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Cats and Fearless both keep their distance.
York grunts when Pinkie lands a punch into his side, but doesn't let go of The Twin.
Brother Butterfly stands from his chair and strides over to offer a blessing for Pinkie.
The Twin stomps on York's foot and bits at his arm, but despite his efforts remains grappled firmly.
"Ok, looks like we're going to need three jackets!" York growls as he applies a sleeper hold on The Twin. Noticing Brother Butterfly coming close, he yells at him. "Back off fatman or you'll be joining them!"
Distracted by the growing number of opponents, York loses his grip on The Twin! "Black Abaddon!" He curses.
One of the orderlies stays with The Mariner while the other moves to aid York and apprehend Pinkie.
Meanwhile, three more orderlies arrive in the hall with Campre in the lead. Jackets with belted straps dangle from their hands.
"Looks like the new guys decided to wake up and start a barmy brawl!" He laughs.
"It's about time!" York shouts. "Get over here Campre!"
INITIATIVE - All PCs are up!
Cats
Pinkie *Grappled (Luck blessing for next round - roll twice taking more favorable)
The Mariner (16 nonlethal damage)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin
Fearless
York
Orderlies
Fearless holds his hands outstretched before him.
"Nope....nope....nope...nope!"
The little halfling crouches defensively in the corner as more orderlies pour into the room.
Round 4, Init 18
Cats continues to watch the scruff from afar, moving closer to Fearless. He is sure glad that he's not any of the crazies in the scrum.
"Hey Halfling? Halfling!" Cats says to Fearless. "You got a razor? I could use a shave."
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Noticing Brother Butterfly coming close, he yells at him. "Back off fatman or you'll be joining them!"
I don't mind listening to those in Authority.
Brother Butterfly goes right back and sits down in his chair. Mouthing the words good luck to Pinkie.
As soon as he is seated, he takes a look around trying to observe The Twins deck of cards, specifically to see if they are doing anything given that The Twins is/was being held, If my perception can also look at the people in that part of the room. Looking for those that are at least mentally alert, and those that are totally catatonic.
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Some unconscious part of the Mariner still fighting on as he lays on the floor.
The cock shaking his head in shame, "Oh please - this is embarrassing."
"Haha!" The Twin bellows as he slips free from York's grasp. "You will be the fourth to be strung up behind those pitiful excuses for people, York!" he says as he waves the keys in the direction of the meek trio of Brother, Cats and Fearless.
The melee turns comical as York and his orderlies scramble to subdue the new unruly patients.
Pinkie wriggles in the orderly's grip, stuck for a moment. "I'll get the little bugger for you!" Cries a gravely voice and the old man with the shoe, previously stomping invisible insects in the corner, comes charging in to help the orderly. Through dumb luck Pinkie ducks at just the right moment and the orderly takes the shoe to the forehead, causing him to release his grip and stumble back.
"Oops!" The old man exclaims, then begins cackling.
"Nope....nope....nope...nope!"
The little halfling crouches defensively in the corner as more orderlies pour into the room.
"Yes... Yes... Yes... Yes!" Comes a reply from among the crowd of patients near the singer.
The Mariner manages to lift a few fingers in a feeble attempt to escape.
Brother Butterfly retreats to his chair, but remains vigilant. From his position he notices that the most coherent patients seem to be those who were gathered around the singer, Wren.
The Twin drops into a defensive crouch as York advances on him.
York stumbles into Brother Butterfly's chair, nearly tossing the big man to the floor. Another orderly slips on a puddle of vomit. A third crashes through the card player's table. Still, through sheer numbers one orderly manages to get hands on Pinkie while another secures The Mariner in one of the belted jackets.
The Twin laughs, taunting York and his orderlies, but a sharp blow to the side of the head reminds him that the fight is far from over.
"Shut up, you barmy fool." Campre sneers from behind him, hefting a padded club and winding up for another swing.
INITIATIVE - All PCs are up!
Cats
Pinkie (grappled)
The Mariner (16 nonlethal damage - restrained)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin (7 nonlethal damage)
Fearless
York
Campre
Orderlies
While defensive Fearless grows startled as he turns and sees Cats coming at him. Seeing he is no longer able to defend himself and stuck in a corner the little halfling leaps at the rocking man. With a shrill scream he leaps into the air at Cats.
