With no other egress available, the unkempt Ulfen turns back down the stairs and hurries to the base of the pile of corpses.
The halfling watches as the others find the stairs impassable and begin trying to climb up the bodies. He looks at their attempts at egress and decides to join the seemingly more-sane people in the other room.
He is much more comfortable away from the pile of mutilated corpses, and sees the one who called him "friend" speaking with two others. He motions to try to get their attention, using a few empty words to further prompt them. "Um, hello, there is..." Once (or if) they pay attention to him, he starts actually speaking. "That thing is climbing up a tunnel and the others are following. But there are bodies in there." He looks at the body in here, along with the brains on the floor, mercifully mostly hidden from his view by these three tall people. A single corpse was bad enough, but a whole mound of people who had likely suffered such a fate? His stomach rolls again at the thought, especially the consideration that desecrating the dead might be the only way out. "Maybe we can find a different way."
The surgeon lets go of her hand hold from within the chute and slides back down the chute and out, crashing into the dwarf. Causing the dwarf, the dark-haired half-elf, and the surgeon to slip as the mutilated bodies slide from the extra weight.
The dark-haired half-elf moves out of the way of the tumbling bodies and does not find herself under one of them. The dwarf finds himself under a few limbs laying on the ground with the surgeon standing over him.
Even though she is slipping on the bodies, those in the room notice that her hands have transformed into wicked looking claws. With a wild swing, the surgeon’s claw rips across the dwarf’s chest shredding both flesh and gown. Blood begins to pulse from the wide-open wound.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
.
Bolkvar roared as he tried to punch at the monster’s knee, putting the last of his strength into the blow. In doing so he ended on his stomach, bleeding on the ground with his vision blurring. The anger faded, replaced with a deep fatigue. It was clear that if the others didn’t do something soon, then this would be the end of his story.
Asrat skulks into the dark room. He spots the dark-haired woman's shadowy figure in the corner and throws a dagger at her feet. "Good lady, I hope this helps. You can repay me by putting the pointy end in that creature's flesh."
The blonde-maned man watches as the surgeon's new claws tear into the dwarf. A small voice in his mind bids him run away, but a louder one urges him to intervene before the dwarf dies. "Please," he calls back to the other room as he moves closer to the chute, "the dwarf is going to die... we could really use some help!"
As he talks, he reaches out and tries to touch the clawed creature.
The halfling frowns and purses his lips as the Garundi friend moves past him without speaking. He turns around to see him disappear around the corner and then looks back at the blonde half-elf woman and the dark-haired human still in the room with him. He shifts nervously, oblivious to the sounds of combat happening, and tries repeating what he said in Taldane sign language in case these people are deaf as well.
Busting into the room, the skulking man tosses a dagger that lands at the feet of the dark-haired half-elf, who picks up the dagger and then climbs up the mound of bodies to confront the surgeon.
The blonde-maned man steps up to deliver a spell, but he fails to deliver.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
The halfling frowns and purses his lips as the Garundi friend moves past him without speaking.
"Maybe we can find a different way."
"Yes, why don't you go see if you can find it. If you need help, shout or blow your whi...oh wait, I dreamed that part."
"Bah! Sounds as though they're still battling that...thing!" The man said. "I could rush in and join the fray or I could...could what? Say a prayer?" The man though as he weighed his options.
He cursed and looked over the halfling's head to the darkened room beyond. "Doubtless I'd trip in that darkness."
The man noticed the halfling gesturing something and squinted, "I'm sorry. I don't follow."
Looking around, the halfling doesn't catch everything that everyone is saying. Only snippets and pieces. He shakes his head in frustration, but then sees the one man say something about darkness. He tilts his head and then reaches up, touching the brass knuckles on the man's fist. Light springs from the brass, gleaming and glittering, illuminating the area twenty feet around him. He shrugs and half smiles, and then moves back the other way, trying to ignore the dead elf on the table.
The blonde half-elf gives the deaf halfling little regard as she takes the last of the implements used to tear apart the elf on the slab. She considered the irony of using it to kill the doppelganger, No matter.
She rejoined the group in the room with the disorganized pile of bodies. For some reason her thoughts drifted to the process of manufacturing vellum, all she would need is some lime. Which she could get from burning the bones, all she would need is something to burn the bodies and something sturdy to cut the flesh and then she could be rid of this vile pile and make something useful from it.
