A small slab of concrete rose and slammed into the ground as Rhade called out the centipede's poison. The creatures danced among the rubble, crawling out from the pile as the hunk of concrete crumbled.
The first centipede to crawl out shrieked at the sounds Eponine generated, though was silenced when pierced by Gladiola's shortspear, severing it a few segments below it's head. The warrior pulled her spear back to her side, and propped her wooden shield in front of herself.
Ember swung his sword, and perhaps if unobstructed by allies and obstacles, may have found his target. The centipede proved too quick, and scuttled between broken glass and containers to attack the forgetful-fighter.
Attack Roll:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Crawling up the wall, the python-sized centipede lunged at Gladiola, though a well placed shield deflected the attack, and bumped the creature back within the storage closet.
Attack Roll:1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (5) + 2 - 4 = 3
The second centipede slithered along the floor. Though the monster tried to gnaw at the fighter's feet, Gladiola brought her heavy wooden shield down to the floor, and knocked the creature back as it tried to push past her. Though it hit into her with force, Gladiola held her ground.
A pale green bile dripped from the jaws of the creature as it hissed at the intruders. Campre returned a shout, yelling a curse from the hallway.
Previous Rounds:
First Round of Combat (All are up, any order you like!)
Pasiune (attack, miss)
Rivas (delay)
Eponine (Aid Gladiola)
Gladiola (slay centipede 1)
Ember
(attack, miss)
Giant Centipede 1 (slain)
Giant Centipede 2 (attack, miss)
Giant Centipede 3 (attack, miss)
Campre
Second Round of Combat (All are up, any order you like!)
Ember pushed open the door, though knocked against the room's inhabitants. Together in a pile among the debris, a squirming ball of legs and segments slithered, writhing and separating into three lengthy centipedes as thick as Gladiola's bicep and perhaps longer than the warrior herself.
The door pushed them back, and the creatures rose above the rubble and curled inon themselves, dancing madly as they scrambled. With the bugs caught off guard, the patients had the first opportunity to strike.
First Round of Combat (All are up, any order you like!)
Pasiune
Rivas
Eponine
Gladiola
Ember
Giant Centipede 1
Giant Centipede 2
Giant Centipede 3
Campre
Pasiune:
You know these to be giant centipedes, though you are not quite sure how you know this. You recall they have a poison they transmit through their bite that numbs and slows their prey.
Gladiola:
Though you cannot remember, you swear you've seen such creatures before. You remember them to be giant centipedes, and remember they seldom exist in colonies consisting of more than half a dozen members. You swear you could take one on your own.
With no objections, moving on to the Storage Rooms
Pressing her ear against the wooden door, Gladiola heard little from within the southern storage room. An old lock may have presented Ember a challenge were it in use.
Swinging open the door, it was clear that someone had ransacked the closets before the party. Though part of the ceiling collapsed, someone had pushed the larger pieces of debris aside. Peeking from the rubble on the floor were several broken metal racks, alongside the shattered containers and cloth that once sat upon them.
Chemicals burned the party's noses as they searched what remained in the storage room. Careful with the glass, they managed to find some goods either unfound by those before. A functioning lantern, full of oil no less, was perhaps the most valuable item. In addition, there were three winter blankets, and a small iron hammer.
Listening to the northern door, Gladiola heard rapid, ticking from within. It sounded almost insectoid, and hushing the others, all could hear it now. As they listened, the sounds slowed and the room and it's inhabitant became still once more.
No worries Ember, glad that you're all right. I'm coming back from vacation now, so I should be able to get everything rolling properly come tomorrow.
@Ember/All : Very good question, one that I think someone in the party has been hinting at for a little bit of time. You've around a week of stubble, and the last time you ate was probably around that time as well.
"Kiddin' 'bout the rats, " he lied. Campre scratched his chin. "Wash'd be nice, Glad, might even be able to rig up some hot water now. Showers ain't too far off, bit before the kitchen."
After witnessing the amnesiacs slay the creatures within the boiler room, Campre appeared more comfortable among them, confident and hopeful now. He gave the zoog a quick kick across the floor, having no qualms joining a finished fight.
