Shakur just watches in a bit of a shock before turning to Genny. "I sure hope you know these secrets, assuming he's not lying."
We'll do a sense motive on both Genny and Ratch and then raise shield.
”Then put your handsh in the air where we can shee them,” Boodiddly yells back. ”You too, Genny!”
Ratch looks in fear at the advancing half-orc as he snaps his hands into the air as quickly as possible. He screeches at Genny, who responds in turn. Ratch shrieks her name in a high-pitched wail that causes the amnesiacs’ ears to hurt!
”Do it, Genny!”
“Wha—?”
“JUST DO IT, GENNY!!!”
Genny Two-Tail drops the book in her hands and brings her hands up into the air.
Urzok groans and rolls his eyes as words travel faster than actions. "You've got a prisoner, Gnome," he states matter-of-factly.
"Cooperate or die," is all he says before taking both of Ratch's hands firmly in one of his own and lowering him to Boodiddly. Once the prisoner is handed off, he begins the process of climbing down and collecting his shield.
________
Ratch squirms uncomfortably in Urzok’s grip, but doesn’t attempt to break free. When he is set down he looks pleadingly at Boodiddly.
”Please, just let us go and we won’t bother you again. I’ll even tell you anything I know about him—about the one who haunts this place.”
Boodiddly frowns, trying to concentrate through the haze muddling his thoughts. ”Then... shtart... talking,” he finally gets out, crossbow still pointed squarely at Ratch.
Ratch scratches his head. ”Wow…uh…I must’ve really did a number on you—you know that’s not loaded right? The effects of that spell should subside sometime in the next minute.”
Genny, having come down from the top of the bookcase, slaps Ratch in the shoulder and chitters at him. The two ratlings go back and forth for a moment in an argument, one that Ratch seems to have won.
Ratch turns to the amnesiacs, his demeanor eerily serious.
”He is known by many names—the Every-All, the Final Dream, and the Shredman—and he has been haunting this isle for a long, long time. He was once the servant of the Briarstone Witch. My great great great great great great great great…I lost count; how many ‘great’s was that, Genny? We ratlings are very fecund, so generations go by quickly. My however-many-greats grandfather was Yonah, the familiar of the Briarstone Witch. When the witch and Yonah disappeared many generations ago, they left the Final Dream to fend for himself. He lay dormant for so long, but something has awoken the Shredman. But most frightening is his true master—the witch merely bound the Every-All under her control; he was as devoted to her as a slave would be to their owner. In truth, his true master…No. No no no! I shouldn’t speak it!”
Jevar's eyes narrow at Ratch, as he tries to spit out the name.
Go on, let's hear it. Your information was just getting interesting...
Ratch looks increasingly nervous, but as he glances over at Urzok his fear of the amnesiacs overcome his fear of what he is about to say next. He motions the amnesiacs closer to him as he glances over his tiny shoulders and speaks in a low whisper.
”He is a servant of the Great Old One Hastur.”
Urzok looks sideways at his companions after Ratch makes his big revelation. Is that supposed to mean something to me? Let's see if the brains know what's up with Grandpa Hastur.
”The Great Old Onesh are shupposhed to live beyond the veil of mortal pershepshion,” Boodiddly explains, his voice still slurred. ”They’re not true godsh - more like demigodsh - but shtill very powerful.”
Jevar nods along with Boodiddly's explanation. He thinks back to what he knows on the subject, but can't come up with additional material info.
I have a hard time calling them "just demigods." For all we know these beings from the stars hold the governing dynamic, and our "dieties" are just playing at higher magnitudes of power, and are simply more present in our everyday lives...
The wizard shudders visibly at the thought at ancient, incomprehensible beings.
Urzok looks at the pair for a few moments in silence. "Grandpa Hastur isn't even a real god? Why is the rat s~!%ting himself over saying his name? The real ones aren't even worth worrying about," he says incredulously. "If we're done sharing fairytales, let's kick down the next set of doors and see if there are any boogeymen or toothfairies."
________
Remembering his first clear memory of recent events, Boodiddly shudders. ”You don’t think... that thing we shaw before we woke up... that wash thish Shredman, thish Final Dream?”
"Whatever this thing is, if people worship it, I don't want to meet it. RAT!" Shakur shouts before turning his gaze to Ratch, "Know what this Shredman looks like? And, uhh, who came up with the names? They all sound like people full of fear trying to name a nightmare."
Quasi-gods are relatively weak creatures that nonetheless can grant divine magic. These beings are CR (or, in 2e’s case, level) 25 or lower. Examples include the Malebranche, the Daemon Harbingers, and the Nascent Demon Lords.
Demigods are powerful beings that are yet still tied to mortality. These beings range from CR (or level) 26 to 30. Examples include the Empyreal Lords, Archdevils, Horsemen, Demon Lords, and Great Old Ones.
