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All around is a wall of sickly yellow fog, tumbling through the alley’s canyon of crumbling, gray brick walls like some jaundiced flash flood. Ahead, the unfamiliar alley splits, curving to the left and right. Behind, from the silent swell of mist, emanates the sound of footsteps—slow, but somehow keeping pace with the careening, hungry wave. Five unknown people stand around you.
*slime blob*
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The man dealing the cards turns and grins. "Come on, Marco! Sit and play a few rounds."
Marconias sits at a table nearby, slowly sipping his wine as he continues to read his book. "No, thank you, I am just to the section I wanted to read, and it is quite fascinating. Please, enjoy your game without me or my money."
The others laugh, recognizing that Marco is once again lost in his books, knowing that he won't be pried away.
dot. dot. dot.
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All around is a wall of sickly yellow fog, tumbling through the alley’s canyon of crumbling, gray brick walls like some jaundiced flash flood.
Ahead, the unfamiliar alley splits, curving to the left and right. Behind, from the silent swell of mist, emanates the sound of footsteps—slow, but somehow keeping pace with the careening, hungry wave. Five unknown people stand around you, all vaguely familiar, and all haphazardly equipped.
Taking a moment to think, you realize two things. First, most of your possessions are missing. Second, and most urgently: the footsteps in the mist grow closer
In addition to your clothing and any armor (but no shields), you have the following items in your possession:
Don't worry about the state of your other possessions for the moment (at least in an OOC sense). Spellcasters may be missing things they need, and those who use extracts only have them if listed.
In addition to your clothing and any armor (but no shields), you have the following items in your possession:
Don't worry about the state of your other possessions for the moment (at least in an OOC sense). Spellcasters may be missing things they need, and those who use extracts only have them if listed.
In addition to your clothing and any armor (but no shields), you have the following items in your possession:
Don't worry about the state of your other possessions for the moment (at least in an OOC sense). Spellcasters may be missing things they need, and those who use extracts only have them if listed.
In addition to your clothing and any armor (but no shields), you have the following items in your possession:
Don't worry about the state of your other possessions for the moment (at least in an OOC sense). Spellcasters may be missing things they need, and those who use extracts only have them if listed.
In addition to your clothing and any armor (but no shields), you have the following items in your possession:
Don't worry about the state of your other possessions for the moment (at least in an OOC sense). Spellcasters may be missing things they need, and those who use extracts only have them if listed.
In addition to your clothing and any armor (but no shields), you have the following items in your possession:
Don't worry about the state of your other possessions for the moment (at least in an OOC sense). Spellcasters may be missing things they need to cast, and those who use extracts only have them if listed.
Morrick looks around groggily, and reaches for his mace. In it's absence, he begins to feel a cold, paranoid, feeling of dread. This is only magnified by his familiar, Se' Lissis, being gone as well. Upon the discovery of the other five, he backs away, looking around frantically.
Wh-- Who are you? Where are my belongings? Where is Se' Lissis?! Where is HERE?!
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Whilst the alley is unfamiliar, the cold, yellow fog fills Howard with dread, as a single word filters through into his consciousness... Carcosa.
"I know not where we are, or whom any of you are, but I suggest that we move quickly - this place feels unnatural, and thoroughly hostile; additionally, whatever is behind us, appears to be... hunting."
He then hobbles forward as quickly as he can, a spasmodic twinge in his left leg slowing his step slightly.
Damien addresses the five unknown people with an open smile."Hello. I am Damien Ionesco, Professor of History in Lepidstadt. May I have the pleasure of knowing who I am addressing?"
"Also, do any of you have any idea on where are we, and how we ended up here?" Then he pets himself over."And where's my stuff?" He sputters, finding most of his possessions missing,
He looks back nevously at the fog. "I think we're about to get unfriendly company."
Morrick doesn't go near any of the people, but he does look toward the noise, and draws a loaded crossbow from his back. He checks to make sure there is indeed a bolt in the chamber, and points it toward the footsteps.
I... I have this. My belongings are missing as well. I won't be much for casting my spells without my holy symbol, either. Why am I here? I don't know any of you!
The man seems a bit unstable in his panicked state, almost as if he's just as ready to fire the crossbow at any of the people gathered around as he is at whatever is making the noise.
Seeing Howard run left, Damien also runs left. "Hey!" He addresses the rest."I think you'd want to get running with us! Unless you want to deal with whatever's after us!"
