pierces the desolate silence.
"Iä! Iä!"
Walking through the ruins you emerge from the buildings at an area that opens to a vast body of water, the edge of which is shrouded in fog. You hear a bell in the distance, ringing out somewhere across the water. The bell rings again and you see a black ship with black sails emerge from the mists. Your arm, the one with the scars, itches fiercely. Looking at it you notice one of the names "Weiralai" is fresh and oozing blood.
You wander in an endless cloud of yellow mist. Other shapes form and vanish in the mist, fleeting, unsettling things that refuse to be focused upon. After what seems like a lifetime, an exhausted-looking man with a ponytail of straight, white hair stumbles into view. Insane with desperation, he gapes and shouts, “We’re all lost here! We’ll never escape!” before rushing away. His ranting words follow him back into the mists...
“What have I done? What have I done?”
You awake to the sound of someone rattling the bars of the little windows on your doors.
"All good in there?" A man chuckles, his crooked toothy mouth grinning at you.
"Forget about them." A female voice coos from behind him, drawing him away.
Out in the hallway a buxom nurse is seducing the man. Built like a pear with spindly arms and legs, and a chin so weak that it nearly meets his Adam's apple, it's hard to see what the nurse might possibly find attractive about him, yet she is persistent in her advances. "I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they start trying to eat people too. But I'm sure you will protect me, right Doctor Latchke?" She pulls him close, feigning fear.
"Now Clara, I think you should call me Edmund." The Doctor replies, his concern focused mostly on everything round about the nurse.
"Yes.. goood. Now show me what's under that gown, Eddie." Clara pulls Doctor Latchke into one of the vacant rooms in the hallway, and the sounds of laughter and giggles ensue.
Followed by grunts.
Then a series of thump thump thump thumps.
Then groans.
Then one more solid thunk!
A minute later Doctor Latchke emerges alone from the room. Humming to himself, he takes a moment to straighten his black gown before turning on his heel and striding away.
"Cats" |
"It's nice that we have so many doctors...and some of them seem so lovely," Cats purrs politely while he being inspected.
*cough* Cats turns his head and coughs when prompted.
"It's hard to cattemplate all the weirdness that's going on around here, Doctor...the ghoul, the halfling's inability to dream, our strange dreams..." Cat's voice drops off as he turns to the discussion of the razor at the door, then to woman after that.
"Uh...Doctor, like I said...things ain't right here." Cats steps back and lets those that know what to do step in.
His eyes flit to the razor time and time again.
"Fearless" |
Though of course his mood is quickly dashed and doured once again as the crazy inmates seem to do here. The young woman decides now is a grand time to make a scene for all, with their razor of all things.
Fearless gasps and feels some sort of an innate sense to help the woman before she perishes. He rushes forward and places a hand tightly over the woman's arm. Warm blood pulses and oozes through his fingers.
"It's gonna be alright." He grasps her right hand, pulling the razor free and into the folds of his robes in the confusion. "Place your hand tightly here. Keep pressure."
Stealth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Not trained in sleight of hand
"Brother Butterfly" |
Let me be the vessel that empowers Desna's Saving Touch! For I am Desna's WatchMan, and none that Desna sees fit to save shall fall while on my watch!
Channel positive energy: 1d6 ⇒ 1
[i]looking at Cats Loic and Fearless
To my friends and companions, I promise you the same protection. In so far as Desna allows me - for it is not Brother Butterfly that heals, but the Great Traveler
If I see the need, I will ask permission to put my hands on her and heal her further. I will also work my way to get the straight razor and be the first to shave once the current crisis is averted
"The Twin" |
As Campre chimes in, the Twin turns to the orderly and chuckles with menace in his eyes. "I'm surprised you even know how to pronounce 'grandeur', whelp." he says with a snarling grin. "I thought your vocabulary was limited to various types of cream pies, cupcakes and candies." he says with malice before turning back to Doctor Lovelan.
"I'd love to know more about what these tattoos are." he adds, hoping she will elaborate.
