Pitor opens the door...
A once-handsome wood conference table now sits marred by the partially toppled southwest walls. Between heaps of collapsed stone, a closet door still stands. The party sees the slime trail crosses the room and into the closet, with one door standing open. One deformed humanoid fetus with extreme hydrocephalus stands on top of an entire collection of floating, aberrant brains, spinal columns in the closet shelf, next to a manson jar, while the other is sitting on the ground in a nest made from the remains of a Vuldrani human male in a doctor's coat.
Kilarra recognizes the creatures as pickled punks.
Grotesque curiosities, pickled punks are deformed, often-humanoid fetuses raised by necromancers and stored in jars of embalming fluid. Every pickled punk is different and the level of deformity spans a spectrum between the mildly lopsided to the utterly unfathomable. Though they seem harmless at first—even laughable—pickled punks are hungry creatures that attack without provocation when freed from their jars. Some pickled punks rock and wriggle in their jars in hopes of falling off a shelf or table and shattering their glass prison (such jars typically have hardness 1 and 2 hit points). Once freed, a pickled punk pulls itself across the ground with its malformed limbs in search of sustenance. Unless weaned from its taste for blood or constantly controlled, pickled punks become a danger to their creators.
Some necromancers (especially those on the edge of sanity) and some intelligent undead cultivate a fondness for pickled punks and regard them as their children. They talk to their various jars in cooing tones and are known to even carry around favored specimens on outings and social calls, often granting them names and imagined personalities.
Pickled punks can attach, and their bites are irritating. They dis corporate into fleshy sludge when destroyed.
When a pickled punk hits with a bite attack, it automatically grapples its foe, though the target is not considered to be grappling the punk. Each round the pickled punk is grappling its foe, it automatically deals bite damage each round.
The water in a pickled punk’s jar is highly irritating to all living creatures. A creature damaged by a pickled punk’s bite that deals damage to pickled punk with a natural weapon or unarmed attack, or that otherwise comes into contact with a pickled punk or the water in its jar, must succeed at a Fortitude save or break out in an itching rash. A creature affected by this rash takes a –2 penalty to Dexterity and Charisma for 24 hours (multiple allergic reactions do not stack). Remove disease or any magical healing removes the rash instantly. This is a disease effect. The save DC is Charisma-based.
When a pickled punk is destroyed, it discorporates into a fleshy sludge. Any creatures adjacent to a pickled punk when it is destroyed must succeed at a Fortitude save or be nauseated for 1 round.
Auryl can't see their foe but knows by the reaction of his companions that something is up.
"Monstrosities at every bend in the corridors..." - Garrosh snarls, releasing an arrow at the closest creature - "We shall put them all down"
Garrosh's arrow strikes the creature but bounces off without effect.
"Destroy these horrid things!" Rozalia touches her son's shoulder, granting him guidance.
Caraid hurls rocks at the disgusting creatures!
Caraid manages to throw rocks at the pickled punk, denting it.
Piotr stumbles on the rocks a bit, "They are... heck I have no idea, but they are not NATURAL and there are two of them." he yells back to the others, and gets ready to swing at one of them when they get close.
In these cases I never know if you prefer us to roll all the 'contingency' possibilities or...?
If you want me to roll the readied attack also, just in case:
Kilarra says "Try not to get bitten. They're nasty and explode when killed. Bludgeoning weapons work best."
Then she moves towards them and gets ready to attack.
The pickled punks move on to attack Piotr and Kilarra and Piotr manages to cut his pickled punk, already damaged by Caraid's rocks down, though Pitor gets migthly disgusted as in its death throws, it discorporates into a pile of fleshy sludge. Kilarra finds that even though her Greatsword connects, it isn't as effective as it should be.
However the backswing as it approaches neatly dissects the pickled punk into two, at the waist.
Kilarra seems to be made out of tougher stuff then Piotr and doesn't even flinch when the fleshy sludge splotches all over her.
Searching the remains of the body in the doctor's coat, the party finds 6 flasks of alchemist fire on his body. In the room there are also 8 other doctors coats.
"We ought to bring back some of those coats. If anything, they can be used as emergency bandages or makeshift bags. Hrm, let's check out that one door over yonder?"
Piotr spends a few moment trying desperately to not vomit. "Those things... ugh... why would anyone..." he manages to contain himself, then rise up straight as the others search.
"Good idea." Piotr says to Auryl "Or as extra blankets." he adds as a suggestion. Then he'll move to the door when everyone is ready.
Garrosh checks the door and listens at it but finds that it is not locked nor trapped. There is the smell of decomposing flesh on the other side of the door, but he hears nothing.
Piotr opens the door.
Two desks are crammed into this crowded office space. More space has been dedicated to filing cabinets, bookshelves and stacks of loose research than room for occupants.
There are two bodies in doctor's coats slumped over their desks, slain buy blows to the head, made by small claws digging into the base of the skull, like those made by the pickled punks earlier.
Most of the documents and files here are related to mundane asylum duties and unremarkable psychological evaluations. Garrosh finds a thick yew wand etched with the symbol of Sarenrae hidden in the back of the eastern desk with a twine 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."
Rozalia identifies it as a wand of bless and it has 18 charges in it.
"Should be a place for both, don't you think? A place for the sick shouldn't turn away and help." Piotr will keep an eye out for any of those pickled things while the others search.
"There will always be fundamentalists who refuse anything else beyond their own vision" - Garrosh replies to Piotr - "Even if it is to do good for others" - he adds with a shrug.
Caraid pulls a coat on absentmindedly and immediately begins stuffing the pockets with his pencils and charcoal stumps.
He does help with the investigation into the files, looking for any references to himself or his mother.
