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Zinli manages to overcome her nausea. She's smelled worse in her long life.
"I mean, yeah, we're all going to die. That's the point," she says dismissively. "Hopefully not today, though."
She does try to grab Trevor's arm as they make their way to the morgue - but nothing comes out of her hand save for unpleasant heat. "S%$#. I don't think I have any juice left. Rekkart?"
As Neronius moves away from the entrance of the chamber the room darkens, but the light from the opposite room flickers casting long shadows from your bodies in the hallway. Before Neronius gets to the stairs the clock tolls once again Gong you might be thinking that this couldn’t have been an hour yet, but things don’t work as you’d expect in this place.
Gong, and with a slam you hear a metal door being flung open from within the chamber. Gong instantly another Gong followed by another metal door clattering open. Gong… Gong another metal door. By the time the 11th toll of the clock rings a total of five metal doors opened in the morgue.
Five lumbering cadavers, three human, one elf, and one halfling, stumble into view, moaning piteously as they crawled out of their slabs. Each one wears a rotting noose around its twisted broken neck.
Madge suddenly gasp as she looks at the halfling zombie in the middle of the pack. Tears glisten in her eyes and her lips tremble. “Daddy?” she whispers as she rushes forward toward the hungry dead with her arms stretched wide to embrace the moldering halfling. “I’ve missed you!” as she embraces her father.
Initiative: Round 1
Tolbold
NPCs
Neronius
Rekkart
Zombies
Trevor
Zinli
Initiative
.
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Tobold sighs Why couldn't Neronius gone in there first? He then throws a bolt of positive energy at one of the zombies that he can see.
"I should have a bit of healing left, yes," Rekkart replies to Zinli as he reaches out to Trevor with a hand shrouded in holy magic, "It's not much but it should keep you on your feet a bit longer."
He quickly turns around as he hears Madge's comments, "No, you fool, get back!" he shouts, "That thing isn't your father! Not anymore!"
Once Trevor is healed up, Rekkart follows Madge into the morgue.
Neronius inches a touch closer, holding up the torch so he can see these creatures.
Tolbold fires off a ray of positive energy that strikes one of the zombies within view . The attack looks like it was critically effective
After healing Trevor with a Lay on Hands Rekkart moves into the room blade ready. Neronius investigates the room and notices that these are indeed zombies. None look familiar to him but it appears that Madge recognizes one to be her father that passed many years ago.
Madge embraces her father and the zombie embraces her back and you hear crunching of bones as her body goes limp and lifeless in its arms.
The other zombies lumber forward to Rekkart who is blocking the door, but he is on the inside now surrounded by these creatures.
Initiative: Round 1
Tolbold
NPCs
Neronius
Rekkart
Zombies
Trevor
Zinli
Hearing the crunching of Madge's bones seems to be the last straw for Trevor's frayed psyche. Another one! We are going to be next because we're already dead and this is hell!!!!
Trevor laughs a broken mad laugh and splashes around the room, prevented from fleeing due to the hall being blocked by the others.
"Rekkart! I think you need to move out! It's too dangerous! Just get outta here and close the door!" Zinli cries out, making room for the paladin to exit the room. She reloads her gun.
Trevor is having a break in his mind and begins flapping in the water while Zinli moves to clear space while reloading
Initiative: Round 2
Tolbold
NPCs
Neronius
Rekkart
Zombies
Trevor
Zinli
Rekkart grits his teeth, sighing in frustration at Madge's avoidable demise. He nods to Zinli in response to her suggestion.
"Alright, everybody upstairs. If they manage to break down the door, we can bottleneck them at the top of the stairwell."
With bloodshot eyes streaming tears, Trevor darts up the stairs while muttering and sobbing.
Rekkart carefully moves away from being surrounded and pulls the door shut with him. You can hear the zombies from within banging against the door, but fortunately for everyone zombies are not smart enough to work doors.
Unless anyone does something otherwise, you are all able to retreat upstairs.
Collecting yourselves next to the holding cells you look around and see five others. The weight of losing six others is starting to stack up as Trevor’s mind is starting to slip. For those who were in the waters below, the coolness of your camp clothes makes you shiver.
Zinli exhales deeply. "We're not gonna go far if we're all wounded and can't even heal ourselves. I think we need a rest if we want to make it."
Once everyone is back up. Trevor huddles on the floor and rocks back and forth.
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep a wink in this accursed place," says Neronius. "But I wouldn't say no to one of those healing potions, Tobold."
