The hunters all reflexively scramble to the sides of the room as the labyrinth of shelves quickly collapse. Wood splinters and flies in all directions while jars of murky liquid come crashing down, disgorging their contents.
In the end all but one of the shelves has been destroyed. One still stands held up by Morgam, though its contents still slid free and pelted him with glass and foul smelling slurry.
Morgam steps away from the shelf and picks glass out of his hide. His eyes look feral and his blood is a sickly ichor as it flows out of his various wounds. He looks more angry than injured, but after a few steps he holds up the key defiantly. "I got it." He says simply, spitting on the floor to punctuate the statement.
Producing a cloth from one of his pockets, Sigmund soaks it with clean water from his flask and steps towards Morgam.
Handing him the cloth he asks ''Are you alright Morgam? You should clean and bind your wounds before we proceed. No telling what kind of foulness is to be found in these tunnels.''
Morgam slips the key into his pocket and takes the rag. "Yeah..." He agrees vaguely as he turns his back and takes a pace away, cleaning himself up a bit. After a few moments he returns, his eyes and skin back to normal, and his wounds now clean and a familiar red color. He sits down and unslings his pack, pulling out a sturdy clay jug. The handle seems to have broken off but otherwise it's in good condition. He pulls the stopper and takes a big drink.
"Ale. It's cheap, but I like it." He sets the jug next to him and gestures at it, looking to the others.
"This whole place is rigged up to kill. But it ain't like traps... more like haunted." Morgam observes before pulling out a blood vial.
"Yeah, I don't like it here. Let's investigate it quickly and get out of here." Sybile nods and kicks some broken shelves and jars.
"I second that, but first we might as well bring that heart or whatever it is with us."
Grim says moving back towards the jar.
"I recommend that you all brace yourselfs."
He says as he grabs the jar from it's location
Morgam restored the stopper to his jug and the jug to his pack. He put it back on and brought out his morningstar. It wasn't a shield, but if anything else meant to fall on him he had a mind to give it a beating anyway.
The jar comes away without argument, thiugh the ticking is now aggrevatingly loud as it eminates from the thing. It is heavy and unwieldy with the liquid sloshing about and the contents themselves are unsettling.
Morgam spies a glance at the pocket watch before nodding at Sybille to carry on.
It points strongly towars the jar
"Oh, this ought to be amusing. What's in the jar?"
Sybille stares suspiciously at the jar and scoffs. "Nothing good. Do we won't to open it? And if we do, do we want to do it here?"
"No, we're just hunters. Let the Church handle this one." Morgam replies gruffly. "But be careful with that. Last thing we need is to break it open and let loose some damn cursed beating heart."
With that, Morgam checks the door for traps.
The large chained doors do not seem to be trapped
Morgam fishes the key from his pocket and tries it on the padlock.
The internal mechanism in the lock truns slowly and with much protest, but in the end it turns all the same. The bar springs free and the lock crashes loudly to the ground, the chains becoming slack in the process.
Sigmund looks visibly disappointed that the jar is to remain unopened for the moment, his eyes are alight with curiosity. He recognizes however that they have more important issues at hand.
He stands a couple of feet away from the door, sword in one hand and pistol in the other, ready for any surprises on the other side of the door.
With nothing further to do the hunters open the doors cautiously and step inside.
They find something like an amphitheater, a large domed ceiling looming high overhead whose depths are hidden in shadow. The room is a large circle with several raised platforms along the edges of the room. Much like the other rooms in this strange place, things appear deathly still. There are scattered collections of a soupy liquid on the floor, but what draws the most attention is the large humanoid suit of armor that lays sprawled part ways across the room. In the center of its chest you see a hole that is ominously about the shape and size of the jar carried by Grim
"I've got a bad feeling about this." Morgam says in a low voice as they survey the room. "Real bad."
He slinks beyond the light of the torch and clutches at his gut as his blood runs cold once more, turning to ice in his veins.
