While it wasn't he who was being laid into, the dwarf still stepped forward. "Lying isn't going to help anyone." He worried what Chatty might say if given the chance. "If we keep our mouths shut, will they nay be asking to leave? To scavenge as well? To try to go somewhere else? And then what will ye tell them, the truth? Would they believe it then? Lying, lad, is rarely a good idea."
Captain York raises a valid question, and one that has been itching at the back of Slip's mind as well. Before he can respond with clarifying information, one of the orderlies recognizes the name Ilki. But Captain York quiets the conversation. It's a fair point. Talking too openly about all of this would likely only upset the poor people who were already suffering. Slip wasn't sure how he would holding any piece of himself together at this point, other than momentum and adrenaline. But yes, the fact that so many of the ghouls and doppelgangers that they had found seemed to have been patients or staff, including a former Pharasmin priest, suggested that something was turning them. It was doubtful that they would be able to find anything about that in the records, but...well, it was worth talking about. In private. Along with this Zandalus.
He'll answer Captain York's question just as soon as...
Slip notices the looks on people's faces with confusion before Chatty returns quite unceremoniously with Winter. Well that was fast, I didn't expect to speak with her so soon...
No, wait, she looks furious. Slip is trying to figure out what is going on before Winter turns to Chatty and starts giving him a talking to. Then she mentions a towering beast composed of tentacles and teeth and Slip gets a confused look on his face. They hadn't...oh. Oh! Oh...
Chatty had been telling tales. The realization slowly dawns on Slip, and he feels foolish for how long it had taken him to pick up on the context. Slip had been trying to give Chatty the benefit of a doubt for most of the brief time that he had known him, since waking up next to him in a cell and being called "friend". At the time, the halfling thought that Chatty remembered him, and that they had been friends before this bout of memory loss. Of course, it was just something that the rogue said: a manner of speech. And so as Chatty launches into a counter-rebuke of Winter, reframing is intentions as noble, Slip begins feeling sassy. He can't help but needle his "friend".
"You're honestly telling us that what we have seen here has not been horrifying? Weren't you the one who picked up a marble and then ran from the room screaming about an eye?"
Slip smirks ever so slightly. And then he he continues.
"Context matters. We're all dealing with trauma right now, and things we don't understand. It's...it's right to be afraid. And if we can fight, then it's good to fight. But forcing those whose minds are already fractured to do more...well, what do they need right now? Food, water, and heat. Comfort. Not a reminder of the cruelty of the world. Not this year. Not yet."
"You're honestly telling us that what we have seen here has not been horrifying? Weren't you the one who picked up a marble and then ran from the room screaming about an eye?"]
Asrat shoots Slip "not now!" eyes, thinking showing Winter the eye marble would only make matters worse.
"Context matters. We're all dealing with trauma right now, and things we don't understand. It's...it's right to be afraid. And if we can fight, then it's good to fight. But forcing those whose minds are already fractured to do more...well, what do they need right now? Food, water, and heat. Comfort. Not a reminder of the cruelty of the world. Not this year. Not yet."
Chatty's jaw drops in shock. "I did not force anyone to do anything! I did not ask anyone to leave their bubble of safety. I told a heroic tale no different then you'd here in any inn or tavern across Golarion. I provided information and entertainment. If their minds were too traumatized for either, this place is large enough that they could choose not to listen."
"We're not here to provide comfort. We're here to do the dirty work." He gestures down at his bloodstained clothes. "Literally."
Winter stairs blankly at Chatty’s response then slowly a smile crosser her face; “Chatty… look around you. No no, I’ll wait.” she holds out her hands to help display the architect of this facility. “Do you know where you are?” continuing on with or without an answer; “You are at Briarstone Asylum. Those who were patience of the asylum before everything went upside down, are people who aren’t fit for normal society. Their mental stability already in question. Most of whom are heavily sedated so they won’t harm themselves or others, and the medication is gone… Do you follow where I am going? The last thing we need is to add extra stress to the situation by getting them worked up with stories of the horrors that are out there.” she says pointing to the opposite side of the barricade.
“You do have a point that our food is running out and we don’t exactly have the manpower to push forward to figure a way out. But this has been working. Our survivors are safe and calm. If you don’t like that you are more than welcome to leave this refuge and not come back.”