I'll calculate rations as the party rests. You can choose to forgo to eat, but that will bring Starvation into play. Dehydration will be less of an element here, especially as you gain access to the survivor's camp.
I'm extending some of the map. It is all dark still, but no reason it inch forward every five feet with a "what do I see?" scenario. Locations behind closed doors will remain completely blocked out until accessed.
Starting a week-long vacation and heading to upstate New York this week - my posting here will be erratic at best until next Sunday. I'll probably sneak in a few quick updates as I can.
Little icon is the fallen zoog, sorry for the confusion.
And almost as quickly as it started, it had ended. As their pulses calmed, the five amnesiacs were able to search the room, free now of frights that lurked in the shadows. Beneath one of the boilers, Ember spotted a two gold-tipped iron rods, etched with the gnawing of the zoog.
Though too far back to reach with arm alone, Gladiola's spear proved long enough to roll them out towards the party. They appeared to be Sun Rods. Campre seemed to recognize what they were, and told the party their purpose. "Might be handy if we run outta oil." He gave a look to Rivas' glowing dagger. "Maybe not though."
The orderly peered over to those watching from behind the barricade. "Huge damned vermin, if you're wonderin'!" he shouted, though neither Vaustin nor the other guards respond.
Encounter over!
Campre sized up the two large, deceased dire rats. He paused, then looked away. "Kitchen's too far. Any of ya remember how to cook rat meat?" The orderly smiled wryly, though there was truth in his question. And with his mention of food, hunger dawned on the five amnesiacs. Though earlier the feeling was quelled by fear and nausea, it was only when in a room free of horrors that a painful appetite revealed itself.
How many days had it been since they've last eaten? Though the memories of their last meal had disappeared, their famine lead them to believe it'd been several days. Between them, they had rations, two days of comfortably eating between the six of them. In front of them, however, another opputunity: they had rats, and a furnace beneath their feet to cook the slain creatures.
As a group, I believe you have 15 units of rations, enough to feed you all for 2.5 days. I figure now is a good time to track this as any. I'd say between both rats, you'd be able to scrounge enough meat for today and tomorrow for all six of you. I'd say the rat corpses will expire if not prepared in a timely fashion, however.
Going to choose the eastern dire rat as your target, Pasiune. Also, I think Telekenetic Projectile specifies range attack rather than ranged touch attack, not that it matters with that roll.
Rhade's telekinetic attack sent a tin bucket barrelling towards the rat closest to her, crashing into it's skull, warping the metal around it. The dire rat fell to the floor, head encompassed and crushed, dripping blood from rips in the bucket.
Ember's quick cuts tore into the flesh of the remaining dire rat. Though it bled over the boiler room floor, it's wounds did little to stop its attack.
Bite:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12 for Damage:1d4 ⇒ 3
Despite it's furiosity, Ember managed to bat off the creature with the side of his blade, repelling it back to the boiler it crawled from beneath. Cornered, damaged, and doomed, the rat let out a hiss.
Campre remained within the corridor, not daring to join the fight. He didn't seem to comprehend the magic that some of the amnesiacs cast, though cheered at Gladiola and Ember's successful attacks.
Past Rounds:
First Round of Combat (Bolded are up, whatever order you like!)
Rivas
Gladiola (Resistance'd)
Ember
Zoog (11 lethal, slain)
Eponine
Pasiune
Dire Rat 1 (slain)
Dire Rat 2 (3 lethal)
Campre
Second Round of Combat (Bolded are up, whatever order you like!)
Rivas
Gladiola (Resistance'd)
Ember
Eponine
Pasiune
Dire Rat 2 (3 lethal)
Campre
Dire Rat - AC 14, 2 HP remaining. Finish it off and I'll get a wrap-up post tomorrow most likely. Edit: Cue All-out attack special finisher animation.
And as quickly as the zoog’s luminous gaze was cast upon Ember, it’s light was extinguished as Gladiola’s spear pierced right through the small monster. As she pulled back her weapon, the zoog laid still upon the blade, and with a quick flick, she cast the creature off her spear and into the corner of the room.
