Crossing the hall to peer into the Storage room, Ethyl notices first a lantern lit inside. The door is already ajar, so she's able to see within.
The shelves and boxes of previous patients' effects have been partially ransacked. Clothes, dolls, toys, walking sticks, an eclectic assortment of odds and ends once held in trust by the asylum to return these effects to patients upon successful treatments. Two more yellow robed Apostles linger here.
One as gathered several of the dolls and arranged them to face the western wall. She emptied the shelves there, even appearing to have tried to remove the shelves, to make space for some kind of school house. She uses chalk, paint, even blood to draw meaningless symbols and numbers on the wall, mumbling unintelligibly while glancing at the arranged dolls.
The other is currently digging through a box that clinks like something glass is inside. "Goodies here somewheres, yes, they puts goodies in here. Where? Yes!"
Enoch peers over the shoulder of Ethyl to see the lit lamp, two yellow wearing cultists and an enclosed secured room.
The Aasimir shrugs. He casts Pyrotechnics on the lit lamp, before closing the door.
Best to give them a moment to reconsider their life choices.
As Enoch shuts the door, the smell of smoke filters out from underneath the door. The paladin is rewarded with the sound of coughing from within. The woman sounds like she has the worst of it, while the man keeps his coughing under control.
Nyarai comes closer, sees the smoke rushing from the door frame, and chuckles. She doesn't say anything, just pats Enoch on the shoulder as she smiles. A globe of light appears above the door, ready to illuminate the cultists once they enter the hallway.
The sight of the cultists prompts Alvar to frown. They get everywhere, don't they? Before they can act any further, Enoch makes his move.
Alvar hisses irritably at the sudden smoke, but refrains from commenting - it is, they must acknowledge, a reasonable strategy. Drawing back their fingers, they prepare to unleash a spell at the first cultist to emerge from the smoke.
Ethyl steels her resolve at the sudden cloud of choking behind the doors. She managed to swallow her fear of the unknown in that swirling mass of noxious fumes. She was ready.
Iosif loads his firearm with standard shot and powder. "Here's to hoping I don't hear that dreadful clicking sound again."
Enoch frowns.
Was kinda hoping to keep them in there, say, 12 seconds....
The Tortured Crusader sighs.
Apologies in advance then....
Enoch then braces himself against the door with all his weight.
Enoch wishes he ate more candy, cake, pie, cotton candy, pudding (but he didn't eat his meat), or even an extra helping of gravy here and there ...
If it helps he wedges his battered longsword into the flooring and door...
The woman's voice, hacking and wheezing, is heard approaching the door, against which she seems to flail weakly against Enoch's barricade. He might almost feel sorry for her if she weren't a cultist. The other door opens and the male cultist storms out of the smoke, not taking Ethyl by surprise but his sudden appearance might give her a start.
"Treasures, give us the treasures, yes!"
Perhaps he did take Ethyl by surprise, sticking the flattened edge of his crowbar into her side viciously.
Nyarai sees Ethyl getting ready for an ambush. She focuses her magics on her, then vocalizes her surprise by a gasp as she instinctively jumps back.
Protective Luck (Su) (Heroes of the High Court pg. 9): The witch can cause fate to twist so that it benefits a creature within 30 feet for 1 round. Whenever that creature is targeted by an effect that requires an attack roll, including weapon attacks, the attacker must roll twice and take the worse result. At 8th level and 16th level, the duration of this hex is extended by 1 round. A witch cannot use this ability on herself. Hexes that affect the fortune hex, such as cackle, also affect protective luck.
Ethyl reels as the crowbar connects with her ribs sending waves of pain radiating out from the impact. She is not pleased and attempts to wrench the crowbar from cultist’s hands from
Enoch frowns as the coughing cultist conveyed conditional control on Ethyl.
Probably would have worked better if that door was also blocked...
Iosif wordlessly fires at the cultist, his face cold and expressionless.
He then shoves an alchemical cartridge down the muzzle.
The Apostle thought he hit Ethyl, but the magic protecting her deflected the tool to catch in her uniform rather than her skin.
Alvar casts their spell, unleashing a hissing whisper that sinks into the cultist's mind, drawing on their most primal fears and bringing them to the surface.
Ethyl knocks the crowbar from the cultist's hands, and despite her conditions she successfully strikes him, tearing into his flesh as Iosif's bullet finishes the job.
She can be heard shrieking behind the door, trying desperately to get through it, not seeming to realize the other door is open.
Ethyl looks poinedly at Enoch. And drinks clear red liquid from a vial.
Enoch's blue eyes just crinkle in amusement confusion at Ethyl...
Alvar sighs heavily. "Well," they mutter, "at least she's too concerned to take the wiser route out..." They follow Ethyl's look to stare at the Pharasmin. "Let her through once all of us are ready... but beware that she might come through the other door." They prepare to assault her mind once again when she shows her face.
