up.
.
Dotting.
All things considered, getting into the back of the auto-carriage was a bad idea.
Receiving the note some days earlier at your apartment you initially brushed it off as some weird chain mail or scam that would see you lose limbs or organs to some back alley necromancer. Worse, getting dominated and memory wiped before getting shipped off to some god awful corner of the continent for whatever horrible purpose that can be imagined.
But, when the note combusted and disappeared into wispy smoke not even leaving enough to scry if you felt inclined you decided that it might be worth taking seriously.
The note was simple, written in a black scrawling hand on thick red paper:
You have been chosen to stand among us against the plague. None can be trusted. Come to [street corner not far from where you live] enter the auto-carriage that arrives at noon tomorrow. It is up to you on how you respond. You will not be contacted again.
All of your better judgment told you to ignore it. But something about the note bothered you. First, the many questions regarding the nature of the note. Second, was the people behind it. Third, what would happen next?
The one thing you did not question was; why you?
After all, you were competent to some degree. Certainly more competent than many of your peers whether it be in the arts of sword play, magic or those other skills that tend to get ignored in a world where some magical gadget or doodad.
So, you made the first dangerous decision. You went to the place.
When the auto carriage pulled up a lump formed in your throat when you saw the driver. A manikin construct.
Manikins were a form of cheap, affordable construct developed twenty years ago. Not quite as tough as undead but better smelling and not requiring all the maintenance that more expensive constructs require.
The trouble with using them as carriage drivers, as companies found out a few years ago, was that anyone can purchase a manikin, dress it in the uniform of your company, and use it to nefarious ends. It started out as simple muggings, or practical jokes, but after a series of murders where a number of attractive women were taken to a certain abandoned warehouse in the black velvet district the businesses that used them either went under or switch to more reliable human drivers.
Seeing one in front of you now staring ahead with its blank featureless face awaiting for you to get in or leave made you reconsider the decision to see what this note was about.
Thus you made your second dangerous decision, you stepped into the auto-carriage.
To your relief the auto-carriage didn’t go deep into the worse districts of the city but deep into the factory quarter. Of course, with most of the workers here being mindless beings with no empathy it rapidly occurs to you that if you screamed here no one would come to help.
The auto carriage stopped in front of a utility tunnel. It’s dark and gaping maw leading underground.
Underground.
Where the plague creatures dwell.
Gathering your courage you made the third dangerous decision of the day. You entered the tunnel carrying a bit of light. The encroaching darkness of the tunnel played havoc on your imagination as you constantly wondered if the scrabbling you kept hearing just out of sight was that of rats or other more predatory creatures getting ready to take the nourishment they require straight off of your bones.
The tunnel ended on a cover to the sewers with its locks broken and its portal open for all to go in. Or for something else to come out.
Going down the ladder you notice that the tunnel downward lacks the smell that a sewer traditionally holds. Instead it terminated into a small concrete room with a metal table in the center. On the table is a crimson silk cloth.
As you look around the room noticing no exits a voice reverberates around the room and in your inner ear.
”Put on the blindfold tightly. You will be taken to meet the others and begin your initiation.”
You call out in response. Trying to get answers to your questions, who they are, why they are doing this. All the things that a normal, sane, person would do.
But no answer comes. Only silence.
Taking a deep breath you pick up the blindfold and put it on making the fourth dangerous decision of the day.
As your sight is lost you jump as a hand touches your back, there is a rush of air and the smell of ozone.
The feeling of the hand is gone but the temperature of the room has dropped significantly. Rubbing your arms against the chill you also sense that the room is now much larger than the 5x5 cell you were previously in.
Then the voice comes again.
”You may now remove the blindfolds. Take a moment to get acquainted and your trial will begin.”
Taking the blindfold off you look around to find yourself in a brightly lit room. Two steel doors on the other side seem to be the only exit. Of greater interest are the other four, well armed, people in the room.