DM Rah |
Campre scowls at you as Doctor Lovelan blinks in surprise. "Oh! I forgot that your memories are... I'm terribly sorry! I really don't know anything about the symbols. I will try to look them up in the library after my shift tonight though if you like. It might be fun to learn about them."
A few hours later an orderly arrives, entering the infirmary in a hurry.
"We have a problem in the Ward of the Wicked. Is Latchke around?" He asks.
"No, he isn't."
"Well that's typical. I'm guessing he's on another extended break?"
Seeming used to managing things alone, Doctor Lovelan takes the initiative. "What's happened, Toren?"
"We think another patient has turned." Toren runs a hand through his well-groomed hair, pressing down strands that have become dislodged in his haste.
Doctor Lovelan covers her mouth in shock. "What? Who?"
"Eilasi Koll. Started growling in her room. Ripped up her bed and tried to claw at an orderly through the window in her door."
Campre shoots an accusing glance at you. "What a coincidence." He says dryly.
Doctor Lovelan ignores him and continues dealing with the orderly. "Have you informed Doctor Chawaar?"
"Can't find him. Can you come?"
"Of course. Let me grab a few things. Campre, keep an eye on these two until I return?"
Doctor Lovelan and Toren soon depart, leaving you alone with Campre. The orderly approaches with his gap-tooth grin. "Gettin late. That mouth of yours is probably tired from runnin all day. How about you get some rest, hmm?"
Jacketed and chained to the bed, you have almost no ability avoid his padded club.
*THWACK!!*
You wake...
And find yourself in a street, surrounded by crumbling buildings that remind you of the strange city of your first dreamlike memories. You wander the city, lost among streets. A far off scream pierces the desolate silence.
"Iä! Iä!"
Turning in the direction of the scream you see yellow mists billowing forth in your direction. A silhouette forms at the edge as someone attempts to escape, but falls just short. A hand claws at the cracked cobblestones, fingernails breaking as the owner is dragged back out of sight. There is a scream of terror - blood sprays out and across a nearby wall. You feel numb, paralyzed.
Suddenly your eidolon is there, slithering past you and turning to rise and stare at you. It opens its mouth and strikes at you, closing teeth around your neck!
You wake...
And find yourself back in the infirmary, restrained once more to the bed there. No doctors or orderlies seem to be around, it you hear the rattling of a chain and look over to see the scarred patient, Klades, has woken. Crouched beside his own bed, he appears to be pulling at the manacle that binds him there. The hand locked in the manacle is an alarming shade of gray, it's fingernails blackened and jagged. A pool of dark blood slowly spreads on the floor around him and terrible stench fills the area.
DC 15 fortitude save or be sickened for 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 minutes.
DM Rah |
Fearless leaps into action, moving quickly to Ilesi's side and applying pressure to her wound. The length of it makes the attempt tricky and the effort costs his hand and sleeve with her blood.
Doctor Lovelan Perception: 1d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 - 2 = 11
Denman Perception: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 1
Orderly Perception: 1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (6) + 4 - 2 = 8
A flash of light surges out from Brother Butterfly as he calls upon the power of his goddess. The energy seals Ilesi's bleeding wound, and she seems stable, but the blood loss has left her senseless.
Doctor Lovelan crouches next to Fearless and inspects the wound, then glances up at Brother Butterfly. "Thank you for that, but no more will be necessary. Doctor Losandro says it is important for those that harm themselves to experience the consequences of their actions and recover without divine or alchemical aid. And speaking of consequences,.." She turns to Fearless and holds out her hand. "The razor, if you please. Shaving will have to wait a little longer."
Denman's jaw drops as he realizes the item has slipped his notice again.
The second orderly draws his padded club and gives everyone a stern look.
"Cats" |
Cats keeps his distance from the scrum, staying with his chair of clobbering should he need it. When the commotion dies down, Cats calms down enough to sit. He swipes his hand under his behind as it lowers to the chair as if swiping away something that might have jumped upon the seat.
When he finally sits, he rocks.
