Elyssa just manages to prevent herself from gasping in joy as the keys land safety in her grasp. Not wasting time, she moves to the lock of her group's collective cell and opens it... only to be left uncertain on what she should do now.
The madwoman seemed ignorant of the loss of her keys, which meant a sneak attack was possible. The young psychic also pondered whether she should try to negotiate with "doctor" only for another cruel laugh from her mind to make that idea seem worse than foolish.
In the end, she regretfully decides that the only to save the victim on the table is by using force. "You... you need to stop. Please," she says at first haltingly before putting more steel and power in her voice. "If you don't then I'll be forced to make you.
(Yes... yes. Show the strength of our Flesh. Of our Blood.)
As her cellmate slowly shows how completely barmy she is, Ethyl puts her hands up in a gesture that she hoped was placating. With only a hint of condescension Ethyl demands as quietly as she can manage, "Calm down. I don't know what it is you think I took."
Then Ethyl sees it, a nail in the wall, a glimmer of hope rose in her mind and she grasped at it desperately trying to work it out of the wall.
With her head still lowered, the sylph woman scratches her forearm nervously and with a few rapid head nods and a defeated "Mhm..."
Her curiosity overtakes her when the half-elf starts pulling a nail from the wall. The sylph looks up, observing her cell-mate at work. When the half-elf looks back at her, she lowers her head again nervously, oblivious to what is happening outside of their cell.
Alvar watches silently as the theft takes place, stepping silently back into the darker corners of their cell, where they lean back as though still sleeping. They allow their eyes to fall half-shut, carefully watching the woman lash out at the doctor - Scaen, they suppose. What... how did she do that? She didn't cast any spells that I'm familiar with... Despite the seriousness of the situation, Alvar feels their lips pull up in a smile. Something new to learn.
They settle in to wait, looking for the chance to hurl their own - mildly distracting at best - spell. Wait for it... wait for it... Now! They pull upon the spell burnt into their memory, trying to shape it into being, but the magic fails them, and they can't conjure the spray of acid that they hoped to create.
Scaen doesn't notice the escape. In fact, she barely registers Elyssa's demand, waving over her shoulder. "I believe I told you lot to shut u--ACK!"
The mind thrust and Iosif's thrown implement each strike . She whirls around, her face warped in rage--no, warping to take on Campre's face, distorted and stretched.
"HOW DARE YOU! I AM YOUR PHYSICIAN!"
Scaen drops whatever joke of a surgical tool she was carrying and her fingers extend into long grey talons. She and swings a claw at each of you through the bars .
Ethyl comments to no one in particular, "Too easy, a child could pick this lock. Why even bother using it." She takes the nail in hand and places the head in her fist with the sharp end protruding from between her index and middle finger. Then she sees the doctor transform and it shakes her a bit. A part of her mind screams at her, Run! Hide! Get out of here! The more rational part reasons, Where? The corner of a cell? Behind this woman?
Ethyl tries to steel herself against what she saw, her hand shake instead as she creeps closer to the doctor. She attempts to put the nail through the back of that thing’s throat.
Elyssa's jubilation at actually managing to get Scaen to turn away from its victim quickly turns back to fear as the creature rushes to slash her with its claws. While she's able to dodge the monster's attack, the sheer terror of nearly being mutilated almost causes her to suffer a panic attack.
(Weakling! Fool! Are you so useless that you cannot manage to fell even this pathetic pretender!)
Before Elyssa could even think of a denial, her body is once again not her own as the voice inside takes a hold of her power and summons up a psychic shield to protect them both.
The monstrous change Scaen undergoes shakes Elyssa, Ethyl, and Iosif quite a bid, already unnerved by their nightmare and lack of memories; Alvar and Nyarai shake it off, however, as if not so unfamiliar to them.
Scaen shrieks as Ethyl and Iosif strike her, her form warping into a grey, hairless, slender thing with wide green eyes and no mouth . The thing swings at Iosif and Ethyl, a strange warbling sound emitting from its core . However, it clearly wasn't expecting its victims to fight back so fiercely at its strikes fail to land as it's attacked from multiple sides.