True deities have ascended to a power that cannot be defined by mortal measures such as “CR” or “level,” and as such are beyond the realm of game statistics. Examples include the Core pantheon, the gods of Tian Xia, and the Outer Gods of the Elder Mythos.
"If we're done sharing fairytales, let's kick down the next set of doors and see if there are any boogeymen or toothfairies."
Ratch shudders. ”You don’t want to know what kinds of things bogeymen and tooth fairies will do to you”
"RAT!" Shakur shouts before turning his gaze to Ratch, "Know what this Shredman looks like? And, uhh, who came up with the names? They all sound like people full of fear trying to name a nightmare."
”That’s because that’s what he is: a nightmare. He is a living nightmare that stalks the dreams of mortals and instills fear in their hearts until their very death. He is their Final Dream. I do not personally know what he looks like—nor do I wish to know firsthand—but he is described as a gaunt humanoid, wrapped in yellow tatters and carrying a jagged blade drenched in the blood of his victims.”
”You don’t think... that thing we shaw before we woke up... that wash thish Shredman, thish Final Dream?”
The blood drains from Ratch’s face as he listens to the gnome’s words.
”Y-you’ve met him? You’ve met him?! No…No no no no no! He hunts you! The Every-All hunts you! He will hunt you for eternity!” Panic and terror wash across the ratling’s eyes. ”He will not stop…he will not stop until your blood stains his blade! You are consigned to death!”
Something in Ratch’s eyes snaps. He sprints for one of the middle bookcases and squeezes through a tiny hole in the floorboards in the bookcase’s bottom shelf. The ratling screams as he runs, his voice growing more and more distant. ”You are consigned to death! You are consigned to death!”
Genny Two-Tail looks on. She smiles awkwardly at the amnesiacs before she herself sprints for the hole in the floorboards and disappears below the library, leaving behind her now-singed scroll.
Boodiddly determines that it’s a scroll of soothe.
The library’s northern doors open into an L-shaped hallway. To the west is a bunch of rubble, whereas to the north is a small waiting area outside a door bearing a placard: “Administrator Eliege Losandro.”
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 altarlike desk of dark marble. A delicate spiral staircase and balcony of dark iron rises to a lofty library overhead. Both floors’ fixtures frame the multicolored cloud roiling in the room’s center. Barely visible amid the psychedelic cloud is a woman kneeling in a pool of blood, her mouth agape and aimed toward the ceiling, the cloud of roiling, rainbow fog spilling out from her soundlessly screaming mouth.
Failure
Success
Failure
”Oh my!” Boodiddly exclaims involuntarily at the sight of the woman. ”Is she... Do you think... Um, hello? Can you hear us?” He turns to his companions, worry in his eyes. ”Should we try to snap her out of it? Or does whoever enters that cloud start puffing like a smokestack too?” He pauses mid-thought, then frowns. ”I did notice some slimy stuff on the way here - do you think that might be tracks from whatever did this to her?”
Yes, very likely we should follow those tracks. As for this one... if we can snap her out of it from afar that would be preferable. It really is too much to ask to encounter someone in a normal state of being here...
He eyes her for several moments longer, and yells out more deliberately.
Hello? Can you hear us?
The woman does not so much as move a muscle in response to Boodiddly or Jevar.
"Snap her out of it? Are you insane? We are in an asylum, maybe the answer's yes. Let us leave this be. We have no reason to bother it. Let's just...squeeze by. Not everything needs to be murdered just because it's...odd."
”Nobody mentioned hurting her, Shakur.” Boodiddly shakes his head worriedly, then sniffs the air curiously. ”I don’t suppose anyone can remove harmful magic, can you? Or Urzok - do you have a long-enough stick to poke her without getting into that cloud yourself?”
”Or Urzok - do you have a long-enough stick to poke her without getting into that cloud yourself?”
Urzok scrunches his face into a scowl as their nightmarish host is identified as the Shredman. And here I am more afraid of this Shredman than Gramps. Damn it, hopefully we find a way to kill the bastard soon. I'm not dying to a bad dream.
he bellows at the kneeling woman. If she doesn't stir, he takes one of the 10ft poles and tries to toss it at her. "Those tracks don't enter this room. Let's do one thing at a time, eh?"
________
Urzok refuses to touch the woman even with a ten-foot-pole, so he instead decides to toss one at her. The mist emanating from her throat roils about her, occasionally obscuring the woman from sight. When the half-orc tosses the pole at the woman he briefly loses sight of her amid the technicolor fog, but when the thicker part of the fog moves past a second later he regains a visual on her—and she is looking right at him.
Jevar, surprised, looks back and forth between Urzok and the strange woman to see what transpires between them...
Oh S#+*.