Round 5, Init 18
Cats withdraws, barely noticing that the little halfling 'attacked' him.
"No thanks! I wanted a razor, not a crazer," Cats says as he moves back again, trying to find a safe place to collect himself amidst the room of chaos.
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"Oh I see you just gonna let them do this when you are the one that said WE should help"
The Twin is walloped over the head by the tiny club, enraging the man. "Feeling lucky, Campre!?!" he bellows in anger. "Well, you've just signed your own death warrant!"
The Twin feeds his fingers through the keyring and takes a wild swipe at the offending man. "HIYA!" he screams as his jingly fist flies through the air.
Cats nearly tangles with Fearless over a question of personal grooming. Brother Butterfly remains in his chair, trying to observe a few mental patients in their natural habitat while chaos reigns all about.
Pinkie gives an orderly the slip again! Once free, he turns to open space and accuses it of not helping.
The Mariner continues to struggle, but the jacket he's being strapped into renders his efforts fruitless.
The Twin grips York's keys and swings them at Campre, but the orderly leans away from the attack.
Having reached his limit, York balls up his fists. "That's it! Put them down!" He calls to his orderlies, then throws a one-two combination of punches into The Twin.
The Twin dodges a body blow, but takes an uppercut to the chin which lays him out.
Campre chases down Pinkie and drops him with a single swipe of his club to the boy's face.
The orderlies shrug and one of them puts down the Mariner with a short jab to the temple.
York looks around at the hall. "Would anyone else like a ticket to the Ward of the Wicked!!"
Those patients capable of response decline with mumbles and shakes of their heads. The Old Man with the shoe quickly hides it behind his back and gives a gap-toothed smile of innocence.
INITIATIVE - All PCs are up!
Cats
Pinkie (13 nonlethal damage - unconscious)
The Mariner (19 nonlethal damage - unconscious)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin (12 nonlethal damage - unconscious)
Fearless
York
Campre
Orderlies
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"Would anyone else like a ticket to the Ward of the Wicked!?"
Cats suddenly finds some really interesting lint to stare at on the floor, keeping his eyes downcast and not looking at York...or any of the dazed goonies laying at his feet.
Poor scum. They don't know how crazy they are. Unlike me. It was the cats. Not my fault.
* * *
When it is calm again, Cats will go back to his good chair and rock. As he sits back down, he swipes his hand under this butt just before he sits...just in case.
Fearless stares at the corner of the room where he lay. Not moving a muscle. Seems no one noticed him entering the fray and he liked it better that way.
Content that the orderlies are just going to leave him alone he begins to calm down a bit again and moves about the room. Within minutes whatever calming spell was once on him to calm his fear wears off and the Halfling feels a warm sensation run down his pants. The entire front section of his clothing becomes damp and yellow as a puddle forms underneath him.
Shaking once again with anger and fear he slowly walks away and backs into one of the orderlies that is still there for some reason.... Looking back and up he runs across the room to a better vantage point where he can keep an eye on everyone. His zig-zagged path leads a wet snail trail all the way across.
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Looking around at the quick de-escalation of events. With Pinkie, the Mariner, and The Twin unconscious and being wrapped up in buckles.
Brother Butterfly says to the patients that have been cowed by York, Well, I certainly earned a good foot massage. I am willing to trade this evening's desert to anyone in exchange for a relaxing and solid foot massage! Who wants an extra BIG ration of desert for a small amount of work?
Diplomacy:
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"Take them upstairs and find them rooms." York charges Campre. "Leave the jackets on and get Oathsday to take a look at them. Looks like the kid took a hard knock."
"He walked into it." Campre shrugs, smacking his club into an open hand. As he begins to drag The Twin from the hall, he stops and calls back to York. "Hey Cap'n, I almost forgot. Zandalus is asking for more yellow paint."
"So? Do I look like an art therapist to you Campre?"
"No sir, but you'd make a good one I'm sure. Steady hands. Lots of patience."
"Get to the point." York growls, displaying the opposite.
"Right. Well, the point is he actually asked for the paint. With words. I think it was a full sentence, or two."
"Hmm. Don't think he's spoken in decades. At least not as long as I've been here. Makes sure you tell Doctor Losandro. She's obsessed with that one."
"I'll see to it after I deal with these crazy bastards." Campre grabs The Twin and hauls him away. Two other orderlies follow with Pinkie and The Mariner, passing through two locked doors opened by an orderly stationed between them.