She tossed the cutting implement at the creature cutting it slightly, and the blond woman knew joy. "Dwarves are sturdy, he'll survive long enough for us to kill it. Then if he lives we can tend to him." Or he can become another body for the kiln.
He cursed and looked over the halfling's head to the darkened room beyond. "Doubtless I'd trip in that darkness."
As the words come out of your mouth, your eyes are drawn to the torches that are in the sconces.
With an excellent throw, the blonde half-elf woman sinks the crude cutting tool into the leg of the creature. Unfortunately it doesn’t draw its attention away from those around it. With another great effort, the dwarf punches the surgeon’s knee. Almost causing it to buckle.
This time the creature takes two swings with its claws. One at the dwarf, and its second at the man who tried casting a spell at it.
Both attacks land and both a devastating blows. As the dwarf hits the surgeon in the leg, it slashes down with an equally gruesome slash. This time across the dwarf’s face and chest, causing him to fall unconscious.
With its other claw, the creature lands a hit that almost causes the blonde maned man to fall.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
Asrat grabs the dwarf and drags him away from the creature into the hall. "Medic! Is anyone a medic here?"
Having gone completely limp, the dwarf was obviously unconscious. Luckily he was still alive…for now.
As the dark-haired half-elf woman’s dagger sinks deep into the surgeon’s side, blood begins to saturate her scrubs. This time from the inside, instead of from the outside from her victims. Her focus falls onto the half-elf who stabbed her that she doesn’t notice Asrat dragging the dwarf away from the body pile.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
As his eyes are drawn to one of the torches on the wall a light erupted from the man’s hand. He looked down to see the odd halfing imbuing the brass knuckles with a magical light. ”Right. That’ll do then.”
The man nodded to the halfling and, ignoring his own plan, rushed into the dark room.
Bodies. So many bodies.
The man steadied himself and waited for his chance to join the fight in earnest.
The unkempt Ulfen grunts as the creature's claws tear deep gashes across his chest and abdomen. Clutching his wounds he carefully pulls back out of the creature's reach to where the dwarf has been dragged.
"I can heal people," he answers, "but I'm missing... something... a medallion, I think... I can't heal anyone without that."
Announcing that he could possibly heal someone with the correct supplies, the unkempt Ulfen moves away from the bodies. Leaving the surgeon face to face with the dark-haired half-elf woman.
The dwarf’s wounds continue to bleed.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
The halfling hopes that at least one of the others will follow him instead of heading back into the room with the bodies. Why are they all continuing to go in there? He remains ignorant of the fighting going on as he rounds the corner of the room.
The blond half elf picked her way around the bodies and for a flanking maneuver with the dark haired half elf. She scooped up the garden trowel that had betrayed her before. Why does a gardening implement represent betrayal? she wondered.
The small halfling makes his way around the room with the cells, exploring potential other exits. Turning the corner, he discovers a cold, iron furnace hunkers in the corner of the basement, its four-foot-square door gaping half open. You can faintly see something within. Nearby sprawls a heap of clothing and other flammable trash. Looking through the mound of clothing and garbage could prove to be fruitful, but will also take time to sift through it all.
The half-elf blonde woman moves forward to get into a better offensive position with her dark-haired half-elf counterpart.
Seeing that she is flanked, the surgeon swings out wildly at the two half-elfs. Both of her swings land. Slashing the dark-haired woman across the shoulder, and the blonde woman across her chest.
Initiative
Erebus
Dr. Ethyl
Bolkvar
The Surgeon
Grigore
Asrat
Ryzel
Wulfric
The man sans uniform took in the...pile of corpses. Disregarding the unhygienic factor, they would, no doubt, be slippery with various bodily fluids. "The footing would not be ideal for close-quarters combat," he thought.
A voice scratched at the back of his mind. It spoke in a combination of two languages that he somehow understood. The voice grew louder until he was forced to vocalize the syllables.
"Caustic Sphere!"
To his surprise, one hand jerked and gestured as he spoke. And an instant later, a globule of acid hurled toward the creature.
"I guess it's up to me to save this filthy animal." he grumbles. He tears strips of cloth from his pants and wraps them tightly around the dwarf's most grievous wounds until they begin to clot and the bleeding slows. "You'd better thank me when you wake up."
"I do hope to find a change of clothes around here. This is undignified."
|
The brunette offers a tight smile of acknowledgment to the other half-elven woman as they surround the creature. Good-- a distraction will make this easier...