Lienhol stands silently now that he had gotten to this point. After all, he was used to standing and looking intimidating. The title of "Dreadguard" was a lofty one, but ultimately it was only a title. It's benefit was in sounding intimidating. Invaluable, considering that his role in the Cabal was to loom over it's members and deter any potential troublemakers.
The samsaran man clad in full plate catches Aiseilura's attention first. Seems to be posturing himself as the most threatening one in the room. Is that simply a warning to not get too close, or a bid at leadership?
Her gaze shifts to the two humans. Both have obvious scars... I'd wager both have been in their fair share of fights before. She pauses and considers the lightly armed one a bit further. Something seems odd about him, but she just can't quite put her finger on exactly what it is. Likely some sort of magical inclination... She suppresses a shiver. Magic users often seem strange, but this one leaves her feeling particularly uneasy.
Finally, she looks down to the gnome. Ah, he seems to prefer close combat with lighter weapons, as well. A kindred spirit, perhaps?
Well, I don't recognize any of them from duty with the guards. Either they're not troublemakers or they're good enough at what they do to not get caught. Let's hope for the former...
After a lingering moment of silence, Aiseilura steps forward to address the group with a smile. "Rather diverse group we've got here, isn't it? Most call me 'Ice', so I suppose that will do for you all, as well." Her brow furrows as her thoughts return to the disembodied voice. "Do any of you know anything about this trial?"
With his greatest, deepest, most booming voice Lienhol waves his hand and states: "No."
...
Matters of conversation where typically left to Cabal leaders, appropriately enough.
Caun silently observes the scene around him while letting his eyes adjust themselves to the bright light and trying to clear the smell of ozone out of his nose. I'm not dead, that's a good first step. He starts to run his hands over the course of his body to make sure nothing had gone missing unnoticed.
Observing those around him with his piercing grey eyes, they seemed to be a somewhat odd group, presumably capable if they were asked here as well, assuming all was as it was told. He was pretty sure he had never met any of them before, at least not long enough to remember.
"My name is Caun, I am servant of The One Lord, and I doubt I know anything more than you do.
I presume everyone here was given the same note?"
Caun's voice is comes off as very 'matter of fact'. Not curt, but not overtly friendly sounding either.
Brittiri grumbles. In the auto carriage. At the blindfold. Now at the introductions. The gnome is short in stature and patience, his face carrying a sour look, Yah, I'd wager so. Chosen. Blindfolds. Blah blah blah.
The gnome rubs his chin a moment as he squints and looks at the others. Noting "Ice"'s into he gestures to himself, Brittiri...Longtread
"Yes, that sounds like the letter I received as well. So, I suppose the next question is, 'What next?'"
Caun nods towards the double doors.
"Those would be the obvious answer, to what ends is beyond me."
"Couldn't hurt to be too careful though. People often say one thing and mean another."
Caun chants softly to himself before hitting the room (doors included) with a detect magic. If he hits anything he will concentrate for the three rounds.
Brittiri clicks his tongue as the inquisitor starts to utter words of power, I would say we should open it...but I'll let you take a look around...
The gnome makes a point of crossing his arms with feigned indifference...and then promptly scans the room himself...
Light flares for a moment as the man in the blue coat light a thin cigar.
He is unarmed save for a walking stick. His clothes mark him as middle class. The rings on his hands mark some success, but not too much.
"The manikin was a nice touch. An older model. The initial design was for a manual laborer. Good strength and fine control <puff> but the waist joint was too isolated, couldn't cash the checks the arms were writing. Company was in trouble 'til some bright young thing realized that drivers need fine control and strong arms but the waist joints are supported by the seat. Made a fortune until the whole black velvet affair."
<exhale> The smoke rises slowly in the still air.
"My name is Ryzern, I do some work for the Imbuers by the by. I'll be missed, but not that quickly. I expect you are all the same? Unlikely to spark too much of a hue an cry?"
"As to the trial, I expect it started as soon as were were warped down here. Depending on how good their Walker is we could be just about anywhere."