[b}"I cat believe that happened. Poor girl, probably has gout,"[/b] Cats offers his thoroughly unprofessional and unlearned opinion, but trying to be helpful.
And he rocks more in the chair as he watches the care of the woman.
"Brother Butterfly" |
seeing that his chance at getting a shave is very close to slipping away, Brother Butterfly inwardly starts to panic. While trying to maintain a calm and cool exterior, he is furious at Ilesi for her shennanigans and having snatched defeat from the shaved head of victory.
Maybe, just maybe, he can talk his way into a consession.
No need to worry about using the padded club on my good friend Cats and I. We are passive and not interested in having any dents in our skulls.
Knowing we are not at all a threat, I did want to ask the good Dr. Lovelan something.
Turning to Dr. Lovelan but trying to also get the orderlies on his side, so he gives then equal eye contact. He pauses a second, then smiles that Baron Munchowzan type smile.
If Doctor Losandro has the philosophy that those that harm themselves should experience the consequence of their actions, doesn't the opposite apply? If I, as a helpful and productive and mentally clear member of this facility, should also get the benefits of how much help I have been. It is irrefutable that everytime there's been a need - Loic, Cats and I have been there to champion the day.
It makes sense -and hold to Doctor Losandro's tenets - that we should be rewarded or at least see good consequences for our kind and exuberant actions.
That Razor is a contentous item, I understand, but maybe compromise is available? As a sign of good faith? You know, maybe let me at LEAST have a shave of my head and face? My friend Cat's can get a beard shave too?
You know, let's compromise?
Now I ask you, What Would (Dr.) Losandro Do (WWLD)?
diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
[ooc] Woohoo! Brother Butterfly takes a look at the facial expressions of the people listening to him, and really thinks he said allthe right things and pushed the right buttons. He mentally registering that they all greatly respect Dr. Losandro and to use that influence more in the future.[ooc]
"Fearless" |
Fearless holds the razor out to the Doctor. "I...I was trying to get it away from her before she did anything...well worse." he looks down at the dead woman.
Fearless stands up with soiled hands and clothes that are soaked in blood. "Can you help me get cleaned up?"
DM Rah |
Doctor Lovelan listens to Brother Butterfly's plea with compassion, and her stance seems to ease, but not completely.
Instructing the orderlies to help Ilesi up, she turns to your group. "To tell you the truth, Doctor Losandro would be less forgiving. I will not deny you the razor, but I cannot tend to your grooming needs this instant. Witnessing what just happened here is a sober reminder that letting our guard down, even for a moment, can lead to disaster. I need at least one of these orderlies to help move Ilesi to the infirmary, and since you touched an open wound she will need to be quarantined now as well. I simply cannot afford to leave only one orderly to oversee the use of a sharp instrument in your hands. The soap and water you can use to clean up for now, and I promise to return within the hour with a fresh basin, and the razor."
Doctor Lovelan seems sincere in her promise as she and the orderlies depart and lock the door.
But she does not return.
Hours pass....
Then the sound of muffled voices are heard outside your door.
DC 20 Perception to read GM 1 spoiler.
Doorsight read GM 2 spoiler.
If you hear the conversation, roll Knowledge Nobility vs DC 10 (untrained ok). If successful, read GM 3 spoiler.
Doctor Losandro: "As I have said, Accuser Klaczka, Briarstone is in the middle of a lockdown. A few patients have displayed signs of disease and we have had to place them in quarantine. You will not be allowed to interview them until Doctor Chawaar gives his consent."
A woman, presumably Accuser Klaczka: "Might I speak with him?"
Doctor Losandro: "He is indisposed at the moment. But there are a few other recent arrivals among patients in the Lower Ward. I suggest we begin with them."
Accuser Klaczka: "Of course."
Doctor Losandro: "These men you are looking for. Are they criminals?"
Accuser Klaczka: "I cannot say."
The voices fade into the distance.
Doctor Losandro walks with a beautiful young woman with black hair, dressed for travel in black and brown and armored in light chain and leather. With them are four men-at-arms.