There's a brief, red eruption of pain as the creature's claws find her skin, shredding through the thin papery shirt. Her teeth flash briefly in her face, and she grunts, but does not cry out. Instead she lets the daggers speak for her.
But footing on the shifting bodies is treacherous. In her need to keep her balance, her attack is less than stellar. She hopes the pale-haired woman has better luck.
Convinced that he can heal people if only he had the right… symbol to focus on, the unkempt Ulfen man wets the fingers of his right hand with the blood running down his side and starts frantically drawing a half-remembered image on the wall with it. At first he’s uncertain what it’s supposed to be but as he continues working a picture emerges of a crumbling tower.
Asrat sees the image the Ulfen man is trying to draw and says, "Hey, I found something like that in the cabinet."
The halfling is pleased with what he has found. It's not an exit, but maybe it will be useful to everyone to take some time and look through this. He makes a few mental notes and then rounds the corner back to see where everyone else has gone.
It doesn't take long before he sees his Garundi friend dragging the dwarf, seemingly unconscious, away from the room.
What happened? Did he fall? Or is that...butcher back?
Alarm stretches across the halfling's face and he wishes that his short legs could carry him faster. He thinks he should be able to help...but how?
The blonde half-elf reels in pain as she is raked across the chest, she cries, ”That’s going to scar, you’ll pay for that.”
She mutters aloud, "Your kidney should be right about... here!"
With an incantation and a flash of his hands, acid flies from the man’s hands and hits the surgeon. Those in the room can hear the searing of flesh and can see the scrubs melting away from her body. The dark-haired half-elf flashes her dagger and swings, but already in motion from the acid the surgeon moves out of the way.
Seconds later the surgeon’s eyes widen as the blonde half-elf strikes true. Sinking deep enough that the half-elf knows she had to of hit a vital organ. Puller the shiv free, blood pours out of the surgeons back as it collapses and falls down the mound of bodies as she bleeds out.
In that moment the sound of battle halts, you can hear each other’s breaths reverberating off of the stone walls. The halfling does not hear this, but he can see the quick rising and falling of his fellow captive’s chest rise and fall. And just as quickly as the sound of battle halted, the cry of “Medic! Is anyone a medic here?” brings everyone’s attention to the fallen dwarf who continues to have blood pouring out of the wound in his chest. He is bleeding out.
The blonde-maned man places his hand on the drawing he's made with his own blood and then pauses. "If this works it'll heal... that thing..." he announces. "Please make sure its all the way dead so I don't wake it up."
Once they're sure that the strange creature is fully dead, he focuses on the symbol and attempts to conjure a wave of healing energy.
The blonde half-elf is already plunging the makeshift weapon into the doppelganger's throat when the maned man makes his request.
He is bleeding out.
Asrat hands the Ulfen man a silver holy symbol bearing the image of a crumbling black tower. "Here. Try this."
Then he spots the halfling comes back from the other way. He walks over to him and gently puts a hand against the halfling's cheek to make sure he is facing him to read his lips and asks, "So, did you find anything?"
Opening up the surgeons throat, the blonde half-elf woman watches as its life force drains from the wound. Even after the wound stops weeping, she is looking at the light reflection in the crimson red liquid.
The blonde-maned man in the midst of battle draws a bloodied crumpling tower. Why the tower? Why is it crumpling? This will work! Will this work? placing his hand over the crudely drawn images and there is a pulse of searing white light that flashes through the room and those within 30-feet feel restored and reinvigorated. Looking from the drawing on the wall to his hand, the blonde-maned man sees that the blood on the wall has dried and almost stained the wall. A mirrored reflection of his drawing has also bloodstained his hand.
The dwarf's wounds begin to close up and have ceased bleeding, but he does not open his eyes.
The man who collected the goods from the cabinet remembers seeing the symbol that the blonde-maned man is drawing, and remembers seeing it as he collected those items. Trying to remember what it means is a fog to his mind. Have I never seen this before? Is it something I cannot remember? He wonders to himself.
Once the halfling shows the group what he found around the corner, the group is able to pillage through a pile of goods just outside of a cold furnace. As if they were going to be put in and burned soon enough.
Wool skirt, shirt, sturdy belt, pair of medium sized boots (size 10.5), leather breeches, gloves, shirt & cloak that looks like the uniform the man was wearing in the dream. A belt with several loops/rings for tying pouches/waterskin/scabbard to. Rice paper. A book, looks as if someone was keeping their dreams written within it. Backpack, crumpled up parchment sheets x5. A bedroll.