Looking to the rest of the group; But I hope it doesn’t come to that. We need you out there figuring out what happened, just as much as you need us. A place of refuge and safety to rest when you need it. And it seems like your friend, Blue, really needs the rest… I would hate for him to weigh you all down while he is recovering…”
“How about this, before we make any final decisions why don’t we sleep on it. Allowing cooler heads to come together and work out any issues.” Winter waits for a response.
Chatty bows deeply. "My deepest apologies. You are right. Thank you for reminding me of my audience."
He makes his way out of the room.
Once out of earshot of Winter and York, he spits hatefully on the ground. "The whole lot of them are as good as dead. Thank the gods I lost my memories and not my wits. What a pathetic existence."
Then like a light switch, Chatty slaps on a smiling face and offers to help serve dinner and apologizes to anyone he 'terrorized' until it is time to sleep.
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Vex looks both exhausted and fed up during the exchange between Winter and Chatty, but holds her tongue, for now. When the captain and the insane asylum's leader have left and Chatty says his bit, Vex shakes her head and shoves off the stone wall with one shoulder.
"Aye, thank the gods-- it's a thin line as separates you, isn't it-- a bit of luck, and nothing more, from those wretches. Or that bastard we left in the chains. Slip's not wrong you ran screaming like the devil was after you. Maybe the next time something spooks you, it will be your wits that go-- and then, your life may depend on the kindness folk like that can manage, eh?"
She shakes her head. "I'm going to go see if Blue's still feverish. And then I'm sleeping. The rest of you do as you will."
"If my mind ever shatters and I can't be restored, you have my permission to kill me. If I can't take care of myself, that's no longer living. You'd be saving me from torturous final days."
"And you and Slip joke about that marble but that's because I've shielded you from it. Would you like to see it? It would like to see you."
Slip purses his lips and huffs. He would admit some level of curiosity about the so-called seeing marble, but he's already tired. His mind feels pressed and stretched as it is. He wasn't ready to confront more things he didn't understand yet. Not today, at least.
He doesn't have anything to add to Vex or Chatty's assessments. He lets them both go and thanks Winter and Captain York. He's not trying to keep this from the others, but now that they're alone--at least, away from people who might otherwise panic--he feels like he can offer a more thorough debrief. Whether one or both have the time to speak with him, he offers his insights, glossing over the generalities of specific combats and focusing on the potentially useful details. First, an answer to the Captain's question before the chaos.
"The chained man--we left him there, chained up in the laundry. I...I tried to convince the others to release him, but we clearly disagree about how to handle those who are not overtly monstrous. I respect their caution, or at least I'm trying to. But if we could retrieve him, then...well, as I said, I will take responsibility for him while I am here. If one of the others wants to return with me, or if you could spare a guard for a moment. He would be just around the corner, essentially." Slip looks towards the dwarf, wondering if maybe he'd be willing to accompany him, since both Vex and Chatty seemed done for the day.
After a moment, he adds another detail to that story. "One of the only things he said was "Zandalus sees." I'm not sure what that means, but I don't recognize that word. Maybe it's a name. Is it familiar to you? Or if not, is there someone who would be safe to ask, who would not be led to panic?"
Then Slip remembers something else. "Oh, and one of the ghouls that we found was wearing one of those spiraling comet symbols and dressed in robes. Winter might have known him. We put him to rest, too. The only other ghoul we found with a clue of specific identity called himself Klades. I'd like to follow up on those two as well."
Finally, Slip mentions another pressing need. "The room that we woke up in had a furnace. We climbed up through it and out the boiler down the hall. It would take resources to get the fire going and stay going, but wouldn't hot water, and heat, be good for morale? And health? Although the stairs down to the furnace room have collapsed, there is a chute not far from here. I would need some help, but I'm small enough for someone to lower me down there and get things started."
Before deciding which of these avenues to pursue first--the chained man, the identities of those they had encountered, or the furnace--Slip waits for a response. His throat feels dry. That was a lot of talking...
Winter hears what she needs from Chatty and agrees to meet back together in the morning to regroup and discuss about moving forward.