Ryzern takes another draw on the cigar, watching the smoke drift in the heavy air. "I suppose we should open the door. Any volunteers?"
1. What are the walls and floor made of?
2. Any smells, apart from the tobacco?
3. Any breeze? Cigar smoke is a good air movement detector.
4. The blindfolds, purpose made as blindfolds or just cloth cut for the purpose?
5. The metal doors, New or old? Industrial style or decorated? Visible latch/lock/bar?
The light is coming from a globe above you that radiates both light and magic.
The doors themselves possess no handles or hinges and seem to slide into the wall to allow entry. As you consider how to get them open a voice reverberates through the room and buzzes in your inner ear. It's a male voice but it's so distorted as it's nearly impossible to identify.
"If you're all acquainted we can get started. Beyond the door is a complex with a number of rooms. Beyond those rooms you will see a door similar to the one in front of you openable with 6 keys you can find in the complex."
Pausing for a second to give you a chance to absorb that the voice continues. "Our goal, ultimately, is to cleanse the plague from the city and bring those who started its spread to justice. The plague doesn't compromise, it doesn't meet you halfway, you do not simply get over it. It kills you, and if you're truly unlucky, it uses you to kill everyone else around you. Same with the challenges in the rooms ahead. The only people we can afford to have within our circle are those who understand this fact, face it, and can overcome it."
"Ask what questions you need to ask now, make whatever preparations you need to make. The doors will open shortly."
Aiseilura's head droops a bit in sadness as the voice describes the effects of the plague; the pain of losing her adoptive father remains fresh on her mind. Perhaps we cannot save those who have already been affected... Serving justice may have to suffice.
"I have no questions. Let us proceed with all haste; the citizens need our help."
Lienhol hefts his sword and heads forward, indicating that he too is ready to face the coming gauntlet.
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Quietly to the other pawns players:"May I have your blindfolds please. They might come in handy later."
If the silks are forth coming Ryzern quickly ties them into a short rope which he loops over his shoulder.
(8+7skill)15 vs. Tn15. Pass
(10+3int) 13 vs. Tn15. Fail
(14+3int
Aloud to the Voice: "As you have left us with few choices, mystery voice, we might as well begin. Though one does wonder why you are going through all this trouble rather than actually helping."
"Still you did go to all the trouble of building your little play space cum murder garden so we might as well see what the latest cut-rate black velvet copycat can manage."
Caun stands with his arms crossed, his foot tapping, clearly impatient.
"This is redicules, there are people dying and you want us to play games suitable for a mouse... If we must then fine, get on with it. Whoever you are."
Brittiri shrugs and gestures to the door.
"We are helping. Everyday. In ways you can't percieve by design. Make no mistake, we are not a charity, a hospice, or some noble warrior or mage order. We are a blade. A precision tool to slice out hearts and remove heads. We are hips and elbows deep in blood."
As the voice finishes its last sentence their is a mechanical clank and the doors slowly begin to open revealing a pitch black hallway beyond.
"Each one of you has the skill to cause your own miniature Flesh Harvest. There are plenty like you in the city, but few with the moral background and desire to free the city from the plague's grip. But the plague is just an attack hound, a beast unleashed to prey on the city to the benefit of someone. That means whoever is holding the leash won't let their pet die out. That's where you come in."
Lights come on in the hall beyond revealing corridors that split off and in the distance you can see the metallic glean of another set of doors.
"You have the skills, you have the desire, and we know for certain you are not in leagues with those that hold that leash. The only questions left is your will, and your capacity as a team. You have already made the decision to come this far. Most would have ignored the letter and gone on with their lives. Others would have turned back at the sight of the ladder. But you made the decision to enter the dragon's lair. The only way out is either alive or dead. We look forward to meeting you in person."
With that the doors are open and a new life, a gruesome death, or something else entirely lies in front of you.
Lienhol heads in first, taking point as he draws his weapon.
