Klassalka smirks as the book just bounces off her hide harmlessly. Arrow two at the same target!
You search through the men's pockets and find little of interest. However, within the desk you find a thick yew want etched with the symbol of Sarenrae hidden in the back of the eastern desk. A piece of twine is wrapped around it, connecting to a note that reads "Mr Lantz, this is a place of science, not faith. Please keep your religion at home."
The papers seem to be lists and schedules of duties that would be associated with a medical institution of some sort, but there are some more interesting papers that seem to be psychological evaluations of possible patients.
"Hey now," he grins as he locates the stick of yew. Reading the note, he chews on his lip. Not exactly a man of the church, he isn't sure what to do with it. He raps it on the desk, over the psycho mumbo jumbo written on the papers, then scratches his scalp beneath his thick tufts of white hair. The sensation is comforting and he closes his eyes, eager to rid himself of the view.
Then, without realizing why, he lays the stick out before him. He licks his fingers, then sweeps them through the air just over the stick, holding his breath as he does.
Something useful. Nodding in approval to himself, he tucks the wand into his pants and gathers the papers, too. He might need to start a fire, after all. He then tries the door...
Varinder shakes off his bafflement and flicks a knife at the offending creatures.
He glares at nothing, irritated by yet another poor throw.
Trying the door, you find it to open easily into what appears to be an empty corridor. Directly opposite from you is a wall, turning left from there you see a pair of doors on the right along said wall, and a single door facing you at the end of the corridor. Turning right from the room from which you came, you see a rubble strewn corridor that becomes impassable at one point, but not before a door to the right along the wall.
You hear sounds from the pair of doors - slams, grunts, clangs...commotion indeed, but largely unidentifiable.
The man creeps down the hallway, keeping near the wall and eyes peeled afore and behind.
Somethin’s right wrong, he tells himself needlessly. What’n hells is this place, and whycome I cain’t remember nothin’?
He nears the double doors, pressing his ear near the wall and placing a hand to ease himself. The slams, grunts and clangs from the down the hall cause him to utter a small gasp and take an instinctive step back. He eyes the other direction, where the closed doors remain silent.
Somethin’ caused them fellers with me t’have their heads crushed in like melons. Yet my noggin ain’t yet cracked open. On account of the ruckus, he figures those behind this door are the kind to smash skulls, and he backs away further.
On the other hand, smashin’ some skulls might be the ticket outta this hellhole. He balls his hands into fists as he agonizes over his choice.
”Piss.” He curses himself, as he turns back to the double doors.
He laments the lack of a more suitable weapon in the room in which he awoke. Just that blasted holyman’s wand, a glorified stick to wave ‘round and chant mumbo jumbo trying to impress some weird god.
But that ain’t the only kinda weirdness in the world, he reminds himself. Not even close.
The sight of the gore returns to him, the images pushing themselves into his brain as weeds breaking through cobblestone. The blood and brains, the vacant eyes, the sundered skulls and minced flesh. Though noxious to behold, they stir something primal within him, some nameless and aching desire that burns and dries his throat, that needs be quenched by, by, by…
Bloodlust.
As the realization dawns, so does the urge. He gasps as his fingers curl reflexively, hooking themselves into some sort of claw. An oily black sphere materializes around him, its translucent surface swirling with indescribable shapes. But it's there only a moment, and pops out of existence just as quickly. Still, he feels its strange presence encircling him, like unseen eyes turned inward to gaze upon a captive.
Slowly, he pushes open the double doors.
"Bah, rats" Ulfric says as he moves forward to attack one.
As Ramul and Ulfric begin to position ladders to take a swing at one of the creatures, Campus, Klassalka, and Varinder rain down attacks upon the little creatures. Campus and Varinder miss their marks, but Klassalka fires another arrow into the same creature she'd injured previously.
The little creature falls back, squealing and seeming to fall.
The two remaining creatures hurl tomes once again - one at Ramul and another at Ulfric.