Enoch filled the Storage room with choking smoke, blocking a door. Nyarai hexed Ethyl. Ethyl and Iosif slew one of the Apostles as he exited the Storage room's other door. Alvar further debuffed the surviving Apostle, who seemed intent on breaking through the first door despite her weakened state.
Iosif readies a shot if the cultist comes within his line of sight as well.
Enoch prepares to further block egress from the smoking cultist, but the Paladin notices Iosif readying his boom stick at the currently blocked door.
Enoch opens the door.
Enoch opens the door, which causes the female Apostle to fall onto her backside, taking a bullet from Iosif and another wave of the tiefling's fell whispers.
Ethyl jumps at the stumbling cultist trying to rip them apart.
Enoch just looks at the prone, Shaken and about to get sliced and diced by the good doctor cultist with pity in his blue eyes.
May Pharasma guide your dark soul.
The alchemical monstrosity that is Ethyl once again tears an opponent apart with her augmented claws . The woman died coughing and gurgling as the alchemist's bite nearly decapitated her, leaving a mere strand of flesh keeping the head from rolling away from the body.
The Apostles dealt with, the party has the Storage room to themselves. However, most of anything that might have been useful is missing.
Across from the secondary door to the Storage room is a door labeled Records Storage , but investigating the door proves nigh pointless as the door is jammed from the other side and would have only opened inward.
That leaves the only other direction to go the blood-swollen Dayroom door in this hallway or other parts of the asylum.
Alvar relaxes slightly as Ethyl rips the last cultist apart with her claws. Impressively brutal... one wouldn't realize she's quite the knowledgeable doctor. They shake their head, sighing and refocusing on the business of further investigating the area.
After trying the Records Storage door, they sigh again. "Unfortunate that the door is so firmly stuck..." They glance at the swollen door to their right. "I confess to reluctance to going inside at the moment. Whatever's in there is unlikely to be... pleasant. On the other hand, I still have many of my spells, some of which might be useful in doing battle against whatever could've caused that much blood..."
A thought occurs to them, and they look to Ethyl first. "Do you know - or could you guess - how much blood would be needed - and how long wood would need to soak into it - to cause that effect?" Assuming, of course, it isn't simply another manifestation of the Dreamlands' nightmarish grip on this place...
Ethyl wipes the blood from her mouth and face as best she can. She mumbles, "I'll need to use bleach later to get these stains out. Maybe I can manufacture an oxidizer later."
While searching through the boxes in the store room for anything useful she answers Alvar, "Without experimental evidence I couldn't say one way or the other for certain. It would depend on a lot of factors such as the type of wood used as well as any treatments that were applied. However, I believe I can safely say it would be a great deal of blood for it to swell like that, several gallons perhaps. And at least a day of soaking to get to that point. So I imagine what is behind that door is not pretty, even if it is just a Dreamlands manifestation."
Pulling out the vials found and shows them to the group, "I was already considering manufacturing these. Useful against creatures that are allergic to silver, which is more common that you might think."
She hands one vial of silversheen to Iosif and one to Enoch, "It will only last for one hour, don't apply the substance to your weapons yet, only when needed."
"I am unsure how this interacts with alchemical cartridges, but this should work for... 20 bullets. And that is.... quite a lot of blood. I don't know the exact numbers like Ethyl does, but I know it takes a lot to swell a door." Iosif states matter-of-factly. "And I don't think 'allergic' is the right word, it's more accurate to say has innate resistances bypassed by silver."
Enoch absently takes the vial of silversheen from Ethyl.
Perhaps our Wizard would memorize Prestidigitation for such occasions?
The Tortured Crusader's blue eyes glance over at the blood swollen door, as the intellectuals discusse its possible cause.
Perhaps we save that as our final resort? We still haven't secured other portions of this building.
"Aye, I could memorize the spell in the future." Alvar admits. "But I'd thought... well, it hardly matters. I've discovered that we're not exactly stealthy." They shrug. "I cannot cast it today, either way."
They glance at Iosif, shrug mentally. He's not wrong. Not necessarily relevantly correct, as the effect is more or less the same, but not wrong. Shifting their attention to the matter at hand, they consider the group's options. "We don't know what's behind the door, but if we take a look, it's possible that I can seal the door behind our retreat if whatever is on the other side is something we can't handle."
"I suggest at least letting Ethyl and I take a quick look... assuming that we can do so quietly."
Ethyl ignores Iosif, regards Enoch, and listens to Alvar. She move towards the door and considers it carefully for a moment, "What is one more doorway? And you are quite correct dear Alvar, we can retreat."
She crept towards the door and carefully opened tried to open it, hoping to see what might have caused it to swell so hematically. If her delicate touch was insufficient, she used more forceful means.