The common hall soon returns to a normal level of activity as the patients resume the daily course of their mad lives.
***
Later in the afternoon, orderlies come to escort the remaining non-violent amnesiacs to a one-on-one patient evaluation with the woman in charge of Briarstone Asylum, Doctor Eliage Losandro.
"Good afternoon, patient 6236." Doctor Losandro says, noting your patient number on a paper clipped to a wooden board in her lap. You sit in a padded chair, an orderly hovering behind your shoulder. She sits across from you, covered neck to toe in a black gown. "When you came to us, you were near catatonic, suffering from total amnesia. I can see that at least one of these conditions has improved. Tell me, has your memory improved as well? Are you suffering from any other conditions of the mind, body, or spirit?"
"Good afternoon, patient 6237." Doctor Losandro says, noting your patient number on a paper clipped to a wooden board in her lap. You sit in a padded chair, an orderly hovering behind your shoulder. She sits across from you, covered neck to toe in a black gown. "Inhear you have requested items needed for shaving? I would be happy to supply such things, but I must be sure you are not a danger to yourself or others first. Now, when you came to us, you were near catatonic, suffering from total amnesia. You seem to have somewhat recovered from one of these conditions. Tell me, has your memory improved as well? Are you suffering from any other conditions of the mind, body, or spirit?"
"Good afternoon, patient 6233." Doctor Losandro says, noting your patient number on a paper clipped to a wooden board in her lap. You sit in a padded chair, an orderly hovering behind your shoulder. She sits across from you, covered neck to toe in a black gown. "When you came to us, you were near catatonic, suffering from total amnesia. I can see that at least one of these conditions has improved, but has your memory improved as well? My orderlies report that you have a certain hesitance to trust others. That can make this process... Difficult. It is not unusual for a person with memory issues. I assure you I am here to help. That said, are you suffering from any other conditions of the mind, body, or spirit?"
~Meanwhile, upstairs...~
You awaken in a small, windowless room devoid of all furniture except a chamber pot and a stuffed pad to sleep upon. A sturdy locked door, with small openings at the bottom and near the center, bars the only exit. Outside, the sound of true madness echo. Weeping, wailing, moaning, and shouting leave blessed few moments of quiet. The hinges on the door rattle from someone pounding on the walls, begging to be let out.
You awaken in a small, windowless room devoid of all furniture except a chamber pot and a stuffed pad to sleep upon. A sturdy locked door, with small openings at the bottom and near the center, bars the only exit. Outside, the sound of true madness echo. Weeping, wailing, moaning, and shouting leave blessed few moments of quiet. The hinges on the door rattle from someone pounding on the walls, begging to be let out.
You awaken in a small, windowless room devoid of all furniture except a chamber pot and a stuffed pad to sleep upon. A sturdy locked door, with small openings at the bottom and near the center, bars the only exit. Outside, the sound of true madness echo. Weeping, wailing, moaning, and shouting leave blessed few moments of quiet. The hinges on the door rattle from someone pounding on the walls, begging to be let out.
My memory is just fine! Fearless retorts. And it will stay that way as long as they stay away from me.
My name is.....is....well it doesn't matter. I know your after my brain. i was told so! He looks skeptically at the woman.
Pinkie starts rummaging around the room hes woken up in this time.
"anything useful in here?"
"Can we get out the door?
"You guys are sure quiet"
rubs the back of his head
"Man i sure have a head ache though."
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I think there's some mistake here. While I can't remember my name, I am certain- beyond the shadow of a doubt - that I am not insane. Especially after seeing the "best and brightest" that this place has to offer not a couple hours ago.
While I understand that -until my memory returns- I am here for my own good. I hope to be an upstanding citizen and enjoy the good cooking and fine entertainment that "here" offers.
By the way, what Country are we in? Where are we exactly?
Additionally, I really like to take care of my personal grooming. So, access to a razor or fine plucking tools would really be appreciated. (in an almost rushed panic) OH, AND A MIRROR. I need a mirror. Really. Please. Pretty Please. (unless she responds in the positive, I start groveling). PRETTY, PRETTY PLEASE. You REALLY MUST do that for me.
(Down on hands and knees.) .