As the battle commences, a sound comes from the northern end of the room, where the pair of doors opens, revealing the curious, searching face of a man.
The attention of the odd group is focused upon small forms atop the shelves - forms which squeal and hurl heavy tomes down upon those below, seemingly intent upon their destruction.
Oblivious to the man who tentatively opens the door behind her, Campus leaps up before thrusting death, spearing the nearest ratling. She twirls her spear, bringing its cold iron butt down into the floor.
Varinder looks somewhat distractedly at another knife that appears, almost as if conjured out of empty air, in his hand. One does get so tired of missing.
He turns and flings again.
oh for the love of...
Having moved one of the ladders into position, Ramul climbs up and swings at one of the ratlings. So far, they had managed to strike him twice. He's about ready to return the favor.
After his swing, Ramul notices the sudden appearance of a new man in the room. Had Artemis decided to join them after all? No, the man isn't Artemis, but he does have a curious look on his face.
Shouting out to the man, Ramul says, "Watch your step! And duck if you see a book headed your way!"
What man?
Campus turns her head.
She finds a man wearing a curiously perplexed expression, as if a little unnerved..a little...disjointed. like he's wearing a face he is not used to wearing.
Campus swings the point of her spear around. Stay where you are, man or shapeshifter, if you wish to live.
"always knew nothin' good come outta readin'," the white haired man marvels as he sees the rat things up on the shelves. He shakes his head vigorously, trying to clear the hallucination, then twists to avoid a flying medical tome larger than his head. That was real enough.
And so is that woman with the spear. He remembers the men with the bashed skulls. He throws his hands up in surrender, papers flying.
"now hold on! A feller just wake up, 's all! Ain't an inkling what's goin' on!"
Campus brushes back her fiery locks to reveal the holy mark of Cayden, emblazoned there on her skin since her conception
If you have no great evil, you have nothing to fear from me, or Cayden, the Lord of Flowing Cups.
"Cower in a corner! We'll deal with you later!" the large merfolk bellows.
"Lord 'o what?" The man asks, blinking as he lowers his hands unsteadily.
As t'that evil in me, is it great or small? I ain't really sure. Prolly best t'keep ma mouth shut on that point.
"Cower in a corner! We'll deal with you later!"
Again, the man is reminded of the broken and bleeding people he left behind in favor of the living sort. "Hope yer meanin' is t'offer me a handshake an' stiff whiskey," he says with a pshaw. Then he frowns as a skittering noise is heard above.
There had been a yellow fog. But that was only a dream, a nightmare. The true horrors are to be found in the waking world, it seems, where men have their brains bashed in and are left to rot, and enormous rats lurk within books. He wonders if he'd rather be back within that yellow fog. Somehow, the dream still seems worse.
A slight chill runs through him, and he turns his gaze upward, his expression darkening as he does.
Deciding the man was needing a dreg of whiskey more than a pound of her flesh, Campus relaxes. Drunkards, I understand.
Aye man, the Lord of Cups, the Drunken Hero, my Accidental God, the God who Gives Drunks another Cup. Campus snorts, and again is thankful that her God has a sense of humor about mild blasphemies.
Hell, Cayden might even approve.
Able to reach them now, Ulfric takes a swing at the creatures.
"Take that!"
The onslaught of the bigger folk is entirely too much for the ratlings to handle. One falls to Klassalka's arrows and tumbles off of the bookshelves to further skewer itself on the very same arrows as it hits the ground.
A second is skewered by Campus, then further flayed by Ramul as it topples, hitting its head off of the top of wooden ladder as it falls.
As Ulfric swings at the last Ratling, but the creature slinks away enough that the paladin's sword whizzes by. The ratling senses the gathering cold of Ceerio's spell and shies away.
The little creature cries out as the cold takes it and the frighteningly focused visage of Ulfric confronts it. It shouts out, in Aklo.
Klassalka narrows her eyes a bit about the drunk firing off an attack despite her orders, but it's not like she hasn't known several of that type.
The man gasps in surprise as he seems to conjure up a frost-bitten shadow.