Doctor Losandro appears frustrated as she speaks with the woman. "As I have said, Accuser Klaczka, Briarstone is in the middle of a lockdown. A few patients have displayed signs of disease and we have had to place them in quarantine. You will not be allowed to interview them until Doctor Chawaar gives his consent."
Accuser Klaczka stops and turns to face Losandro. "Might I speak with him?"
Doctor Losandro hesitates a moment before answering. "He is indisposed at the moment. But there are a few other recent arrivals among patients in the Lower Ward. I suggest we begin with them."
Accuser Klaczka nods. "Of course."
As the group begins to move on Doctor Losandro inquires, "These men you are looking for. Are they criminals?"
"I cannot say." Accuser Klaczka replies.
The group walks away in the direction of the Dayroom.
An Accuser is a member of the Royal Accusers, secretive agents who were sworn to Ustalav’s crown and operated outside the country’s baroque hierarchy of titles and privilege.
"Fearless" |
2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Fearless turns to his companions and holds up his bloody hands. "You guys wanna use the water first? " He asks somberly before contaminating the water and removing his bloody articles of clothing.
Once the rest of used the water he sets to work. Slowly and meticulously scrubbing the blood out until only a dull red stain remains on the fabric.
"What the hell is going on with this place and why are we here? I know why you're here?" He nods to Cats. "But why am I here?"
"Cats" |
Cats rocks in his hair, waiting for whatever anxiety to flee as well as the situation to be cleaned up.
*rock*
*rock*
*rock*..then he stops rocking, cocking his head as if listening to something.
"Shht!" Cats holds up a finger, calling for quiet. Cats listens more intently, pointing to the door.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26 Perception
1d20 - 1 ⇒ (9) - 1 = 8 Know (nobility)
Cats listens and shrugs. "Apparently someone is looking for some criminals. Probably those pre-ghouls that were catting and stealing keys. They don't need to look much further than cat, I think."
"Brother Butterfly" |
When Cat's gives a quick summary, Brother Butterfly also mentions, There's 5 of them in total. One leader- with 4 hired men at arms or soldiers.
Also, Dr. Losandro mentioned that there's "a few" patients struck with disease. Now she could have said that to convince the female leader to relax about their task.
nobility check: 1d20 ⇒ 7
"Cats" |
"What the hell is going on with this place and why are we here? I know why you're here? But why am I here?"
Cats blinks at Fearless.
"Well, I'm here because I cat remember things too good. I don't remember my name or how I got here. So it makes cat sense that I'm here. You? That's pretty obvious too: you don't dream, do you? That's the problem; you probably got one of them sleep disorders, like ghoulism or walking syphilis or tooth gout," Cats opines, quoting pretty much all the diseases that he can remember at present.
Cats goes back to his chair, running his hand under his butt before it hits the chair before he sits.
"Yeah, I'm sure my catnesia will fix it itself soon enough and I'll be free to go."
"Fearless" |
Fearless cringes back. "Not a ghoul. Nope. nope Nope. Not a ghoul." He stammers with false confidence though in his head his mind races with worry.
"What if I am a ghoul? Would I know?"
Fearless clears his throat and points a plump finger Cats direction. "You know a lot bout ghouls. You the one passing it around?"
"Cats" |
"You know a lot bout ghouls. You the one passing it around?"
Cats starts rockin' in his chair.
"Maybe or catbe not," Cats replies, thinkering good. "I do dream, the same dreams as everyone else, so it's probably not me."
Cats looks around, catsidering. Then he rubs his hand through his bushy beard and longer-than-feels-normal hair and grunts.
"Sure wish I could cat my hands on a razor though."
"The Twin" |
Fortitude Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Finding the betrayal of his innate friend to be disturbing, the Twin has little time to psychoanalyze his thoughts as he smells, and then sees, Klades' transformation.
"Bloody hell, you are a stinking mess." he says, chastising the man. Thinking about how he can solve the problem, the Twin tries to stand, but as his hands rise he pulls the length of the chains and remembers that he is bound.
