Julius looks around, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his rapier so tightly they're turning white. He glances at his rapier, as if just noticing that he was holding it. Taking a few practice swipes, Julius nods. I guess I can work with this. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart down. C-calm down, Jul-Jer-Jim...calm down, you. What on earth is going on here?
He searches around his surroundings, trying to make sense of anything around him.
Oscar's hands tremble as he looks around the alley, glancing at the fog from all angles as he nervously nudges his goggles up his nose, an act that is all too habitual since they appear to be properly strapped on.
"No.no.no... this is wrong." he mutters with the grace of a methodical person taken out of his depth.
Julius moves to put his back to a wall, so that he can see down both sides of the alleyway.
A man's bare feet land at dangerous angles on the uneven cobblestones, each step a gamble. Will he stumble again? His right knee aches painfully, a reminder of his previous fall but a moment ago, when he had hesitated rounding a corner, convinced he'd find himself in a familiar street. But there had only been more nameless alleys, more shuttered windows and darkened lampposts.
And the others--terrified faces mirroring his own; nameless shadows flitting through the darkness like shooting stars that fall helpless in the blackness of space, only to perish alone on an alien shore.
Make a wish.
The thought, meaningless and absurd, explodes in his head, catching him off guard. He stumbles over a protruding stone and goes flailing, landing hard on his elbows.
"S&&#!" he gasps in pain before scrambling to his feet. Just before him stand some others, other lost stars. Behind him, the mist grows thicker, colder, hungrier. "Dun' stop!" he screams. His voice rings strangely in his own ears. He was not expecting the thought to find life. "RUN!"
He hobbles forward, clutching at the biggest shadow's arm before breaking away and scrambling out into the street.
What's going on... What? M-my eye. Ugh. I-I cant feel my hand either. Turning around too see the fog rolling towards him, the sense of dread making him shake, unable too think of anything too do. He walks away as quickly as his shaky legs will carry him. Don't want anything too do with that business. No sir. Feeling out his empty eye socket, he attempts too clear his thoughts enough to get a grasp on whats going on. Failing miserably.
The half-orc gives a half-mad laugh.
"Hahaha! You've made me dream of this place before. But you did not win in my dreams, and you will not win this time. And this time I will not run."
In his head, he hears the Dark Whisper respond.
"Fool, this is not my doing. But I do know this place. Let me out and I will grant you such power. We shall survive, conquer, and rule this realm. Or you will die."
Dervak is tall but hunched. He is solidly muscled, with an especially thick neck. He looks more like an orc than most of his kin do. Massive tusks protrude from his lower jaw. The scars on his right shoulder seem to suggest a patch of skin, perhaps a tribal tattoo, was cut away some years ago. He carries a brutal-looking falchion.
"No more tricks! That is you in the fog, isn't it? Let's finish this."
He walks into the deepest part of the fog, sword raised, and readies to attack the Thing he knows is there. It has been part of him all his life, and now he will destroy it. That horrific otherworldly abomination. The dread he feels now is the same as that he feels when it verges on breaking free. The same taste in his mouth. Here, in this place, he can fight it.
Julius and Oscar watch helplessly as the unfamiliar figure of Dervak strides boldly into the deepening fog, soon becoming little more than a vague, shifting outline.
As Dervak strides into the thickening fog, the chant-like whispers begin to become louder, wilder, taking on a taunting song-like cadence. The Dark Whisperer seems to pick up the song as Dervak moves forward, creating a bizarre, dissonate counterpoint that crescendos right up until a terrible figure becomes visible to him.
A writhing mass of shredded rags and squirming muscle, with a face like a haphazardly wrapped mask. Wormy lips part asymmetrically into a laughing rictus grin, and a voice that sounds like a corpse being dragged through gravel echoes into Dervak, Julius, and Oscar's ears:
You think yourself brave! Fools! Your minds are my playthings!
The Dark Whisper cackles madly as the fog itself seems to form into terrible shedding claws, that rip into Devrak from every side.
