As the others get ready to bludgeon the strange woman, nurse? to death.... he looks at the piece of furniture in his hand, and the card and doll in his other hand. He needed something to hold things. Did he have a.... pocket? Was that the word? He checks the rags he is wearing to see if there was any place he could put the doll.
The Zombie nurse approaches slowly but hurriedly, trying vainly to shamble faster than she is able in her Undead state. Crowding the door you wait, chair legs ready, as each second passes and the hungry dead gets closer.
Upon reaching the open door the Zombie mindlessly tries to lurch right into the Dwarf with the withered arm, right into him, as if to hug him, mouth open and teeth bared.
A flurry of blows lash out at the Undead.
The Dwarf lands the first blow against the walking dead, right in the nurse's chest. It does nothing. The Zombie registers no pain, no hindrance -- does not slow or stagger even a little. It keeps coming as though nothing happened at all.
Another chair leg lashes out, Almonihah's survivor. But the chair leg merely glances off the Zombie's shoulder, does nothing to damage the monster.
The black-haired lady, fortunately, swings her leg chair as a cudgel and hits the Zombie square in the forehead. A head-shot. The Zombie staggers back for an instant, significantly affected by the blow to the head. But then leans forward again, mouth agape and tries to get close into the Dwarf's personal space.
Behind the initial wall of survivors, one holds aloft the Holy Symbol of Pharasma, hoping that perchance it holds some Divine magic or will have some effect on the Undead. .... It does. Upon raising the Holy Symbol the Zombie turns its gaze away disturbed -- anathema, aversion -- the Undead continues forcing itself through the door, through the wall of people regardless of its own vulnerability, to eat the living flesh before it. But with the Holy Symbol of Pharasma, it perceptibly pauses, averting its gaze, thus making it harder to bite into the living being in front of it.
Without a weapon, one of the survivors takes just a few seconds to securely tie the doll taken from the nightmare to one of the strips, a length of loose sheet from his own loincloth, so as not to lose it.
Further, another chair leg lashes out,...
The bludgeoning weapon strikes the Zombie nurse very close to her head, even grazing her chin -- but not enough to damage the Undead.
As the Zombie continues its forceful encroachement it pays no heed to its vulnerability. Even as it gets closer to the Dwarf's living flesh, each survivor can continue wacking at it with their weapons -- knowing also that the Holy Symbol is affecting the Undead in some mild fashion, as it keeps its gaze turned away, hindering it from getting a full frontal assault on the Dwarf.
She pivots and swings again.Winding up to make this creature die.
I get the doll tied in place just as the strange woman staggers in to the group. She looks.... dangerous? She looks like she is going to start eating the guy with the strange arm! In my mind I wonder, is she hungry? Isn't there other food she could eat? There were a couple of dead bodies back....
Never mind that! She can't eat the guy with the strange arm. If we allow that she will pick someone else next. It could be me!
With confidence, after hitting the Zombie in the head, the bat-haired lady strikes again as the Undead continues to advance into the room.
This time, however, as the leg chair lands glancing blows against the Zombie's torso and arm, the strikes seem to do no damage to the animated corpse nurse.
As the dead nurse tries to grab onto one of the other survivors, he strikes at her again and again with his chair leg, desperately hoping to do something to the already-dead creature.
The dwarf lifted the ever burning torch as if though it were a shield, using his bone like arm to hold it. Hoping to keep it at bay he swung again, trying to aim for the head…he truly did not want to be within its grasp.
Adrenaline spikes as the thing shambles closer. The lanky figure lashes out once-- twice-- with the scalpel!
In desperation another flurry of blows lashes at the Zombie, mostly striking her body and arms in vain as she lurches into the dwarf.
The Zombie does not seem to shy away from the everburning torch as it does the Holy Symbol of Pharasma.
Nonetheless, the Dwarf slams the Undead nurse on her forehead with his good arm, knocking her back a few inches.
Then, from the side, the survivor with the scalpel slashes a meaningless graze against the Zombie's shoulder before stabbing it in the head, three inches deep -- and the Zombie nurse drops to the floor. Apparently there were enough bolws to the head to fell the creature, disrupting the Negative Energy animating it.
On the floor, however, the Zombie continues to twitch, and open and close, open and close, her mouth as if trying to bite.
With your chair legs, it is a simple matter to bash its head in like a coup de grace -- permanently destroying the Undead's ambulatory-if-mindless existence.