"That's it, you lot!" Campre shouts viciously. "Gut that freak!"
Iosif grabs another tool and tosses it. "Whatever weapon I am missing. This is NOT IT," he says pretty panicked. Not calm, disoriented, and just overall not having a good time... so he ends up throwing an implement into the wall. "We're trying here! I don't know what my weapon of choice is, but a thrown weapon ISN'T IT!"
Alvar's eyes widen slightly at the sight of the doctor's rapid and sudden transformation, but they hold their nerves steady. Despite their confusion and lack of understanding of who they are, they get the sense they've seen worse things in their life.
Still, they can't help but wonder. What is that? Some sort of shapeshifter. Without their - What do I need? - without their amulet or talisman or whatever it was, they couldn't effectively wield their magic. And now she's in between me and whatever this monster is, so even if I could use my magic, it'd be even harder to hit that... thing.
"Step aside! I might be able to help!" Alvar calls, and focus their mind, readying themself to hurl a splash of acid should the half-elf step out from between the tiefling and their mutual foe. Unfortunately, the spell slips away from them, their fingers trailing through the arcane forces like it is mere water. The hellspawn hisses a curse in Infernal.
Ethyl regards Campre then the nail in her hand dripping with the creature’s blood. Her mind wandered a bit and considered that flesh metamorphosis was possible, what were the alchemical mechanisms and could they be applied to her own physiology. While the creature was clumsy, being able to transform her own hands into claws would be useful. Her mind hissed Danger! and Ethyl was brought back to the present, she stepped back at a claw swing. Maybe not so clumsy, she needed to be careful.
Ethyl dredged her amnesiac mind for any useful facts or details about this thing but her mind is still slow from her recent torpor.
Ethyl said to herself "Useless. She stepped back on her guard and saw a garden trowel on the table. She hated it and she had no idea why. Despite loathing the thing irrationally she picked it up and held it like a dagger.
With her body back under her control, Elyssa tries to aid her compatriots by gathering the broken glass from the floor with her mind. Before she launches the shards Scaen's way she tries again to talk the monster woman down. "You don't have to fight us," she pleads earnestly. "None of our minds are as they should be but if we work together than perhaps we can heal them and- ARGH!"
(NO! NO! NO! There will be no negotiation. You will destroy that worm or I will do it myself.)
Elyssa tries to resist the command and the spike of pain that fellows but the voice ultimately overtakes her yet again and soon the glass is sent flying towards Scaen.
So much for parley.
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The sylph looks at the grim scene outside her cell. She remains in safety behind the bars, but sees -something- attack the other prisoners. She contemplates the unfolding events and internally wishes for the safety of the attacked human woman from the creature. Her eyes go wide as she looks at the woman and lets out a quiet sob.
Protective Luck (Su): 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.
Cackle (Su): A witch can cackle madly as a move action. Any creature that is within 30 feet that is under the effects of an agony hex, charm hex, evil eye hex, fortune hex, or misfortune hex caused by the witch has the duration of that hex extended by 1 round. The creature must be able to hear the witch to be affected by the cackle.
The warbling shrieks of the creature mix with the clangs of its wailing on the bars and its former patients trying to defend themselves against it. It swings again, this time at Ethyl, finding no purchase on those hiding behind their imprisonment.
Its cackle mixes with Nyarai's, as it downs Ethyl in its fury.
"Come out of your cage now, duckies! Lest you want your knife-eared friend to bleed out."
It reaches for the keys on its coat, but panics and screams when it cannot find them.
"Curses! Where are those damned things?"
"I do not know much, but I know that dying to what amounts to pointy sticks is not something we want. I'll put you down properly once I find my weapon. No bleeding out, we'll put a hole through your morphic body," Iosif says, his voice brimming with anger. This is not how people are supposed to die!
"That should stabilize her," he says as he provides very, very shoddy first aid by ripping off part of the pajamas and wrapping it around the wounds. I... am I a healer? What?! That does not track! The only thing I remember in my dream are literal weapons of mass destruction!! And JOY from seeing their designs?! he thinks to himself as he is very, very confused.
