Okay, sorry this is so late... Had an end of shift OWI arrest that took a few hours to wrap up. Let's get this on the road!
Fear... It is all that you know. Fear. Who you are and where you come from is lost, inconsequential. Fear! It saturates every pore of your skin, clings to your hair, soaks into your bones... You can taste it in the bile burning the back of your throat... FEAR. It is omnipresent. And it's coming for you. FEAR! You are being hunted.
All around is a wall of sickly yellow fog, tumbling through the alley’s canyon of crumbling, gray brick walls like some jaundiced flash flood. Ahead, the unfamiliar alley splits, curving to the left and right. Behind, from the silent swell of mist, emanates the sound of footsteps—slow, but somehow keeping pace with the careening, hungry wave. You look around and notice three others standing around you. You do not recognize them. What do you do?
Initiative! And post your actions along with your roll in addition to your reactions!
Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Nova cowers before the scene. Tears fall from her red and blue eyes, and she stutters "W-who, who a-re y-y-you? ... GO AWAY!!"
Weak Says a voice inside her head. Deep and grating.
Kill them. We are the hunters, they are the prey.
"No I can't!" She yells. "I can't!"
Fool. I will do it myself. I will rip them apart with my claws!
"Don't kill them! I said don't kill!"
Nova's demeanor changes. All of a sudden, she is calm. She lifts her head and stares down the hunters with her two red eyes. She bears her fangs, readies her claws, and unleashes a long wolf's howl.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Drafton blinked several times staring ahead at the strange, yellow fog that flowed all around him. The wiles of dread he felt surrounding himself, no that wasn't correct word, saturating from his very being were telling him to flee. His eyes glanced to his right and left and he noticed several other figures.
The feeling of being hunted was frightening, but amid his incomprehensible jumble of memories, it was also familiar. The others were not of the mist. He was certain of that. He exhaled strongly and forced that fear into a knot inside of him. Placing it away until he could deal with it later.
Before he could do anything else a woman began to cower, demanding he and the others leave. But then she began speaking to someone, although neither Drafton nor the others had said anything.
Is she... deranged?
When she altered her demeanor and began to howl, Drafton began stepping back. Studying her. K. Nature: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
He began quickly muttering to himself. "Female.Human?Not quite, redeyes.Changling perhaps?... definitely deranged."
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7
Where? Where am I? What is this place?
"Wha-What? S-S-Stay back! L-L-Leave me alone! I don't want to hurt you" said the large man. He slowly began to stand up from his kneeled position. His chest heaved with the effort, his body struggling under it's own weight. His plain clothes stuck to his body, the sweat dripping off of him. He grunted a little as he made it to his feet and bashfully tried to smooth his clothes over.
The sound of foot steps echoed through the alley. Dhamiskeanus stumbled a bit as he slowly tried to back away, his hands groping blindly behind him. The panic in his eyes was evident and highlighted his desire to flee into the night. He almost startled a bit as his fingers brushed the alley wall. He turned slowly and with one hand still on the wall he began to walk opposite the direction that the foot steps were coming from.
Init Dhamiskeanus: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
Nova spends a moment apparently arguing with herself before her face changes into a terrible visage of glowing red eyes and fangs! Her howl seems to only intensify the overwhelming fear that already threatens to send you scurrying away from whatever lurks in the mists! Dhamiskeanus shambles to his feet and quickly back peddles away from the woman before bumping into the rotting stone wall. He feels portions of it begin to crumble inside his palms. Carter finds a nearby pile of rubble to try to hide behind. While Drafton takes a step back away from Nova while he seeks to identify the strange nature of the woman. Meanwhile...