When Slip shares about the man chained up, him being left behind and his repetitive saying of Zandalus sees the two of them are in shock and disbelief. Whispering; “You left the man chained up in a room with no way to protect himself?” Captain York says carefully trying to not allow anyone to overhear them. News like this would not go well in the Refuge of Dreamers. “That is a death sentence!”
Not to discredit what Captain York was saying, Winter cuts in; “Zandalus? Did you say Zandalus?” she thinks to herself; “What could he have done…”
“I have heard of him. When the earthquake happened some of the patients found it a time to lead an uprising. It wasn’t like any riot I’ve ever heard of though. It was more like a religious movement. Most of the northern halls are now held by robed patients who call themselves Apostles in Orpiment. The ones we’ve encountered are fanatically devoted to a patient… Ulver Zandalus.”
“I’ve never laid eyes on him, but some of the other survivors worked here before the uprising. They say Zandalus was a quiet man who suffered from horrible nightmares – a poet and artist whose art was disturbing, but who always seemed peaceful enough himself. All of that apparently changed, though.”
“A ghoul wearing the symbol of Pharasma and robes?” she describes the robes to a T; “Those are Chaplain Setrakian’s holy vestments…” Winter is processing everything that has been said. Clearly this is a lot of information to take in at once, it is clear that things are worse out there than she had expected.
With the mention of Klades Captain York speaks up; “Klades? I’ve seen his file. He was a patient here. Aggressive, self-destructive. Typically those kind of patients can be put in check with the proper discipline, but he had an unsettlingly high pain tolerance. Something was evil about him. He almost enjoyed it. Disturbed the guards so they kept him often in a cell along with no way to harm himself.”
“This must not get out to anyone. These creatures taking on the patients names… no, it can’t be…” Winter thinks to herself for a moment; “Captain, you need to double the guard.” looking to Slip; “Do you have someone who is capable with evaluating anyone who is injured that might be ill because of their wounds?”
As a peace offering and a way of calming the storm, Chatty helps distribute rations while saying blessings of The Lady of Graves on those who pass through the line. From time to time Chatty sneaks a bite to eat from the rations provided. But you go completely unnoticed and eat more than your fair share of the food, and are full.
You make your way to the Chaplin’s study and find Doc sitting in a chair studying the formula book she previously picked up. Turning, you see that the locked cage that the cabinets have been removed and now Blue is sitting in there with a chair and a blanket. “I’m feeling okay, just a slight chilly from the coolness of the asylum. I think I’ll be better once I sleep it off. Should be good to go come morning.”
Doc gives you a raised eyebrow; “Even so, might be best to keep you in there until then”
Turning to her fellow half-elf; “How did everything turn out up there?”
For his part, Angry paced back and forth with agitation for quite some time. Now that the danger was over and he had time to process it, well, it was difficult to come to terms with. There was so much that was wrong with where the were, with his companions, with himself. It was enough to make one want to scream or to tear their hair out. He paced like this until he became tired enough, physically and mentally, that he was able to make himself go get some food and then lie down. He was in no mood for conversation, even if it was with his own thoughts.
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Her words are short and clipped, awkward with a sort of blunted, strained concern-- for herself? For the injured man? For her fellow half-elf? Who knows.
After a few more seconds of standing there awkwardly, Vex turns and seeks out what food might be had in the 'refuge' - thin soup is better than nothing, and she feels hungry indeed after the day's exertions.
It perks her up a little bit. When she has eaten, she goes in search of Slip, finding that Chatty and Bolkvar have both gone to bed already.
"Slip," she says in lieu of a more civil greeting. "Alright, there? Bad day. Look. I know you wanted to save that chained fellow. What'd they say?
"Blue's... alright. Doesn't seem any worse. Doc's watching him.
"Figure we ought to sort out a symbol for each of those monsters we've met today, yeh? The ones that can shift to look like us. The ones that wanna eat us. Just to signal."
When she's talked to Slip, she sets herself digging through the scavenged and recovered gear, taking those things that seem useful to her. She lingers over a locket, staring at it blankly, wondering if she.... feels something looking at it... or only hopes that she feels something. It meant something, to someone. It's a little girl. Someone's little girl, surely. Hers? Was she a-- a mother? She doesn't feel she has a maternal bone in her body. Nor, she thinks more pragmatically, stretch marks on her stomach, when she'd looked herself over during the cleansing.