Dervak makes a terrible "HURRRK!!" sound as his body is rent into pieces; as he dies, a splatter of blood splashes onto the wall in front of all of the remaining players that spells the word "me." At the same time, a voice that does not sound like the terrible ragged man or Dervak echoes the word "me" in a tortured scream in all of the remaining players ears. Just after this occurs, all players who did not run make a DC 20 will save or become panicked, as per the fear spell.
Mala and Cerio run nearly shoulder to shoulder towards the mouth of the alleyway. Inexplicably, the alley walls seem to stretch to either side of them, creating a much longer run than expected; yet they do reach the opening just in time to see the blood splatter across the wall of the building just in front of them. To their right, the charcoal cobble stones curve down a gentle slope into another thick patch of fog. A similar vista curves to the left, except up the incline
Something in Julius snaps as he sees Dervak die horribly. He drops his rapier and runs as fast as he can away from Dervak's corpse, a high-pitched scream of terror escaping him as he does so.
Uphill, he thinks, but his stomach rises to his throat as his foot slips out from under him and he falls once again onto the rough, unforgiving cobblestones. He crawls on all fours before climbing to his feet and then breaking free to run downhill.
Downhill? Yes, in his hysteria he forgets his earlier choice, and now finds himself descending into the lower alleys.
Oscar's face pales even further when Dervak is slaughtered. Taking a cue from the half-elven form near him, he also flees. "Me?" The man thinks, his mind racing faster than his legs could carry. He rushes down the lower path, following another terrified person.
Mala, not having witnessed Dervak's demise simply keeps a steady pace oblivious too the fog's encroaching threat. "Hmm, it doesn't hurt. Surgery maybe? No, I'd be swollen and bandaged. Hmm." Mala continues too think as he walks uphill, simply having chosen at random.
Mala, not having witnessed Dervak's demise simply keeps a steady pace oblivious too the fog's encroaching threat. "Hmm, it doesn't hurt. Surgery maybe? No, I'd be swollen and bandaged. Hmm." Mala continues too think as he walks uphill, simply having chosen at random.
As Julius and Oscar reach the end of the inexplicably long alleyway, they both feel cold, slimy protrusions clamp an iron grip around their bodies. They look down in horror to see themselves being slowly lifted into the air by tentacles of yellow fog. Below them, the ragged face becomes visible long enough for them to see it's wormy grin, and to hear it taunt them:
"I have watched you squirm, I have tasted your feel. Now you will know such pain!"
The fog tentacles then violently slam each body into a wall opposite from each other, pinning them in place in the air while the fog forms claws to shred them again.
As the bodies are shredded, Mala and Cerio see new splatters of blood splash into a huge word "UP" on a new building in their line of view; the splatter is a larger amount of blood than can clearly be contained in just one body. At the same time they both hear that other voice, in that same echoing tortured scream: "up!!," punctuated by a wordless cry of pain that fades again as the two continue to move.
Mala's walk, at some point turned into a sprint, almost as if his body realized what was going on around him even if he didn't. The words written in blood splatters are lost on him as he wanders the streets, his min seemingly left him, only hushed mumbles escaping his mouth between every breath.
"What happened? This place is interesting. Hmmm, reminds me of something. My eye? where is it..."
A cold, prickling sensation runs down his neck as the blood spray appears and the yellow fog draws closer. The man stumbles down the street, searching for an open door into a building. Somewhere to hide.
A small familiar object rolls out of the fog across the path of Mala's jog, compelling him to stop for a moment to look. Upon inspections realizes it is his Eye, crushed and warped and lifeless. A moment later, that horrible ragged figure appears out of the fog, grinning.
You cannot run from me. I am with you wherever you go.
He rasps an ugly laugh as Mala's possessed hand suddenly spears into his other eye.
After plucking out Mala's eye, the hand begins to pummel his body in the side and gut.
Mala crumples under the crazed blows of his own hand, which then begins to drag him slowly into the fog until he disappears. Cerio, oblivious to this, nevertheless begins to hear an echoing sound, as if he is somehow approaching someone shouting a single word, but the word is being stretched out across space and time.