The sylph breathes heavily and forces herself to move out of the cell. She stops just outside and now sees the hall in its entirety. She looks at the shapeshifting creature and the human man. Once again, she wishes for someone's safety and lets out an audible whimper that echoes through the area.
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"Gurgle"
The sight of Dr. Ethyl's pooling blood and deathly gurgling noises causes Elyssa to seize up for a moment. Something not even worthy of being called a memory seems to flash in her mind. Another place, another time, but blood is the constant. Crimson ichor being everywhere in sight.
The very thought of it has Elyssa close her eyes tight and start mumbling to herself. "No, no, no, no, no. Not again. I don't want to see it again."
(You don't have to, sheath. Let me emerge for a spell and I will make all the blood go away. You just have to give in.)
Something in the pit of Elyssa's soul practically begs her to say no but the horror all around her and the bloody half-memory in her mind causes her to do the exact opposite.
"Ok."
And with that invitation, Elyssa lets out a bloodcurdling scream that seems to break her very mind as the presence there surges forth like a tide and devours her completely. While her mind drowns, Elyssa's body shifts and contorts, her veins turn black, and her eyes take on a sickly yellow that seems to glow in the dark.
With its transformation done, Elyssa, over whatever is currently wearing her body gives Scaen a piercing stare and a foul smile as it summons a lance of dark psychic power to pierce her wild mind.
Scaen shrieks more in surprise than pain as Elyssa's dark side emerges and lances Scaen's mind. It whirls back at Elyssa, and a mouth appears like a finger dragged through grey clay.
"Ah, YOU are the little thief! I will enjoy plucking your feathers."
Scaen steps into the cell with Elyssa, one hand closing the door behind it but not locking it.
"Let us dance, ugly duckling."
Alvar lets out a soft hiss of breath as the half-elf falls before their cell, and they kneel as though to reach out to her, then pause as Iosif arrives at her side to stabilize her and stop her from bleeding out. "Hello." They say with what they feel is admirable calm, under the circumstances. "I don't mean to tell you what to do, but-"
Their eyes shoot wide open at the other woman's dramatic transformation. "Seriously, am I the only one who can't somehow transform here?!" If I were a transmuter- huh. Guess I know what I'm not, at least.
Alvar steps slightly to the side, hooves tapping softly on the floor, and draw upon what magic they can. This is getting too dangerous now. I have to risk it. This time, they are finally able to get their spell to function as it ought to, and summon a patch of greasy fluid on the floor nearby to the transformed doctor.
Then, they study the doctor carefully, trying to identify what exactly she is, now that there's a bit more of a chance to do so.
Scaen cackles as it steps into the cell with Elyssa, but it didn't notice Alvar's spell and slips on the conjured grease, falling prone with a yelp.
"Hm, demonic Abyssal" Iosif says as he runs away. He has no clue what he's searching for due to the memory loss, but he's certain that at the very least how to use it will come back to him once he finds it.
Iosif runs deeper into the basement, glancing about for anything that might be familiar. He looks to the south and sees a massive furnace, beyond which a pile of satchels and sacks look promising. However, it is what is in the northwest corner that catches his eye and breath.
Sticking out of the cabinet in that corner someone had attempted to store a long metallic object that couldn't fit within its confines. The candle and lantern light flicker off the polished metal tube, decorated with engravings of gears, thunderclouds, and marching ants. A whiff of sulfur in the rush of his passing hurls flashes of recognition into his mind.
Iosif knows what it is. It is an ingenious invention, a lethal creation, his weapon.
The thing currently wearing Elyssa's skin seems mildly annoyed by the Scaen's resilience to its psychic attack but is hardly scared when the shifter approaches the cell. That cold bravado turns into wild, mad mirth that is unnervingly out of place coming from Elyssa's body when Scaen slips on the grease suddenly below them and falls on their arse.
Once their demonic screed is over, the entity once more conspires Elyssa's psychic might and blasts it into the mind of the fallen shifter.
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Scaen thrashes on the greased floor of the cell, trying to stand back up as it grasps the bars, but the next mind thrust strikes deeper this time and blood leaks from its eyes as it flounders.