The path of The Traveler can be a dusty road, but it doesn't HAVE to be, and I NEED to be clean. I can feel the dirty hairs growing on my cheeks and chin and head.
PLEASE! Whatever boons Desna is willing to grant, I will GIVE UNTO THEE!!!!!
um.... diplomacy check...
" Tell me, has your memory improved as well? Are you suffering from any other conditions of the mind, body, or spirit?"
Cat-atonic, huh? No, don't remember that. Don't remember much.
Cats rocks in his padded chair for a few moments, staring at his hands, trying to remember things.
"No, no...I don't remember that. Don't remember that at all. I can't recall how I came here, nor where I was before that." Cats looks at his hands moreso and thinks about cleaning under nails, but decides to do that later.
"No, I feel mostly fine. But tired. Like I just need a good rest to get the cats out, you know?" Cats explains. "I don't think I want to harm no-cat. I didn't fight downstairs...I didn't see any need to. Naw, I just want to get cleaned up so I look right. Not sure where all this hair came from." Cats reaches up to paw his beard and long hair.
"I don't even recognize me-self with this all. I'm sure I'd feel right as cat with a shave and good wash." Cats pauses, thinking more. "Of course it's weird that I know that I don't look right, but I don't remember what I look like, you know?"
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@ Dr. Losandro
"Hmm." Doctor Losandro taps the end of her pen against her thumb. "The only interest I have in your brain is to help you regain the memories it once had and cure it of any illness it might have acquired. Amnesia is a curious malady, and may come with serious, unforeseen side-effects. Now, please tell me, who told you we wanted it for other purposes?"
Looking around you find nothing useful and the lock on the door is beyond your skill without some sort of tools.
"Your understanding and cooperation is noted." Doctor Losandro makes a note on her paper. "Amnesia is a curious malady, and may come with serious, unforeseen side-effects. Releasing you in this state would be foolish, unethical, and unwise. To your question - you are in Briarstone Asylum, in the Versex County of Ustalav. This place has stood for over a century, and cared for many unfortunate souls in that time."
After listening to your increasingly desperate pleas, and making quite a few more notes on the paper before her, she puts an end to your begging with a deal.
"I sense an honest intent to obey the rules and work hard on your rehabilitation here. I may be swayed to grant your requests." She pauses, holding up a slender finger. "However, those who seek privileges must earn them here at Briarstone. Our staff is limited, but many patients are capable of mundane tasks, and we have found that such work often aids in their treatment. I will speak with Mr. Finchley, Briarstone's groundskeeper, and he will assign you a job. If you prove yourself, then I will gladly supply the items you need."
"Now tell me.." Doctor Losandro flips to a fresh page on the board and refreshes the ink in her pen. "about these nightmares..."
Her hands making quick notes with her own on the paper before her, Doctor Losandro listens patiently as Cats rambles through his thoughts and desires.
"Amnesia is a curious malady, and may come with serious, unforeseen side-effects. This fatigue you feel may be one. A good night's rest may do you well, but I have found that being productive often has a beneficial effect upon one's state of mind." After a glance at the paper before her, she goes on. "My orderlies confirm that you took no part in the incident earlier today. I would like to believe that you are a peaceful man, despite your condition, and I am open to supplying items for your grooming needs." She pauses, holding up a slender finger. "However, those who seek privileges must earn them here at Briarstone. Our staff is limited, but many patients are capable of mundane tasks, and we have found that such work often aids in their treatment. I will speak with Mr. Finchley, Briarstone's groundskeeper, and he will assign you a job. If you prove yourself, then I will gladly supply the items you need."
He scoots the chair back to put just a bit more distance between himself and her. "Everyone is always asking questions and never giving any answers. Never answers."
"Yeah, a good cats rest. Then I'll be fine. That and a shave, and I'll be cat as rain, I tell you," Cats agrees.
"...work often aids in their treatment."
Work? Do I know how to work? Cats stares down at his hands as if they might have the answer to that question...
...and notices some callouses on his left hand...and a few more on his right hand. He brings up his hands closer to his face to check.
"I think I can work. I think...I think I even have worked before. Or something," Cats says, agreeing to the 'treatment' even if it's just work and not really treatment, just work. Cats puts his hands in his lap and looks at Dr. Losandro.
"What the cat is wrong with me, Doc? Who am I? How long until I'm better?"