The word doesn't quite resolve, but continues to echo a "wa" sound, like the word way but incomplete. Finally, in a building just ahead of him before the path curves down to the right, he spots a door, covered in blood; it is the first door or window anyone has seen in this strange place. He jogs to it, tries the handle, and it opens, and suddenly the word echoing in his mind snaps into place:
Cerio snaps instantly awake, the phrase "Wake up! Save me!" ringing in his ear, with the word "wake" echoing in his ear as if from a dream. He is immediately aware of his surroundings: he is in a barred cell, splayed against the stone wall as if he was clawing at it. He hears a groan and turns his head to see a figure, Mala, pushing himself up off the floor of the cell. They do not recognize each other, except in the vaguest of ways from the foggy city.
A tortured scream of "PLEEEEEAAAASE!!!" followed by a wordless moan pulls their attention to the wooden slab of a table with a man strapped atop. There is a figure standing at the table with his back to Mala and Cerio. On the other side of the table is another cell holding Julius and Oscar, who are also groggily coming too. When they are able to, they can see a grayish, noseless humanoid wearing a doctor smock, grinning as he rakes what appears to be a scalpel across the thigh of the man on the table.
Devrak comes to in a cell as well, one hand manacled and screwed into the wall behind him; the screw is loose, as if it has been pulled out some. His other hand is also manacled, but the chain is loose from the wall. From where he is, he can only see the end of the slab and the writhing feet of the man being tortured upon it, and a blank wall across from him.
He wakes with a sharp intake of breath. Reflexively, his body tenses and jerks. His head bangs against the wall, startling him again.
A Dream!, he thinks with relief, rubbing his head. 'Twas onl--
But there's no time for relief. Not even enough time to fully comprehend his circumstances. An intense burning sensation claims the back of his throat and his nostrils, as though he were about to vomit. A great pressure builds within his skull and within his ears, also pressing to get out. A viscous liquid begins to rise up in his throat, causing him to choke and gag. He convulses on the floor, dry heaving, until a thick, gauze-like substance floats from the orifices of his body and slowly, slowly begins to assume a human shape.
Oscar wakes with a jolt.
Panting, he doesn't even notice the grisly operating table outside until the man screams again, his head swimming.
Something's wrong... Wait. Collect yourself. Focus. Focus... Oscar's mind starts to push the fogginess away, collecting disparate pieces of his thoughts and assembling them like a puzzle. He doesn't remember where he learned it, but the methodical practice of organizing his thoughts helps him feel at ease.
There... Now, what can I do about my situation?
That... thing has keys. To the cell? It must. How to get them...
He thinks. While the keys are on the creature and would notice if he tried to overtly steal them, he does try to move something he could use either as a weapon or to get the door open. He concentrates, and while it feels to be far away, he knows that he could reach it if he just tried hard enough...
Oscar is startled but not surprised that his thoughts made manifest, though he can't remember how he knew he could do that. Focusing his concentration on the area outside the cell, he sends the invisble hand out.
Dervak rises.
I win. Still me. Didn't give in. Wait... Back here again? More of your tricks?
You know what you have to do... Break out, KILL IT like you did before... Maybe you don't value your own life enough to turn to me, but that poor mortal? Is your pure soul - HAH! - worth his life?
Aloud: "Shut up!"
Where is the halfling? And the pale man? And the one with the hat?
Dervak turns to the wall, braces against it, and tries to pull loose the manacle.
Mala starts as the man next too him begins to have a ghostly seizure. Hope that's just a him thing... Taking in the situation Mala decides that his best course of action is to converse with their captor. "So, any reason too be given as to why we're in these cages? Do you plan on killing us like you're doing to that poor fellow on the table?" Mala finishes while standing up, grunting at his aeky muscles protests. Finally he is relieved too find that his eye is still intact. His hand however... Seems to have developed a mind of its own.
Julius looks quietly around at his surroundings.
After a few moments, he sees that his companion in the cell is beginning to stir and seems to be trying to cast a spell. After a moment, seeing the human smile in success, Julius quietly motions to the figure with the scalpel and hisses to his cellmate.
"Are you going for the keys? What if he catches you? Those guys in the other cell seem to be coming to, maybe we should work together with them?"
He slowly waves to the members of the other cells, then points to the keys, silently mouthing the words "Go for the keys" to them.