He hadn't realized that would happen. Or else he'd just forgotten.
What else am I forgettin'?
"Talkin' rats?!" he balks again as the rat seems to squeak some kind of gibberish. "Hells, stomp in its brains and we'll have us a stew. Ain't no better eaten'n rat stew." He absent-mindedly rubs his grimy hands together, realizing just now how hungry he is as the sound of rat tail soup causes him to salivate. He also recognizes the bit about smashed brains, though his appetite remains undiminished. Odd.
He glances up, noting the woman staring at him again. A woman...with a fish tail? He backs up a step, causing a book to clatter to the floor. He emits a little shriek. "...aheh..." he says with a nervous, sly smile.
Campus flips her cold iron spear over her shoulder Bah!! And brings it down on top of the rats head.
When it wakes up, we will think what to do with it.
Ramul scratches his ear at the ratling's 'words.'
"Did it... did it just say something? Did anyone understand it?"
The half-elf looks over at the new man again and says, "Who exactly are you? Or are you yet another illusion in this mad place?"
Even as he said the words, Ramul doubted them. An illusion couldn't shoot frost at something, could it? Considering how little Ramul knew about their circumstances, he had to leave everything on the table.
I'm...
He begins confidently, before one of the fleshy tendrils from his nightmare seems to rip the very words from his tongue. And his memory.
Eh...hmm. can't rightly say just now. All I can tell ya is tha truth. I's havin'a bad dream'n woke up just down that hall to a room o' dead bodies! Afore I snuck out and down here on account o' the ruckus. Honest fellers, I ain't a part o' this madness.
unless I'm the one who bashed in those skulls...
He smiles--a pallid, watery dish, like rat tail soup. What do ya'll know about this joint?
With the last ratling holding up its hands in a placating, or pleading gesture, it really has no defense against Campus. The cleric's spear silences the little creature's stammering pleas.
The man's smile melts back into a confused expression. "And what's a two tails?"
I'd like to bluff, and tell you, old man, that we know lots. But we do not. In deed, we woke up as you did. But us all together.
Campus looks at ratling made unconscious, but not dying and turns to her friends, ignoring the strange white haired man These things. They are not rats. Then it pleaded. I do not know if they are evil or spelled. I would be sad to learn that we killed several of them that were merely frightened of us.
Campus pauses in reflection. Two tails is probably its name.
Indeed, said ratling does have a split tail - a genetic abnormality no doubt, that appears as two separate tails.
Varinder looks the newcomer over with unconcealed distaste - A tramp with no mind, apparently. I hope he proves helpful - then looks at the little rat-creature. Mercy seems appropriate at this stage, I think. If we can talk to it, it may prove useful. I don't believe these things are enemies. Just guarding their pitiable territory.
Ramul looks at the man with sympathetic eyes. They weren't so different after all. Or so it seemed.
"Hopefully some of your memories will come back to you. We remember our names and some of our abilities, but not much else. Perhaps whatever twisted entity or force which brought us here, brought you here as well."
When the conversation turns to the ratling, Ramul once again looks over at the new man. "Can you... can you understand him? Do you think you could get information about this place from him?"
Ramul looks at the man with sympathetic eyes. They weren't so different after all. Or so it seemed.
"Hopefully some of your memories will come back to you. We remember our names and some of our abilities, but not much else. Perhaps whatever twisted entity or force which brought us here, brought you here as well."
Why dun' we just leave? he wanted to ask, but something told him he had an answer. Perhaps not the answer, but... Why couldn't he remember anything?
"Can you... can you understand him? Do you think you could get information about this place from him?"
The man shakes his head.
Ulfric explains what the creature said to everyone.
"I agree with Campus, Two Tails is probably its name." With a sigh, Ulfric will cast detect evil on the unconscious ratling.
I fear we acted in haste and fear...
Are they dead, or just dying? Perhaps I should heal them. In any case, they do not seem that dangerous. Campus's ferocity recedes, but guilt is replacing it.