The unkempt Ulfen looks in wonder at the silver medallion the somewhat shifty looking man holds out to him. His eyes dart back and forth between the image engraved on it and the one stained on his hand in blood. “Is this mine?” he implores. “It feels so familiar…”
Holding it up proudly, he focuses for a moment and another wave of warm white light flashes through the chamber.
He follows the others to the chamber where the… child, or small person, maybe, shows them the clothing. He looks with interest at the items, even though none of them feel particularly familiar.
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The dark-haired woman breathes hard when the 'surgeon' falls, and gives a panting nod of approval to the other half-elven woman at her ruthless, but necessary, throat-slitting. She cradles the bleeding claw marks left by the creature on her own flesh, and shudders once-- then her brows arch as a wave of well-being flows from the blond human.
"My thanks, human," she rasps, her voice graveled now. "Actually to... to all of you. The dagger was useful," she says to the man who tossed it , "and you struck true, yourself." A nod at the other woman
"Is the dwarf alive? He fought bravely-- this-- creature-- might have gotten away without his slowing her."
Ryzel straightens up to stand-- then realizes she's on the top of the g$**@&ned corpse pile. She hurriedly clambers down, grabbing the surgeon's corpse to haul with her, just to check it has nothing else of value.
"I don't know any of you," she says once she's reached level ground again, deliberately not looking at the pile of the dead. "But we worked together there to survive-- you two getting the keys, and sharing them-- we might all still be in those cells otherwise. I am--"
A pause, as she searches her memory, and tries to find a name. She is-- she is-- it wasn't just the dream, was it? She doesn't know... who...
Her face screws up a moment with confusion and fear-- then she shakes it off, and stalks for the belongings the short one had found-- she throws him a curious glance as she passes, wondering why that person hadn't joined in the fight. But there's clothing-- the shirt is promising-- she takes it, unwilling to continue on in her bloodied, tattered paper tunic. Whether anyone else might want it seems irrelevant to her, or at the least, she doesn't ask.
She holds the boots to her feet but determines they are too large for her. "Someone should make use of these. Floors here are none too clean," she mutters.
Asrat nods to the dark-haired woman. "My lady, you are very welcome."
He adds the remaining items that he scooped up earlier to the pile of gear. "Perhaps some of these would be useful too?" He snatches the gold ring back up out of the pile. "Although, this one is mine. A memory is coming back to me. I must have been from this noble family. The name is at the tip of my tongue. I'm sure I'll remember soon. But certainly, I am someone to respect." He admires the ring, letting the gold sparkle in the torchlight. However, his near nakedness and filthy, hairy body detracts from any semblance of nobility.
Picking through the remaining pile, he picks out the backpack filled with paper. "If you wouldn't mind?" he asks the assembled group. "I don't have a strong connection to this but it would be useful."
As the wave of warm white light flashes through the chamber from the unkempt Ulfen man, the dwarf wakes up with a gasp of air. But he feels so weak and frail that all he could do is speak.
The dark-haired half-elf moves to look through what is on the surgeon’s body. You find collected in her pockets all sorts of things. Bandages and gauze pads. Tiny vials of oil and herbs. Anyone with any level of medical training would know these are parts of a Healer’s Kit. Though it is incomplete, anyone with the knowledge believes you could get 6 uses out of it.
As you are looking through the goods outside the furnace, your eyes catch something within the furnace. You go and open the door a bit wider to shed some of the torch light inside and you see a horrific site. You see several scorched humanoid bones amid the ashes, easily from a half-dozen bodies. If that isn’t bad enough, you can see lines in the soot on the back of the door and around the edges of the furnace opening. You also notice something stuck in the soot on the wall. A finger nail. That is when you realize that the lines are claw marks made from people trying to escape this room. Where they… burnt alive?
Looking in this chamber you notice that the vents leading up and out of the furnace are particularly wide. You believe that the halfling and the dwarf could have an easy time fitting inside, while the humans and half-elfs of this unlikely group would have to squeeze within.
“Let’s get you back on your feet,” the un-uniformed man extended a hand to the dwarf, “Easy now. I believe you may owe that leonine man a bit of debt.”
The man headed over to join the others around the pile of belongings and attempted to engage in idle chit chat. That always seemed to help people cope, or at least ignore, extreme circumstances. “How would I know that?” he thought.