Instinctively, the hairs on Urzok's neck and shoulders stand on end. He does a great job keeping his face straight though. "Looks like I got her attention. You gonna say or do something or what? We've had to beat the tar out of everything else in here, so we might as well get this thing started if that's what you're after," he challenges, placing his hand on his sword. If she doesn't do anything, I say we just keep going. Turning this place into a slaughterhouse isn't doing much good for us so far... As fun as fight is...
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”Try moving to the side and see if her eyes follow you?”
Urzok takes the suggestion and takes two steps to the side.
Now put your finger on your nose and stick your tongue out, and see what she does.
The raven looks at him like she's dead-serious.
The woman’s glowing cyan eyes lack any kind of pupil, so whether her gaze follows Urzok is difficult to determine.
Okay Oreb, that's enough "helpful" suggestions from you...
Say Urzok, what is that in her coat? Keys? See if you can grab them without... triggering her?
What? I just want to see how "in control" this woman is. So sue me for thinking outside of the box.
Urzok snaps a glare at the little raven. "I don't take orders from a bird."
"I see them now that you point them out. Be ready for anything," he warns. Once everyone has had a chance to react, he raises his shield, holds a deep breath, and strides forward into the scintillating mist towards the woman.
________
Urzok moves into the mist and then next to the woman...
The first roll (if it was used) was a failure; Urzok falls asleep—he is unconscious but not prone and doesn’t drop what he’s holding. He can attempt a new save every round to wake up and the DC cumulatively decreases by 1 every round (initial DC of 21).
The second roll (if used) was a critical failure; Urzok falls asleep, prone, and drops everything held. He can attempt a new save every minute to wake up and the DC cumulatively decreases by 1 every minute (initial DC of 21).
Part way into his last stride, Urzok face-plants straight into the floor, his shield slipping from his grasp. The metal disk clatters loudly against the floor, yet the Half-Orc doesn't stir.
________
”Whoops! Urzok, are you okay?” Boodiddly frets worriedly in the doorway. ”Can someone reach him without getting into the cloud? Oh no! What if he starts screaming rainbow clouds too?”
After about three minutes of awkwardly standing around, Urzok finally regains consciousness. He reaches into the woman’s coat pocket and takes out the key ring with little difficulty.
Shakur refuses to participate, and is only looking from the corner of his eye, keeping the creature just barely in range of his dagger-throwing spell.
This is how we die. This is definitely how we die. Couldn't just leave it well alone.
Urzok craddles his head with one hand as he fishes the keys out and backs the hell away from the woman. "Hate this place. So much," he says as he points at a set of frames.
"Looks familiar, but I can't tell why... Anyone know where they're from?" Shaking his head, he looks at the keys. "Let's find out what these work on."
________
”Oh, I see what you mean! Hmm... Well, I don’t know what they’re showing, but they look like someone would want them. Can you reach them? I’m afraid my arms are a bit too short...”
Jevar looks more closely at the woman, for any telling features other than her pupil-less eyes.
Is she.... undead or just taken with madness?
As he looks with obvious curiosity he puts his face within inches of hers, at a distance that would be awkward under "normal" circumstances.
Finding the lack of Eliege Losandro that Winter sent them to find, the amnesiacs search through the administrator’s office.
Of apparent note are several interesting curios, the most valuable of which being a brain-shaped sculpted wooden box, bookends depicting twin screaming and crying figures, and a brass sculpture of an Osirian pyramid.
As Jevar searches through the bookshelves, he finds two scholarly journals—On the Treatment of Ambitions, Disappointments, and Regrets by Doctor Beurigmand Trice and On Violent Sands by Doctor Henri Meirtmane—as well as a signed copy of Ailson Kindler’s Galdyce’s Guest: Feast of the Nosferatu.
An examination of the marble desk reveals little, save that a single drawer is locked, but one of the keys on the key ring taken from the woman spewing fog opens the lock, inside of which is a vast treasure trove!
Within the desk drawer is a journal, a magnifying glass, a repair kit, 2 lesser antiplagues that seem to have been modified to try and relieve hangovers, a moderate serene mutagen, 4 lesser antidotes, 2 doses of opium, 2 scrolls of remove paralysis, a scroll of enhance victuals, a braided leather cord holding a pair of crying angel pendants and a feather step stone, and a pendant of the occult on a thin silver chain.
The journal proves to belong to one Doctor Eliege Losandro and is largely filled with mundane entries—notes from staff meetings, interviews with the families of would-be patients, etc.—but in entries dated within the past year, the names “Haserton Lowls” and “Count Lowls” appear with increasing regularity.
”Just up there: a new and exciting world that you could never believe. Take as much time as you like.”
Boodiddly anxiously begins ascending the staircase when the memory ends
”A friend of mine. He may be able to assist you.”