The little girl's no doubt a total stranger. Some other bastard's kid. She puts the necklace back with the rest.
With useful items claimed, she goes in search of Chatty, nudging him awake with the toe of her boot. "Oi, it's me. Vex. Don't stab me, man. You need me to look at your wounds? I'm no cleric, but I got a tip or two from Doc. And a kit of supplies."
Chatty sleeps lightly and his eyes shoot open when Vex nudges him but his hands remain at his sides. In response to Vex's question, his face scrunches in confusion. "You would help...me?"
He sits up and shrugs then lifts his shirt for Vex to access his wound. "...Thank you."
Slip feels sheepish at Captain York's shock. He purses his lips and nods. "I know...that's why I...but I couldn't..."
Winter thankfully interrupts and continues on, revealing...a lot that Slip would need to share with the others. And it seems like Captain York and Winter are both coming to some of the same conclusions that Slip is. It's not so much that the creatures are taking on the names of patients. They were patients. At least that was Slip's theory, awful as it was. "I'll keep quiet about this, except with my friends. They should know this, too."
Slip sits and thinks for a moment before his eyes alight. "Rook! The big tall blonde man with the bushy beard. He has been using a medical kit that we found to patch up some wounds. I don't know if he knows anything about diseases, but he might." It was hard not having many clear memories of his own...
Unfortunately, neither seems keen on sending anyone to help him out with the boiler, nor with the chained man. Slip feels a little frustrated by that, but understands. Maybe he could find someone to help him out with either or both--preferably someone strong for the makeshift elevator, and someone with a knowledge of locks for the laundry room.
---
Vex finds Slip wandering around the common room, and he smiles when he sees her. "They were disappointed that we left him there, but they didn't offer help either. I'd still like to go help him. Maybe Doc? I think she was good with locks, too, right?"
He's also happy to know that Blue is feeling better.
Before Vex leaves, Slip shares the information that he found out, stumbling a bit on the names as he tried to piece them together from his lipreading. "So Zandalus, Ul-ver Zandalus, was a patient here who is leading a group of patients to the north calling themselves the Apostles in Or-pi-ment, whatever that means. Klades was also a patient. And the ghoul in the tub with the robes was Chaplain Se-tra-ki-an. Winter knows him--knew him."
Slip promises to think of some signals for the most important things, like Vex requested. They didn't have to be anything official--just intelligible and distinct. He'll teach them all later, once they have come back together.
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Chatty sleeps lightly and his eyes shoot open when Vex nudges him but his hands remain at his sides. In response to Vex's question, his face scrunches in confusion. "You would help...me?"
He sits up and shrugs then lifts his shirt for Vex to access his wound. "...Thank you."
"Only makes sense, doesn't it? We fight better we're all healed." Vex crouches by the man's side.
"Doubt I'd like you much in the world out there, or you me. We're different. Very. But I'd be a fool to not own you're good with your blade, and we both have more chances to live if we watch each other's backs."
She digs out the implements and salves, wiping Chatty's injuries with a rag moistened with clean water before applying the unguents that supposedly prevent infection.
Vex looks her work over after a few silent minutes, less than impressed with it though she supposes she did help somewhat. "I dunno if trying to do more would help or just open this up and set it bleeding again."
Chatty looks at Vex's handiwork approvingly. "This'll do."
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"Alright, then." Vex stands, wiping her hands off and collecting the kit. For a moment it seems she might say something more, but then she shrugs and turns to trudge off to find her own section of the refuge to sleep in-- dark and quiet as possible.
Sleep isn't immediate for her-- first she sits and goes through all the gear she has chosen to claim for herself, checking each item for damage, rust, a loose link... even though her eyes close several times as she works, and she yawns hugely. The floor beckons, but-- but you've got to have your gear in order. Or you die. That's a lesson she learned.... somewhere.
You can die no matter how polished and oiled your sword is, though, she thinks bleakly.