Most of the notes are about physical causes of psychological ailments, noting that trauma to the brain can cause psychosis like schizophrenia, seizure disorder, delusions and Caraid does not find anything with references to himself or his mother.
Garrosh finds that the door is neither locked nor trapped though he smells the strong smell of antiseptic behind the door. Piotr then opens the door.
This would look like a typical physician’s office if it weren’t for the preponderance of grotesque anatomical sketches, most depicting traumas and deformities of the head and brain. A sturdy display case stands open and completely empty. The slime trail that the party has been following leads from the slime case to the floor and the hall.
The desk and bookshelves here are in fine repair, but contain little of value. Garrosh looks through the desk drawers finds that the notes within belong to a Doctor Arosh Chawaar, who pursued new treatments for hydrocephalus. Many of these notes bear marginalia from the doctor’s sister, Doctor Anya Chawaar of Katheer.
Auryl winces at the sketches and turns away from them. "Call me naïve, but I do believe that mortal brains aren't quite ready for such information just yet. Maybe our thirst for more, ever more, is what invited all this madness into our world."
Piotr looks at the sketches as well, not out of his own interest but his sisters, who INSISTS he look. "My sister is interested in these type things." he points out at the oddity of him spending time staring with a flustered look on his face. "Knowledge is the most important... would you stop that!" he snaps at himself/her and then goes to the door to wait.
Garrosh thinks that the journal is valuable and can be sold to medical institutions or scholars of medicine (as one might find in any significantly sized city). It's going price would be 800 gp.
Caraid glances at the pictures, pales, and steadfastly refuses to enter the room thereafter. "I... remember." He says quietly. "A doctor was studying my head. He wanted to cut me open and see why I could move things with my mind..."
Caraid receives one single pat on the head from Kilarra, who says to the group. "Less talking, more fighting. Lead the way, Piotr."
"Yes mam" Piotr says with a widely flustered grin. Flustered cause Ann should not be able to talk from his own mouth, no matter what this... thing... they are stuck with is.
"Busy one isn't she" Ann remarks, trying to fall back into friendly banter since she knows how much her brother is bothered at the moment. Inwardly she is excited, wondering what else she can do.
"Yeah, but she's not wrong." he mutters and moves to the next door.
Piotr finds the door not locked nor trapped and smells something decomposing beyond the door.
The ceiling of this room has collapsed, crushing a table and well-worn couch. The party notices a pale, decomposing hand extending from the rubble.
Piotr looks at the sketches as well, not out of his own interest but his sisters, who INSISTS he look. "My sister is interested in these type things." he points out at the oddity of him spending time staring with a flustered look on his face. "Knowledge is the most important... would you stop that!" he snaps at himself/her and then goes to the door to wait.
"Your sister?" - Garrosh looks puzzled at Piotr - "Is she a physician of some sort, or..." - and stops short as the man seems to be arguing with... himself?
-----------------
Caraid glances at the pictures, pales, and steadfastly refuses to enter the room thereafter. "I... remember." He says quietly. "A doctor was studying my head. He wanted to cut me open and see why I could move things with my mind..."
"Never again Caraid, you can be sure of that" - the half orc nods at the boy as they proceed.
The ceiling of this room has collapsed, crushing a table and well-worn couch. The party notices a pale, decomposing hand extending from the rubble.
Garrosh draws a bead on the hand, as he waits for Piotr or Kilarra to poke it.
Auryl listens in on the ongoing conversation but doesn't weigh in on it. It's clear that Piotr has issues of his own, issues with a voice of their own, and it would be rude to make him the object of curiosity.
"Hrm, another victim. Should we clear the rubble so that we can identify the body? Judging by the state of that hand, I doubt we'll be ambushed yet again by a doppelganger ... I hope ... "
"Ann dabbles in... all sorts of things. And is in here." he taps the side of his head as he moves toward the pale hand. "Thought I mentioned that." he didn't but should have he knows. "Anyway, I agree with you Auryl." he quickly moves to another topic. "Doesn't this mean though, with this one being buried, that these things were here before the quake? Ready?" he checks with the others, then he pokes the hand with his sword.
The hand doesnt respond other then spilling out a foul smelling greenish yellow fluid as Piotr pokes it.
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Okay. Piotr's crazy... so that makes two crazy people. That means that Auryl and Garrosh are the best bets for sanity, next to me of course.
"We should still be wary of undead. No one died peacefully in this place. Let's look at the doors north and see what they hold."
Garrosh takes a brief survey of the room, before they head out.
"Huh... I was expecting something horrible to happened. Can't imagine why." Then he'll move to the door and get ready to open it.
Piotr notes that there seems to be traces of coloured mist seeping from the bottom of the door.
"Okay, that does not seem good. Anyone have any ideas?" Piotr says as he points it out the others.
"Hold your breath? Or open the door and let it air for awhile before going in?"
Piotr shrugs, finding the idea just as good as any he had. "Stand back." he covers his mouth with a borrowed doctor's coat, and opens the door.
Yellow fog soundlessly roils against the cathedral-like windows of this opulent, two-story office. The ground floor features overstuffed furnishings, elegant side tables and an altar like desk of dark marble. A delicate spiral staircase and balcony of dark iron rises to a lofty library overhead. Both floors’ fixtures frame the lake of blood spread across the room center. In the centre of the room kneeling in the pool of blood is a woman with shoulder length curly hair in a dark grey robe, her back straight, her mouth gaping at the ceiling. From her soundlessly screaming mouth an unsteady torrent of coloured mist spurts like a fountain of gritty sludge.
"Errr. Should we try and stop that?" Caraid asks, unsure of what on earth is going on now. "I could try and knock it over..."
Rozalia makes the sign against the evil eye when she sees the horrid sight. "Is she alive? Such horror... If it were me, I would want to be put out of my misery."
She nods to Caraid.