Enoch prods the body, seeing clearly that it was a corpse. However, as the tip of the blade prodded the corpse something inside it writhed. The hands lunged up at Enoch and Nyarai, the head shrieking and trying to bite at them. Enoch notices that the hands and head are acting on their own, the corpse is being dragged by the three body parts. The corpse is pulled slightly from under the rubble, not far but it might come loose.
"Undead?" Alvar scowls. "If I'd known we were going to be faced with undead, I'd've... No matter." They lift their hands, chanting a quick spell to hurl a burst of acid at the head, but the splatter goes wide.
Iosif takes careful aim to avoid sending someone to their afterlife (none of them are destined for Abaddon, so it'd be pointless), and fires a shot at the head.
Ethyl picks her way around the rubble, getting into an optimal position and then strikes.
The obviously emotionally stable Tortured Crusader barely lets out a shard....
Enoch places two shaking hands on his battered longsword and positions into a Flank with Ethyl by purely honest reflexes.
One may purely think that the close vicinity that a rather loud musket sounded would be the cause for his....state...but...
A hand emerges from nowhere and slashes the sylph. In return, she yelps and retreats further back, her eyes wide in terror. "No... Stay away! At least let us have a name to mark the grave properly!"
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You would be correct. Edited.
Alvar's acid splash misses due to melee, and as Ethyl moves into position Iosif's musket obliterates the head. Ethyl instead strikes at the [green] hand with flanking, barely striking it as Enoch holds its "attention" while he misses even with the flanking bonus.
From the cavity that was the head sprouts a mass of writhing viscera that lashes out at Ethyl attempting to entangle her.
The hands come loose from the corpse's wrist and now crawl about freely. The [green] one crawls at Enoch, attempting to claw his unarmored leg while the [red] one dashes at Iosif to do the same.
Sputtering and spitting as the creepy green hand crawls and scratches away, Enoch attempts to swing!
Fumbling into a further severed hand, the Tortured Crusader pukes.
Ethyl tries cut away the entrails as they wrap around her legs. She yells, "Damnit!" both being bound by the disgusting undead organs and being scratched by the crawling claw.
Ethyl gripped by undead organs. Crawling hands... they can try to suffocate even creatures larger than them. Not a good thing... but they have to get very close. Makes it even harder to hit them with a spell... and risks hitting my fellows. They grimace, summoning their warding magic and advancing to allow it to protect their close-fighting counterparts. A jolt of pain surges up their leg as they step onto the rubble, but they force their way past it, focusing as best they can.
Ethyl sees an opening when the hand tries to move and she presses the advantage.
Iosif tries to bat the hand that missed at him back... and fails miserably.
Iosif takes a five foot step back, fires at the (green) hand in front of him, then shoves another alchemical cartridge down his musket as fast as he possibly can.
It was a mad scramble, shouts of pain and alarm, the fire of the musket, the beheaded's shrieking. However, it was a brief scramble as all the undead moving about are slain. Ethyl remains entangled in the foul bloody entrails of the corpse, but anyone can move and cut her free once the combat is over.
Enoch, as he first observed the corpse, noticed a string of pearls around the woman's neck. Now the jewelry is slick with stale blood, painting the once ivory necklace ruby.
All that remains at this end of the hall seems to be the western door.
Iosif decidedly doesn't cut the entrails, he has nothing sharp enough to cut them with, and instead begins to check the collapse... before realizing what a horrible idea it is to investigate it. "This... we best not move any of this collapse right here. It will only worsen unless done very specifically, and we don't have the time to puzzle out the exact physics and engineering needed to clear it."
Serendipitously wiping his mouth on his not as clean as it formally once was (one hopes) sleeve, Enoch swallows.
Nightmares while awake really are unnerving. Let me help you, Ethyl.
With the precision of Edward Scissorshands, the Tortured Crusader easily prunes the Doctor's restraints.
Enoch's blue eyes fall on the stained necklace with only sorrow before he turns them to the group.
We have a few injuries adding up to our being less effective in the likelihood of further....encounters. Is there a Doctor in this madhouse? I feel like I may have some skill in First Aid, but, I lack the tools.
Ethyl picks up the necklace from the corpse without consideration for the dead or a proper owner, "Delightful! Just need to wash them and they will sparkle." She turns on her heels while holding them to her neck and says with a wink, "What do you think Iosif? Do they suit me?"
She turns to Enoch, "Sorry my dear. I'm not that kind of doctor. Although maybe I could stitch some of those wounds together if I had proper disinfectant, a needle, and decent thread." She gazes at Nyarai expectantly.
"I'm in the same boat as the Wanderer, lacking tools other than ripping clothes to stop bleeding." Oddly enough, Iosif isn't really opposed to people... dying, it's just the thought of people dying by swords and shields and sticks and stones that causes him to want to heal others. That... unnerves him slightly.
Iosif says somewhat unenthusiastically, but it's hard to tell behind the man's normal tone of voice. "They look fine on you. They... remind me of something, though I'm unsure what"
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"What?" the sylph meets Ethyl's gaze. "What's with the glare?" She looks at the now inanimate body parts on the floor, then back to Ethyl, to Enoch, and at her scratched foot. "We're not a bottomless pit of magics, you know." she snaps in an abrupt burst of spite, then deflates again, lowering her gaze to the floor.
"Apologies. It's just fear and frustration. We will try to help."
Alvar looks over the newly re-dead, sighing. "Calm, please. We're all, as the young lady says, under a great deal of stress." They scan their surroundings thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, there wasn't a doppelgänger here... and there was an undead. Or several, I suppose." The wizard considers for a few moments. "It seems strange that the corpse wouldn't animate as a whole, but rather in four pieces... but the significance of that, if any, escapes me."
They take a single wary glance at the door, then fold their hands. A zoog, doppelgängers, and undead, to say nothing of the giant rats. This seems a very unlikely set of creatures, save for the last, which could simply indicate the sanitarium staff were ill-suited to cleaning up... Given our treatment, that wouldn't surprise me. However, setting those aside, there's... no real connection - wait. Perhaps... nightmares? No. Still not enough pieces of the puzzle to make any conclusions. Infuriating.
"How much do you injures hinder you, Ethyl, Wanderer?" Something about the title bothers them - it feels nigglingly familiar, but not quite right. "The rest of us are better off further away from the battle, but you two are oft in the thick of things."
Ethyl makes a sour face at Nyarai's comment but wisely doesn't escalate. Careful. Stay on that one's good side.
Ethyl looks at herself in her new mirror, "Nothing a bath and some rest won't clear up my dear." She mumbles while picking at her hair, "Wish that bleach wasn't spilled."
"Just a momentary lapse. We shall be fine." the sylph grips her shawl, looking around the group as she does mental math.
Enoch stands silently while his new peers converse about supplies, limited use abilities and hair style trends.