"Rekkart and Sveth should have some too," Zinli glances at Trevor. "I don't think Trev can help us much now."
"Sooo. What's the plan? Personally, I'd say I have enough powder left to make a big boom. Especially with that whiskey we found earlier. You guys ever heard of a Molotov?"
"Yes, a healing potion would be quite welcome at the moment," Rekkart confirms as he peers down the stairwell, making sure the zombies haven't broken through, sheathing his blade and turning back to the group when it becomes apparent they aren't being followed.
"What exactly do you plan on exploding?" he questions, raising an eyebrow at Zinli's idea.
Looking down the stairs, Rekkart sees no signs of undead following them. Actually, he no longer hears the sound of them slamming against the door.
Sveth paces in the walkway between cells. “Ah, ah, ah” he says swaying a finger; “Sveth only has his trusty cane after you all decided to strip me of all my belongings.” he tosses the cane in the air with one hand while catching it with the other. He kneels beside Trevor; “Poor soul, not everyone is capable of handling difficult situations. The stress really does get to people you know.” standing back up he continues his pacing.
All of you hear a commotion coming from the great hall. It sounds like arguing and fighting?
You got this because you brought up a specific clue. You also believe that not only would the rightful killer calm Mord’s spirit, but any willing soul that would be a sacrifice to hang would also end the curse.
Tolbold takes out a potion and hands it to Rekkart and then walks over to Sveth and hands him one as well. He looks up as the sound interrupts him and says "What now?"
When the group leaves, Trevor will follow them, hugging himself and muttering.
Rekkart nods in appreciation as Tolbold hands him a potion. Without delay, he removes the bottle's stopper and downs its contents.
He furrows his brow as the noise from the main hall becomes apparent. Looking around to see everyone else's reaction, he asks, "Do you all hear that too?"
"What exactly do you plan on exploding?"
"Anything that'd make the biggest boom, really. I got a kit. Get me a bottle with alcohol in it and some kinda cloth, and I can make something work out with whatever chlorate I have left."
"Honestly, I'm starting to think Mord doesn't really care who's swinging on the damn rope. He's kinda on a spree to kill us all. Maybe anyone would do..."
Zinli pauses, overhears the arguing, sighs, and raises her gun. "What now? Let's go check it out."
Drinking a potion, Rekkart feels better and ready to go.
Zinli thinks that she could easily make a weapon out of the alcohol bottles exactly as designed.
Once the party is ready they move towards the great hall. Gong…
Gong… You look in and see an old man with a sizable paunch staggering backward as he defends himself from a tall, lean opponent with a full beard and a flashing blade to match his intense blue eyes. Gong… Their rapiers clang and cast silvery sparks as the tall man adjusts his black top hat gallantly and launches another barrage of thrusts, disengages, and riposetes. Gong… Gong… The heavier man’s silver goatee and drooping moustache drip beads of sweat while his green eyes show terror and strain as he barely turns aside the assault. Gong… Gong… A final feint on the part of the tall bearded man opens a gash in the fat man’s arm. Gong… Gong… He stumbles backward, turns his ankle with a painful yelp and falls hard on the flagstone floor of the Great Hall. Gong… Gong… Gong… The clock rings midnight…
Trevor stares intently at the two as they fight. When the large man is slashed and falls, he starts chuckling. Another sacrifice for the ghost's revenge! No zombies or ghost though, just cold steel! hahaha!
Rekkart stares at the scene before him, with an expression somewhere between confusion and annoyance, "So is this another of the curse's illusions, or did these two manage to somehow duel their way through the front door?" he mutters.
He gives a quick glare at Trevor as he continues his ranting. Sighing, he tries to reason with him, "Settle down, friend; that sort of attitude won't help anything."
"Only one way to know," Zinli casts a spell. The loud noise of fireworks echo in the room - though none can be seen. It's unexpected enough that any man caught unaware would probably be startled. But not illusions.
Seeing the rest of the group observing Tobold steps forward a bit after the fireworks go off and shout "Hey! What's going on here?"
Startled by the sudden realization that they are not alone, the man in the top hat takes a step away from the heavyset man that is laying on the floor. Blade still defensive but no longer drawn toward anyone; “Who are you? What are you doing here? Don’t you know this place is dangerous?” he says with a concerned smile.
“Wade you weasel!” he struggles to get up using one of the large columns in the great hall. Dusting off his pants he sees his blade on the ground and grunts as he bends over to pick it up. “First you threaten me with lies and then you attempt to blackmail me with this!” he produces a letter that is crumpled in an angry fist.
.
"I believe we should be the ones asking you two that question, sir," Rekkart replies to the man, crossing his arms. He briefly glances at the rounder man whilst listening to his complaints.
"Wade, eh?" he cocks an eyebrow at the name, turning his attention back to the bearded man, "Alastir Wade, perhaps?"
Why arn't you here to die with us as part of a ghost's vengeance? We were all summoned because we are guilty, either directly or indirectly of a foul misjustice. So many of us have fallen already and no doubt it won't be long before all of us are bound here in death.
"Oh, look. Not an illusion. Weirdly enough."
"Yeah, this place's dangerous alright. How the f%*@ did you get in? We've never found a way out."
"Spoiler alert: you might be stuck here with us from now on. Don't wanna be a downer, but this courtroom has proven pretty f%!*ing lethal for anyone who tried to run off."
Wade’s eyes narrow on the letter that is crumpled in the plump man’s hand, but his attention is drawn back to the group as Rekkart brings up his name; “I am he. If you know my name, then you know the reputation I carry in this community. This urchin has tried to blackmail me with this letter.” the tall man in the top hat pulls free a letter on similar looking paper as the other man.
Looking over Alastir Wade you notice that there is a spot in his beard that grows oddly. It looks as if there is a scar looks to be the remains of an old slash to the face.
Rekkart stares at the two gentlemen, glancing at the letters each of them carry before turning to Sveth, "Was this also your doing?" he asks dryly.
"Ah, this night will never end!" exclaims Neronius with frustration. He knows something vital is lurking just outside his perception, but he can't put his finger on it.
"What letter? We didn't get a letter!" Zinli glares at Sveth.
"Alastir Wade," Alastir Wade reads, holding the letter close in the dim hall, "That horrible miscarriage of justice has weighed dearly on my mind. For years, I have kept silent, but I can no longer. I must report you to the high magistrate." There is a fury in Alistar's eyes, a hard light that glints like the tip of his rapier. "Unless you bring me one thousand gold. Come to the place where we did the deed, alone. Only your gold can keep me silent." The tall man frowns. His deep voice resonates off the serpentine staircases; you have no doubt that he is indeed a skilled barrister. "Remember, I know exactly what you are. Signed, Trabe" He scoffs loudly, aghast at the words he's read.
"I always thought there was something crooked about the executioner's trial, but I never thought you would stoop to try something such as this, Judge Trabe. The cost of prostitutes must be high indeed, to make you so desperate for a little coin." Alastir holds his note out in one hand, and anyone who takes it can see that it is as he read.
"Ah, so there are the ones responsible for Mord's hanging, after all. I guess we do have a possible way out."
"Who's gonna tell them?"
"Miscarriage of justice?" Rekkart feigns ignorance, raising an eyebrow in intrigue, "Care to elaborate on that?"
Tolbold looks at Sveth and asks "Is this more of your doing as well?"
Neronius watches the conversation carefully, trying to weigh truth and lies.
"Miscarriage of justice? Care to elaborate on that?"
Judge Trabe frowns at Alastir. "That urchin had the better part in sentencing an innocent man to death!"
"I believe it was your hand that held the gavel, Judge Trabe," Alastir counters. "Surely there are records which would indicate that he presided over the trial. Shall we search for them?" He looks around at each of you.
"I can't take credit for this," Sveth says quietly, surveying the two with an air of superiority. "I have heard that a spider can become caught in it's own web." You're fairly sure he's telling the truth, though he's proven deceitful before.
Tolbold ignores Wade and looks at the judge "Why don't you tell us about it. You just might make it out of here alive."
Trevor seems to have this thousand yard stare as the people talk. His supposed keen investigative mind has seemingly fled.
"It was a travesty," Trabe says, "and one not soon forgotten." Stooping, the heavyset judge picks up a small bag that he must have been carrying before his duel with Alastir. "But you must know, I didn't write that letter! I am many things, but I've never been called a blackmailer before." Judge Trabe holds a letter in his other hand, "I received this note myself, written by the very snake that stands before you. Why the hell would I write two notes?"
He holds out the note for your inspection. It is much the same as the one Alastir read, threatening to report Mord's mistrial to the authorities and demanding a thousand gold in exchange for silence.
The handwriting on this letter does not match the handwriting from the moneylender's journal, which you know was written by Alastir. This can only mean that Alastir did not, in fact, write this letter to Trabe.
Trevor is too addled to focus on the letter
Zinli knows way more about weapons than about calligraphy. "A note, huh?" She turns to Sveth. "Did you write that?"