As you start to come around and gain your bearings, you find yourself no longer in your armor or clothing. You as in some kind of odd white gowns that end about mid thigh with pants under them. Instead of boots or shoes, you are wearing some kind of slipper. A simple thing that you slide onto your foot. And as far as any of your belongings... you are unsure where they are.
The surgeon is currently humming to herself as she works.
Hands grasp frantically at eyes, scratching feebly in between shallow breaths. His head is pounding, the sound of his own fracturing skull repeating in his mind's sound imagination. It takes a actual knick for the halfling to wince away and stop clawing.
I'm not dead. A nightmare?
Me...up...save...wake...
Who?
The halfling looks around and sees his surroundings in the dim light. A bare room with bars in the door. A cell? Am I captured? And...a familiar looking man.
The man leans down close, and the halfling shies away. Then he begins breathing heavily into his ear. The breath is hot and comes in rapid puffs and spurts. It's not pleasant, but the halfling recognizes the gesture quickly. He's talking.
He pushes back from the man and shakes his head a couple of times. He waves out to the man to look closely at him, though the human seems distracted looking for something in his pockets.
"Say that again, but look at me," he whispers, trying to measure the breath so it helps make the sounds. But no voice. Not now. Not...
The halfling glances out to see the scene in the center. The dead elf on the slab, the nice dwarf who had tried to help next. His eyes widen and he fumbles for a whistle that should be around his neck. It's not there. Nothing is. The fear should be clear in his eyes, if the human looks back more closely.
Maybe I should hide. But where?
The halfling looks back at the human, hoping he repeats something useful.
It took Bolkvar hearing the words ‘dwarf’ and ‘whining’ being yelled for him to realize that he was not dead and this was not Torag’s forge. The realization was a startling one, made all the more so by the fact that he was tied down. Seeing a surgeon operating on another unfortunate that was tied down, the dwarf yelled something incomprehensible as he tried to rip free of his straps.
The uniformed man jolted awake, hands clutching at his stomach like a child stricken with firegut. He groaned and slowly pulled himself to his feet using the wall to brace himself. He looked to the woman whispering and replied in kind,”A piece of metal? You mean a lockpick?” The man patted his hips as if checking pockets, ”No, it would appear that I left them in my other paper gown.” He stood up straight and, again, had to steady himself with the wall. ”How strange that this woman was in that nightmare,” he thought.
He took a step forward and for the first time noticed the coldness of the stone floor on one bare foot. He glanced around the cell but did not spot the missing slipper, ”Lovely.” The man peered out into the room. He caught glimpses of the others from the nightmare in other cells. That tall elf was being, what? Operated on? The angry woman started shouting and moments later the dwarf on the table switched from babbling to screaming.
The man turned to the blonde woman, ”As I was saying, I do not possess any means to pick this lock but,” he gestured to the commotion, ”I get the impression that they’ll buy us some time, whether they intend to or not.” He felt sick at the suggestion but he had to complete his assignment. ”Assignment?” He muttered to himself. The uniformed man blinked away the confusion and addressed the blonde woman again, ”Seems we’re in this together. My name is...is…” More confusion. Why could he not remember his own name? Or anything really?
Asrat is surprised by the halfling. "Oh, you are deaf. My apologies." He repeats to the halfling what he previously said but makes sure the man can read his lips.
The blonde half-elf raises an eyebrow as she glances at her cellmate’s missing slipper and his confusion, I’m not the only one. ”Fugue state, you have forgotten your identity but not your skills. Names aren’t important right now. I suspect all our cell mates are similarly afflicted, myself included.” She didn’t like showing such weakness, but knew that it often elicited a response of sympathy from others, which was useful.
”And yes a lockpick,” she responds with barely contained venom, with resignation she adds, ”No matter, we will have to find some other way then.”
Her sight returns to the surgeon and her grisly work. After a moment of drinking in the scene she suggests while pointing to the surgeon, ”They must surely have a key. Or at least I can try to pick the lock with one of their implements. The dark haired elf in the cell next to the man with the unfairly good hair, she or the dwarf is going to get the surgeon’s attention at some point. If she goes for the dwarf I’m going to reach out and try for her cutting tool. If I can’t grab it, she will notice and likely come for us, if that happens be ready to pull her into the cell when they open it.”