A brief pause occurs as everyone catches their breath after 'killing' the Zombie.
The poor random person who could barely keep a hand on the makeshift stool-seat he attempted to use as a weapon can only offer a smile to the others acknowledging how lame an attempt his was at striking the nurse -- as if to shrug and say 'Hey, you guys got the four stool-legs; all that was left for me was the stool-seat. At least I tried.'
Retrieving the scalpel stabbed into the Zombie's brain and wiping it off on the nurse's smock, your adrenaline rush begins to subside.
And the hunger from your malnourishment once again threatens to overwhelm you.
Looking at the remains of the sandwich you took from the lobotomized-or-Dominated nurse in the prison cells downstairs, you see just how badly stained with formaldehyde and some greasy substance it is. *Perhaps* you'll eventually get hungry enough to take a bite -- but you're pretty sure that canibalizing the Zombie nurse at your feat would be only mildly worse. Still,... just in case you do get that desperate, maybe there's no harm in keeping it.
The Undead defeated, you begin searching the room:
The long, north-to-south rectangular room looks to be some kind of hospital or surgery room, partly because of two tables that are equipped with restraining cuffs where a patient would lay, and partly for shelving on the far-south wall that looks to have contained potions, alchemical items, and equipment for chirurgery. Along the length of the western wall, seemingly oddly in this place, are three massive cauldrons of water. Perhaps used for healing and washing -- the water is Clean! Potable. And there is Lots of it in these three cast iron cauldrons (a few hundred gallons maybe).
Moreover, there is a difficult-to-describe, almost shine to the water, as though its purity is as, well, as 'spiritual' as it is potable.
At the far south wall adjacent to the shelving is a closed door exiting to the south. And in the center of the east wall is a closed door leading to the east.
On the shelves, among the broken items, are twenty-six empty vials. Each is about the size of a man’s thumb and the glass-&-wax-stoppers is very delicate, brittle.
The baton or sap the Zombie held in its hand is still on the medical table whereof it was dropped.
I look around for something better as a weapon than the seat of the stool. Could a leg be taken from the table? There was the baton. If nobody else.... I grab it.
And there are cauldrons full of clean water? I sniff at it. It smells good. Is there anything usable as a cup? My hands are dirty and I don't want to dirty the water. The vials on the shelves are tiny. I look through the equipment for anything I can use. I'm thirsty!
She pads the zombie down. Looking to see what was on it. As she does she looks at the others.
"Anything we can use?" She asks as she beings to looking around taking her time.
The feel of the scalpel sinking in deep is.... familiar. Or is it? Is it just their mind desperate for some sort of anchor, to know who they are? Yet stabbing felt-- somewhat familiar. They think.
They shake it off and join the others looking around. Oh gods-- water! They beeline for the cauldrons and snatch up an empty vial in order to dip it in and then drink.
"I don't know about you but I can certainly use this water," they rasp. "This may the best tasting water I've ever had."
The first vial is gone in no time, and the lanky scalpel-holding figure dips again and again, until the parched tightness of their throat starts to ease. Then, they start to take measure of the belongings.
Two garments-- of a sort. And a scalpel. The lanky figure lays the cloths out on the nearest table and starts to cut strips.
"We can use these as belts, of sorts," they explain, voice less raspy than before. "A square of fabric tucked over gives a sort of a-- pocket. Yes? Here, take one, or more if you need. And if anyone, ah, needs to cover part of themselves....."
They trail off. A glance down at their own body has given them the evidence they appear-- she appears-- to be female. Is that right? A lanky, skinny female, not much in the chest department to be fair, but nothing-at-all in the twigs-and-berries department.
So... I'm a woman, they think, though... it has the same haze of 'but is that real?' that their thoughts about stabbing had.
At any rate, they, or she, takes the upper part of the nurse's garment and dons it, as a sort of half-assed shirt. It covers the essentials. Absently, they start to grab another square of fabric and set it on their head at a jaunty angle.... then hesitate. --I think we have bigger concerns than fashion right now, what the hell?
Yet there's an itching urge to cover their head. After a moment's indecision, they, or she, uses one of the cut strips as a sort of a headband. It gets their dark, unkempt, long hair back out of their face, and things can be tucked into the band at a pinch.