Rivas echoes the now-fell zoog in a language unknown to all else. As he did, he felt a strange stirring as his voice was joined by another - an unsettling harmony of malice formed as another scream joined his own. Eyes wide, teeth grit, face scowling, he cast a spell upon the dire rat closest to Ember (Dire Rat 2).
Will:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15
While the rat paused in its assault, it seemed the foreign mind of the vermin allowed it to resist the spiritualist's command. Though Rivas ceased to speak, an angry scream pierced his mind, incoherent cursing that was furious that the dire rat did not obey the spiritualist's command.
First Round of Combat (Bolded are up, whatever order you like!)
Rivas
Gladiola
Ember
Zoog (11 lethal, slain)
Eponine
Pasiune
Dire Rat 1
Dire Rat 2
Campre
Rivas:
This translator, using the “Cthulhu” translate option. Simple, I know, feel free to suggest your own if you don't like what it produces.
Also, didn't see you had Know. Arcana, so...
Rivas Knowledge (arcana):1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
You were in a library when you first learned of the Zoog. Or was it a study? Wherever it was, you recall the creature now slain to be a zoog, a strange creatures that favors lands in which the planes bleed together. You know them to be evil creatures.
As Ember lowered his head to see beneath the boilers, two bright lights shined on, briefly stunning him. They were not lights, however, but the glowing eyes of an abomination, staring at Ember, meeting his gaze. The creature resembled a large rat both in size and form, though had the arms and hands of a primate. Two wide, yellow eyes stared at Ember above thick tendrils that danced from it’s nose.
For a moment, it had a strange calmness and curiosity to Ember’s arrival. Then, without any provocation, the tiny monster violently stretched outwards, letting out a shrill scream in a twisted tongue. “Rul hun su th'agt!” From behind it squirmed more vermin, huge creatures the size of dogs that bent and squeezed out from the boilers, into the room. Dire rats - all of the amnesiacs knew what they were, and knew them to be vicious, diseased creatures.
You aren't sure how you know, but you are certain this creature is a zoog. It isn't quite a memory, more like recalling a dream. You're certain you've never seen one, and nor do you ever recall hearing of them, but you know that they are nasty creatures whose bright gaze can faintly outline magic.
Rivas:
A memory as the creature speaks: you are in a nicely furnished room, speaking in the same unfamiliar language as the creature. Only, it isn't unfamiliar, you've been practicing it for years, struggling to keep up with, with... who?
"Rip him to shreds!" the zoog said. Aklo, you think as you comprehend it's words, you can speak Aklo.
Smart thinking, might have to change an encounter down the line with the Caravan Bond...
Ember, Rivas:
Though you remember little of your own lives, you seem to recall the symbol of the butterfly and the starknife to belong to Desna, The Great Dreamer. You remember her to be a good goddess involved with luck, travelers, dreams, and stars.
Eponine takes hold of her holy symbol, a carved wooden butterfly, and heals the wounds of those still injured from the earlier encounter with the doppelgänger. Many of the cuts on Campre's body begin to close, morphing from thick gashes to thin cuts. "Could'a done that a bit earlier." His eyes shifts to inspect the other patients before returning to Eponine. "Appreciated."
Ember pushed open the door, Gladiola moving in with her shield in front of her.
Mighty iron boilers crowded the space, their pipes piercing the walls and ceilings. Shadows and rust fill the narrow gaps between the cold tanks. A large furnace, the same from the floor below, lay in the back of the room, rigged to supply heat to the boilers. Despite the cracking walls and rubble, with a bit of tending to the furnace below, the Boiler Room may still be operable.
There seemed to be no signs of doppelgängers within the room.
All but Gladiola:
You notice a faint flickering of a light as Ember opens the door. It is gone now, though something glowed beneath one of the boilers for a brief moment.
@Eponine - I'd say at this point it is mostly instinctive, but you may have scattered memories of your symbol, traveling, prayer/meditation maybe. You couldn't recite verses or bring up stories about Desna, but you know her name, recognize her symbol, and know she supplies you divine power.
@Ember - I'll make checks in the write up later today.