The power takes hold, but the pain takes him to one knee as it spreads like tendrils through his body.
Sybille walks over to the suit of armor to check if it has anyone inside. She avoid the soupy liquid as much as possible.
The armor appears to be unoccupied, though the joints and spaces have been sealed so it is difficult to truly say. By it's size you can only guess that it was forged for a man larger than any you have met. It's dull silver surface is covered in fine engravings, a sign that great care was taken in its construction.
"Okay, new, momentary rule. The jar stays away from the giant suit of armor, and we don't open it down here." Dominic says, a stress touching his voice. He steps up to the armor as well, and tries to relieve it of any weapons it may have on it.
"I second that much so."
Seeing as Sybille was busy examining the armor, Sigmund decided to see if there was anything to learn from the liquid pooling around the room.
Fetching an empty flask from his pocket, he carefully dipped it into the liquid until he had collected some. He sniffed it and swirled it around the bottle trying to see if he could tell what it was.
As the hunters move more about the room they start to kick up a thick layer of dust, revealing that the floor beneath is a polished, translucent surface - like glass - and something lies beneath.
Sigmund begins his examination of the liquid, adding water once he gets it in the container. As soon as it is rehydrated it becomes more viscous, almost gel like. It is silvery yet based on the reaction of the regents he added to the bottle, undoubtedly organic. He notices too that it moves and shivers in the container, even without his swirling.
Before suggesting to return back to the workshop, Sybille dusts off the floor and looks through the floor. "And what is that?"
The more dust that is wiped away the clearer the view becomes. You can tell know that the floor is glass, beneath is what looks to be a clock face, but you cannot yet read what is inscribed upon it.
"Does anyone know what is this thing? It gives me shivers. We should just get out of here and report to the workshop."
Morgam helps Sybille clear away the dust and looks down with concern written all over his face. "I don't like it. Let's take the heart and get out of here."
As more of the floor is uncovered and the face beneath the glass is revealed. It is tremendous, spanning the entire diameter of the room. The face itself looks to have been carved from some manner of stone or marble with iron, brass, and gold inlays. Towards the center of the face are two smaller circles, equal in size and adjacent. There are a total of six hands on the thing, two traversing the outside and two more each in the smaller faces. The thing is partially obscured by the suit of armor laying in the room but you have begun to make out inscriptions for the measured increments. Many of them are illegible, written in the same confounding script as what you saw earlier. Nestled among those, though, are pictographs. Towards the base of the clock, at the door to the room, there are many symbols of men and, among them, taller, lither humanoids. The symbols spread across the perimiter of the clock and as they go on the men become more stooped, even bestial, until they are transformed into a great many wolves gathered beneath a moon at the back of the room. At the head of the creatures is a man, robbed, hands spread outwards, beckoning them, his silhouette is framed with a eerily familiar symbol. The hands of the larger face have stopped at this point on the clock exactly
The two interior faces have symbols as well, one appears to be phases of the moon and the other for seasons.
"What a horrible place for a clock." Dominic mutters. "Let me check quickly if there are any exits from this room, then I agree we should head back."
"It's not for telling time. This thing is some kind of..." Morgam stands, wiping off the dust. "Tracking some kind of cycle. And I got a bad feeling about the hour."
He moves to examine the other two inner faces and checks his own pocket watch.
"The man with the tattoos, that made a beast by killing another man, that's his symbol. This clock knew he was coming. And it knew what he was bringin' with him."
The pocket watch points toward the jar. The hands of the lunar clock have stopped on a hollow circle and the hands other have stopped on a horizontal line with several verticle lines rising from it
Sigmund's eyes once more gleam with excitement, though he also looks a little apprehensive when he notices that the liquid he caught in his jar seems to be moving of its own volition.
Carefully removing a stopper from his pocket he jams it into the jar, sealing it. He replaces it into his pocket for later inspection before he moving to inspect the clock.