The jaundice fog suddenly overcomes Nova while she stands there and she hears the echoing footsteps approaching her in a slow, sadistic manner; however, when she spins around to face her attacker she sees nothing... Suddenly she hears a whisper of dry fabric behind her just as she feels a terribly warm breath upon her left ear... and then screams in agony as a mouthful of sharp fangs sinks into the flesh of her neck! The others turn to see Nova's eyes widen in shock as blood suddenly sprays into the air and along the nearby alley wall when a gaping wound appears in her throat! Her screams turn into a gasping choke as blood suddenly fills her mouth, pouring into her throat while she gasps for air, and gushes down the front of her clothing... She stares in shock and her knees buckle, but some invisible force within the fog keeps her aloft until suddenly she is lost into the mists as it continues to stream towards the rest of you...
What do you do now?
Nova flails about for one brief, fleeting movement... the others can hear the choking gasps and grunts before all goes deadly quiet within the fog for a moment... followed by a heavy thud.
Dhamis, Carter, Drafton... what do you do?
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
Dhamiskeanus slowly steps away but the screams of the woman draw his attention back. The fear welling up inside of him forces him to try to identify the threat. He can only watch as the poor woman's throat is ripped apart by...something. As the blood runs down the front of her clothes, his eyes gloss over and a rumbling from deep inside his stomach starts. In a brief moment of sanity he wonders to himself what an odd time to be hungry.
He can feel his teeth throbbing and he is suddenly aware of how parched his throat is. The sight of the blood dripping down out of the wound is horrifying, and at the same time, strangely appealing. While his mind screams at him to turn and flee, his body is frozen, paralyzed by fear...or desire.
A heavy thud breaks him out of his trance and he hesitantly takes a small step forward towards the sound of thud, almost unaware that he is licking his lips.
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Drafton's eyes could not help but notice the spray of blood fly from the woman's flailing body before she slumped to the floor. He then noticed the big man staring at the girl, paralyzed as if by indecision.
Wait, no... is that anticipation? Drafton narrowed his eyes at that overly large man. He supposed if they managed to get out of here, he would have to keep an eye on that one.
Where had the other one gone?
"You there. Leave her. The girl is dead, or near enough. If you have any inkling of self preservation, we have to run, now!" Without waiting for a response, he turned and began to move out away from whatever was in that fog.
Carter, from your hiding spot you just witnessed a gruesome murder and a large man shambling towards they yellow fog where the girl was just butchered by an invisible force. The halfling nearby turns and begins to run the other direction... What do you?
I seriously made a post about running the hell away. I'm sorry, I guess it got eaten.
Carter didn't know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to be anywhere else. From his hiding place he turned and bolted as fast as he could manage though the disgusting fog. he nearly tripped as weight slammed against his knee and bounced on the length of chain that attached it to his belt.
He glanced down in time to see the a strange golden thing that looked something like the head of a strange mace coming back down erratically on the end of it's chain. He crabbed at it and swept it up to cradle it against his chest while he ran.
What the hells is this thing? What is going on? Where am I?
Moving away as fast and far as I can.
No worries, Carter! I know such things happen. Also, Carter, Dhamis, and Drafton all of you roll a 1d4, please.
Drafton: 1d2 ⇒ 2
Carter: 1d2 ⇒ 2
Dhamis continues his suicidal approach towards the blood remains... The sounds of running feet are quickly swallowed by the fog that embraces and caresses the dhampir like a familiar lover. He can hear the thick pattering of blood splattering onto the cobblestones... What do yo do now, Dhamis?
Drafton and Carter suddenly break and run as fast as they can away from the terrible fate stalking them from the yellow fog... The alley walls sag, battered brick slumping over the path, nearly blotting out the bruised twilight sky. Again the grimy cobblestone path splits. This time one route curves uphill, while the other recklessly descends. Behind, the yellow fog and the relentless sound of pursuit grow closer... Drafton, Carter which path do you choose?
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
1d4: 1d4 ⇒ 3
"Uhm...miss? Miss are you okay?" He knew in his mind that the woman wasn't okay. He wasn't even sure why he was asking. One does not typically live long after having their throat torn apart. Still, he felt compelled to ask. Ashamed of his failure to act before, when it might have made a difference, he reluctantly searched for the woman. Part of it was simple curiosity, part of it was his morbid fascination with blood. Something about blood seemed familiar some how, yet he couldn't explain why.