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A dark-haired, middle-aged man, drenched in sweat, struggles to his feet and looks around frantically. He coughs softly and sees some blood on his hand. Starting to panic, he surveys the assembled group with bare recognition.
Not another blackout! My son needs me!
He looks at his belongings...most of his possessions are gone, including his alchemical items!
”Please! Any of you! I need help! I need to get home…I need my chemicals and reagents! It’s…an emergency!”
Though he appears to be fit and even muscular, his skin has an ashen cast to it, and he does not appear to be well. His hands have a significant tremor.
He follows some of the group to the left, hoping they will help him.
"Look, we've got a problem coming our way. Just keep running we'll sort out getting you home later. I want to go home too! Bella has dinner waiting for me!" Damien waves the dark haired, middle-aged man over.
Navin stops, trying to catch up to his surroundings. He sees these people yelling and running all around, and all he can think about is the revulsion in the pit of his stomach. He bends over and vomits, then stands back up, his head now clearer.
Seeing others running to the left, he wipes his mouth and follows after them.
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As everyone rushes down the left path, the pace of the footsteps intensifies, and a shape begins to manifest, now accompanied by the soft jingle of chains. Though still indistinct, it seems vaguely humanoid, dressed in little more than rags. One viciously long hand carries a short, barbed blade.
It almost seems to blend into the mist. Only those of you who are directly next to it will be able to get a clear look.
It arrives next to Howard, slashing the blade towards his throat. Its aim is imprecise, but still cuts a bloody gash across his chest.
The creature wears tattered yellow clothes, including a scrap that blinds his eyes. Scars and fresh wounds cover pallid flesh, and his mouth, the only visible facial feature, is nothing more than a ring of teeth. Manacles, their chain broken, are still sealed around both wrists.
The party may act
17. Shaken fails
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"No! I am Professor Leoric Faust. I assure you, this is some kind of mistake! I can’t even remember what I’m doing here! I…I…have had some blackouts recently. But I need to save my son! I am adept with creating alchemical extracts and potions. I can make you what you need…just…get me my chemicals and let me go… My son!"
Navin veers off behind the wounded elf, away from whatever just swiped at him.
Morrick jumps slightly at the creature's viscous swipe, and aims his crossbow. He doesn't fire quite yet, his hands still shaking from the suddenness of the whole situation. He does, however, begin speaking. His voice is strong, and deep, like a priest giving a sermon in temple.
Be brave, all of you! I may be without my spell components, and my holy symbol, but Asmodeus is with us still! With his blessing on us, we cannot fail! And should you find your skills lacking, just think of his name, and offer yourself for a deal, and he will listen!
The cleric stays away from the creature, making sure one of the other people in the...room... is between it and himself.
"We'll find your son, but we need to get out of here alive first!"
"Get off him, whatever-you-are. Pick on someone your own size." Damien moves up to the creature, then throws a haymaker.
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Repeating description for Damien, now with image.
The creature wears tattered yellow clothes, including a scrap that blinds his eyes. Scars and fresh wounds cover pallid flesh, and his mouth, the only visible facial feature, is nothing more than a ring of teeth. Manacles, their chain broken, are still sealed around both wrists.
Damien manages to connect with the creature, but his blow is less impressive than expected.
As the rest of you retreat Damien and your attacker grow indistinct in the mist. You do see the hostile figure lash out with claw and blade. There is a scream, and Damien falls to the ground A few flecks of blood fly in your direction.
You feel the creature's blade slash your throat, blood rushing out and pouring down your shirt, and...
A man's screams cut through the claustrophobic dark, and you do, in fact, wake up. In a grimy cell. The bars separate you from a stranger. The struggling human has split lips and skin covered with a mapwork of fresh lines. He is lashed to a splintery worktable by heavy ropes.
Another figure, unsettlingly thin and wearing a blood-smeared doctor’s coat, circles the table casually— stopping every so often to scrutinize one of the man’s wounds or select a different object from a sideboard of shiny blades. Currently, she spins one blade of a broken pair of pruning shears, which glints in the dull light of the lamp suspended overhead. With careless cruelty, the doctor draws the blade across the bound man’s bare thigh, releasing a tortured wail.
A small table nearby displays an array of sharp instruments, none designed for use on living flesh: a gardening trowel, forks, several long pieces of broken glass or metal, and the other blade of the tormentor’s shears.