As the man comes to in the cell, he tilts his head to the side in a panic as if he is frantically looking for something. Thrashing around for a second, that something catches his eye.
Ah... It's on the floor by the bed. he thinks to himself.
As he tries to reach for it, he finally realizes that he is bound up in a straight jacket.
Pursing his lips, the man tries to wriggle out, but finds that it is too tight, so he decides to wait patiently.
He waits in the cell, outwardly appearing to be meditating, as he mentally flips the cards, looking at each one carefully before putting it back into the deck.
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"Now tell me.." Doctor Losandro flips to a fresh page on the board and refreshes the ink in her pen. "about these nightmares..."
I fully detail the nightmares. The fact that I DIED in my nightmare freaks me out. At this point, I am going to wait for your prompting, but if a few days pass, I will send a little story of me and "work detail" and Fat Cat Lazy Cleric boy reacts to work detail. I really DO need to pluck these hairs, so tweezers or a short term remedy is in the best interest of keeping Brother Butterfly placid and not constantly distracted.
About an hour after you awoke in the small room you hear a knocking on your door. Looking up you see a middle-aged woman's face peering through the window in the center.
"Hello there, patient 6235. My name is Doctor Oathsday. I would like to open this door and conduct a physical examination. Would you be agreeable to that?"
About an hour after you awoke in the small room you hear a knocking on your door. Looking up you see a middle-aged woman's face peering through the window in the center.
"Hello there, patient 6234. My name is Doctor Oathsday. I would like to open this door and conduct a physical examination. Would you be agreeable to that?"
Your outburst causes the orderly to raise his hands, but Doctor Losandro waves him back. Remaining calm, she asks, "So you are seeking answers? Perhaps I can offer some help and we could seek them together?"
Doctor Losandro listens intently, taking many notes about your nightmare.
"That is quite disturbing, but have no fear, for I believe it may nothing more then your mind struggling to make sense of your current condition. Should you have more dreams though, try and remember them, because they may contain important symbolism to guide us on the road to your recovery."
Doctor Losandro soon ends the examination and sends you a waiting room for a short time before you are fetched by an orderly for a meeting with the groundskeeper to discuss the "work" you can perform in the Asylum.
"I believe, in addition to the state of amnesia, you are suffering from a case of post hysteria, an affliction found sometimes in soldiers and mercenaries after exposure to extreme violence. I've also noticed a fixation you have upon cats which may be a form of monomania. Sometimes the two are connected, but not always."
Doctor Losandro takes a few more notes before laying her hands down on the paper. "Should you find that certain situations, or words, cause you distress, please bring them to my attention at our next session."
Ending the examination, she sends you a waiting room for a short time before you are fetched by an orderly for a meeting with the groundskeeper to discuss the "work" you can perform in the Asylum.
***
Cats and Brother Butterfly are escorted by a pair of vaguely remembered orderlies to the groundskeeper for Briarstone Asylum, Mr. Finchley. A short, middle-aged man with a shaggy hair, bad teeth, and big hands like gnarled roots, Finchley talks to the new patients at the foot of a ladder he was using to repair some cracks in the ceiling.
"Losandro says you two are cleared for some tasks around the Asylum. You do them well, and without any trouble or shenanigans, and I'll give her a good report, understand?" Looking to the orderlies shadowing along, he says, "Hobes, and... Denmir?"
"Denman, sir." The young man replies.
"Yes, well, would you both take them to my storage room and grab a couple buckets and some brushes, including the one on the long handle. Fill the buckets with warm water from the kitchens, then show these two to the privies off the common hall."
To Cats and Brother Butterfly, "Give those a real good cleanin and I'll see about that report for the Doc."
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"..a fixation you have upon cats which may be a form of monomania."
Cats laughs.
"Don't be ridiculous. I don't cat a fixation on cats. That's silly," Cats says, beginning to rock again in his padded chair. "Well, no catter, I'll do the work and get my shave, then you'll see I'm fine. I'll be as cat as new."
"Give those a real good cleanin and I'll see about that report for the Doc."
Cats nods and grabs a bucket, brush (or two), and long handle brush.
"Oh sure, I'll scrub it good. Don't you cat about a thing," Cats says, walking the wrong way to the kitchen before going the right way.
As he walks (only slightly slopping water), he notices the hairless Brother Butterfly more fully and again.
