All around you 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 fog.
Dot
.
As you try to get your bearings in the foreign alleyway, you find you are surrounded by three strangers. They have the same dazed and confused look about them that you feel. You do not know them, and as your thoughts progress, you realize that you do not know yourself -- memory of your identity and past are blank slates, or at best, fuzzy half-remembered remnants of old dreams.
The citrine mist at the end of the alleyway parts suddenly. A mask of gray rags emerges, strips of something fleshier than fabric worming and constricting across a body that's almost humanlike -- but too lean, and far too flexible. Gauzy gray ribbons reach out like tendrils, each grasping for less doubtful flesh to claim.
"What? Who? ... gaahhh! Enough of this ..."
Aenian turns and runs.
What is going on? I ... I ... can't remember anything!
Ven looks around in a panic, "Where am I? Who am I?"
Seeing the the strangers and the forbidding figure in gray rags, Zen starts backing away from all of them with his hands up. "Stay away! What do you want? What's going on?"
Your bodies react sluggishly, as if awaiting permission from some other being before submitting to your mind's commands. The disconnect from thought-to-action adds to your disorientation.
Aenian bolts into the labyrinthine alleys, unable to gather any bearings due to the thick, yellow fog. Ven backs away, babbling confusedly. The other stranger, a tall heavy-built man with cropped black hair, shakes his head a few times and then lumbers after Aenian.
The last of your group, a female dwarf with a fire-colored mohawk, snarls at the thing in rags. "Tatterman, you frighten me not!" she roars, hefting an axe and charging. She lands a decent strike, but the wound begins closing almost immediately.
;
The Tatterman shifts around the dwarf as if melting into the mists and reforming behind her. It rakes a long, jagged blade across the dwarf's neck, rending open arteries and sending blood spraying.
;
;
The dwarf falls to her knees, gurgling unintelligibly as her lifeblood drains out. Ven hears her gasp a final word: "... me!" before she falls over, face into a pool of her own blood.
The Tatterman turns around slowly, war razor dripping.
Tatterman, is that a name I'm supposed to know. What is this horrific place?
Aenian makes a snap decision.
Enemy of my enemy and all that
"Big man! This way, come with me. We stand a better chance together! "
The silver haired half elf waves to the lumbering (human?) behind him.
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Ven stands frozen in fear as the dwarf is cut down. He struggles in vain to regain his composure. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I must not fear...
Swallowing, he holds a trembling finger up as the Tatterman approaches. "Stop this madness! What is it that you want? I too know the darkness - let me help you."
The Tatterman wades through the yellow fog up to Ven, seeming simultaneously distant and suddenly close. It grasps Ven's face with its left palm, turning the samsaran's head side-to-side. It seems as though it is looking for something, but Ven cannot tell what through its bandaged visage. Up close, he notices the yellow rags it wears are more like strips of jaundiced flesh...
;
A bolt of pain breaks the moment as the Tatterman rips open Ven's gut with its war razor. Ven screams in pain before he blacks out, slumping to the ground beside the dead dwarf.
Not far away, Aenian and the big man try to navigate the fog-laden alleys. The surrounding buildings, constructed of unidentifiable stone, are laid out in no logical order. Aenian turns and gestures to the man as they both hear Ven's dying scream, which sounds like a cry for help... "Save me!"
The big man nods to Aenian in half-confused manner. The fog closes in as heavy footsteps sound nearer and nearer.
Aenian gestures even more urgently at the man, shouting "Forget him, he's gone!""
He bolts away from the foot steps, this time not waiting for the other man.
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Aenian bolts, running through the cloying mist and seeking any means of escape. With a glance back, you see the big man is on your heels, huffing with exertion. The heavy steps seem to fade into the distance as you run. The alley turns and bends, and then opens to a five-way intersection between buildings of odd angles.
As you slow up to pick a direction, the Tatterman bursts from the path to your right, stepping between you and your companion. The big man collides into the wiry man-creature, but it remains as immobile as the wall -- the big man bounces off and falls backwards.
Sprawled on his back, breath heaving, the big man points behind Aenian and chokes out the word, "Up!", just before the Tatterman drives its war razor deep into his skull.
A glance to where he was pointing, you spy they upper half of a crumbling ladder, leading to the roofs.
Without hesitation, Aenian sprints for the ladder and leaps grasping for its bottom rung.
.. and then begins to climb.
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Aenian makes the jump to the low rung easily, fueled by adrenaline, and climbs. You reach the rooftop a few stories up, and as you stand up, the yellow fog parts for a moment, offering a view of the surrounding city. Buildings of myriad shapes, surreal and obscene, stretch as far as you can see. For all that, the place appears uninhabited -- yet you know that is not. Then, the mists close in as you realize there is no escape.