Nyarai creeps up behind the group in silence, observing the walls and the door itself. She sniffs at the air, as if attempting to recognise something in the smell, then wrinkles her nose.
Enoch shrugs. He hefts his new magic sword and readies to interfere with whatever madness manifests....
Iosif tries to prepare himself mentally.
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A youth ran past the alley opening, but a moment later he stepped back into view, looking nervously at Nyarai. “Veiled One!”
The sylph nodded, absently fidgeting with the cloth before approaching. “What is it, Ajer?”
“A Taldan has been asking for you! Some fat cat from way up north. Gives me the shivers.”
“Is he alone?”
“He has companions. A devil, a doctor, a man with an Alkenstar tool, and an angel. He is asking for you by name.”
“Take me to him.”
A scream from inside the hovel pierces the air, and blood begins to pool out of the door into the alley.
As the door opens surprisingly without resistance, the five of you are faced for a sickening moment with a wall of blood. It shivers in place, before rushing out in a crimson wave, accompanied by an elderly woman’s dying scream.
As the blood pools on the floor, making it slick you all see a floating ribbon of blood meandering out of the Dayroom.
Blue eyes widen at the unexpected rush of the Blood Wave! The Tortured Crusader looks at his new magical shortsword and sighs.
Of course.
The formerly standing tall Paladin is currently seen floundering and famously falsifying firm footing, as the Tidal Wave of Blood pushes him easily off his feet and fastly further down the hall!
Iosif is too focused steeling himself against the sanity-draining blood to realize... it's flowing, and he gets pushed back 20 feet and falls prone, swearing under his breath.
Alvar winces, feeling the shriek in their soul, but shrug it off with an almost academic curiosity, wondering what exactly caused it to emerge like that. This thought doesn't disturb their attention, however, as they rapidly adjust their posture to the oncoming rush of blood. Still, it's not quite enough to keep them from being pushed back by the heavy flood of the cursed thing. Uttering a sharp Infernal curse, they scowl. Another haunt?
Ethyl wills the insanity away with uncharacteristic determination. She reassures herself, This is something you can understand, the light of reason can make sense of this world. It is just a force like anything else.
She dodges the dodgy blood almost as an after thought.
Ethyl follows the floating river of blood to its source and tries to make sense of what is happening. She is careful to avoid touching the blood as she moves.
Deducting 1 pt sanity
Deducting 3 damage
Nyarai freezes in place. Her mind distant, her gaze confused. "No." she mutters under her shallow and hasty breath. Prompted by nothing in the hall, she bolts towards the bleeding door only to be pushed back by the crimson flow and ending up being slammed against the opposite wall. With her buttocks on the floor, she supports her torso to not go completely flat, and she grabs her temple, muttering to herself.
"It's their fault. They came for us. Plucked us from the fresh soil to tear off our leaves..."
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Following the flow of blood into the Dayroom, Alvar and Ethyl find the Dayroom. Worn old chairs and tables, many holding the scattered pieces of simple games lay scattered around the room. A serving hatch in the north wall opens into a darkened space beyond. Vast glass windows dominate the eastern walls, a jaundiced kaleidoscope swirling hypnotically outside. The excessive blood casts a coppery smell throughout the room.
Alvar realizes this is a haunt, and the source is seated in a wheelchair facing the amber-tinted windows. Approaching, you see an ancient woman with a crater in her chest, a horrified expression on her face, and the banner of blood rising from her chest wound into the air to flow now into the records' hallway. The amount of blood exceeds what a woman of her frail size should have conjured, and it shows no sign of slowing or stopping.
Enoch shakily stands. The blood soaked Paladin takes back up his sword, unsteadily Strides into the Day Room, sees the Old Fountain of Blood pouring ceaselessly from the old woman and promptly faints....
"Another haunt! I have an idea, so clear the way, if you will." With a quick chant and flicking of their many fingers, Alvar unleashes a ray from their hands at the wheelchair and its phantasmal occupant.
The blood roils and faces of the elderly woman manifest across the bubbling floating blood as the spell strikes the woman. It seems to flail at Alvar but doesn't make contact, merely making them flinch from the threat. .
"Haunts can be harmed by positive energy, right," Iosif says as he tries to get up off the floor.
Nyarai stops her muttering, and her head lifts as she scans everyone else in the party. Her gaze seems made of pure daggers, but she keeps her thoughts to herself as she clutches her shawl.
She then stands up and walks closer to the door to look inside at the source of the blood. Again, she frowns.
Nyarai stops her muttering, and her head lifts as she scans everyone else in the party. Her gaze seems made of pure daggers, but she keeps her thoughts to herself as she clutches her shawl.
She then stands up and walks closer to the door to look inside at the source of the blood. Again, she frowns.