Another person shares your cell, the half-elven man who didn't introduce himself earlier. . He seems to be in a fitful sleep. Two of the others lie in a cell opposite you. A familiar voice, muttering something incoherent about Asmodeus, comes from your right, and is oddly comforting.
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The thing that attacked you was some sort of nightmare creature from the Dimension of Dreams. They primarily haunt visitors to that realm.
Morrick retreats with the others, but keeps looking over his shoulder to see if the creature is following. If it is, he fires his crossbow at it as soon as he can make out the shape.
He continues his inspiring words as the group flees.
Don't lose heart! Asmodeus is with us!
If the creature is not pursuing, he gestures to the others to stop, and gather themselves.
Whatever that was, I think two of us fell to it! They aren't with us! Who knows where we are? What is going on?
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Professor Faust nods at Damien's suggestion that they need to get out of here, but looks on in horror as he is cut down.
Run! Oh, where is my son?! He was very ill. The nightmares, cold sweats, then waking dreams. Everything went downhill so fast. His eyes were black, with black tears!
Thoughts came quickly. Professor Faust was wearing dark brown studded leather armor, but checking his possessions, it seems he only had a piece of chalk and some rations.
It was hard to have confidence in these strangers, but it was all he had.
"There must be a way out!" he whispers harshly as he looks for an exit.
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Every door you pass is closed, and every window shuttered. A door about 30 feet ahead of you looks slightly ajar.
Navin and Marconias try to keep pace with the others. Morrick fires at the shape in the mist, but it's clear he did not connect.
Again, the creature rushes through the mist, reaching Morrick and slashing with its blade. It gets him in the leg, narrowly missing his femoral artery.
You hear an unfamiliar voice whisper in your head.
The man on the table tries to point his head towards you with violent jerking motions.
"Look! That one's awake! Take him! Let it be his turn!"
The doctor just smiles and says, "Don't worry, his time will come soon enough.
And begins a new incision, cutting a jagged line into his side as he screams.
You notice a ring of keys jangling from the doctor's belt.
Morrick shouts, and punches the thing, throwing a wild haymaker.
Asmodeus curse you!
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The thing brings its blade in a vicious backhand swing as Morrick punches. Neither manages to connect.
Faust dives through the open door, which slams shut behind him.
You burst through the door into a massive kitchen, surrounded by staff working at a frenetic pace. Nobody seems to react to your arrival. The room is a riot of colors and smells, though oddly quiet.
Hauntingly beautiful music can be dimly heard through doors on the far side of the kitchen over the sounds of knives chopping and meat sizzling.
A pastry chef delicately places tumor-riddled berries atop miniature fruit tarts. Another cook plucks dark feathers from a four-winged bird, with a human mouth rather than a beak. The still-alive fowl offers no resistance or complaint. Yet another fills champagne flutes with an iridescent fluid.
Four waiters in immaculate white uniforms march out of the room, bearing trays of drinks and food. Simultaneously, four identically dressed ones march in, trays empty. Their uniforms are splattered with blood, gore, and other substances hard to identify at first glance.
Spinning around, the door you passed through seems to have disappeared.
'I guess the game is up'. Damien thinks to himself, as he gets to his feet in a combat stance, then enchants his fists 'Maybe I can brazen this one out'he thinks. "Look, most places do not allow torture. I'll have you know my wife Bella is waiting for me at home, and if I don't show up on time, she's going to call the authorities on you." He threatens the doctor.
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The torturer spins around, now bearing a familiar face, barking,
"Silence!" as they take a step towards you.
"What the hell are you?"Damien blanches as he sees something that looks uncannily like his reflection in his mirror approach. He tries to think what it may be.
He also tries to look for some way to escape the cell.
"I'll take those, thank you very much." Daimen summons the jailor's keys to his outstretched hand, then takes a step backwards.
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Damien isn't sure exactly what might be responsible for this. There are lots of spells and similar effects that could be responsible, but you didn't see any obvious signs of spellcasting.
Seeing you cast another spell, the man on the table yanks a leg free, kicking and sending your twin flying. Careening into the table of tools, the blades and other implements scatter across the floor.
You are able to take advantage of the chaos, slipping the key ring through the bars.
'Oh no. If I lock myself in the cell, he's going to take out his frustrations on my helper' Damien thinks to himself. 'I'm a better man then that'
"I know kung fu."He then moves up to stand protectively over the guy who was getting tortured.
If my twin wasn't prone, I'd be one N, 3 East of my current position. Next round try to cut the shackled guy free.
Navin sees no reason to stop running.