The five patients and the orderly ventured deeper into the darkness of Briarstone's South-west corridor. Every dozen or so steps, however, Ember would pause, and attempt to light the lamps that hung on the walls.
Ember had difficulties with the lamps, most of which had either been broken by the tremors with glass shattered at his feet, or had days since been emptied of their oil. Despite his efforts, only one lamp could be lit - and the dancing, dying flame did little to combat the darkness.
The party's pace was further slowed, as with each sound - be they footsteps too loud, the creaks of the old asylum, or something unseen breaking or falling - Campre would stop, and twist his neck to it's source. Yet, despite his paranoia, Campre fulfilled his role as guide as they walked the corridor. He informed the patients that protected him of what lies beyond each door. 'Boiler room there, doubt it'll be workin' still." He motioned a bit further. "Here're storage closets."
0/3 Doppelgänger corpses. Feel free to investigate rooms as needed. Think of the asylum as a dungeon in itself. Always feel free to rest, but know it'll bring dangers.
You have darkvision, which I may forget about at times. Always feel free to remind me that your not-matching eyes are special if I leave a description out for you.
While the darkness extended far past what even your eyes could make out, a ways down the corridor, perhaps fifty or so feet, you spotted two doors on the right spaced ten feet apart.
When the doctor shifted, all that changed was it's head to match Gladiola's, and you swear it attacked you with claws before you blacked out.
Rolls:
Bluff:1d20 ⇒ 3
"B-Bodies." Pasiune's words seem to have shaken him slightly. He mustered his confidence. "We've gotten a few clean shots on them thus far and killed two or three ourselves. Hardly proof you're not on their side if you can't kill a couple yourself. A-And not another threat to my people."
"You don't," Vaustin responded to Rivas. "Had one with us in the chapel for five days and we didn't have a clue." He sighed, bringing his hand to his face. "It lured one of the children out, we, we, haven't seen either of them since."
The code that Ember proposed seems lost on the man, but regardless, he accepts. "Yeah, fertilizer. You kill three dead doppelgängers, hell, I'll sing whatever code you'd like. Anything for peace of mind. Until then, I don't care about your suspicions."
Campre looked down the corridor at Ember's question. "Um," he started, almost uncertain or unfamiliar, "th-the boiler room is close. Um, a couple, ah, staff rooms." As he remembers, it comes more natural to him. "Bit more down's the station, the tower, and a couple of them therapy rooms. Main gate's the only exit though, and 'less we wanna loop 'round the whole asylum, you're gonna have to slay the doctor.
"As nasty as it sounds, we need to go back down to the cell and get the one we've already killed. That's one. Find a couple more, and we will have completed their task."
Escaped! Not dead, but it still does have 18 lethal applied to it unless it's found a way to heal. Feel free to amend as needed, though I suppose you were knocked out during the fight ;)
"As if you don't know..." he remarked at Pasiune. After a pause, he sighed. "If it is Linweigh, then yeah, I know him. Another orderly, maybe our worst, not that it matters any more. What's that mean anymore? Go missing for a day, you aren't who you were when you come back. Haven't seen his face since Briarstone fell, and we've already mourned him." Vaustin expressions softened as he looked to Campre, "I'm sorry, Linweigh. Can't trust you."
Vaustin almost curled a smile when Gladiola remarked that her face had not yet been seen, finding some brief moment of levity, "Y'know what I meant." He scratched at the peppered mess of whiskers on his jaw. "Look, sounds like you already ran into one of them. They didn't come our ways, which means they're somewhere lurking over there." He extended his arm, pointing down the corridor.
He drops his illuminated mace to his side, though the other guards didn't lower their crossbows. "Doppelgangers revert to their ugly true forms when you slay them. Only proof as far as we know. Bring us three corpses and show whose side you're really on. How's that sound, strangers?"
Campre took a step backward, raising his hands to his chest, palms out to show he had nothing to hide. "The hell is a "Winter," Vaustin? C'mon, least lemme through at least?" The man with the glowing mace, Vaustin, did not waver.