"So...what do they call you again? And how did you convince them to give you a shave? You've been mucking before?" Cats asks Butterfly.
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"So...what do they call you again? And how did you convince them to give you a shave? You've been mucking before?" Cats asks Butterfly.
They seem to call me Brother Butterfly. On account of my piety towards the Great and Wonderous Traveler - Desna. Well... that and the butterfly tattoo or mark I have on my forearm. Ah, Lady Luck has sure seen to it that one of her followers ended up in some demonic layer of Hell.
I am certain a lot of this would make sense if I could just have at least some of my memories back.But, to answer your question, no, I have not gotten a proper shave just yet. I made a deal to help out and earn those privileges
" I am going to shit on THIS one, because I KNOW it's clean!".
So Cat's, What is your story? I know you don't remember much, but what do you think about this place? The people we came in with? Or even about what was going through your head during that rucus earlier. Oh, you missed a spot on the floor, it's still dirty, you will want to flip that brush over and use the wooden side to get some scrape action, then flip back and use the bristles to muck it away."
Still laying chest down, cheek plopped against the cobbled floor, the Mariner managed to mumble out, "Alright...sure...my noggin hurts."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Butterfly, huh?" Cats says, noting the tattoo for the first time. "I don't recall if I have any tattoos...I should probably check on that tonight."
"So Cat's, What is your story?"
Cats looks at his long brush, trying to scrub the excrement off the ceiling. He looks exasperated at something.
"I told you before, my name isn't Cats, it's Cats," Cats corrects Butterfly...but it is clear that it doesn't seem quite right to him. The name is off...it's both right and wrong in ways that Cats can't remember or explain.
"How the piddlecat did they get poop on the ceiling?" Cats asks while long-brush scrubbing a particularly stubborn shit smearing above where Butterfly sits. "I don't remember my story. I don't remember much. I might...I might have done something wrong, maybe. I dunno. I dunno about that dream either. I think I've had something similar, but I dunno, cats are so weird. I can never remember them in the morning."
Cats lowers his long-brush to give his arms a rest. He looks at his calloused hands and shrugs.
"I think I'm a working man, though. I'm sure these hands have worked or traveled or something."
"I guess not"
Pinkie sits against the wall.
"They are going to do it one way or another"
Fearless stands up, his chair hurls backwards. "YOU TRYING TO PULL A FAST ONE ON ME? THAT's JUST MORE QUESTIONS! NO ANSWERS....NO ANSWERS!" He jams a stubby finger in the doctor's face.
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Seeing that "Cats" is working on a big splotch of dried on poop above him, his face turns pale. He springs up from his seat and takes action. Probably moving faster than at any time in the last 24 hours, he grabs the brush and pail of warm water and stands atop the toilet working on the spot The "Cats" has now stopped working on.
He quickly cleans that spot and moves onto another area expanding his "clean zone" with a frenzy and determination.
"I think I'm a working man, though. I'm sure these hands have worked or traveled or something."
See! That's how I knew you were the right sort for me to be around! I like hard working men in my midst. A guy with calloused hands is a guy you can trust and be friends with. A guy like you is fine with putting in some hard labor and wants to be fair shake and a fair wage.
But -- What you just said is the best thing I have heard my whole time here in ....... Ustalav?. Not to go off on a tangent, but you know "the Cats", part of me knows something about Ustalav, but with this amnesia dominating my brain. I don't know a damned thing about where we are. This could be just 4-10 connected walls(and a roof) on the 4th plane of some demon's playground.Brother Butterfly beckons for The "Cats" to start working on a new section of lavatory floor. Even tipping a bit of the water bucket to get a small pool, then using the soap to lather up the pool to give The "Cats" some help as The "Cats" uses his broom/brush to clean the area I am supervising.
While cleaning in unison with his partner, Brother Butterfly continues,
I feel a bit bad for the other guys like The Mariner and The Twins. I even grabbed The Twin's playing cards and I am going to ask Dr. Losandro to get them to him. At least Pinkie is okay. He's not alone.. no matter where he is. I think Pinkie has a permanent friend with him. When you are strapped up in solitary, that's got to be a huge (by Desna's beauty) blessing.
I do like that guy, The Mariner. He's a scrappy guy. He was a man on a mission.
After hours upon hours of focusing mentally on the imaginary harrow cards, the Twin passes out, falling over to one side as he loses consciousness.