He says nothing at first as he examines the various pictographs, lines and symbols on the floor. As he gazes at the symbol near where the hands have stopped, he lets his mind wonder as he contemplates the symbols.
The excited gleam returns to his eyes and he begins pointing at the symbols.
''Fall!Fall! That's what these symbols mean.'' He grows silent for a moment and thinks again. ''...Actually, they could also signify late summer. In either case, farmer's often use these symbols to signify the time of year.....''
He trails off as he remembers exactly what season Yharnam is currently experiencing and can't help the cold feeling of dread that courses up his spine.
"So, something's supposed to happen in late summer or fall?" Sybille glances at the clock. "Strange."
"I'm tellin' ya this is bad. We've got to get back to the workshop." Morgam says gruffly. His eyes dart around the giant clock with a degree of panic, and small beads of sweat dot his forehead. "Now."
Sigmund nods at Morgam's proclamation, though he does cast the armor another look of curiosity and longing.
''I would tend to agree. This clock design has far too many similarities to persons and things we've seen the last few days to put off informing our superiors.''
He spares the armor a second glance.
''Though I can't deny I'm curious to see what would have happened if we placed the jar into that thing's chest.''
"Then let's get going." Dominic says, turning towards the door.
"Yes, lets."
Shaken and weary, the hunters begin to retrace their steps through this strange underground space. There is no natural light in this place and so no way to know how long they've really been down here. The hands of Morgams mad watch are no help, nor are the grim tidings offered by the device found in the depths of this place. Perhaps they could keep the time by the steady beating of the macabre device still carried by Grimm, or perhaps it is better not to think of the gruesome thing at all.
They ascend the stairs to the destroyed workshop floor, and from there assemble in the side room. They are relieved to see the ropes by which they entered still anchored allowing for a timely exit.
As they emerge the hunters are comforted by the familiar wafting stench of the cities sewers. Crox also has made an appearance as it seems he has been waiting for you. The lantern he holds illuminates him, and also the two unfamiliar men dressed in the brown and white garb of scholars behind him. "So you return to the land of the living" he says, making no effort to hide the sarcasm amidst his poor attempt at humor. "How was it? Everything you expected it to be and more?"
"Very funny." Sybille glances at Crox and focuses on scholars.
"Not what you would expect. We've dealt with everything we found, but you better take some hunters with you just in case."
Sybille gives the scholars a short report on what they've encountered. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have some rest now."
"And some food, and some music, and... well. My list of needs is long and varied. Dominic says, and smiles at the humorless gentlemen.
"It was... There's a lot to tell. Long story short, I think this town's in a bad spot."
Morgam proceeds to convey the important bits about the animated gears, the falling shelves, the mummified corpses, the heart, the heavily locked door and the great clock that lie behind it. And, of course, the figure with the gaping chest.
"I don't know exactly what's goin' on, but the tattooed man I saw, he's the one that clock foretold. Somebody knew he was comin', and they knew he was bringin' a plague of beasts with him.
This town's in trouble."
"No, it was more confusing then anything else, Especially this." Grim says holding out the jar.
Crox' eyes dart between the hunters but his face remains unshaken.
"So nithing down there to explain the disappearances? Suppose it was just a fools errand then, the Byrgenweth boys will take it from here. There the scholarly types.”
With nothing more to say the group gratefully departs the sewers. A hot wind greets them as they emerge back onto the streets of their town, and though they do not know it yet, something ill is brewing.
Morgam you are not a born and bred Yharnamite like the rest, and as you know first hand the secrets of this town and its people are terribly hard to pry free. Still you feel compelled to try.
Searching for some insight in to what you saw in the sewers you seek the council of those that make the underground their home. Your old contacts in the smuggling circuit, men and women who make a profession of skulking about in the darkness.
What was the name of your contact again?
"Well well... if it isn't Alucious Zane." Morgam says, looking the man over. "Surprised nobody's killed you yet."