He slowly tried to muster his strength of will, creeping ever forward into the putrid fog. His feet shuffled forward inches at a time. He could feel the sweat rolling down his body, sticking to his skin in the numerous pockets of his flesh. The sound of the blood splattering was enticing him inward though, like a moth to a flame.
1d4 ⇒ 1
As you run, you couldn't help but realize that it was as though the large rotund man hadn't heard you.
He was slow to stand, unsteady on his feet anyway.
Stop! Just focus on running.
Right. He would have simply slowed you down anyway.
Don't consider it... don't think about--
The fact that he might slow down whatever is pursuing you, Drafton?
A moment later he realized there was other running footsteps up ahead. He could just make out the form of the other man, the thin looking one who had disappeared.
But before he had a chance to do anything, Drafton was forced to choose between one of two Paths. The other one ran down.
More likely a dead end going down. Up will at least let me maneuver around easier.
Besides he's faster than you, you couldn't catch up anyway.
The number you rolled is the number of items from your equipment you have on your person right now... You're allowed to figure which items.
Dhamis' shuffling feet suddenly come into contact with a soft, but solid form. He glances down to see the decimated corpse of the young woman. Wait... where did that come from? It wasn't there just a moment ago. Bright red blood pools around her head and still trickles from her ripped out throat. Her wide, dead eyes stare unblinking up towards the sky. As Dhamis stares longingly at the blood, the woman's eyes suddenly turn to stare directly at you! A choking sound starts in her chest followed by a spray of blood that showers you in tiny droplets. And then you realize the mouth, whispering something that is too hard to hear at the distance, but then is suddenly starts screaming in a terrible voice that did not belong to this woman! ME! ME! ME!" The voice sounds as if it is coming from down an inexplicably long tunnel, but the frantic terror is impossible to mistake! Suddenly you feel the impact of someone or something collide with your back! What do you do?
Carter rushes downward along the cobblestones in a reckless, headlong sprint. You can hear the unmistakable sounds of those footsteps still pursuing you as the fog comes closer and closer... Up ahead you see a blind curve in your path and perhaps a way out of this nightmare! However just as you sprint around the path you see it; the yellow fog! You skid to a halt just before rushing headlong into the mists. A quick look around shows a rotting, wooden door to your left! What do you do??
Drafton your curving, upward path carries you up and up and up... yet there seems to be no end to it! The fog continues to pursue you upwards... Your short legs to not quite quick enough and the yellow fog envelopes you... And then suddenly you hear a choking, gasping voice screaming "ME! ME! ME!" The voice sounds as if its coming from down an inexplicaby long tunnel, but the frantic terror is impossible to mistake! Your breath is now coming in ragged gasps as you continue sprinting, only to suddenly slam into and bounce off the large man you had witnessed shuffling into the murderous fog! He is standing over the dead woman and the screaming voice you continue to hear is coming from the gaping wound in her throat and yet her mouth still moves in accordance with the voice... "ME! ME! ME!" What do you do??
Carter fell against the door and slid down it as he tested the lock. Fumbling a bit in his frantic haste he pulled a leather case from a pocket and drew forth a few bent picks. He knelt and worked the door, trying to slow his breathing and watching the fog with furtive glances.
Come on.... come on.
Carter's items: His reliquary, lock picks, and a coin purse full of spare cash.
Pick Lock: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
"Oh d-d-d-dear" he stammered as he looked down at the woman. He stood there frozen. He wanted to turn and run but at the same time he wanted to help the woman. He thought about picking up her body and running to see if he could find help, but his fear made him indecisive.
That is until the body spewed blood all over him. With a swollen finger, he wiped one of the blood spots off of his clothes and brought it up to his mouth. It was an inch away from his tongue when the seemingly dead body started yelling in some strange, inhuman voice.
As the words started echoing down the tunnel, he took half a step backwards and bumped into something, or something bumped into him. It was hard to tell as his fight or flight instincts started kicking in. He turned around to see what he made contact with before he started to run.