"Damn you, don't you laugh at me!" Scaen shrieks and tries to slash at Darklyssa with its claws from where it lies. However, the psychic dances away from the flailing doppelganger's attacks, laughing harder at the pitiful display.
.
Turn 5
The syplhs lets out an echoing chuckle as the shapeshifter falls on it's back before moving towards the unconscious half-elf.
Turn 6
She then follows up with hesitantly reaching for the unconscious body on the ground, almost stopping herself from touching the woman. "Wake up. You need to tell me where you hid my veil before you pass on." and she chuckles to herself as the sound carries throughout the area.
Alvar sighs deeply as Iosif rushes off, then shoots a glare at the doppelgänger. "Flee now, or..." They grope for any threat that might be believable. "Or you will face even greater powers!" The hellspawn shouts, projecting as much menace as they can into their bluff. Even as the words emerge from their mouth, they wince. A child wouldn't believe that.
Whatever the response, they weigh their chances of hitting the prone doctor with a spell, then shake their head. No chance. Even if I could make it happen, I won't be able to hit her through the bars of both cells.
Their shoulders droop slightly and they look at the women in front of their cage. "Would you kindly help me get out of here?" They ask, already resigned to the fact that the pair probably won't do so.
"Now, what we need is the ammunition,"
Iosif Frantically switches between languages while searching, hoping to find at the very least, some ammunition to go with the musket. A bonus would be the tiefling's bonded object, if they really are a wizard.
Assuming he finds them, he turns around and speaks to the Doppelganger. "Now is your last chance to flee," he says with a hint of mania in his voice.
Continuing to laugh at Scaen's rather fortunate run of bad luck, the Entity (or Darklyssa if you prefer) was again launches a cruel beam of psychic power straight into the prone creature's ailing head.
Ethyl, while unconscious, mumbles, "A wet cloth... to filter out the fog." She twists and turns painfully trying in vain to wake from a nightmare but her body not letting her do so.
Scaen howls in pain as another lance of pain pierces its head, blood flowing like tears from its greenish alien eyes. It weeps, a gurgling sound that almost elicits pity from those that can hear it. Scaen holds its bloody claws over its face, as if trying to ward off further attacks.
"No more, please, no more. I yield, duckies, I yield."
Iosif finds a pouch with segments filled loosely with bullets, cartridges, and a sulfur-smelling powder with the musket in the cabinet. However, he finds nothing else there, perhaps in that pile next to the furnace?
Alvar suspects Nyarai is an arcane caster, and the power in her cackle makes them belief she is a witch. A dark tower, the heat of flame, and a charred corpse flashes in the tiefling's mind at the revelation. Ethyl's unconscious mind flutters back to a vision of being dragged into a coffin by unforgiving hands, pain barely keeping her from fading away. Nyarai feels naked without her veil, but vindicated that her powers remain.
"Do not spare that thing!" Campre howls, straining against his bonds. "Finish it off, kill it!"
Hearing the cries of surrender, he gives up his search for the bonded item. He moves to a comfortable spot where he can see between the bars, and steadies his musket.
"What's to say you won't regroup and attack later? You're vivisecting people, and crudely at that. Doubtful you're trying to gain knowledge by doing so."
She seems unstable. Alvar notes, their eyes narrow. She wouldn't struggle to escape any bonds we could manage to put together... but she might know who we are. They glance at the man on the table, then at the half-elf woman - Is her name... E-... It starts with an E. Ethlyn? Maybe not. They shake their head. Whatever the case, Scaen took her out too easily for me to trust any ties we make... or anything else.
Once again they are nearly overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the gaping wound where their memory ought to be, their stomach dropping to somewhere around their heels. What if I can never remember anything? Will all that I was disappear, a ghost of a past life of some other person? They clench their jaw. No. No surrender to despair. We have much to do now. Focus on the present.
"I don't trust her." They finally say. "A creature who can transform like that is a tremendous risk, and with her strength, she could break any bonds we have here." It wouldn't be difficult to kill and replace any one of us... except perhaps myself and... They look at the sylph, and the name arrives. Nyarai?