Ulfric does, indeed, find the little creatures to be evil, though their auras are not particularly potent.
While still breathing, two of the ratlings are bleeding out, while one - two tails - is merely unconscious.
The man scratches his scalp with all ten fingers, wondering if the fleas moved in before or after his arrival. My vote's still fer rat stew, he offers. Course, it couldn't hurt ta talk to em afore we cook em. Might be they's a tunnel outta this slophouse. I say wake em up.
I wonder why a paladin knows how to speak the language of rat creatures?
"If they're evil, we should probably kill them... eventually. They may have valuable information about this place, though, so we should try to extract it before dispatching them.
"Campus, I would suggest you try to heal them, if you're willing. But only enough to stabilize them. Does anyone have rope or manacles? We should try to restrain them before they wake up."
Varinder's lips curl as he looks askance at the newcomer. Shrugging, he sets about retrieving his knives - Much good they're doing me at the moment - before looking across at Ramul.
Evil? he snickers slightly. Yes, a great force for evil indeed. Imagine how much damage a thousand of them could do with access to a larger library...
"These creatures are slightly evil, but may be redeemable. I suggest we stabilize them and question them when they awake." Ulfric says.
He will walk over to Two Tails, pull out his rope, and tie the ratling up.
Seeing no opposition to his plan, Ulfric proceeds as such, and in a short amount of time, the little ratling awakens. She...though hard to tell, it is a female of its kind, immediately introduces herself as Genny Two-Tail. She proceeds to tell Ulfric of how her folk live in warrens deep in the rocks below what she calls Briarstone Isle - this Isle, so she says.
Not having a clue what the ratling is saying, Ramul stands to the side, ready to summon his blade should the thing try to attack again or break her bonds somehow.
"Briarstone Isle..." The white man repeats slowly, racking his brain to recall any information about it. He strokes the whiskers on his chin and cheek absent-mindedly. They slough and float gently to the ground, leaving him clean shaven. "Reckon we could find a way out through them warrens? But if they holed up in here, figure they's trapped."
Ramul shakes his head at the new man's question. "As far as we can tell, the entire isle is surrounded by that blasted yellow fog. We've yet to definitively determine if it's harmful or only illusory, but we've agreed that we can't risk it. Not until we know for sure, one way or the other.
"Still, the ratlings' warrens could give us access to other parts of the asylum that are otherwise blocked off to us. Of course, that assumes our friend Varinder is willing to take a look.
"Perhaps we can gain more information from the ratling. If there are others of his kind here, we should try to find out."
Looking at Ulfric, Ramul says, "Can you try to find out if this Genny Two-Tail has others of her kind still at large? And does she know anything about Briarstone or the yellow fog?"
Ulfric's spell tells us these ratlings are evil. I would not doubt that it will betray us to more powerful enemies were we to give him a chance. If we want to crawl through some rat tunnels, we might as well do it with this evil extinguished.
I will always find it strange that entire races of creatures are consistently evil or good, yet other races be as varied as an ocean floor Campus ponders.
Ulfric nods, and conveys the question to Genny, who hesitates a moment, then shakes her head.
No more of us here; we're trapped. The shaking dropped rocks and shut us off from our den. No one gets through.
"It does not seem like we will get much more of use out of her." Alfred says to the group.
To Two-tails in aklo, "Are you willing to try and help our group? If so I will advocate that we spare you. If not, I will wield the blade that executes you. Either way, I can not allow you to be chained as we haven't the ability to feed you, so you'd simply starve. And as a warrior, you at least deserve death by the blade."
Ulfric will watch her carefully as she responds.
The rat is witholding information from us. The north east corner, it glanced at it nervously.
"Well now..." the man grins as he approaches the rat-thing, rubbing his hands together in a sinister, hungry way. "Had a hankerin' fer rat from th'start. Looks like it's chow time. 'Less this one's got an itch t'talk. You tell em that, now.." He runs a dirty fingernail across his throat and peers at the rat with an insane glare. The look comes easy, as though it takes no effort at all.