He lets out a sigh of relief as the dead nurse stops moving. He follows the rest of the group into the room she'd come from and looks around. He walks over to the water and sniffs at it, then leans over plunges his face into one and starts drinking.
The dwarf wasn’t really listening. Rather he just stared at the remains of the zombie, still in shock as towards close it had gotten to eating him. If he was alone it certainly would have. It was a…troubling realization. That the others were drinking the water was not lost on him, though. He waited to see if it was safe before joining in.
The nuse's outfit and smock fit quite well, dirty as they are.
The water is not merely refreshing, it is nourishing. It is not a substitute for food or medicine, but it removes your dehydration. All remaining survivors take their turns drinking from the three cauldrons, a few nodding to the Dwarf that it is good. .... Looking at the cauldrons up close, they each are etched with a symbol of Pharasma.
The twenty-six vials are not usable as drinking receptacles. The tiny flasks must have a different purpose.
The two medical tables -- their restraining bonds and their legs -- are strong and sturdy. Not easily broken apart for weapons or shields.
The shelves in the back, whereon broken glass and medical tools lie (including the 26 vials) could be broken apart more easily -- a little effort with an axe. But the wood could likely then only be used as fuel for fire. Nothing else, none of the other medical accoutrements, are present.
The southeastern door sounds quiet putting your ear to it.
But the southern door gives away some soft scratching or moaning sound.
"It sounds like there is another zombie behind yon door." The dwarf said, wiping the water from his lips. "Let's leave it closed. Head southeast, see what is inside there. So long as the mindless one can't get to us, it's a problem for later."
"Let's fill the glass things with water. It won't be much, but something is better than nothing."
He starts filling the vials, then realizes his mistake. "Ah. Is there something we can carry them in? Maybe wrap them up in some cloth?"
Several of the other survivors offer to help, willing and able to hold a few vials each.
And a few people look to claim the stool-seat now that the nurse's baton/sap is taken, but quickly defer to any of the front-six prefers it.
He steps back and shakes his head once he's done drinking, wiping water from his face. He pays little attention to the glass vials, though he helps look around for other things, frowning when he finds nothing of use.
He grunts agreement when one of the others suggests not going through the door there's something moving behind. He moves toward the southeast door, hefting his chair leg just in case.
Dhe drinks, then let's water hit her face and hair. It feels good some manner of cleanliness as she then blinks strange animal eyes at the others. She grabs the stool seat and looks for straps of cloth to wrap about it and hold like a shield.
Once ready she looks at the others then nods.waitinf.
When the zombie drops, she lets out a sigh of relief. He was not armed beyond that clay pot, so they weren't sure what they would be able to do should the zombie not fall to his companions blows.
Then, some of them find the cauldrons of water, and she too takes several big gulps full. He can't help but notice there is something a bit off about the water, and is curious about the holy symbols on them.
Can I make a skill check here to maybe figure out what the water is? Or possibly even 'spontaneously' cast Detect Magic on them?
As everyone prepares to exit through the southeastern door, one survivor is still examining the cauldrons of water etched with the markings of Pharasma. It is the survivor who holds aloft the Holy Symbol of Pthe deity.
He looks at the group as if to say something.
There is magic in these cauldrons. He can *feel* it somehow. Some kind of Holy or Divine eldritch energy.
Fifty feet down the hallway, your torchlight barely pushing back the darkness, you hear a muffled alarm vocalized by panicked-sounding people, followed by the immediate shuffling of haphazard barricades being repositioned.
Six seconds later you see the flickering ignition of a torch illuminate a makeshift wall of broken furniture and sundries, and the torch is thrown northward up the hall in your direction, shining its light on you, giving the sentinels a vaguely better look at the forms you feature.
The southern stretch of the eastern wall of this long hallway is a series of large windows of thick glass, cracked in several places and far more delicate, that should provide a clear view of the courtyard but a yellow mist hangs low and a gray fog overshadows the sky above. Visibility is practically nonexistent through the haze. Nonetheless, from time to time, a humanoid form shambles in view for a moment before disappearing again.
And of course, from the south, the barricade, you hear the warning. ”Zombies! The walking dead have figured out how to open the doors. One of those Faceless Creatures must be leading them; they have torches.” The fear in their voices is palpable. As is the fatigue.
She looks at the others after hearing the voices and whispers. " What do you think the play is? Should we try to talk? I prefer talking, " She says as she then looks around constantly scanning the area.