"F#%%!" he says under his breath. Saving face is not in the man's nature or neroses, so his first instinct is to call forth his eagle or snake friend.
"Kill him!" he hisses as he focuses on summoning.
I assume that I'm not bound more than he is, so one hand chained to the bed, which would allow me to cast without problem.
As he focuses, a thought... maybe memory... or perhaps a vision appears in his head of a golden retriever. As he thinks of this, the dog appears in front of him and immediately bares its teeth at Klades.
"Get him, boy!" cries the Twin as he points at the crouching man.
Charge Bite!: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 + 2 = 10
Smite Evil: 1d4 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 + 1 = 4
Hopefully being bound helps the dog to hit. >.>
DM Rah |
The dog leaps at Klades, teeth ripping at his clothes, but drawing no blood. The man turns, snarling at the attack and you can see he is no longer human. His skin is pallid, stretched tight over his body and drawn back from a mouth full of long, sharp teeth, covered in blood. The hair on his head has fallen out in large patches. His hands have become claw-like, with long blackened nails.
Claw: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 5 - 2 = 4
Bite: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (10) + 5 - 2 = 13
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
He takes an awkward swipe at the dog, but misses, but when the dog comes close again he strikes like a snake, his teeth closing on its neck and whipping it around until it goes limp.
It looks at you and begins to reach out, but its other hand is still chained to the bed. You can see that it has been working at where the manacle is attached, tearing its flesh in an attempt to get free.
"What is this now?" Doctor Oathsday asks as she steps into the room, followed by the nightshift doctor, Latchke.
"We should stop this before someone dies." Latchke says.
"Too late for that I think." Oathsday replies with a clinical eye.
"Brother Butterfly" |
You could have us also call you a friend, but. ......well nevermind.
Everyone here saw how the Desna tattoo glowed and it was her power that harmed the Ghoul in the kitchen. Well, Desna can prove that no one in this room is a ghoul. RIGHT NOW!
channel positive energy: 1d6 ⇒ 2
The Tattoo glows and a flash of warm light pulses from it. One pulse, then a fraction of a second and another pulse pushes forth. The ring travels the length of the small but ornate private room that has become their quasi-prison.
"The Twin" |
"It appears one of your wards has decided to turn to cannibalism, Doctors!" he yells, keeping the bed between him and the chained ghoul. "Do you need me to handle this creature?" he asks, showing a hair's breadth of deference in light of the whelps appearing.
DM Rah |
Not sure if everyone read them, but Brother Butterfly's last two posts were meant for this group.
Brother Butterfly channels the power of Desna, filling the room with a glowing light. No one feels any ill effects from the display, so if his theory is correct no one here is undead.
"Fearless" |
There's 5 of them in total. One leader- with 4 hired men at arms or soldiers. Also, Dr. Losandro mentioned that there's "a few" patients struck with disease. Now she could have said that to convince the female leader to relax about their task.
Fearless' head snaps around. "There's MORE! So it can't be us as we have been isolated for awhile now!"
whoa there Fearless, you can stop with the goblin dog stare at my friend Cats. He is not a ghoul. He has too much of a funny side to him to be a member of the walking death.
You could have us also call you a friend, but. ......well nevermind.
Everyone here saw how the Desna tattoo glowed and it was her power that harmed the Ghoul in the kitchen. Well, Desna can prove that no one in this room is a ghoul. RIGHT NOW!
Fearless feels the warm energy wash over him. His muscles begin to relax. he sits down on the floor and smiles. "Ya know. You guys aren't so bad after all. Weird dreams and all."
DM Rah |
"Handle me!" The Monster Klades growls, yanking hard enough on the chain to dislocate his clawed hand. Even so he is unable to slip free. Glaring at those in the room he snarls, "When I get free I'm going to bite your fingers off one by one. I'll suck out your eyes and flay you alive!" Klades' rant continues as he describes in detail the way by which he will consume you, piece by piece.
"We will handle him." Doctor Oathsday watches the ranting monster with clinical detachment. "If we wish to survive this epidemic, we must study the afflicted."
Doctor Latchky is less composed. "This one seems different. And it smells awful!"
"I noticed." Oathsday taps her lips in thought. "Perhaps some sort of accelerated decomposition has set in. It is a shame he turned here. Moving him will be challenging."
"What should we do, doctor?" Latchke asks.
"We will move the living instead." He says, gesturing at you. "Unchain him."
Collecting a key from a pocket in his gown, Latchke frees you and the two doctors lead you out a door that opens into a small interior courtyard nestled between buildings of the asylum. Across the courtyard is a another door, but as you reach it you hear a shout and commotion back at the infirmary.
"Perhaps we should have locked the room." Oathsday muses as she shares a glance with Latchke.
"Oops." Latchke replies deadpan, then breaks into giggles like a girl.
Ahead of you, through the other door is a small room with stairs leading down under Briarstone. A smell of ammonia and brine wafts up from below.
"Brother Butterfly" |
With that, he sets up to go to sleep. It might not be "sleep time", but this will make watches easier. Brother Buttefly isn't really going to insert himself into the "sleep sentry" rotation, since he got the others to do the work for him.
Before going to sleep, he does try to make a water coloring of the "heraldry" that the captain and men at arms were wearing. He'd like to use some of the blood soaked rags and bowl that Fearless cleaned off in to get some red coloring. When complete, he wants to ask Loic if he recognizes anything.
craft painting: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
DM Rah |
Loic knowledge check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
"I'm not sure about that symbol, Lucy thinks it could be the wrong color, but if they called her an Accuser, that sounds like she might be a member of the Royal Accusers. They're a secret police sworn to Ustalav’s crown, and operate outside the country’s normal hierarchy."
"Cats" |
Cats remains rocking in his rocking (and clobbering) chair as Brother's divine spark washes over him. For some reason, it doesn't bother him nor seem unusual. He can't explain why he feels this way, but he does.
Cats smiles.
"See? I'm not a cat. See?" Cats confirms as if that explains everything. Then returning his attention to the door and the noises outside the door.
"Accusers, huh? What are they, some sort of accusers? That sounds like an easy job, just running around accusing people of things. Huh. Neat," Cats remarks. "That's the kind of cat for me...when I get out of here, cat's what I'll do, I think. Work for the Royal Accusers."
Cats rocks in his chair a bit more, pondering.
'There is a lot of sick people in here, I guess, Fearless. I guess we might be lucky to be away from them and safe together...with the Brother here to check on us with his little bursty thing. I guess we should stick with him."
"Brother Butterfly" |
I know this isn’t exactly a push post. But I am trying to get myself in the habit of posting daily
The promise of a razor burns in his mind. The promises given and then reneged grate on him, and chaffe like woolen clothing against the skin. He could easily take his mind off of the staff’s betrayal, and more importantly, how Ilesi betrayed him by her RUDE selfishness by taking the razor before him. But it's the itchiness of new hair growing on his skin that persistently reminds him ---- always bringing him back to the exasperated question,”WHY CAN’T I SHAVE?!”
Part of his mind wants to concentrate on the topics of a secret police and why would they be here? or the subject of fearless. Fearless and his affliction and how Brother Butterfly might be able to break down some of the walls to gain friendship from a man who probably ruins all friendships just because of his malady.
If it weren’t for this itching skin, he’d talk more with Loic and Lucy to try to better understand if Lucy is a spurrned love or a deceased sister or just a splintered part of Loic himself. Brother Butterfly even starts to think of an idea to maybe try painting a memory that Loic had of Lucy so he might be able to see the image.But he doesn't even begin to formulate a plan because it's both mentally fatiguing and the itching comes around to divert him from the thoughts he SHOULD be thinking and pondering about.
One positive that he takes away from this room – he doesn't have to do any work. He does find some comfort in sitting in his fluffy chair and plucking, plucking, plucking at hairs on his body. Brother Butterfly spends hours doing it but he is frustrated constantly. When he plucks at his hairs- most of the time he doesn't get them out by the roots like they should-- instead his fat fingers hind it hard to get purchase and he breaks the hairs just above the skin.
That Ilesi girl owes me an apology. Yes she does.
He mumbles this occasionally from his chair in between plucking.
"Pinkie" |
"Hello?"
Comes out in an almost whisper as he tries to peek through the bars "Can anyone hear me out there?"
"Fearless" |
"Secret Police?!?! Ummm... So Loic? Loic was it? What do these Accusers accuse exactly?"
'There is a lot of sick people in here, I guess, Fearless. I guess we might be lucky to be away from them and safe together...with the Brother here to check on us with his little bursty thing. I guess we should stick with him."
Fearless thinks about it for a moment. "Does sound like a good idea. So does anyone have any sort of plan on getting out of here before these Secret Police accuse us of something?"
He runs his stubby hand through his hair and gets it caught in a knot.
"Cats" |
"Secret police?!?!"
Cats doesn't seem too worried. He keeps rocking in his chair as he thinks and ponders.
"Yeah, I don't recall doing anything wrong. And if I did, what are they going to want to do? Lock us away? Well...look around, cat. We're already locked away pretty good...and I don't remember anything. But even that's beside the cat, I don't think I done did anything wrong. Maybe the cats did, but not me, not me. No, not me."
Cats keeps on rockin'.
"The Twin" |
Knowing their answer before asking, the Twin holds up his hands defensively. "Hey! Can't fault a man for trying." he says as he maintains his distance from the odd pair.
At the sound of the scream and the pair's indifference to possibly another casualty, the Twin glances sidelong at them. "We should probably go see if they are ok." he states with a knowing nod, definitely not wanting to go into whatever room they are leading him to.
DM Rah |
"Don't worry about them, love." Doctor Latchke pats your back and guides you toward the stairs. "Klades can't break that chain, so I'm sure he can't do that much damage."
You hear a faint scream from the infirmary as you are lead down the stairs into what seems to be a mortuary. Mold and crumbling mortar indicates that construction here is older then the asylum above. Cabinets hold tools and preservatives for embalming bodies. Two tables display the remains of two creatures similar to Klades, but dead. One's head has been crushed, the other has a half dozen crossbow bolts rammed through it. On the floor are two other bodies, one a nurse and the other an orderly. Both have had their throats ripped out.
Doctor Oathsday leads the way through the mortuary and past a door that leads down a long, narrow hallway. Latchke follows behind you, humming a merry tune. After 50 feet the passage splits - you turn left and enter a storage cellar with crates, barrels, and a few cabinets filled with supplies. A flight of stairs leads up, but you are led through another door into a warm room with what appears to be three dungeon cells with barred gates.
Doctor Oathsday moves to unlock one of the cells. "Long ago, before the asylum was built, there was a fort on Briarstone Island. Some of the foundations remain, including this old dungeon. It is not ideal, but it will do for now."
"In you go now." Doctor Latchke smiles and gives you a little push.
DM Rah |
Time passes in the Ward of the Wicked...
Morning comes but no breakfast meal is brought. Hours pass, and though it is hard to tell time in the asylum, the shift of light through a window at the far end of the hall indicates that perhaps half the day has passed. You are hungry, and it is starting to feel like you have been forgotten. Tired and hungry, you have little to do but wait, and sleep...
The alien city haunts your dreams. Shrouded beyond yellow mists, the sounds of men and women crying out in horror and madness surround you.
A figure separates from the fog, stalking toward you. Shadows darken his face. He holds a blade in one hand, cutting into his other arm. Stepping into the moonlight you see his face, twisted in rage. It is your face. Raising the blade he rushes forward at you!
...you wake from the nightmare just before the blade reaches you.
Once again you find yourself wandering the endless, alien city, pursued by yellow mists. Occasionally a scream penetrates the air, or the glimpse of a man or woman lost in the mist.
A wall collapses nearby, revealing a small room. Inside, an ancient Keleshite woman sits on a stool at a simple table. She looks up at you and a voice buzzes inside your head.
"Beware the past. Beware the yellow walker!"