She turns to the uniformed man sans uniform, ”Unless you have a better plan?”
The surgeon continues her working on the corpse of the elf, removing a partial section of her brain. She slips and drops it, hitting the side of the pan onto the floor. The dwarf having his panic attack and apparently focuses on the females voice that is telling him to fight it causes this slip up and frustration to come across her face.
Grabbing the now empty pan she scurries over, shoulders slumped forward tight in on herself. Hitting the dwarf with the pan she says; “Pipe down. You’ll have your turn soon enough.” Then she returns back to her work on the body.
You look over the surgical tools that you see this surgeon using and there is something unnerving about what she is using. There is an array of sharp instruments; a gardening trowel, forks, several long pieces of broken glass, a shard of metal, and shears.
Looking over the surgeon you notice a ring of keys dangling from a hook at her waist.
Suddenly in a maddening rage, the dwarf snaps free the binding that is holding down his dominate arm. Still bindings on each of his feet, the other arm, and one last one holding his head still.
The surgeon moves to try and restrain the dwarf’s free arm. As she is distracted the blonde half-elf moves to take her cutting tool but is unsuccessful. Fortunately for the half-elf, the surgeon seems fully focused on restraining the dwarf again.
”No,” the man said, ”I think that, given our circumstances, it is a good a plan as any.”
He began flexing and popping the knuckles of his left hand. Fugue state. That would explain a lot of things,” he thought. ”Ideally, we get her to open the cell of her own accord.” He glanced back into the “operating room” hoping to spot keys anywhere. ”Either way, I’ll be ready.” He nodded toward the table, "Perhaps we can use one of those implements as makeshift weapons once we're out?"
The man scowled at the blonde half-elf when she missed but he quickly forced it away. Clearly, she had not intended to let an opportunity for escape to slip through her fingers. Right? After all, she was a prisoner with the rest of them. ”She was quick to abandon me and that other man though,” he thought, ”No, that was just a nightmare influenced by my real world surroundings.”
"STOP TALKING! DIE!" The dwarf roared, as he desperately tried to free himself. Rather than untying himself, he instead raged against the restraints, seeking to use pure brute force to free himself. Having seen the 'surgical tools', his desire to get free was all the more desperate!
Asrat watches the building commotion in silence knowing that soon he may need to act. Utilizing the only tools available to him, he removes his gown so that he is shirtless and rolls the gown up and ties off the ends so that it resembles a thick rope that could be used as well...a short rope; or possible a makeshift garrote if the guard passes his way.
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A shudder of dread ran up Ryzel's spine at the idea of being 'operated' on with those crude, improper implements-- but she shook her head fiercely to clear it.
"That's it!" she called to the dwarf. "You're nearly free, keep fighting! Shove her against the bars and we'll grab the b@&$$!"
She cast around in her cell for something to throw-- a bit of loose rock? anything-- the slippers didn't have mass enough to be worth it. If there was nothing that presented itself, she swiftly started to take off the thin trousers. The cheap 'tunic' covered everything that needed covering-- and even if it hadn't, survival was considerably more important than modesty. One of the men from her dream-- the weaselly one-- was doing similar, across the way, and she noted it-- he might be too talkative by half, but he had a brain.
“You want to grab her?” the blonde maned man asks the dark haired half elf?
Moving to to where he can see the struggling surgeon, but isn’t in the way of his cell mate reaching through the bars, he calls to the surgeon, “hey, come here!”
Erebus nods. The man had caught on quickly--more quickly than most. At least he thinks.
He seems to remember the nightmare as well. But this quick promise of not abandoning him...and calling him friend? And then directions.
Do I know this man?
As the man turns away and removes his gown, Erebus blushes nervously and looks away. But he can't shake the question in his mind. He'll have to act like he knows this man for now. He seems kind enough, or at least willing to help. And in this situation, that is the best one can ask for.
The halfling watches the end of the scene with this "surgeon" smacking the dwarf. A chill curls across his skin as he looks over and sees what looks like part of a brain on the floor. He looks up again to see the unorthodox tools, and then...!