Still, she makes sure everything is strapped to the nice, well-made pack she took-- mess kit stowed, everything either inside the back or lashed to the outside, a sunrod in easy proximity to find by touch if it's dark-- and only when everything is ready for her to grab it at a moment's notice, as needed, does she finaly stretch out on her newly acquired bedroll and blanket, and sink into a deep sleep.
****
In the morning she packs the bedroll tight, then goes to find the others. Another day of horrors is presumably waiting.
Rook spends the evening tending to those who need aiding to heal, and he also tends to those in the Refuge of Dreamers who might have suffered previous wounds.
As dinner is served, they run out of prepared rations before everyone is fed. Those who are near the serving table overhear those who prepared the food talking; “I don’t understand. We counted and prepared just enough, including the newcomers. I’ll go get more.” The cook goes and gets more food. “Don’t worry folks, we have more food still being prepared.”
The night goes on, you see Captain York and Winter talking privately through the night. Guards rotate from time to time, and when you see those who were guarding the barricade in their makeshift armor, you notice that not all of them are trained men who are guards but some a barely adults filling a need.
Today was exhausting. Either physically because of the combat and damage taken, or mentally because of the unknown horrors that roam the asylum. You quickly fall asleep.
It might seem unexpected because of the day, but once asleep you have pleasant dreams. You aren’t sure if they are memories of before or something else, but you wake up fully refreshed.
Today was exhausting. Either physically because of the combat and damage taken, or mentally because of the unknown horrors that roam the asylum. You quickly fall asleep.
Tonight is a nightmare. Being chased by the yellow mist and the man within it, ghouls hunting you down and eating you, doppelgangers trapping you and taking over your flesh before your eyes right before they kill you.
You wake up feeling horrible and are fatigued.
Wherever you slept, Captain York gathers the party together and pulls you into the side area where Tolman and the two children where staying. Winter sits behind the desk; “I hope we are feeling better and in a cooler place. I apologize for my outburst, it was not very professional of me. The stress is becoming a burden. What questions do you have?”
Success!
Barely, but those'll do.
---
With his lack of success at convincing anyone to help him with any of his myriad projects, Slip beds down for the night in the chapel. He'll do more tomorrow. There's always tomorrow.
His dreams are...curious. He remembers bits and pieces of them on waking, like little bits of sunlight cutting through the yellow mist. Some of it was re-runs of the day before, while others seemed more like memories. It was mostly pleasant, despite the horrors of the previous day. It is as though he is studying his own memories, and then giving names to things that the day before were blank voids.
Pharasma--of course! The Lady of Graves. She was not his god--that was Nethys, who was not represented here--but he thinks they must be on good terms.
And ghouls--how had he not remembered them? Nasty creatures--to be pitied, feared, and put to rest. An unenviable existence, there.
And then finally...that creature had been a Sahkil. An Esipil, to be more specific. A creature of fear. That seemed like some cruel joke to show up in an asylum. Perhaps it was a witch or wizard's familiar, scampering around. Would they have to face its master?
These thoughts--memories, observations, or something--come to Slip dispassionately as he rouses. He had more to share with the others--at least knowing about the Esipil could be informative.
---
When asked about questions, Slip offers something else to share first.
"Last night I remembered what we faced yesterday. That creature that Chatty...scared the patients with. It's something called an Esipil, a kind of sahkil. Fallen psychopomps. I don't know why it would be here, though."
But then he has plenty of questions.
"I am okay with going out again, and continuing to work with you. But we need information, too. When I mentioned names yesterday, it seemed like some pieces of a puzzle were beginning to fit for you, so I want to know your theories. We need to know about Ulver Zandalus and the Apostles in Orpiment. Maybe Chaplain Setrakian and Klades, too, if you know any more about them. And then I want to know if anyone is going to try to get the boiler started. I asked for help last night, but no one else was willing to assist me. And then if we free the man from the laundry room, will he be welcomed here?"
Slip looks serious today. The fatigue of the previous day has melted away, and he is ready for business.
"Last night I remembered what we faced yesterday. That creature that Chatty...scared the patients with. It's something called an Esipil, a kind of sahkil. Fallen psychopomps. I don't know why it would be here, though."
"I'll tell you why. Because this place is cursed. That's why. It's drawing all manner of nightmares to it. And the sooner we get out, the better. If we can even get out. Have you looked outside? It's nothing but fog and fog monsters. Even if we secure an exit out of this building, what can we do about that?"