Dhamiskeanus will start with his spellbook, average lock (attached to spellbook), and spell component pouch.
Drafton shook his head in complete disbelief. What?! How did I-
Looking up at the man... the same man he had ran away from... he'd clearly been about to eat something, but "This isn't right! I shouldn't be here."
Drafton began to run again, following after the big man. He was intent on returning to the place where the thin man had gone down. Clearly he'd made the wrong choice before.
The fear he'd locked away was on the rise but he managed again to hold it in check.
Carter rapidly works the lock, glancing over his shoulder while he works to see the fog inching closer and closer... The constant footfalls echo off the walls, echoing the pounding of his heart. 'Thump. Step. Thump. Step. Thump. Step. Thump---Click.' The lock gives, Carter rips it open, and just as he prepares to rush through the door he suddenly hears a terrible screaming "ME! ME! ME!" coming from the portal of the doorway. He looks through the door and sees more of the yellow fog waiting for him...
Drafton and Dhamis suddenly rush off into the fog, with Drafton falling behind the larger, and yet inexplicably faster man... Dhamis sees a break in the fog and makes a straight line for it! Suddenly they both find themselves rushing through a door frame and spots the thin man standing there with the door in hand and a perplexed look on his face...
The sound of footfalls suddenly stops from behind the wall of fog and a new sound starts... the same thick pattering that Dhamis heard earlier... The mist parts, now mere steps behind. A mask of gray rags emerges, strips of something fleshier than fabric worming and constricting across a body that’s almost humanlike—but too lean, and far too flexible. Gauzy gray ribbons reach out like tendrils, each grasping for less doubtful flesh to claim. Bright, thick blood still drips from the creature's maw of sharp fangs.
What do you do?
Drafton stared as the figure was revealed. He looked it up and down, taking in every, inexplicable detail. It reminded him fully of many of the drawing he had come across. This creature radiated violence and something... inexplicable.
"Fascinating... I must capture your essence!" He said in a breathless tone, unconsciously his hand reached into his vest, finding his Darkwood brush.
This will be his "one" item. Part of his masterwork Artisan's tools, that he is drawing as his move action.
With a stroke at the creature, no his momentary muse, Drafton bit his tongue and dabbed the end of end his brush. He took a few quick steps back.
"But I cannot die here either. I must live to share it!"
Drafton is casting Expeditious Retreat on himself as he is 5 ft. adjusting away. I think I just found my character.
Carter looked around for anywhere to run. The mist was everywhere, and this creature was right in front of him. He was panicking. He backed up blindly.
Something screeched behind the man-thing in the rags and flapped through the mist.
Summon Monster 1 SLA. Summoning an Entropic Eagle behind the rag man. It attacks immediately.
|The Things That Come|
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
"My gods what is that?" He points at the gray enshrouded figure as he slowly backs away. "Uh, my dear fellows, I think we should run. I think that...thing, killed the woman." He continued to shuffle backwards putting more distance between the hideous creature and himself. He risked a glance over his shoulder to see what the fog was doing but knew that their time was running out. Sooner or later, they were going to end up like the dead woman.
Sorry on the delay folks. I was terribly tired last night after I got the little man to bed and could barely keep my eyes open.
The creature turns its head towards Drafton and...smiles?, letting more of the thick blood trickle out of its mouth between the jagged fangs. However, before it could do much more, something appeared behind it and made a futile attempt to claw it. Suddenly several of the strange rags that wrap around it streak out to grab hold of the lizard-thing with wings and summarily rips it into several pieces in a shower of blood and gore! It then flings the bloody hunks onto the cobblestones at Carter's feet... and then disappears into the yellow fog... The only sound that can be heard is the terrible screaming echoing through the still open doorway...
Suddenly Carter feels an explosion of pain in his stomach as a jagged war razor slices through his abdomen, spilling his entails onto the ground in a gush of blood, guts, and viscera! He hears the sound of a child's giggle in his ears as he falls to his knees...
Dhamis and Drafton, what do you do?