The halfling makes a few instinctual gestures and then taps the human lightly on his shoulder and whispers.
"Keys..."
The human feels some preternatural sharpening, as though just able to anticipate what may come a bit better.
The dwarf and the surgeon are struggling with one another as the dwarf tries to break another strap. The other arm snaps free from the binding. And just as quick as the surgeons struggle with the dwarf started, it ceases.
She walks away from the table, crossing south between the two surgical tables, along the south wall to the closest cell that holds the blonde man with the mane and the dark haired half-elf.
The blond half-elf makes a second grab for the key ring and manages to hook a finger around it. She smiles smugly at the uniformed man and starts frantically trying the keys in her cell. When she finds the correct key she makes a hand motion that unfair hair man and dark haired elf can see; she rolls her right hand in a circle while pointing to her left. She whispers to the uniformed man, ”Help the dwarf.” She walks over to greet her neighbors. More people from my dream, curious.
As quickly (and violently) as possible, the dwarf removed his bindings, desperate to be off of the table. He didn't know why the "surgeon" had walked away, nor did he care. He was going to shed some blood. Once free, he took a broken restraint and wrapped it around his fist, creating an impromptu cestus.
As the surgeon walks by, the blonde half-elf takes the keys. Unlocking the door, they go and help the dwarf who has already broken free from two of the bindings.
As the dark-haired half-elf lunged to grab the surgeon through the bars, she is not quick enough and misses her chance. This snaps the surgeon out of whatever was going on and she stumbles back into the try of tools knocking them off the table.
Turning, the surgeon sees the freed blonde half-elf woman and the dwarf freeing himself from the bindings. The surgeon’s face seems to pulse, wavering. Her facial features seem to almost become undone. Her nose smooths out, head narrows, and her already pale skin goes gray. But just as quickly as it changed, it transitions back. “NOOO!!!” she screams as she runs through the door against the east wall, you are unable to see into the darkness of the room.
Asrat takes the keys from the blonde woman and unlocks the cell to release himself and the halfling. "My thanks!" He bows his head to the woman and waves to the halfling to come out of the cell with him. He passes across the room to hand the key ring to the remaining two trapped people. While passing by the surgeon's table, he quickly palms a sharp instrument and conceals it in his pants.
Handing the keys to the keys to the Ulfen man, he says, "Here. I'm going to look around."
Asrat starts looking around the room for things of use.
The blonde half-elf's eye is caught by a garden trowel that was being used as for impromptu brain surgery, she picks it up. Deep down she hates it and she has no idea why, yet she can't help but hold onto it. She mutters to herself, "You're still in danger."
Her rational mind churns, its not normal for someone's face to change like that, Some sort of humanoid chameleon?
She suggests to the others while waving a garden trowel, "The surgeon may come back with help. Arm yourselves with whatever you may find." She helps Asrat search, but rather than his haphazard approach she methodically divides the area into quadrants in her mind starting with the door and working her way back towards Astrat. She mutters, "It will take longer but will yield results for sure."
The skittish human makes his way over to check out the cabinet. Opening it up he finds that is it mostly bare, except for what seems to be trinkets. You also see that the room continues south around the wall.
A gold ring with a dragon walking, a mason’s chisel, flint & steel, dagger, signal whistle, dice, silver holy symbol of a crumbling black tower, and a mirror, cold brass knuckles, and an empty belt pouch.
As the blonde half-elf looks into the room where the surgeon ran too she finds a horrific scene.
A broad chute extends diagonally through one of this cellar’s half-crumbled stone walls. Beneath it lies heaped more than a dozen mutilated humanoid bodies. Nearby, a flight of rickety, wooden steps climbs toward the high celing – an escape none of the room’s current occupants seem capable of employing. The smell of rot and decay in the room is nearly overwhelming, and the buzz of flies hangs in the air.
You see the surgeon climbing the pile of dead bodies trying to make its way to the chute. When you see her this time she is almost unrecognizable outside of the surgeon clothes she has on. The blonde half-elf knows this creature to be a doppelganger. You are unsure of how you know this, you really can’t remember names of creatures as you think about them…
The blonde maned man takes the key with a nod and unlocks the door trapping him and the dark-haired half-elf. When the door swings open he rushes to the table and grabs one of the jagged instruments from it. “What do you see?” he calls to people who are already searching.