---
Blink, blink
"Huh... wha...?" mumbles the man as he squints in the darkness of the windowless room.
As his eyes focus, he sees that his harrow cards have seemingly formed into their own shape while he slept. It appears to be coiled into a snake, almost as large as a man. There are many more than the normal 45 cards and, once the Twin looks closer, he sees that the cards seem to be moving slightly towards the middle, almost as if it is breathing.
He looks about the room to see if anything else about reality has shifted, but finds that this is the only change. He edges his foot out and nudges one of the cards while still bound in the straightjacket.
Again, Doctor Losandro waves away the orderly in the room after you jump from the chair. Perhaps she has seen enough patients to know when they are truly dangerous, or perhaps she just isn't intimidated by a loud little man looking up at her while she sits composed in her chair. Or...
"Yelling is unnecessary." She says sternly. "I can see that earning your trust will take time, but I will extend my trust to you. I believe that some responsibility will do you good, and so you will report to Ivory Garidine in the kitchens. Some patients have trouble feeding themselves, so you will help them eat dinner tonight."
The door to your room is unlocked and Doctor Oathsday enters. Approaching middle age, she wears a simple black gown and has her auburn hair pulled up tightly under a black head scarf. Though dressed severely, she has a soothing smile and calming bedside manner. She examines you with gentle care and offers some water, promising some food later if you wish it. After seeing to basic needs she changes the subject and broaches the subject of why you find yourself secured in this room.
"I heard there was a fight, and an attempt to escape. New patients often have such desires. By our rules you must remain here in the Upper Wing for a day after such behavior, but we are an institution that believes in rehabilitation. Do you think you can behave?"
The door to your room is unlocked and Doctor Oathsday enters. Approaching middle age, she wears a simple black gown and has her auburn hair pulled up tightly under a black head scarf. Though dressed severely, she has a soothing smile and calming bedside manner. She examines you with gentle care and offers some water, promising some food later if you wish it. After seeing to basic needs she changes the subject and broaches the subject of why you find yourself secured in this room.
"I heard there was a fight, and an attempt to escape. New patients often have such desires. By our rules you must remain here in the Upper Wing for a day after such behavior, but we are an institution that believes in rehabilitation. You are young, and perhaps you were just caught up in the moment. Do you think you can behave?"
The eidolon, your eidolon, shifts slightly and perks up at your touch. It regards you quietly, a familiar Harrow of The Twin displayed prominently upon it's head.
Suddenly the eidolon turns sharply away and you can dimly sense that it is aware of something, no some footsteps, coming down the hall. It slides quickly to the side of the door a moment before someone knocks on it. A middle-aged woman's face appears in the opening.
"Hello there, patient 6238. My name is Doctor Oathsday. I would like to open this door and conduct a physical examination. Would you be agreeable to that?"
~In the Privy~
Though the privy is quite disgusting, Cats and Brother Butterfly make quick work of cleaning the filth from the chamber, thanks in part to liberal amounts is elbow grease and a seemingly endless supply of fresh water supplied by Butterfly's goddess. As they work at their task they overhear the orderlies talking in the hallway just outside.
"Hobes, I'm pretty sure the bald guy using magic. Is that against the rules?" Asks Denman.
"Not exactly." Hobes drawls, seeming bored by both her duty and the conversation. "Every so often we get a priest or sorcerer in here. Or a bard like Wren. People should be more wary of getting too close to gods or demons. Or noble's sons. Anyway, with some of them the magic is a part of them - in their blood or a divine gift. Hard to take that sort of thing away."
"What if they... Use that magic on other patients, or on us?"
"If they are dangerous we have some robes that can render them powerless. But we only use them in extreme cases because they turn patients into potatoes. At that point you might as well toss them into a dark hole and forget about them. There was once a man in the Ward of the Wicked who could control people's minds, but couldn't control himself. It's said he wore one of the robes for five years before he bit off his own tongue one night and bled to death. Couldn't live with the magic, and apparently couldn't live without it."
After the dirty job is done, Cats and Brother Butterfly are taken back to Mr. Finchley, who is given a full report by Hobes.
"Well, seems you two have a gift for cleaning." Finchley grins. "Now, it's just about dinner time, so go get some food and rest. I'll be sure to find something else for you tomorrow."