Jevar begins to unfurl the parchment when the memory ends.
”Let’s go with the boy. More versatile. And I can make a goal of figuring out what exactly he is.”
A hand covered in fur reaches from behind Shakur and grabs at the chains around his wrists. He looks over to see the crying face of a Keleshite woman beside him when the memory ends.
”Perfect. You never fail to disappoint, my dear.”
The count hands the woman a bag of coins when the memory ends.
Another unexpected call from Count Lowls. These have become so common and Lowls’s focus is so singular that they no longer leave me apprehensive. He requested to see me after his visit with Zandalus, though. He claims to have a theoretical solution for the poor man’s condition. I don’t know what the count and my prized patient have been discussing—and Lowls again refused to share—but I doubt that lordly amateur psychologist has truly hit upon anything of worth. Regardless, I’d be a fool not to humor my liege.
Starday 13/08/16
Lowls’s ”solution” was not at all what I expected. I have no clue where he turned it up, but on his most recent visit he brought along a copy of Valhadis’s The Chain of Nights, a near-legendary collection of psycho-arcane studies and treatments focused on dreaming. While I abhor arcane tampering, if there’s a permanent solution to Zandalus’s nightmares, it could be here. Lowls allowed me to study the text for the duration of his visit, but staunchly refused to leave it in my possession.
Moonday 15/08/16
Lowls has made me an offer: his copy of The Chain of Nights. All I must do in return is accept a handful of new patients—former associates of his that have suffered some unprecedented manner of group amnesia. I might accept this as charity on the count’s behalf, but he insists that I keep no record of their committal. The terms make me suspicious, but I can learn more of these curious strangers once they’re in my care. If it means the possibility of a cure for Zandalus and others, I welcome the bargain.
Toilday 16/08/16
The Chain of Nights is a marvel. It will take years of study to unravel all its possibilities, but already I’ve discovered a process by which chronic dreams might be drawn forth and disposed of like so much psychic gristle. Tomorrow our experiment begins.
As Jevar closes his face up next to the woman’s, he immediately falls asleep standing up. Within a handful of seconds he wakes up.
Jevar's body jerks distinctly as he suddenly wakes. Hands off foul creature... wha?
Count Lowls... Jevar shudders as he seems to recall one of the figures referenced in the journal.
Jevar remembers sitting in the library of Iris Hill by candlelight, numerous tomes crowding the table in front of him as he tugs at his hair in frustration. A folded sheet of parchment is placed in front of him. He looks up to see the face of Count Lowls.
”A friend of mine. He may be able to assist you.”
Jevar begins to unfurl the parchment when the memory ends.
”Ooo, I could put that pendant to good use!” Boodiddly exclaims as the group looks through their findings. ”But first, a book!” He sniffs deeply, then starts flipping through pages at an incredible rate.
”I remember... stairs, to an attic,” Boodiddly says slowly, setting down the journal. ”And this Lowls as well, saying that there was a whole new world up there.” A look of confusion flits across his face as if a thought suddenly landed on his furrowed brow. ”These new patients this journal mentions - you don’t think those could be us, do you?”
The pieces fit though. A group of people with general amnesia, and at least two of us recall this Count Lowls. Simplest solution is most often true, after all...
Urzok rolls his eyes as Jevar gets entirely too close to the woman and collapses. "Aren't you supposed to be smart?" he asks the wizard when he comes to.
Reading over the notes, he growls loudly. "I'm certain it was and I was brought to him in chains," he says in disgusted contempt, his throbbing skull not helping his mood any. Moments later, his rage finally bubbles over and he smashes a fist into the desk. First once, but then an additional three times before the pain subdues him. "That book better be worth a damned fortune. Wouldn't be surprised if the crap inside led to this whole mess either. Any sign of it around here?"
________
A search of the room reveals no books by the name of The Chains of Night within Losandro's office.
"Lowls? A friend? He probably put us here, that scum. When we get out, we'll have to pay him a visit."
As Shakur comes back from the memory, he quickly looks around, reaching for something. "That woman. He could have chosen her too. Why ME? OF ALL THE PEOPLE! HE'S GOING TO GET WHAT'S COMING TO HIM." As the echos die down, Shakur realises how quiet the place is in comparison to his screams.
He just slumps, eventually falling to the ground hunched over, and he starts solemnly sorting through the loot to take some things.
"Think we've spent enough time in here. Let's see where the other doors in the hallway outside lead," Urzok grumbles, brain starting to ache a little too much. Looks like we've all been screwed by Lowl. Nothing like vengeance to glue as together, at least for a while.
"The faster we get this done, the faster we can all hold hands and sing kumbaya around a fire," he says sarcastically. But... that strangely sounds like something that would dial the throbbing in my head down. What's happening to me?