With a shake of his head, the man cleared his thoughts and addressed the dark-haired woman. “As I was saying, with all of us apparently suffering the same mental ailment, it’s only natural that we band together.”
When the shirt and cloak were uncovered, he instinctively reached for them. He was halfway through slipping the shirt on before he caught himself. “Isn’t it odd,” he mused, “that I was wearing this shirt and cloak in that terrible nightmare?”
He threw the cloak over his shoulders and began to crack his knuckles again. Only the babbling of the dark-skinned man kept him from getting lost in thought. “It is a fine ring, indeed.” He said halfheartedly.
Instead, his eyes were drawn to the furnace.
"Gods above... He muttered. "Look, but take care, there's an opening, possibly a vent. Someone might be able to fit through? Or perhaps we could see where that chute goes that the good doctor was trying to use?"
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The brunette nods once at the flowery thanks. Actions speak louder than words-- even if he is a talkative sort, he gave her a weapon when she needed it. That is what matters most.
When the dwarf is brought to consciousness, she hesitates over him a moment. "You found your fighting spirit. You did bravely. Don't move much, you're still half-gutted. Can anyone do more for him?"
Not considering herself in that group, she crouches to the bloodied body of their tormentor and begins to turn out pockets.
"Some bottles and oils and bandages," she calls out to any who seem interested. Failing to find more weapons, she stands and moves to look closer around the furnace.
Her nostrils flare as she puts together the implications of the little chamber.
For a second, her hand flies to her stomach, and she presses her lips together to avoid retching-- managing to exhale through the worst of it. Steeling herself, she keeps looking.
"There's a way upwards... possibly. For the small amongst us. Don't look too closely at anything else in there."
He returned the nod and offered the barest of smiles, "They say that great minds think alike." He glanced around the room, "I've always believed that great minds think for themselves. Perhaps it's just blank minds that think alike?"
"The fortune of the gods is upon us that we were blessed with this small companion." Asrat volunteers the halfling. He slaps the signal whistle into the halfling's hand and pushes him towards the furnace. "Just blow that if you need any help and I'll be right behind you."
Asrat peeks into the furnace and promptly vomits on the floor. "Just give me a moment to recover. You understand, don't you?"
Intelligent minds draw the same conclusions because it is the intelligent thing to conclude.
The blonde half-elf regarded the dwarf’s wounds with a clinical eye, ”I know something of anatomy, perhaps I can assist him. It will take some time however and I don’t know if the doppelganger’s howling attracted more attention. It is very likely. If your deity cannot spare another minor miracle I vote that we abandon the dwarf as carrying him will slow us down. We can return assuming we can verify the safety of our position.”
As the others inspected the furnace and garundi man vomited on the floor she hesitated, there was something so horrendously stomach churning that it trumped a pile of 20 or more corpses stacked loosely in a pile. ”Are you really about to suggest that your friend here clamber into a furnace, the sight of which caused you to vomit when there are at least three other things you’ve seen in recent history that should have caused the same reaction? Perhaps it is just that your stomach has had enough.”
Her eye caught the dream journal and a brief hope began to glimmer but she strangled her hope when she saw the size and shape of it. ”No matter,” she said without context, ”Might I see that journal?”
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”Are you really about to suggest that your friend here clamber into a furnace, the sight of which caused you to vomit when there are at least three other things you’ve seen in recent history that should have caused the same reaction? Perhaps it is just that your stomach has had enough.”
"Absolutely! Our friend here is best suited for the task due to his diminutive stature. You do want to get out of here, don't you? And as for my stomach, the sight is indeed gruesome but by no means dangerous. But if you doubt my sincerity, I shall volunteer myself. I would not deign to suggest a task that I would not be willing to undertake on my own. Why don't you take a look and judge if you think I'd fit?"
The blonde half-elf grinned as she and the garundi man traded words. She hated him and also loved the discourse, ”A man of your exceptional stature would surely fit. Please after you.”
While she waited for him to get caught in flue she started reading the journal.
Bolkvar groaned as he got to his feet. He looked around at those around him wearily and muttered a thanks. It was all he could bring himself to do. As the others talked he hobbled over to the pile of goods and rummaged through it. Finding a journal he picked it up and a sense of dread came over him. It was a well made book of Dwarven make. He didn’t dare open it, feeling that whatever was inside would not be pleasant. With a grunt of pain he put his back to the wall and slid down to a sitting position.