”Corpses.” The dwarf said, as he slowly punched his cestus into his other hand. ”Lots of bodies, along with a FOOKIN’ MONSTER!” He angrily yelled at the doppleganger. He was ready to charge in, alone if need be.
The blonde half-elf recoils as the stench as it overwhelms her. "Yes a disorganized mass of bodies, revolting." Did it kill all these people? It could at least clean up after itself.
She gets ready to throw her trowel at the creature.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
The blonde half-elf takes her opportunity to punish her captor, "Where are you going?" Her face twists in anger as the trowel sinks into one of the rotting bodies.
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With an unintelligible roar, Bolkvar charged forward…and proceeded to trip over a corpse.
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The dark-haired half-elf nodded a short thanks both to the who handed the keys over-- and the one who unlocked the cell. She jammed her legs back into the cheap trousers, hopping on one foot as she made it out into the next chamber, where the one she was mentally dubbing Chatty was opening a cabinet.
"Weapon," she breathed as items were revealed. She snatched the dagger without any pretense at letting him take first choice.
Then she turned on the now-open door, where some of the others were chasing their captor. She followed after the dwarf, with the same emotion in her heart, albeit more restrained in execution.
The halfling watches the surgeon's morphing with curious horror and almost doesn't even notice that a few moments after she has left, he is freed from the cell.
"Thank you," he says instinctually. It takes him a few moments to actually step out, uncertain about whether it is actually safe or not. But as the others all free themselves from their cells as well, he joins them.
He naturally does not hear the commotion coming from the next room, but turns to see people walking into the room where the "surgeon" had fled. He avoids the scattered "surgical" tools with a shudder and tries to follow the group. Although he can't quite see around the dark-haired half-elf, whom he recognizes from his dream as well, he approaches behind her and casts Guidance on her.
The blonde half-elf moves into the room, seeing this nightmare of a scene throws the trowel but misses. Luckly it hits one of the bodies and the flat side and rolls down the mound of bodies.
The dwarf races in, ready to face off against his captor. From what it appeared, the surgeon who was going to move to him for her experiments. Luckily, in his rage he is able to steal his mind against the scene before him, the site of the surgeons’ previous experiments discarded. But, he is unable to get to her and attack.
The halfling moves from his cell casting guidance on the dark haired half-elf.
The surgeon snarls, whipping around and her rope like tongue forks towards the group, but the surgeon takes its full action to fully climb up the mound of dead bodies, and climbs into the chute. You can see the surgeons legs hanging out from the chute as it starts to scurry away.
The dark haired half-elf moves towards the open door as she grabs one of the shanks off the workstation.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
With his shirt still off, he holds it flat like a sheet and with one arm in a swift sweeping motion, brushes the entire contents of the cabinet onto the shirt and he wraps it up into a makeshift bag.
"Hey, wait for me! This is not someplace I want to fend for myself." He looks at the dead woman on the table again and shudders.
It happened so quickly. One moment the blonde woman had pilfered the keys from the creature and the next all hell had broken loose.
He would be of no use without some sort of weapon. The man snatched up a cruel looking piece of metal. “No use bottlenecking ourselves in that hall,” he said to the dark-skinned man , "We might be better off preparing in case it does return with others like itself.” The man eyed the length of metal in disgust as he spoke, deliberately avoiding looking at the corpse of the woman on the table. Had her death in the nightmare signified her death in the real world? ”no, of course not,” he thought, ”that’s a ridiculous notion."
With his jagged piece of metal in his right hand, Wulfric follows the others chasing after the surgeon.
is that the right word? it doesn't seem right, but I can't remember what the right word is... not butcher, they make food, I think...
He tucks himself into a corner as he arrives and mutters a quick prayer of blessing for the dwarf as the grisly sight before him starts to sink in.
The somewhat squirmy man grabs shirt full of goodies that he found within the cabinet, while the man who was in uniform in the dream tries to help with chaos by trying to not cause a “bottleneck” at the doorway. The man with the mane follows after the dwarf, jagged piece of metal in hand ready to attack the would be surgeon… butcher… With a blessing from the man with the blonde mane, the dwarf feels a bit more focused and ready for what is to come next.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
The halfling cranes his neck around, trying to see past the dark-haired half-elf. Feeling uncertain, he makes a reflexive hand motion and pushes past into the room.