...you wake from the dream, the warning still ringing in your mind.
DM Rah |
You pass the day chatting and sleeping in shifts. No one suffers the nightmares you have grown to expect. Lunchtime passes and it seems the orderlies have forgotten to bring you a meal. By dinner time you all are starting to feel the pangs of hunger.
Evening comes, and the light fades under the door. Having taken the earlier sleeping shifts, Brother Butterfly and Cats are awake when Fearless begins breathing heavy and shifting in his sleep.
You find yourself in a street, surrounded by crumbling buildings that remind you of the strange city of your first dreamlike memories. A scream pierces the desolate silence.
"Iä! Iä!"
Turning in the direction of the scream you see yellow mists billowing forth in your direction. Something stalks within it, just out of sight. Something sinister. You run, but the mists draw closer. Taking a wrong turn you find yourself trapped in a dead end street.
Suddenly an exhausted-looking man with a ponytail of straight, white hair stumbles from the mist. He gapes at you in surprise with wide blue eyes, a look of utter madness upon his face. "You've seen it!" He lunges forward, hands reaching for you. "You've seen the yellow sign!!"
"Cats" |
2 people marked this as a favorite. |
I assume that either Brother or I were on watch while Loic & Fearless slept: we are probably still doing watches.
Cats rolls out of bed to go wake Brother Butterfly. When he has the bald man's attention, he will make the loonie-loon-loon finger gesture then point at Fearless and his struggles.
He pads over to get his clobbering/rocking chair and brings it closer to where Fearless sleeps.
"You just say the word, Brother. If he's gone ghoul, you just cat me a signal...and I'll fix him good. I'll cat him real good."
Cats raises the clobbering chair over the halfling and awaits Brother's signal.
"Fearless" |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fearless tosses and turns and he lets out a deep unearthly moan in his sleep.
"Sign!? What damned sign? How is the mist a sign? What is in it?"
His natural curiosity and investigative nature takes hold as he has more questions than answers His chest and heart pounds faster and faster as it feels like it is going to explode out of his chest.
"The Twin" |
"Seems like you know how to deal with Klades. Shoot him a bunch and drag him down here." he offers as he stands firmly in his spot, not moving into the cell offered to him.
"Brother Butterfly" |
Okay, my opinion on escaping this room has changed. Fearless was right. We need to really start thinking about getting out of here- and how we can do it. The lack of food and visits make our escape at least justified.
Let’s pool ideas and abilities and resources.
Loic and Fearless, I need to know what you can do to help our situation.
Quick thoughts that might turn into actual plans:
#1: battering Ram. We have chairs, and they are very well built and sturdy. Plus, we have padding with the chairs to use to protect us while we care battering the door.
#2: Unlock the lock. I do know that Desna REALLY doesn’t want us starving to death here in this room and will grant us luck in our endeavors. If we have any way to swap out the lock, or affect the hinges. Let’s look for tools to help us.
#3: The power of water. Desna can create a lot of water. If we can freeze the water, that causes water to expand and will break anything but a stone wall. We might need to punch a small hole in the wooden wall so we can fill it and freeze it.
#4: I have asked Desna to protect us from any chance of a ghoul attack. Since we don’t have armor, She has seen fit to give us two armored breastplates. The breastplates will only be “here” for an hour or so and then they will melt away– so we will ask for them only when we have broken the door or the wall.
After working with people on formulating plans – even half brained plans – Brother Butterfly goes to the door and sits down. He places his hands on the door, closes his eyes and stays there for many minutes.
DM Rah |
"As you may have noticed, we tried that option." Doctor Oathsday explains as if talking to an infant. "These creatures, ghouls if you believe Doctor Chawaar, are difficult to handle safely. It is as if whatever disease or magic possesses them also prevents them from being subdued by sedatives or nonlethal force. You, on the other hand..."
Thump!: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
Nonlethal Damage: 1d3 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
The last thing you see is Doctor Latchke's fist an instant before it connects with your face.
Hold here for now. I need a day to catch the others up.