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"See! That's how I knew you were the right sort for me to be around! I like hard working men in my midst. A guy with calloused hands is a guy you can trust and be friends with. A guy like you is fine with putting in some hard labor and wants to be fair shake and a fair wage."
"Well, yeah. I have developed a simple motto for my time here: 'Make Cats Great Again'," Cats says, making things up on the spot. "I figure I'm a working man and probably want to focus on finding out what I was. I can't cat here forever."
Cats steps back, letting his arms rest again. As he breathes in exhaustion, he notes that he is somewhat strong, but not extremely fit while doing the labor. It's not as if his inability to groom has prevented him from keeping some muscle tone.
"Are you saying we're friends, Brother?" Cats asks, but not exactly surprised by the thought. He doesn't remember ever having friends before, but it doesn't surprise him that he can make them so easily.
"...Ustalov..."
"We're in Ustalov? How the cat did I get to Ustalov?" Cats wonders aloud. "And where is Ustalov? I assume it's not far from...uh...someplace, right?"
The Twin? The Mariner? Pinkie?
"You sure have a cat for names, Butterfly," Cats says resuming his scrubbing. "I only know your name, and my own of course." Cats stretches out his back, unsure if they had done enough yet or not.
* * *
Cats is happy to be done with the cleaning, and returns the buckets and brushes to the kitchens. While he is there, he scans the kitchens for a nice knife he might use to shave with.
Perception
He will then go find food and rest.
Cats notices a few knives in th hands if patients helping out in the kitchen, but they seem barely sharp enough to cut vegetables. Over near a chopping block, cutting up chunks of mutton, is a red haired man who seems to be the head chef. Near him are a couple knives that might be do the trick.
Cats sees the various knifes and had hoped to passively 'borrow' a knife rather than overtly steal anything. He feels like he's never really been a stealer, a thief, or a rogue...it just seems wrong. But if a knife was just laying around and forgotten or unused...the just might grab it.
He returns the brushes and buckets and goes to eat and rest. He's tired. Been a strange strange day of strangeness. And cats.
After a lot of resistance and questions as to why, how and when, the Mariner finally appears to calm down to Nurse Rached . Slumped against the wall, he starts with a simple question, "Where is this place? -What town."
"This is Briarstone Asylum." Doctor Oathsday replies. "You are in Versex County, in the country of Ustalav. The asylum is not in a town, though it has more patients and staff then some villages." Turning to the orderly hovering near the door, she says, "Campre, remove his jacket so I can see to the rest of him."
"You sure doc? This ugly fella is the one that started everything."
"I'm sure you can handle him."
Campre shrugs and does as she asks.
"I can understand your desire to leave." Doctor Oathsday continues as the buckles are undone and the straps removed. "Were I to wake in a strange place and held there against my will I am sure I would consider escape as well. But you should know that such a thing is nearly impossible. Even if you managed to get past the orderlies and through the locked doors of the asylum, Briarstone is named for the rocky island upon which it is built. The mainland is over a mile away, and the water is cold this far north..."
The Doctor trails off upon noticing the scars on your arm. "What do we have here.."
Campre hovers over her shoulder. "Hmm. That looks normal."
What game is she playing at here. Why won't she just tell me the truth?
"Fine! But I'll have you know I'll be writing my family first thing to let them know everyone here is after my brain! So if it comes up missing, know that the authorities will come looking for my answers."
With that he turns and storms off towards the kitchen. Leaving the room his hands shake furiously as his heart pounds.
What are they after? Do I even have family?
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"Are you saying we're friends, Brother?"
Of course I think we are friends! I hope you feel the same way, but if you don't that is understandable. I am a realist: We're in a strange place--- I think what I just said was a huge understatement—but I also know we are both up to our waist in strange events. Friends are gonna be important.
I don't know what I was like in my past, but I have this feeling of easy trust and comraderie. Maybe it's the influence of the Greatest Traveler in all eternity, Desna, who's sphere of influence are both travel and beauty. But I feel like a traveler to a new city where I have to trust in the citizens there and consistently seek their help. I feel like trying to see the beauty in all people. That is a combination that lends to seeing into the souls of people and making quick decisions to trust or not to trust.Cats, you have a good soul.
Let's get to the kitchens......
.........
To illustrate his point, the man struggles to sit upright. "Go for it, Madam Overlord." he says once he finally is able to recline against the wall behind him.