Chatty asks Winter, "We came across some stairs leading to a second floor. Any idea what's up there?"
"Otherwise, besides Slip's questions, I'd rather get a move on than stand around here chatting."
”Every monster we found so far can die.” The dwarf said. ”That alone gives me hope. Bit by bit we’ll clear this place out.” He said, as much to himself as everyone else.
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Vex chooses to sleep in the chapel. If something bursts in in the she'd just as soon be around others who can maybe, at the least, bar doors or follow basic orders, even if they're not warriors.
She wakes feeling better than when she went to sleep, at least.
She listens to Slip with a little brow arch of 'slightly impressed.' Seem's Slip is a scholar of sorts as well as a healer and a soft heart. Useful.
"Aye. If you folk want to take on the caring for that chained fellow, we'll bring him back to you. I'm just saying, there's crazed and there's crazed, and he strikes me as the latter."
Angry's words earn a short cynical chuckle from her and a nod. "Aye. If it can be killed, that's enough to be going on with. I am ready to get back to the hunting."
Slip shrugs. "One problem at a time, I warrant. Maybe one of the things we can kill is causing the fog." He grins a bit. "And they don't have to bleed blood to die, clearly."
Now that the malaise of mind fog is beginning to lift, Slip seems to be getting snappier, more certain. He checks the mechanism on his crossbow. The others might be able to strike more reliably, and harder, but...he wanted to get out of here, too.
"I don't suppose there's any more bolts I can lease for today's foray out of the Refuge? I know you doubled the guard, but maybe our tales--outside the earshot of the bedraggled--of tangling with undead and outsiders have engendered some more faith in our capabilities."
Having enough time this morning to do a little more studying, and possibly with your new awakened powers , you take a look at a few of the items that detected as magic but were unable to identify.
Slip discovers that there is 2 scrolls of cure light wounds, one scroll of sanctuary, and a Wand of Lesser Restoration.
You also pull out the duffle bag and the small pearl that detected as magic. The pearl is a Pearl of Power level 1 and the duffle bag is a Bag of Holding type 1, which you believe will be very useful when it comes to scavenging for supplies and breaking up the trips.
When Slip says I don’t know why it would be here, though Winter shakes her head. “Why would any of these things be here? It doesn’t make sense. But, they emerged soon after the revolt. What’s strange is that some of the patients and asylum staff say that, in the nights before the uprising, they had nightmares of exactly the sorts of things that stalk the halls now.”
Looking towards the windows; “Some of the other survivors say that thick fog outside is from their dreams, and that they keep expecting it to part and reveal a gloomy city vacant of inhabitants or a man dressed in rags. Some have fallen asleep outside the chapel have also woken screaming. I don’t know what it all means, but in the chapel, the goddess tends our dreams.”
When Chatty ask about the stairs she nods; “One leads to the tower. There is a good supply of obsolete medical equipment there. It’s an example of the outdated treatment methods… things that they would try to fix people…” she trails off; “The other leads to Briarstone’s long-term patient housing. I don’t know what things look like in either of those levels.”
“Yes, sorry… any survivor you find we will house here. Even if they are not all their, moving forward, no one should be left out there to be tortured and killed.” Winter responds when Slip asked about the man who is chained up.
“Bolts?” Captain York questions; “The ones we have we need here. Our success against anything that has approached is filling them up with bolts before they hit the barricade, and I want to keep it that way.”
"Outdated tools are still tools. Mayhaps there would be good salvage there. We should see what we can scrounge up in the tower, aye?" The dwarf said to the group.
Slip casts a pointed look towards his companions when given explicit permission--or order--to bring the chained man back. "We'll go retrieve him and bring him back, then."
Slip is particularly thrilled about what he has found out about their magical finds, identifying for the group with simple explanations of what they do. He's still not sure how he knows these things, but the knowledge will no doubt prove helpful. Prove him helpful.
Slip makes a motion to leave, eager to take his scattered memories for a test drive. Nightmares, fog, equipment, and survivors. There was plenty to explore, and plenty of danger.
"Hopefully we can always return to the Chapel and have our minds protected." He shrugs, making the sign of the spiral. "Not this year, not yet," he recites.