You turn to flee again, but the Tatterman is already there, standing behind you...
;
;
With two swift slashes of its jagged razor, it rips open Aenian's throat. Blood spurts as you collapse to your knees. Strangely, the pattern of the blood fall look like letters: "Wake..."
Wake... Up... Save... Me... The four words come together in your mind, ringing with significance that you cannot place. As things fade to black, they ring louder and louder.
Wake up... Save me...
Wake up... Save me... Who? Me?
"Wake up, damn you! Save me!"
The voice cuts sharply through your reverie, but you can actually hear it. With a great struggle, you open your eyes. You find yourself in a grimy cell in a dungeon you do not recognize.
Just outside the cell, a man is bound to a splintery and stained worktable, struggling madly. "Wake up!" he screams, his panic cutting through the claustrophobic near dark. His lips are split and skin covered in a mapwork of fresh red lines.
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 to 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.
Aenian's ears perk up and his stomach tightens partly at watching the violence, but also at not knowing where or why he is where he is.
He looks around, inspecting his cell and the others in the room before he moves cautiously to the door to see ... if by blind chance ... the door might be open.
Ven awakes with a shudder. It was just a dream. Just a ... nightmare.
As he regains his senses he slowly looks around the room. Ven's eyes widen as he sees the figure in the blood smeared coat. The nightmare continues.
Gathering his courage he stands up and addresses the murderous doctor. "Sir, please, if you would, put down the blade and assist me."
Aenian confirms that his cell is securely locked.
The doctor whirls on Ven, betraying a moment of surprise, but quickly responds, "Pipe down. You'll have your turn soon enough." She grins and then turns back to her captive, pondering another place to cut. The spell has no apparent effect.
You both notice the sideboard has many sharp objects that are not meant for surgical use: a gardening trowel, forks, several long pieces of broken glass, a piece of shattered metal pipe, and the other half of the tormentor's shears.
You both notice each other is awake in the opposite cell, though it appears the doctor has not noticed Aenian yet, or she is ignoring him. Lastly, you spot a ring of keys hanging from a hook at her waist.
Aenian's eyes widen seeing the keys and makes a meaningful look across the way at Ven.
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Ven looks at Aenian a moment. He was in my dream. Strange.
Concentrating, Ven will use mage hand to attempt to lift the key ring off of the doctor's belt once she becomes preoccupied with her tortures.
Ven quietly extends his mind's influence, telekinetically snaring the ring of keys and pulling it back to him. The doctor makes no notice, engrossed in her grisly task. "Save me!" the man on the table screams again as another jagged line is cut into his skin.
Aenian's eyes get wide at the floating keys, but he doesn't say anything ... trying to keep the anxiety from his face as he watches the doctor. He also tries to get a good look at the man being tortured to see if it sparks any recognition.
Ven winces as the man cries in pain. I'm next.
He then regards the half-elf in the opposite cell. Do I know him? He too was hunted in my dream. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Ven waits for a moment when the doctor is distracted and then floats the keys over to Aenian.
Once Aenian has the keys, Ven will attempt to distract the doctor, "Doctor, I beg you, please release that poor man from his suffering. Surely you've made your point."
"Quiet!" the doctor turns to face Ven. Horrifically, her facial features change so that Ven is looking at a perfect reflection of himself. She leers then turns back to her 'patient'.
What the f ....? Right, don't talk to creepy freak doctor lady
Aenian quickly works the key into the gate and unlocks the door but before he opens it, he takes stock of himself and his belongings.
Assuming he finds nothing of significant value, he will aim down the hallway to the west peering into the darkness and drop a dancing light in a shape of a vague humanoid. If the doctor reacts, he will move it away around the corner and then slip out of the cell and move to the table.
Ven watches the doctor impassively as Aenian slips from his cell. A shape changer then. What happened to the real doctor? Is this a hospital or a prison?
The doctor does not notice as Aenian uses the key and the lock clicks loudly, but she does look up when he creates the illusion.
"What...? An illusion. Who cast?" She glances back and forth between Ven and Aenian, fury clear in her features. "You!" she points a bloody glass shard at Aenian, stalking over.
Just as she nears the cell, the man on the table screams and lashes out with a strong kick, hitting the doctor in the back. She collides into the bars with a shocked, and enraged, gasp.
Aenian, springs at the doctor through the bars, trying to grappling her against the cell, but bangs his knuckles on the steel and pulls his hands back in pain.
;
Ven stands up and uses mage hand to grab the fallen keys and levitate them to his cell.
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Aenian tries to grab the surprised doctor while Ven pulls the keys back to his cell. The woman notices neither, spinning in rage upon the man on the table. Screaming, she snatches another sharp instrument off the side table and drives it hard into the man's gut. His wails of agony echo through the cell block.