He stares off in the distance. Is this another group fighting zombies? Or do they think we are zombies? He looks at the group. They don't look good. "Do zombies talk? Maybe if we call out to them? Tell them we've been fighting zombies too?"
"I think they may be talking about us? Especially after shifting the barricades!: She replies to the man and looks at the others awaiting similar assessments.
"Aye, we can talk." The dwarf said, warily. He was keenly aware of how close to death he had been when the zombie had attacked, and now that he knew that the doors provided no security...
He sighed. "But we must be ready for this to go wrong. Especially as these fooking creatures all seem to be inline with that vampiric thing which killed the lad. As we have nothing that they want aside from our blood..." He trailed off, his mind racing. "I think we just need to find a way out." He concluded. "We can talk if we have to, but by all above and below, there is nothing in this place that is benign."
"The water didn't poison us," Scalpel points out mildly to the dwarf. "Whatever is here now, this place once held good. I say we talk-- or try to."
More loudly, they call out to the barricade defenders: "We're not monsters! We were prisoners. We're tired, starving, hurt. I understand why you'd be suspicious, but--"
The effort of talking loudly, when they are still so weak and sick, sets them coughing. They bend near double for a bit until they get their breath back, then straighten to try again. "We... we bear a symbol of Pharasma. Would that =cough= prove it to you? Who are you?"
Listening to the guy that spoke he whispers to him, "Symbol? Who is Pharasma? Some ruler those people might recognize?"
He slides in behind the others, content to let them speak for now, but being close enough to the front that he could use his makeshift club if needed.
I hear the words. Is that person really that stupid?
I step out so I can see and be seen. "Really? Are you really that stupid? Then strike me down with your holy lightning of pharasma. And notice that I have a face! That's how I'm talking you moron! Just like you I have a face, with a mouth. Beware or I will strike you down.... with my holy words of.... of somebody important, but not whoever Pharasma is!"
" I see, fighting off hordes." she says as she stands and looks at the barricade.
" Are you willing to answer questions? Say like the way out? Or a general layout so we can move on without issue?" She says once again in her head thinking about flying over and down get her way. For they would know her true self.
"There's no need for insults," Scalpel says with clear exhaustion shading their? her? tone. "We were being held prisoner, we escaped, we're-- probably like all of you, whoever you are. You said 'inmate'- are you here against your will, too? I don't have much to show our good will, but... if you need water, we know where there is clean, drinkable water."
Upon seeing the frightened, and likely equally confused, fellow inmates? Prisoners? Patients? Perhaps all 3? he steps forward with the others she escaped with. They aren't armed, so hopefully, they project a less threatening aura. "Easy now. We're no enemy of yours, promise." She says, and then one of his fellow survivors mentions the holy symbol. "Yes, I bear a holy symbol of Pharasma, and if you're willing, we'll take you back to some cauldrons that contain waters blessed by her." They present said holy symbol in the most innocuous manner possible.
”And how the fook would ye know that?!” The dwarf yelled back, his nerves fraying. ”Work for the damned blood drinking monster?!” He gripped his club, as he looked around nervously for any sight of approaching zombies.
"I wish we could. We woke up from nightmares and don't remember anything. Who is Mister Wyatt? The only animate thing in the area we woke was a zombie. It was cutting up the bodies. We destroyed it and left that room only to find another zombie. It attacked but we were able to destroy it too. None of us remember anything, not even who we are or how we got here."
"We're serious about the water. Large cauldrons or good clean water. But we don't have any food."
"You mention children. You've got them safe, right? I mean, this place is bad for adults but, this is no place for children!"
'I honestly have no clue who I am. Last I remember is waking up from a long dream! Saw a creature kill and drain a patient or whatever we were, and a Nurse who didnt respond to any stimuli." Snhe said relaxing as she now chewed her lip.
" I wonder if this was a Hospital, What was it for? And How long have these...Faceless Ones, was it? Been here along side the Zombies?" She asked standing a bit confused as she tries to work through the cloudy recesses of her mind.
"The loud one," He says, pointing at Wyatt. "Claims to have been here for several years, but hasn't seen us before. There's over a dozen of us, and he's somehow missed seeing such a large group? That doesn't make much sense." She's not quite accusing him of lying, but they are at least a bit suspicious of his claims.
"We were kept in a lower level. Perhaps you just never went down far enough to find us?"