Caun listens to the voice then murmurs just barely audible to those around him, a slight hint of approval in his voice "We shall see then."
He then draws out his glaive before murmuring a few words as a magical aura appears around him briefly and casts on himself before following the Dreadguard in.
Aiseilura readies her kukris and takes a deep breath as she settles into Outer Sphere Stance and steels her resolve.
Watching the Dreadguard and the Priest enter the corridor.
"Watch out for the traps."
I am assuming concrete of the same age and condition as in the entry room makes up the walls and floors of the new hall. Correct?
Also assuming more magic light globes. Right?
Any breeze now that the doors are open?
Any sounds or smells?
Any furnishings or rubble?
The gnome follows suit, drawing his swords and following the others...
Map is now in campaign description at the top of the thread. A big map and a close in map.
@Ryzern:
1. Yes.
2. Yes.
3. The soft hum of machinery.
4. No.
Walking forward training a cloud of fragrant smoke Ryzern peers down the corridor.
"Six keys, six cross corridors. Two to four rooms per corridor. The middle is the brave path but a meat-grinder if all the doors open at once.
I recommend a cautious approach. Down the far right hand side and try one room at a time until we find a key. I might have a shortcut at that point."
"Guide, and I shall follow." responds Lienhol promptly. He will take second rank, close behind Ryzern.
Aiseilura responds quietly, "May want to keep our voices down. Don't want to attract any extra attention. But the far right seems as good as any. Let's go."
Caun nods his head in agreement to the proposed plan.
Brittiri nods slowly in agreement as he looks around at at his companions. Whispering lowly, I've got the rear. Lead on.
Map updated.
Traveling along the right you pass a steel door. Along the corridor to the right you see more steel doors along with halls leading off towards the right back towards the center.
Keeping close together the group follows Ryzern to the first door round the corner.
Softly to the other victims: "Give me a moment to check this door."
1. Same type of automated sliding door as in the entry room?
2. Any visible way to open the door?
3. Any sounds to hear? Perception is +7. Perhaps I'll get lucky and the baddies will be having a sing-song.
4. Anything unusual? Apart from the group of heavily armed kidnap victims that is.
Checking the first door round the corner for traps Perception for this is +8 before Aid other actions.
The door looks like a steel naval door. The type that can be sealed automatically or can be opened up by turning the wheel and pulling the door open. You hear nothing coming from within the room.
You do not stumble upon any props from the Saw series whilst moving down the hall.
"Hm. Opening this door might be a little noisy."
Aiseilura pauses to look down the far right and middle corridors again before returning to the group.
"Looking down the hallways so far, it seems like a safe bet that there are six rooms, one for each key. No guarantee that every door for every room is closed, though. Should we proceed into this first room, or check for any open doors first?"
"Hmmm six of one?" Ryzern smiles.
"A good idea to check the other passageways. I'd be happier though to have a door I control between me and whatever slings and arrows our mystery host provides. But that is just a whim."
Post votes below please: I am voting, 1 open this door, 2 check corridors and exit door.
Assuming the open door policy prevails. Ryzern will check for traps and then open the door...
"I say we try the door, we aren't going to get anywhere unless we go into one, might as well be this one."
Brittiri nods as Caun speaks, the gnome anxiously spinning his blades hand over hand, Boys' right, we may as well just start here, is as good as anything else...
"Alright, let's open it up, then."
Stacking on the door after a bit of negotiation you crack open the steel door with the squeal of metal sliding on metal.
The room within reveals a large upraised altar upon which sits a massive stone sarcophagus. The room is as brightly lit as the rest of the complex so far. The upraised altar reaches ten feet in the air with the sarcophagus being an additional 5ft. in height.
"Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward...."
Trailing a line of thin blue smoke Ryzern moves forward cautiously.
Lienhol moves in alongside Ryzern, though without a discerning gaze. He merely hefts his weapon, cautious of anything that may attack them.