The sight of the bodies curdles the halfling's stomach and he wants nothing more than to leave this room. He looks up to see the legs in the chute and shakes. Had that...creature done this? And why clamber up that way instead of taking the stairs? Maybe there was something wrong with the stairs.
He whimpers next to the dwarf, leaning back against the wall to stay as far away from the bodies as he can.
Scrambling up the mound of bodies, the enraged dwarf had his eyes set only on the monster that had sought to operate on him. In the face of unmitigated horror there were only two option; to recoil like the halfling or to charge into the darkness. To fail to do the latter necessitated the former. So up the mound of bodies he went, determined to show the creature that if there was anything here to fear then it would be him!
The room that everyone is going into is dark and difficult for the human and the halfling have difficulties to see. But those with low-light/dark vision can see perfectly because of the light that is coming in from the torches in the room with the cells.
As the dwarf begins to climb up the mound you see why it is so difficult. Not only do the bodies move under the dwarfs weight, but from the blood and other bodily fluids seeping from the surgical wounds cause him to slip. He does make it right on the heels of the surgeon.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
Without some implement the blonde half-elf is useless in a fight, Surely that's not possible she muses for a moment, she shakes an irrational thought from her mind. She gets out of the way of the crowded room, in too many ways and mulls over which new surgical tool she wants to try. Judiciously she picks up one half of a broken set of shears.
Seeing the dwarf on her heals, the surgeon kicks at him. Being prone and wedged in the vent she misses with the kick. The dwarf in his rage punches out with his impromptu cestus, but slightly slips on the bodies and misses.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
“No use bottlenecking ourselves in that hall,” he said to the dark-skinned man Asrat, "We might be better off preparing in case it does return with others like itself.”
Asrat responds, "You are a smart man. Smart men shouldn't go unarmed." He hands Grigore* the cold brass knuckles from his pouch of goods.
A little goodwill couldn't hurt. The dagger is more my style anyway, but it might be better to give that away too. No need to put myself in harm's way...yet.
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The dark-haired woman bulls into the room with intent flaring in her eyes-- only to stagger a few steps at seeing the hideous pile of the dead.
Her face sets in further resolution. She charges past a halfling who she barely registers in her fixed state and presses her lips together in a grim line as she tries to scale the grotesque hillock. It's no worse than tree branches, it's no worse than tree branches...
"I'll try to cut her off," the unkempt Ulfen calls out as he races up the stairs.
Under normal circumstances, the man might have thought twice about accepting an item from a stranger but, given the truly unusual scenario, he took the knuckles and slipped them onto his right hand. “I think if I were truly ‘a smart man’ I might not be in such a predicament,” he stated matter-of-factly.
He glanced over to the blonde woman then back to Asrat, “Do you have anything else that may be of use?”
Move equivalent: equip brass knuckles
“Do you have anything else that may be of use?”
"No sir. Just trinkets. I gave you the most valuable item of the lot."
The dark haired half-elf begins to climb up the bodies and is able to make it to the top, but she is unable to climb into the chute as the surgeon is there completely blocking off the enterence.
As the unkempt Ulfen calls out, he races up the stairs. Climbing up the first set to the first landing, you can see that this once stairwell we been collapsed by something. There is a heap of rubble choking off the passage above. With a quick glance, you think that it would take a long time to clear the rubble, IF it were even possible.
The two human men are in the room with the cells discussing items that have been found, and start to distribute them.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
With a single minded obsession the dwarf attacked the enemy lodged in the chute. Grabbing the figure with his free hand, he used his improvised weapon to pummel the surgeon.
Ethyl points at the belt pouch that the Garundi man found (Asrat), and asks while giving him a faux grin, "Would you kindly?" If he hands her the pouch she begins to carefully load it with the surgeon's tool kit.
Easily grabbing hold of the legs before him , the dwarf punches out with his impromptu weapon. Hitting the surgeons leg, she flinches and looks back with blank enraged eyes.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric