Another bird appears and attacks the doctor, who turns around to kill it. Covered in blood from her outburst and wounds, she looks around, crazed. "WHO IS DOING THAT? W... WHO... W..." She then flees towards a side passage and you hear a door opening. The smell of carrion increases significantly.
The man with the keys, despite his shaking hands, manages to open the door of his cell. The tortured man lies still as his blood pools amid the doctor's improvised tools.
The cell door swings open… Mael glances at the doctor’s implements hoping to see a useful weapon in the lot. Howevere, that’s not his immediate goal. He quietly slides across to the other cell door and works to unlock it. He huddles over the lock, in case the freaky bird attacks him.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Shaken – -2 on ATTs, saves, skills, and ability checks
No actual weapons can be found nearby and, while the man unlocks the second cell, the doctor disappears in the dark corridor.
"I.. thought I... pardon," He stumbles out of his cell.
He heads to the tortured man to see if he lives still and can be helped.
The tortured man lies dead, unfortunately, likely from shock or blood loss. Now outside the cell, it is possible to see that the room continues west.
Aside from the bloody tools on the ground, there is a sack by the east passage.
The man who unlocked the doors can see into the dark room the doctor fled, seeing what seems to be corpses on the floor.
Vrek begins to curse under his breath, "Can't save him dead is dead but I wanted to save him and there are costs and you only have so many people and so much time and I have to give the orders to decide who gets tended first but the army is gone so there's no one to give orders too so I can save even less people so more blood flows and then stills and here we are with a corpse, damn damn damn."
The rough-looking man glances at ‘the talker’ for a moment. Right. He’s checked out. No help there.
He takes a quick inventory: no weapons, no memories, no idea how to get out. That left him with fists, a fork, a ring of keys, determination, and brains… to handle the psychotic doctor and whatever ‘staff’ she has. Not exactly a fair fight.
He pockets the keys and moves to check the sack cautiously, hoping to find something useful and not the severed head of the doc's last 'patient'.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Shaken – -2 on ATTs, saves, skills, and ability checks
Still horrified, Vaelith shrinks back as Maelcolm works to unlock their cell. He waits for the muscular woman to exit first, but summons the courage to speak up to his potential allies.
"I...I summoned the birds...can do it one more time, but...she killed them so quickly..."
Mael pauses in his search of the sack, sits back on heels, and regards the elf for a moment. ”That was you? Nice work with those birds.” he says with genuine admiration. ”Unless you’re keen to meet that ‘doctor’ again, you should probably get out of that cage. Our best bet is to not be here when she comes back.” Motivation dispensed, the man gets back to poring over the contents of the sack.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Shaken – -2 on ATTs, saves, skills, and ability checks
The elf's dark grey eyes flare in a look of pure panic at mention of the doctor's return.
Stumbling franticly, he hurries though the cell door and into the hallway.
In an effort not to look too closely at the mangled and rapidly cooling corpse on the slab, Vaelith glances at the living.
I remember you...from before...the nightmare...it must have been a nightmare, but how?...all my memories are jumbled up...
Vrek (Though he may not know that) looks over at the others "What are we talking about? Oh yes, we need to get out of here. Where ever here is. I'm sorry, I'm normally more... together? I think that was normal .. once. What do you need me to do?"
Inside the sack, the man finds an assortment of coins, simple jewelry, and a single glass vial filled with a light blue liquid.
The woman seems surprised as the doctor scrambles out of her grasp and flees. She rattles the bars of her cell and growls, up until one of the escaped humans comes to let her out. This breaks her from the spell that had taken her, and she shakes her head and looks around. She glances towards the elf who seems to rush past him and out into the hall. Composing herself, she turns her head towards the tall man, ”thank you for freeing me. I apologize, I tried to save that man - but my efforts were for naught. He is dead?” The woman’s accent is different from others, but while she does not speak with authority, she seems to have recovered her faculties relatively well, seemingly less stricken by fear than the others. Her eyes glance towards the blood and gore on the table, and she does not seem to be particularly put-out by it, as if she seems used to it.
She returns to looking at at her rescuer, her lower face covered by the linen shawl. The man can see her mouth moving underneath the cloth as she speaks, ”I remember … little of my time before this. I recall seeing you,” and she gestures towards everyone, ”in a dream, yes? But before this, little.” She seems pained, however, at what she does remember, and her large, expressive eyes seem to convey information in bursts of emotion. She flexes her muscles, as if testing them, and rubs her shoulder where she slammed into the bars, moving into a stretch, and she finally cracks her knuckles, which seem heavily scarred. ”I will aid you, should you have me. You may call me Veil, if you wish.”
Leaving the confined cell, Veil notices that the room they are are bigger than she had expected. Towards the door the doctor fled, she sees a pile of corpses against a wall, and, on the opposite direction, a collapsed tunnel, but also come barrels and a small cupboard.
The stench of rotting bodies now is very evident.
Veil…why does that sound vaguely familiar? If only I could…why is my mind so muddled?
Far too frightened to pay close attention to his companions, the white-haired elf mumbles.
”I don’t…my name…”
He pauses, searching in vain. Then he settles on a similar descriptive moniker.
”You can call me Summoner, I suppose. Anyone see another way out of this horrid hole?”
The man pulls the stopper from the vial, touches the rim to collect a tiny drop of the fluid, then runs it between his finger and smells it. His mood improves. ”It’s a healing draught. Don’t ask me how I know, but I’m sure. Guess we can afford to make one mistake.” He replaces the stopper and hands the vial to ‘Veil’ since she just introduced herself. The less useful goods (unless they need to bribe someone) he tosses into a jacket pocket.
“He is dead?”
The man tries to ground himself in hard truths, hoping it will help to shake the fog from his mind. ”Yeah. He ain’t sleeping, sister.”
From the murmurs in the room, all of them are having memory problems. Might as well address that elephant. ”My memory is gone, too. And I guess we shared that nightmare – or hallucination. I’m thinking we’ve been drugged. We wait long enough, it’ll leech out of our bodies. In the meantime, names…” He had the doctor’s keys and clearly knew his way around locks enough to create a pick. Mr. Key? Mr. Lock? Those sounded like real names and something about having a joke for a name was familiar…
”Call me ‘Lock’ or ‘Four’, since there are four of us.”
”You can call me Summoner, I suppose. Anyone see another way out of this horrid hole?”
”No, I think we’re gonna need to find our way out. I got the doc’s keys and a ‘pick’…” he holds up the fork, ”We’ll need gear and weapons, in case we run into Doc or her pals.” He flashes to how quickly Doc was able to kill those conjure birds, ”Honestly, I’d rather we avoid Doc unless we got a fully-cranked ballista aimed at her. So, we need to go quiet and careful. And scrounge everywhere for anything we can use. With luck, we find a door out or a good spot to hide, just ‘til the drugs wear off.”
Putting the ‘scrouge’ ethic into action, Lock goes into the darkness where the Doctor fled, to search the corpses for anything that didn’t benefit those dead but might keep this quartet alive.
Lock (or Four) takes a look at the side room, coming into a cellar and in front of a dozen mutilated bodies heaped beneath a broad chute that extends diagonally through one of the walls. The smell of rot and decay in the room is nearly overwhelming, and the buzz of flies hangs in the air.
To one side there is a crumbled tunnel, completely blocked, and besides it an alcove with rusted chains. To the other side, a flight of rickety wooden steps climb toward the high ceiling. Here and there, there are fissures on the walls, which are never a good sign.
Lock (or Four) clearly see all corpses are indeed dead and some have been so for days. Some of the bodies are wearing white uniforms very similar to the one the doctor was using, while others are wearing light yellow clothes. If the woman was indeed a doctor, those in white should also have been and it would not be a stretch to thing the remaining were patients. A quick glance on rings and ears show they've been picked of their jewelry and valuables, but if something remained will take some time to ascertain.
Vrek tries to recall his rank, he thought he had one, but it's all muddled. "Serjant Or maybe Legion. I don't know. But which ever."
With the bodies picked clean of valuables, Lock expected all their useful gear (truncheons and the like) was gone as well. Dammit! Bad luck. He checks the chains on the wall to see if any bits are loose or broken off.
Before he’s bowled over by the stink of the dead, Lock returns to the main room. ”Got some news… We’re in the basement of – I’m guessing – a hospital or sanitarium. I found the stairs up. The bad news? There’s a bunch of bodies in the other room – inmates and hospital staff. It looks like some crazies like Doc are running this place now. Sooo, I’d suggest we search the rest of this basement and then get the Hell outta here.”
"W-wait...Is it wise to go in the same direction as her? What of the other direction - is it blocked?" the Summoner asks nervously, glancing into the darkness.
It's obvious that the frail elf is much too scared to take the lead in any direction.
"So far, that's the only way out I've seen. I wouldn't mind another route." Lock moves in the opposite direction, searching through cupboards and into the dark grannies, looking for gear or another exit.
One portion of the rusted chain does come in Lock's hand as he pulls, but it does so because the spikes driven into the wall went loose.
Peering up the rickety stairs and testing a step, the man clearly notices they are unstable. A couple more steps up and it becomes clear that, even if they were sound, there would change nothing, because the passage up is blocked by more rubble. It does raise a question of where did the doctor go. Did she climbed the corpses to jump towards the chute?... or is she still around?
Back on the room with the cells and away from the decay, Lock inspects the cupboard, finding nothing but common tools. The obstructed passage, combined with the other in the room with the corpses, paint this basement as once part of an underground complex. Passages could still exist beyond the rubble, but there is no way to tell how long it would take to clear the path, or even if this was a safe option.
Around the corner there is a cold iron furnace, its four-foot-square door half open, like a hungry beast. Nearby sprawls a heap of gory clothes and other dubiously flammable trash. Among the trash, there are an assortment of weapons, armors, and other equipment probably pilfered from the dead. Aside from that, there is also a beautiful viol, but without its bow.
He takes the lantern above, and touches it. At Vrek's touch, a flickering light forms in it sometimes taking the shape of screaming or laughing faces though no sound comes out.
Lock looks at the pile of gear. Some of it he recognizes like old friends. "Hey, get over here! My stuff is here. I'm betting some is yours." He quickly pops the two ampules into discrete pockets sewn into the lapels of his duster, gathers up his alchemical kit and weapons, andhttps://paizo.com/store quickly 'suits' up for trouble.
He looks around until he finds his hat. He knocks the dust and dirt off it before putting it on. Damn, I missed this hat.
Vrek looks at the items and memories stir or at least a sense of ownershiop, "Yes, some of these were ours." He gathers them up.
Lock feels a bit more in control with a real weapon in hand and his gear back in his possession. He puts the viol in his pack. It was too nice to be left in this abattoir. Having looked in the dark corners, he offers the only two exit options that he can see… because they didn’t have time to excavate another one. ”I see two ways out… the stairs or maybe trying to climb the furnace’s chimney. I’m voting for the stairs. Whaddaya say?”
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Spooked – -2 on PER and saves vs fear; +1 Initiative
The woman looks at the items. The curved blade. The scale, made of small overlapping plates. She grunts, and looks at the others. "Excuse me," she says, "I need to change some of my clothes. I... need a little privacy." She motions that she intends to change, and retires to one of the cells that blocks line of sight.
A few minutes later, she returns, and while her silks remain, they cover the armor which peek out, here-and-there. Her veil covers her face, and her eyes peer out at the others. "I ... know how to use this, I think. It may have been mine. The weight, the balance. It feels familiar." She takes a few practice swings, sharply, and there is an immediate sense that she does, in fact, have some skill with this type of blade, in addition to some obvious force in her muscles.
She glances at the items before looking at the others again, "a shield, as well, would be most appreciated, should we find one." She seems somehow more confident as she says in a low voice, almost growling, "but I do not need this, should that doctor return." She then moves over to the man on the table and looks him over again. Looking around, she retrieves some scraps of cloth and moves to cover the form, closing the dead man's eyes, and whispering something under her breath with closed eyes, in a language that sounds a little exotic.
Shifting aimlessly through the discarded items, Vaelith pockets a few trinkets that look useful. A mirror. A piece of chalk. Some string.
Then he spots a worn leather satchel that sparks some deeply buried memory. With shaking hands, he opens it to reveal a thick volume, inscribed with arcane runes and flowing elven script. Beside it, a small pouch of spell components.
With trembling hands, he leafs through the pages. Recognition is instant, as is the feeling of power and knowledge.
"This is mine. If I can get time to calm my mind and study it, I can wield the spells within."
He looks around, only half aware of the discussions about escape.
"I'd rather not climb the chimney. So, as much as I fear encountering the deranged maniac, the stairs seem like the best option."
While gathering his things, he inspects the collapsed passage, just to make sure that's not a viable option.
Inspecting the rubble, Summoner notices the collapse of the tunnel is very recent. It would take at least three to four man/hours to clear the rubble, assuming strong men were working towards it. With some luck, once the work is underway someone could see if the passage isn't completely blocked, but it would be a gamble for sure.
"The Stairs are..." Serjant smiles ready to take those, then his face falls as they learn it is blocked. By now he has put on his hide armor in an opposing corner, claimed his weapons and .. a woodenholy symbol of Pharasma that he thinks might be his. "Well, the stairs are not likely. Anyone have rope?"
Lock reassesses. ”OK, the stairs are too rickety. Which means Doc either used a secret door, ghosted through a wall, or somehow got up that…”, he realizes most of the corpses were probably thrown down it, ”…that slaughter chute.”
He digs into his backpack to answer Legion’s question. He’s relieved that much of his common gear was discarded. ”I got rope and a grapnel. Not sure if there is anything to catch it on in that chute but we can try. But first…”
He moves to examine the walls and floor around the bodies, looking for the hidden exit he hopes Doc used.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Spooked – -2 on PER and saves vs fear; +1 Initiative
”This tunnel has collapsed recently, and it may be unstable. It probably would not be impossible to clear it by hand, but that will take significant time…it should our last resort.”
Vrek looks around for the same hidden door, but the voices in his head have arguing opinions on how it is done. He wishes they'd shut up for a second.
Sargent and Summoner join Lock in the eastern room and experience for the first time the full horror of the deaths. The smell of rotting flesh is nauseating and the buzz of flies maddening.
Despite the effort, neither Lock nor Sargent can find any secret doors, while Summoner realizes that the northern tunnel leading from the room with the corpses show the same information as the previous collapsed tunnel: the structural damage was recent.
While the wooden stairs are too fragile and blocked, you realise there is a more grimly set of stairs, with dead limbs for steps. The corpses appear to have been deposited in the room by falling through the chute and they've piled on.
Inspecting the chute, Lock sees a few fissures that could, in theory, hold the tip of the grapple, but he'd likely have to hammer it in place. To think one could achieve the it by merely throwing the grapple is more than unlikely.
Lock goes up the stair of corpses, just enough to see if it leads to a door, hallway, or some other exit.
Veil doesn't seem to be stymied by the rotten corpses, and she joins Lock on the climb to back him up.
Still frightened and hesitant to venture up the mound of rotting flesh, Summoner stands firm, anxiously waiting to see what the others fid at the top of the pile.
Lock examines the chute with a grimace. It was the least bad of a bunch of bad options, in his opinion. He pulls the grapnel and rope from the pack. He hefts the grapnel like a weapon briefly, considering how best to use it. Trying to throw it up the chute and hoping to catch on something seems like a fool’s errand… but it could be used as a climbing claw. Might work.
He quickly returns to the Doc’s butcher table then takes and stows (in his pockets and belt) any tool that could be wedged into a crack in the chute. They weren’t as good as real pitons but they’d be better than nothing.
He returns to the corpse pile and starts to mount it. ”I’m rubbish as a climber, but I’m gonna give this chute a try. It’s better than waiting for Doc to come back. If I find a perch, a level spot, or an exit… I’ll secure the rope. If you feel three tugs, start climbing.” He hands the coil of rope to Veil and starts working his way up into the chute.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Spooked – -2 on PER and saves vs fear; +1 Initiative
Lock climbs the corpses until he is just beneath the opening of the chute, then jumps to grab its edge. He holds himself, feet dangling in the air, grime or worse under his fingers. With some effort, he pulls himself up and crawls on his elbows. The chute is steep and goes for 15 feet before it ends in a metal grate, which works perfectly as a place to tie the rope and, after three tugs the others climb behind him.
The grate is hinged and, despite heavy, is easily opened. You find yourselves in a small room with gardening tools and sacks of soil and manure. While there is no light source, an opened door to the south lets in a bit of natural light. Aside from the stink from the sacks, you can also smell wet earth and hear both rainfall and the occasional peal of thunder.
Peering outside, you see an open courtyard with grass and a few small trees, as well as wooden benches beneath the trees and flower beds with dead flowers. At various points, the grass is soppy and gives place to paths of mud. Such paths seem to run along the walls around the courtyard, but you can't see in the distance because of the falling rain and an ever-present fog. An yellowish fog.
The walls around the courtyard are over 10 feet tall, give or take, and are toppled with rubble from what once was a second floor. There is an opened door nearby, linked by a path of mud, then pile of rubble that was once a shack toppled with more stone, and to the east tall windows protected by dark iron bars created in a gothic style. Up in the sky, you see storm clouds, but those are in tones of yellow and brown.
The only clear way out of the muddy courtyard is the nearby door, but there might be other paths currently obscured by the fog.
Legion nods, and waits for the three tug.
Lock coils the rope and returns it to his pack as he glances out the door of the gardening shed. The sight of the yellow fog… brings bile to his throat. It is too familiar, from the dream. He slides his fingers into the brass knuckles in his pocket, for strength. ”Gonna scout this yard a bit. If you hear me scufflin’ come running.”
Then the coarse-looking man moves quietly into the courtyard and rounds the corner of the shed, heading north.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Spooked – -2 on PER and saves vs fear; +1 Initiative
”That fog…steer clear if you can.” Summoner mutters in a fear-choked voice.
Out of the shed, warm rain falls on the man. Too warm, in truth, enough to feel wrong, yet not enough to burn.
The man's boot sinks a bit into the mud, drawing his attention to another set of recent tracks going in the same direction. Looking back at it, he notices then leaving the shed as he did, heading towards the door for a couple feet, then stopping and finally turning and heading towards the fog in the north.
With care, Lock sneaks, the fog giving a clear sense of false security for Lock is smart enough to know that him not being able to pierce through it was no guarantee that someone or, worse, something, could not was well.
The muddy path takes lock to yet another wall of rubble, pilled between two walls. The trail stops there, suggesting the doctor had climbed the rubble. Muddied boots could have left a noticeable trail on the rubble if not for the rain. Tough luck.
Lock slinks past the rubble and ghosts along the far wall, trying to see all of this strange courtyard.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Spooked – -2 on PER and saves vs fear; +1 Initiative
Lock finds the courtyard enclosed within the crumbling walls. He finds no more doors and the only walls with windows are on the east wall. All the windows are in a gothic style and have metal grates to protect them.
Suddenly there is a bright red flash and a deafening peal of thunder! Your ears hurt, leaving your ears ringing for half a minute, with the strange sensation of hearing distant laughs as you recover.
"No more booms, no more fire..." Legion clutches at his ears.
Mariana drops to her knees, eyes closed, with tears welling up in pain. Her linen clothing, now festooned with thick mud, drapes from her knees as she recovers and stands. Her eyes narrow, trying to find where the sneaky man went, ”this places is beyond a charnel house - it is a nightmare from which there is no waking.” She unsteadily moves towards Legion, and offers him a thick, strong arm to lean on. Nodding, she says to him, ”you must have courage. This is… the real world. There are rules, unlike in the dream. We will escape if we all have courage.” She tries to sound reassuring but inevitably uncertainty has crept into her tone and mannerisms.
Lock quickly returns to the relative safety of the shed. He recalls what he found, largely as a pretext to avoid being outside with that uncanny thunder. ”It looks like Doc went over the north wall. I think we can climb it, too. There’s also a door. I’ll check it out. I’m not sure what's the best choice. Maybe, they’re all shades of bad. The lightning and fog just feel wrong to me. I don’t recall the sky clearly… but I don’t think it was like this.” He waves vaguely over his shoulder.
When he’s sure the laughing thunder has died away, he moves to the other door, listens at it, and then tests to see if it is unlocked or not.
HP: 11 / 11 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:12 | CMD:14/11
Inspiration (4):
Broken, Not Beaten (1):
Effects:
Spooked – -2 on PER and saves vs fear; +1 Initiative
Summoner waits with a mixture of dread and anticipation as Lock works the door.
Lock finds the door isn't locked, even if a bit swollen on its frame. No matter how careful he is, he can't keep it from creaking a bit as he pulls it open.
The door reveals a long and dark corridor, as well as another door nearby. The light of a lamp to the south gives a bit of light, but before you can notice more, someone calls.
"Something is coming inside!" A male voice calls.
"Come in slowly if you are not a monster, or for the Goddess, we'll shoot you dead!" A female voice adds. Both sound worried and urgent.