This is likely our only chance. Three ... well, two and a half maybe ... against one.
Aenian will fling the door open and charge the doctor.
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With shaking hands Ven unlocks the cell . He then moves to assist Aenian with the grapple.
Aenian breaks from the cell, charging the doctor, but trips up on a piece of debris and crashes into the table. Ven unlocks himself and moves to help. The doctor spins from the gory mess on the table, screaming in surprise. Seeing both of you out of cells, her eyes widen and she flees out the doorway.
Rubbing his side, Aenian checks the man on the table to see if he made it. He spares a glance at the departing doctor, but his fear of unknown surroundings prevents him from following.
He will grab a knife off the table and slip into his waistband.
"Thanks for the keys. Any idea where we are ... or why?" Aenian leaves an air of easy friendliness, but leaves the table between him and Venn.
Who is this guy?
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Ven helps to untie the man on the table while watching warily for the doctor's return. "I have no idea - I don't remember a thing. But wherever this is, we need to escape. That doctor is probably getting help. I'm Ven, by the way."
Ven looks at the man on the table. "Can you speak? What is your name? Do you know how to get out of here?"
The man on the table is quite dead. The doctor's last strike put a shard of pipe through his eye socket.
Ven frowns at the dead man. "Well, that's one way out of here."
He quickly searches for any knives or tools that can be used as a weapon.
Once completing the search, he turns to Aenian, "The doctor was some sort of shape shifter. Her face changed when she rebuked me. Likely the doctor that she was impersonating was her victim. If so, we may be in a hospital of some sort. But unless we want to end up like this poor fellow, I suggest we find our way out now. We'll live longer if we work together."
Ven casts a light spell and heads down the western hall.
"Hospital, sure ... not entirely certain she was trying to heal that guy. Getting out of here sounds like a great idea, although I'm not really certain why we are here or who you are. I'm Aenian ... and I'm a ... prisoner, apparently." Aenian shrugs confusedly as he, too looks around the room for anything else if use.
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The table has a number of sharp objects that you could use as an improvised weapon, notably a shovel spade and half of a broken garden shears.
The room does not extend far to the west, with another cell or exit at the far end that has recently caved in. An alcove to the south holds a large, cold furnace of black iron. Its four-foot-square door gapes half open. Nearby sprawls a heap of gory clothes and other dubiously flammable trash. A few of the items in the pile strike you as familiar.
Aenian grabs a broken set of shears and digs through the trash pile,
"I think some of this may belong to me ... us?" He looks up hopefully at Venn as he runs across items that aren't his.
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Additionally, Aenian will crawl up to the furnace and peer inside the open door and see if there's anything of interest in there.
As he does so, he tries to strike up a bit of conversation with his newly found prison-break-mate.
"So Ven, you want to tell me a bit about what you can do, if we're gonna work together and all. If I can get my gear back, I can whip up a few alchemical extracts and poke some holes in some locked doors. Recommend we move quietly and without light, assuming you can see without that glowing ball?" Aenian indicates Ven's slight spell, squinting his eyes in slight discomfort.
Ven grabs the shovel spade and holds it up ineffectively. "I'm not much of a fighter I'm afraid."
He follows Aenian tentatively. "Well, I believe I'm quite well versed in antiquities. At least I think so - I can't be sure. If you ever have a question on ancient Thassilonian culture - I'm your man. Oh, you meant skills that would help in a situation like this? Not much I'm afraid. I can sometimes influence people with my mind, but it doesn't always work - it didn't work on the doctor."
Ven helps search through the area. "Some of this does look familiar, but I can't place any of it. Are you sure its safe crawling up there?"
"Influencing with the mind sounds handy. Maybe you can send me back into forgetful bliss if this gets too bad .."
Aenian pokes around some more and leans in to the forge. "Pretty sure it isn't safe anywhere around here, but we need to find something. I get the sense they were burning belongings of various prisoners like us ... probably right before they butchered them inexpertly like we just watched that poor sod in the other room." Aenian shakes off the memory with a shudder.
"Maybe something survived a fire that could be useful?"
Ven keeps a nervous eye on the door at the far end of the hall. "Do it then - I'll let you know if we have company. If the furnace chimney vents to the roof, we may be able to escape that way. Be careful!"
Searching through the pile of refuse, you discover several pieces of gear that are familiar. It takes a moment, but you nod to yourself as you realize they belong to you. You also find a viol in the pile -- its bow is missing, but the instrument itself is remarkably undamaged.
Aenian examines the furnace closely. The debris inside includes the ashy remnants of humanoid bones, easily from a half-dozen or more bodies. A look up at the chimney vents shows them too small to navigate easily... perhaps a halfling could get through them, but a human-sized person would have to squeeze awkwardly.