He turns back to his cell mate. "I think the guy across from us is talking to that doctor, could be a decent distraction.
Mala indeed provides a surprising distraction for the creature torturing the man on the wooden table. Its' gaunt shoulders bounce in surprise to hear another voice and it turns to look at the handsome fellow addressing her, thereby just missing the manifestation that would have given away Oscar's mage hand.
As she speaks, the mage hand jungles the keys but is otherwise ineffective, as mage hand cannot affect attended items.
"Oh-ho-ho!" the strange creature cracks in a perfectly normal sounding human voice. "You've come alive, have ye? And here I was, thinkin' about how boring it woulda been to slice into the flesh o' a buncha dead fishies like yerselves." It stops and cocks it head when it notices Cerio ecto-vommiting. "Well that's right strange, innit-"
At this point, with a grunt and a loud rattle, Dervak rips his manacles free from the wall of his cell. "My my my, looks like the thrasy brawny one is up now too." It cackles madly and its' face shifts into an exact replica of Dervak's. It begins to saunter over to his cell, pausing only long enough to ram the scalpel down into the throat of its' moaning victim. He gurgles out his last few seconds of life as the creature strides right up to Dervak's cell and sticks the likeness of Dervak's face in between the bars, taunting him with a growly aproximation of his own voice:
"Morning handsome. Wanna play?"
As every one gets their bearings and is able to view a little more of their room, they notice a much smaller wooden table a few feet from the head of the large table, holding various tools and implements clearly used for torturing. From the direction the creature walks, you can discern that Dervak's cell is next to Oscar and Julius', which is across from Mala and Cerio. Mala and Cerio can clearly see the creature's back from across the table and to their left, but Julius and Oscar lose line of sight. Each cell is only 10ft wide and 10ft deep. As noted previously there appear to be only three cells, as there is a flat wall on the other side of the table across from Dervak.
Not deterred, Oscar redirects the hand to the small table and picks up anything sharp that could be used as a shiv or weapon and pulls it carefully to his cell.
"Ah, so that's a yes to the question of killing us then?" Mala jests as the creature walks over to dervaks cell. Hearing the taunt directly next to him Mala quickly plucks out his left eye and sends it through the bars to hide on the cealing. "Maybe we can work out a deal for our lives? Perhaps there's something that you want that we can get for you? I don't know about this lot, but I'm a man of many talents and I doubt they'd be a hinderence in such an endeavor. "
Mala instinctively goes to tug on his coat sleaves after his negotiation, only to find them missing.
He gasps for air as the obstruction clears his throat, continuing to cough and sputter as he rolls onto his side. Beside him, the pale green ectoplasm merges together into a mass, then differentiates itself into the shape of a faceless, humanoid body. Slowly, it forms the appearance of clothing and facial features. It moans an agonized wail, reaching out a hand desperately toward the other man in the cell.
It looks like just like white-haired man, who now slowly crawls to his feet, but jumps back against the wall at the sight of the phantom.
"Wha! What! What is't?!" he asks in horror, grabbing at the wall with his hands.
The phantom rotates its head around 180 degrees to stare at its creator. ::Paaaiiiin:: it wheezes.
The white-haired man slaps himself, to make sure he's still not dreaming.
"Y'aint here t'kill me, then?" he whispers uncertainly, before noticing the others around them. It takes him a moment to come up to speed, recognizing his cellmate and the others in nearby cells.
"Hell, I'll walk, run, crawl, whatever y'say, Jus' don't let that crazy skin us alive!"
::Aliiive:: drawls the phantom as it steps through the bars imprisoning them. A thick layer of clear slime coats them once it's through.
The white-haired man stares at his cellmate blankly, then raises a finger to his lips to suggest they should be as quiet as possible.
Dervak is no scholar, but he is cunning.
They are doing things. Buy time.
"I killed you once already. Drove my tusks right through your skull. How did that feel?"
He sees the keys but is not sure how to get them yet. He snarls, turns away, and steps to the back of the cell.