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Outdated tools are still tools.
Chatty raises a finger to agree but then realizes that Angry isn't referring to people and switches to saying nothing.
We should see what we can scrounge up in the tower, aye?
"It's as good a direction as any."
As you are heading, you notice that it is eerily silent. The rubble under your feet crunch and almost seem to echo down the hall without stopping. Is it louder than before, or is there no other sounds.
The group begins to head back towards the man who was chained up in the laundry room. Those who can hear notice how quiet it is. Suddenly it dawns on you that is was also quiet the previous day when you heading back to the Refuge of Dreamers. Including the man who was muttering nonsense.
The group rounds the corner moving into the laundry room area and you see the horrific sight of the man who was chained up is now dead. Blood pools below him that has cascaded down the front of him. Jaw completely broken, unnaturally hanging agate. As you get closer, you see that his tongue has been removed. You do not see it around you. His bloodied face has streaks through it where his tears had washed the blood away just slightly.
Chatty holds his sleeve up to his mouth to keep from gagging and turns his face to the side.
"Well that take's care of that problem. As tragic as his death may be, his sacrifice was not for naught. We now know we cannot consider any of these rooms we've explored as 'cleared'. At least one monster, but likely more, still wanders about and isn't shy about entering places we've passed. We should check every corner and shadow even if it slows us down. It would be a shame to loose any of you to an avoidable ambush."
Chatty ponders, "It also looks like someone or something did this mutilation specifically to silence the man. But to what end, I don't know. He certainly wasn't in any state to spill any secrets. Perhaps there is a creature that just likes the quiet. I can't say his rambling wasn't grating on the ears."
"It better not have been that bastard, Ilki. If he gives me another reason to regret releasing him, he better pray we don't cross paths again."
"Winter isn't going to like this though..."
The dwarf looked at what was left of the man in stoic silence, which belayed the horror that he felt within. It a truly miserable death for the man. "Everything Chatty said is correct. I would just add that it would have been easy to silence the man by killing him. Whomever did this was sending a message." He said, grimly. "Another reason to never wander off alone."
Slip stands aghast, staring at the mutilated man. He doesn't even register what Chatty or Bolkvar are saying as his eyes glaze over with tears. He lifts his sleeve to his eyes after a moment and sniffs. It was awful.
"Can we unchain him now?" he asks, probably interrupting Chatty. He didn't know if he had been talking, and he wasn't in an emotional state to check properly. "Give him a shred of dignity in death?" Slip looks around for a sheet that they would be able to put over the man, maybe from the next room if everything here was already stripped. It was easier to consider action now.
Who had done this? And why? What was the point?
Whoever had done it...had to be dealt with...
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Vex presses her lips into a flat line at the sight of the corpse... and feels no need to look at it further. The man is dead. Staring at him won't help. Nothing will help. Soon enough they might be joining him....
No, don't think that way. Vex forces herself into action, glancing at the no-doubt gore-spattered floor, to see if there's any sign of what might have done this.
Slip's words make her grunt. "If it will help you sit easier. Don't try and guilt trip me over this poor bastard, Slip. We offered to bring him back if they would take him; they didn't answer us til the next morn. Anyway, you can't care overmuch about death here, d'you hea-- d'you understand me?"
Slip can't hear her tone but it is strident, tense. "It's like a war, alright? Like the battle when arrows are flying and people, living people, are dropping left and right of you. You can get yourself in knots over the fact your bunkmate took an arrow into his brain, or you can box that tight, lock it up, and move. Because you're still alive. And that's all that matters."
Despite her blunt words, if Slip finds a canvas or a cloth, Vex will help the halfling drape it over the mutilated corpse.
As this moment is happening, the dead man’s body being taken down from where it he was executed and covered up with a blanket, Vex begins to look for tracks of who/what did this. Vex easily finds tracks of dripping blood leading to the door that heads back into the hallway.
Suddenly, the group hears a growing laughter with words inserted in between laughter; “Praise! Praise!” laughter continues; “Words fail!” laughter continues; “Zandalus sees!” the laughter falls as this woman walks through the door. Bloodied knife in one hand, tongue in the other as she continues to laugh.