"Although..." He looks at the woman currently in the cage with the "good doctor." "Come out and lock her in there. That will make this easier." Yes. That feels right. As right as anything does, now.
The sylph looks at the man with the firearm, then back at the shapeshifter, and back at the man with the firearm again. She nods several times, indicating acceptance of what he plans to do. She whispers under her breath, as if mentally nudging him, and the wind carries the words "Enough savagery. End it." into the man's ear. If he looks back at her, she gestures towards the lacerated man strapped to the table.
The Entity gives the pleading Scaen a wide wolfish grin that looks altogether unnatural on Elyssa's face before flicking its demonic eyess Campre's way. It gives the man a grotesque simulation of empathy. "Oh you have nothing to fear, dear fellow. I mean to thoroughly gut this mewling creature and make a cloak of its skin. A fine act of justice given your own tribulation, wouldn't you sa-ARGH!"
The Entity takes Elyssa's head into her stolen hands and reels as something fights to regain control. "Stupid, stupid, sheath. You dare interfere. You wanted this! You cannot back out now!"
But it appears Elyssa can. With one powerful thrust of will she did not know she possessed she manages to drag the evil presence back into the far reaches of her mind.
Despite her flushness and sheer exhaustion, she manages to quickly make an argument. "W-we, we can't kill her. Please. You don't even know what she is. She may not have true control over her actions. Like..." she trails off for a moment before regaining her conviction. "The tiefling is right. Locking her up is the way. Iomedae would call it just."
"... I am not an Iomedaean, I can remember that much, but...," Iosif says, clutching the empty void his unholy symbol would fill, "we at the very least need our means of defense, and to make sure she can't escape." He then lowers his musket a little, still uncertain. "Make sure there's nothing that can be used as thieves' tools, too."
"Get out of there, first." Alvar urges Elyssa sharply. "I did not say we ought to spare her. It was merely a way to keep you safe while we decide what to do with her. I, for one-" They lower their voice. "Well, I'd like to be let out of this cell, but that's beside the point." Raising it again, they continue with utter seriousness. "I want to know what she knows about me."
They cast a quick glance at the others, save the man strapped to the table. "About us, even. It seems to me that we're all quite confused... lost... imprisoned... and in line to be tortured." They look down at the half-elf outside their cage. "Ah, and if anyone could, we should wake her up. She deserves to hear this, too."
The doppelganger, at the prospect of being locked up, screams in fear and fury.
"NO! I was a patient here for too long! I am the cure! I will not be a prisoner again!"
Scaen rises to its feet and goes to claw at Elyssa. However, Iosif was ready for this and fires his musket through the bars into Scaen's head. The roar is deafening in the dungeon, the flash of the barrel dazzling, and the gore paints both Elyssa and the wall behind her. The body of the doppelganger collapses into a heap, the grey ichor further staining the doctor's coat. The echo of the gunshot rings in your ears for a moment, then the dungeon falls eerily silent.
Campre stares in awe at Iosif, whistling. "That is a handy tool there, sir. Anyone care to get me and the hellspawn out of our bonds?"
For several seconds, Elyssa remains absolutely still as Scaen's blood drips from her body. She wants to scream but knows that if she does then bits of the shifter may end up dropping into her a mouth, a prospect that nearly sends her stomach into a convulsion.
(See? See?! A wasted effort. You should have let me skin her. Now all that flesh is wasted.)
Elyssa ignores the taunt. The dark presence is still weak after her return and she has little desire to listen its abuse. Instead, she slowly and calmly removes the blood and gore on her face with her sleeve and proceeds to make her way to the still captured Campre. "Forgive us for not freeing you sooner, ser," she says stoically, obviously still in shock, as she tries to use the key she stole from Scaen to open his bonds.
Regardless of whether the key works or not, Elyssa asks the obvious question that everyone surely wants answered. "Please. Can you tell us where we are and how we got here? And do you know who we are?"
"I am a weaponsmith, that much I can remember... but she did grab the key. I don't remember much either, so anything you could give would help," Iosif says as he goes to drag the sacks and satchels to the center of the room they're currently in. "I don't know whose gear is whose, but hopefully it either jogs memories or we can use it."