"Save... me." Dawning realization drew on Drafton amid the fall of entrails. He looked at the now fallen man, blood quickly pooling up under him, the image of his painting taking eve more shape within his mind.
Where had that bird come from? Theories began running through his mind as to how any of this could even begin to make sense.
"You want to be saved but you're incapable of letting us live. How could I save you when you murder those around you? I do pity you."
Unfortunately the only way he could even begin to test his theory, is if the large man were to die... and then it would just be him. Him and this creature in the mist.
In it's moment of exultation, can the underlying mind speak for but a moment?
Drafton wanted so badly to test his theory but he was unsure if it would come for him or the big man who seemed to have finally gained some sense.
With a disheartened last look, he began to speed off once more past the now dying form on the ground.
While I would have liked to have started running immediately, I believe Drafton held himself up with his musings for most of that time. So he's leaving, now at 50 ft. a round but only with a move action.
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16
Save...save me? Save who? What is this madness?
"Save who? Who are you? Whom do we save? What is this place? The questions came pouring out of Dhamiskheanus like the blood from the poor man's stomach. As far as he could reason only two possibilities existed. Either he was dreaming, or he was already dead. If he was dreaming, why hadn't he woken up yet. If he was dead, what hell was this?
It was possible that another or even numerous other possibilities existed, but the large man just couldn't contemplate them right now. He was grateful that he still had some capacity for thought left in his head, but the fear was growing ever stronger and all-encompassing. He briefly wondered if he would lose his mind or his life first.
He was tired of running and tired of being afraid, of being a coward. He stood his ground, deciding that if he couldn't help the other two, maybe he could buy the halfling time to escape. He shouted "I want to save you but I don't know how. What do I do?"
The murderous creature 'stares' between Drafton and Dhamis for a moment, before opening its mouth and laughing.... a terrible, evil laugh... It then merely stands there for a moment when Drafton finally breaks from his musings and runs, then it turns its head towards Dhamis. The creature seems to float towards Dhamis, the 'wrappings' whipping about. When suddenly in a terrifying rush, the creature is immediately face-to-face with Dhamis as the wrappings entangle him, pinning the large man's arms to his sides! The clawed hands reach and press upon Dhamis' cheeks, almost seemingly caressing them against the futile struggling of the dhampir... "You can die."
The clawed thumbs suddenly dig into Dhamis' eye sockets, piercing the soft tissue of his eyes, and continue deeper and deeper until the crush the soft bone that protects the brain, but that cracks like an eggshell, and they finally seek what the desire! The creature seems to slowly draw out the dhampir's death with sadistic glee...
Dhamis' screams reverberate along the walls and cobblestones, filling Drafton's ears with the raw, primal pain! And strangely as the screams drag on... the halfling swears he hears Dhamis' screams saying "UP!"
What do you do now?
Drafton continued to run. The echoing sound pounding in his ears along with the adrenaline rushing through his heart.
"Up! Save Me! Up! Save Me! What?!" Between breaths he repeated the creatures words. "Up, save me? Go up, save me?"
No... I went up. It never ends. Or maybe I wasn't fast enough before. Wait... Up! Save Me! Running always seemed to make himself think more clearly, and now realization began dawning on it.
"There's another piece! This place it's a dream, no, more like a nightmare. It makes no sense otherwise. Wake UP? Is that it?"
He kept moving.
How do I wake up?
Drafton Will Save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
Drafton is able to solve the puzzle of this terrible and strange atmosphere! Just as he spots the creature stalking towards him covered in blood, flesh, and gore he wills himself to wake the world around him quakes and distorts, giving the creature pause. It sniffs the air and hisses before running towards the halfling, an unearthly wail erupts from its bloody lips! It raises its war razor high, ready to slice Drafton into ribbons of bloody flesh! Drafton gasps as the creature closes the distance, he spots the fog rapidly dissipating, and he sees his own reflection in the shiny blade as the two of them sprint in a headlong rush! The blade swipes through the air with impossible speed towards Drafton's throat and just as the razor begins to severe soft tissue... Drafton wakes with a gasp!