Initiative: Round 1
Slip
Creature
Angry
Chatty
Rook
Vex
Slip's eyes darken as the woman shows herself, and sullen rage overtakes his face. Color leeches out of him and the space around him dances with whisps of shadow. "You're going to die," he rasps.
With a smooth, dispassionate motion, never taking his eyes off the woman, he loads another bolt into the mechanism.
The bolt looks as if it strikes true, but you hear it cladder on the other side of the woman. The image begins to swirl and dissipate in a puff of smoke. The laughter you hear is coming from the hall behind where the woman once appeared.
“Praise! Praise!” laughter continues; “Words fail!” laughter continues; “Zandalus sees!”
Initiative: Round 1
Slip
Creature
Angry
Chatty
Rook
Vex
Chatty can't tell if this woman is another fanatic or simply mocking them by mimicking the man's insanity. His eyes go wide when Slip's bolt discorporates the woman's image.
"If she's using illusions, trust nothing!"
Chatty ducks into the shadows of the corner, using the wall as cover, and peers around the wall's edge out into the hallway to see if he spots anything.
Rook move up towards Slip, lays a hand on his shoulder and Guidance on him. Looking to make eye contact; “Don’t be driven by emotion, there will be time to mourn.”
Initiative: Round 1
Slip
Creature
Angry
Chatty
Rook
Vex
With Vex covering the back door, the dwarf moved towards the one where the noise had come from. ”Slow and steady, lads. Stick together, don’t let anyone out of our sight. She be one and we be many. Don’t let trickery take that away.”
The group of you makes your way todays the door that leads to the main hallway. You look and do not see anyone waiting for you. Peeking out and looking south you see the barricade with torch light flickering beyond it. Turning to look north, you see some of the rubble shift as the hallway T’s off.
Slip seethes, but looks up as Rook places a hand on his shoulder. "I'll mourn after the light goes out of her eyes," he says. He shakes his head, and some of the immediate anger dissipates, replaced by the more fearful look that you all have grown used to seeing on the halfling's face. "It's a trick," he whispers. "So then where is she?"
Not in here. Not out there. Invisible? Elsewhere?
Slip balls his fist up and begins detecting magic. Now his eyes go completely black as he stands at the initial entryway and casts his vision first south.
"Torag's hairy ass, this is going to be a problem." he curses.
He hears a stone tumble and quickly points to the shifting rubble to the north. "There! That direction!"
Chatty will approach closer as long as another party member accompanies him. As he moves, he looks on the ground for evidence of blood drops assuming the 'woman' may actually be carrying a blood dagger and tongue like the image did to try to further narrow down her location.
As Chatty motions down the hall north, Slip sees the shifting rubble turning in the direction of the stairs/bathroom. Chatty sees and points out a trail of blood that also heads that direction. What that there when we entered?
Moving up the hall, you notice that the blood rounds the corner into the bath house. As you approach the corner you hear a female voice laughing and muttering familiar words. “Praise! Praise!” laughter continues; “Words fail!” laughter continues; “Zandalus sees!”
All the while you hear the sound of Ilki. “No! Stop!” followed by the sound of someone fighting in water and gasping to breath as they are pulled up. “Please! No!” before the sound of them being plunged under once again.
As this happens you hear the female speak once again; “This won’t take long my pet. Just breath.”
Rounding the corner you see a horrific sight of two ghouls drowning Ilki in the “human stew pool” while a familiar woman stands watching. Slicing bites off of some bloody flesh in her hand with a shining dagger and eating it.
Chatty stands near the doorway but does not enter the room. "Don't trust that these are not more illusions! Watch your back! If that is Ilki, which it might not be, you can't save him if you are dead."
Chatty presses his back against the outside wall and keeps sharp attention to the three directions of the hallway and only a cursory glance at what's going on in the room expecting an ambush from behind.
Slip pads after Asrat. As he sees the horror of the room, his countenance darkens again. "Release him," he orders as he sends a bolt into one of the ghouls holding Ilki down.
The dwarf knew that whatever was inside the room was not going to be pleasant, but that still didn't make it any easier. He turned the corner, went through the door, and despite himself came to a dead halt, his eyes wide as he took in the new horror.