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The creature's face shifts back to that of the bizarre grey humanoid, and she taunts Dervak: "He acts tough, don't he? But in the end he-" the creature starts when she hears the terrible phantom moan, and in a confused moment, jumps and becomes unbalnced. It manages to catch itself on the table to keep itself from falling, but the keychain clatters to the ground and slides towards the middle of lip of the table, under where the poor human's thrashing feet have stilled. The creature, unaware of this, draws another scalpel from the pocket of the doctor's smock it wears and brandished it at the ghost as it takes a few steps backwards.
The keys are under the table, well out of reach of Dervak through the bars. The creature took a 5-foot step back but is still reachable through Dervak's bars. The keys with a 12+ perception check as a move action, indicating positioning inside the cells to see, would be just barely visible from both Mala and Cerio's and Julius and Oscar's cells.
Oscar's mage hand grabs a hold of a pair of wicked-looking shears from the table and floats them to the cell; these can be used as an improvised weapon, 1d4 slashing, or even as improvised thieves tools with enough skill.
His nerves on alert for any chances, Oscar notices the keys drop off the creature. He keeps the shears on hand, but will Pick up the keys and, of all things, maneuvers them around to unlock the half-orc's cell while their captor battles the phantom.
This aggressive brute just might tip the tide in our favor! he thinks.
Seeing the phantom appear, and the shears move, Dervak delays.
A trick by the sick man? An illusion? Or a ghost of this thing's victims?
And who is making the shears move?
Can the other prisoners do magic?
"Well, seems like we're making plays then! I'll do my part!" Mala presses his face against the bars of his cell, glaring at the creature playing doctor. "You've chosen the wrong people too be your subjects it seems! Ha! I bet that you'll have a grand old time with all thats about to happen to you!"
The creature, clearly annoyed, lobs the scalpel at the spirit. "Away with ye, creature of the fog! Go bother all the unchanged ones, like Zandalous said would happen! He promised me flesh and I intend to have it!"
::Fleeesh:: echoes the phantom in its detached, echoing monotone, as it nearly glides forward across the floor. It raises something resembling a hand to strike the faceless creature.
At the same time, the white-haired man behind the bars feels his eyes drawn, nearly pulled, to the same creature. His mind becomes a kaleidoscope of shapeless horrors as he glimpses its thoughts. But so unlocked, its mind yields like jelly to the suggestions of his own.
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Julius sighs. "Oh, cool. Now there's a ghost too. Greeeat." He turns to the orcish-looking fellow and clears his throat. "Hey man, do you speak Common? I don't speak Orc. We're gonna let you out, it looks like those tusks could do some real damage against this guy."
He speaks perfect Orc, and doesn't seem to realize it. He keeps an eye out, looking for anything in his cell that he could use as a weapon, should the thing turn to their cell.
The creature's toss veers wildly to the left, bounces off the table, and lands near the cell with Julius and Oscar.
Even though the "Orcish looking fellow" is
not visible to Julius at the moment, his voice carries just fine. Julius does not at the moment see anything except the scalpel that just landed near him, but as he focuses on his surrrounding, his senses pick up a foul odor coming from somewhere to his left, and a hint of old ash in the air coming faintly from the direction to his right.
As the scalpel is airborn, the Spirit advances, and Cerio casts his spell.
The creature shakes off the stuffy feeling attempting to stifle his mind and just barely manages to shift away from the Spirit's attack. He does not react in any perceptible way to Mama's taunts; if he heard it at all, he simply was unfazed by it.
While all of this is occurring, Oscar is carefully attempting to magic the keys into the lock on Dervak's prison.
The key manages to slide nicely into the lock, and Oscar manages to wiggle it until it clicks unlocked.
Dervak steps to the door, opens it, and gores the monster. His tusks sink deeply into the creature, and there is a familiar taste as its blood spurts into his throat. He braces himself for the coming retaliation (AC 11 right now).
, counting the stare bonus.
If he goes below 0, he will use Orc Ferocity.
The creature cries out in pain. It then lashes out at both Dervak and the phantom with hands that have formed into 3 long grey talons each.
The phantom wails in sorrow as the creature's claws come near its form. It mimics the movements, trying to claw back at the creature's face.
The white-haired man clenches his teeth, taking another dive into the cold, dark waters of the creature's mind.