More to come shortly...
“Wake up, damn it!” a man’s raw voice screams, echoes off stone, his panic cutting through the claustrophobic near dark. You all jerk awake at the scream, feeling extremely groggy and lethargic, despite the intensity of the man’s fear…
In the dim light you can see the outline of bars partially blocking your view of a man lashed to a splintery worktable and an unsettlingly gaunt and thin figure wearing a blood-smeared coat of some sort standing at the foot of the table spinning a bloody blade of what appears to be broken pruning shears that glint in the dull light of a lamp suspended above. You stare at the strange sight before a cold realization sets in… You don’t know where you are or how you got here. You don’t recognize either of the two individuals separated by you and the bars… Hell, you don’t even remember who you are…
In the dim light you can see the outline of bars partially blocking your view of a table filled with all manner of strange, sharp implements including a gardening trowel, forks, several long pieces of broken glass or metal, and the broken blade from a pair of pruning shears. As you stare across the room you can make out another cell across the room and what appears to contain two prone individuals. You cannot quite make out the details, but the silhouettes appear disturbingly similar to the men from your nightmare. You stare at the strange sight before a cold realization sets in… You don’t know where you are or how you got here. You don’t recognize either of the two individuals separated by you and the bars… Hell, you don’t even remember who you are…
In the dim light you can see a small figure stirring next to you and the outline of bars partially blocking your view of a table filled with all manner of strange, sharp implements including a gardening trowel, forks, several long pieces of broken glass or metal, and the broken blade from a pair of pruning shears. As you stare across the room you can make out another cell across the room and what appears to contain a prone individual. You stare at the strange sight before a cold realization sets in… You don’t know where you are or how you got here. You don’t recognize either of the two individuals separated by you and the bars… Hell, you don’t even remember who you are…
In the dim light you can see a large figure stirring next to you and the outline of bars partially blocking your view of a table filled with all manner of strange, sharp implements including a gardening trowel, forks, several long pieces of broken glass or metal, and the broken blade from a pair of pruning shears. As you stare across the room you can make out another cell across the room and what appears to contain a prone individual. You stare at the strange sight before a cold realization sets in… You don’t know where you are or how you got here. You don’t recognize either of the two individuals separated by you and the bars… Hell, you don’t even remember who you are…
You all hear the same man’s voice pleading. ”Please, no, please! Why are you doing this?!” You hear him strain against something (Carter sees him actively struggling against his bindings). ”HELP! Please somebody help!!”
”Quiet! You’ll wake the other patients! They need their rest.” A female voice replies (Carter sees the figure wearing the blood splatter coat talking) before tittering an insane giggle…
What do you do?
As Nova sits up, she grasps her black hair, which sticks to her grimy, yet pale white skin. A dark feeling, with pain much like that of a head ache, seeps from the back of her head. She could almost touch it.
Beast: Where am I?
Says the ache
Nova: I don't know.
Nova replies within her thoughts. She acts like it is simply another person asking for directions.
She ignores the man's pleas, feeling no need to help someone she doesn't know. Instead, she scans her cell for anything that may be there.
That dream was so... Where am I?
"Wait... who?" he looked down at his hands. His eyes, no his entire head felt extremely heavy.
At the man's cries for help he started to focus less on himself and more upon the obscured scene in front of him. I can worry about myself later. He needs help.
Reaching for the blood he felt from his neck he recalled the last images he'd seen from the nightmare.
Terrified, I need to act terrified.
Letting his hand slap against the ground he began to call out.
Huh! Wha- Aaaagghh! What are you doing?! He then began to push himself back into the corner of his cell.
Perform Act: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Clearly the drugs, along with his inability to not find the scene truly disturbing and even mildly fascinating is hampering his acting ability.
Drafton is unknowingly utilizing his Acting as a Fascinate attempt against the 'Surgeon,' as he has no offensive magic or capabilities at the moment. Sadly the Dc. is only a Dc.12 will save at the moment.
Nova, you cautiously look about your cell, but see nothing but the hard floor and bars. You are dressed in dirty, blood-splatted clothing.
Drafton's shouts seems to draw the attention of the female subject as everyone hear an exasperated sigh, followed by the exaggerated stomping towards Drafton/Dhamis' cell. "See?! I told you to be quiet! Look what you've done! You woke one of the patients!" Everyone hears the man cry out in pain as the female lightly jabs him several times in the ribs with her bloody implement, deep enough to cause pain and draw blood, but not deep enough for any serious damage. She then cuts a bloody strip from her jacket as she walks around, before shoving it into the man's mouth as a gag. "I was thoroughly enjoying our moment, but you had to ruin it with your screaming!"
Dhamis, Drafton, and Nova can now see the terribly gaunt woman, wearing a blood splattered coat, the vivid red stains even more shocking upon the dirty white of the coat. Once the gag was properly introduced to the patient, she turns to stare at Drafton, pausing for just a moment as he unintentionally attempts to distract her; however, she narrows her eyes at the halfling and frowns at him. "Now you, pipe down! You'll have your turn soon enough..." she glances over at the blood-covered man. "From the looks of him, sooner rather than later." She lets loose with another insane giggle before wiping the bloody implement upon her jacket and turning back towards her "patient". "Now, where should we look next?" She grins at the whimpers coming from behind the gag and she twirls the blade on one finger while she skips around the table...
Each cell is secured with a swing-hinge style door and a heavy lock.
|Dhamiskeanus, the Swollen|
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11
Dhamiskeanus slowly climbed to his feet, grunting with the exertion it took to move so much weight. He brushed away some of the dirt actually accomplishing very little in his efforts to clean himself off.
Ugh, where am I? What is this place? He looked around while rubbing the back of his neck. Is that...is that a child?
"Excuse me little one, what's your name? My name is...Dhamiskeanus, I think."
Wait, is that really my name?
"Do you remember your name?"
The pleas of the suffering man pulled Dhamiskeanus out of his daze and back to reality, if that's what this was. He moved closer to the bars, actually grasping them in both hands, more of an effort to hold himself up than anything else. The wicked instruments on the table sent shivers down his spine, but he tried to appear brave for the child's sake.
"Does, does anyone know where we are?"
Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (3) + 13 = 16
Nova takes notice of the frightening woman, along with the slight jingle of keys dangling from her belt.
Nova: There's the keys, now how do I get them?
Beast: Wait for the woman to come close, then kill her!
Nova: I cannot kill her. She is armed and I am not.
Beast: Thrash with tooth and nail.
Nova: She will still kill me.
Beast: Better to die fighting, than to give up.
Nova: Better to live. I have time, so I will find another way.
Nova will scan the torture room for anything of use. In so doing, she inadvertently casts Detect Magic (no somatic or verbal components, since psychic).
Carter stayed quiet, taking the moments of talking and distraction to assess himself. He ran his hands over his body, checking for pockets, running his tongue along the insides of his mouth in the recesses of his gum line.
Why did I do that
Do I have any equipment?
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
From his back corner within the cell, Drafton, yes that was his name, spotted the keys hanging from the woman's belt. His distractions had not worked. How could he find...
When the large man began speaking to him from the next cell over began speaking and introduced himself Drafton nearly felt perplexed at the almost casual tone he carried.
Dhamiskeanus? he thought quietly.
Dropping all pretenses of being frightened, he pulled himself up from the back of the cell and moved to the edge.
"Drafton. No idea where we are, but I bet he does." he replied back quietly to Dhamiskeanus.
Taking a deep breath he spoke out into the room. "You're doing this quite poorly." The scene was almost fantastical to him, his mind felt as though he should have been scared but the woman had simply not been that frightening.
Bit of an odd thing here. Drafton is beginning an attempt at a intimidation check. Result reduced by 4 for size difference. Usually takes a minute of conversation. Didn't want to use up too much space. He's going to get a lot scarier and more demanding as the scene goes on. He's also not going to let himself be frightened by her.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24