There seems to be no secret messages exchanged between Campre and the guards. It is clear, however, that they distrust the man as much as you do.
Maliana kept her crossbow aimed at Campre, eyes flicking between those speaking in the dim corridor. "SH-SHUT IT! All'uv ya quiet down! Another step and we fire!"
The three guards spoke to one another, sharp whispers cutting through the otherwise silent hallway.
Maliana: "O-One of ya, c-call the captain."
The second woman: "Never seen these folk in Briarstone! Shifters!"
The man: "These c-could be the same ones that got Loiza."
From behind them, an older man raced to the barricade, prompting all the guards to turn and jump startled. He waved a small, simple mace that radiated a white light, using the weapon to flick away one of the crossbows newly pointed at him. "Damnit, Denman, back on target!" At his shout, the three guards aim back towards Campre and the party.
More so than any of the guards, the older man appeared weary. Dark circles appeared almost painted under his eyes, and his face appeared gaunt, malnourished almost. He held out his glowing weapon to get a better view of the intruders, cursing softly as he shook his head.
"Winter doesn't want us shooting strangers, but another doppelgänger isn't coming in here. Another step and we fire, understand?" The other guards calm as he turns back to give them a nod. Taking to his order, they steadied their aim. "Don't put me in the position of killing our own, Linweigh. Back off."
"Your disguises aren't fooling us." He continued, raising his weapon at Gladiola. "Three years here and I've never seen your face. Chose a terrible day to be a stranger."
I'll be aiming to start picking this up by the end of the week, likely forming a post to serve as source for this next little foray into the Asylum for you all. Expect something up in the early weekend is my bet!
Been a bit busy with some job changes these past few weeks. Good changes, but ones that carry a lot of responsibilities and are burdening me in ways I've not yet been able to adjust to. With a bit of time, I think things should return to order, I'm just going to need that bit of time.
I'm going to instate a bit of hiatus here until late February. I'm dropping a PBP and a skype game, as I think I've been spread a bit too far out, but I really want to continue this series to its end. I have grand plans for these next six books, and I've already planned extra character events spanning the first four of them ;)
As of now, the only PBP game I'll be tending to will be our Wrath of the Righteous game as I get my life back on track. That said, in a couple weeks time, I should be more able to get this game back on tracks, and better able to devote my time to seeing this game through.
I'm going to have to dig deep into my horror/dread music reservoir to get us all back into the mood by then :) Thanks for sticking with me!
Eponine: plenty of time, I'll allow both. Ember, please note Guidance and Resistance for the next relevant rolls.
The two guards closest to the makeshift barrier exchanged a glance, but did not lower their crossbow to the Paladin. Even as her weapon was raised to the sky, they kept their crossbows trained on her. "N-Not a single 'nother step!"
Campre turned to Ember with a grin. "'Course I know who they is!" The tortured orderly walked inside. "Maliana! Quit the act, lemme past!" In an instant, three crossbows flicked to face Campre, no longer aimed at Gladiola. "C'mon, Mal, it's Campre, I don't care about the rest of them, just let me through."
Maliana, the woman at the barricade, readied herself to fire. "G-GET BACK. NOW!"
Campre persisted: "Mal! You ain't gonna shoot me, lower it." The orderly took another step forward. He glanced back to Gladiola, confident. "You're fine, they're my people."
Broken lanterns and several battered doors lined the cold, rubble-strewn hall. To the south, a pair of swinging doors lay shattered upon a four foot high heap of wrecked furniture that clogged a broad doorframe. To the north, muddied footprint disappeared into darkness, but in the opposite direction, a lantern flickered from behind the constructed barricade.
Two women and a man stood behind their barrier. The closest two steadied their crossbows flat atop the barrier, heads barely peeking over their wall, while the last stood at the end of the hall.
Gladiola could hardly take in what was around her before one of the guards behind the barricade began to shout. "WHOA, there!" She cried, "We got more of 'em here!" Her head lowered to her crossbow, lining up her shot on Gladiola. "St-Stay back! We'll fire!" another shouted, more panicked than the other, "W-We've done it before!"
Campre listened from close to the door, evidentally more comfortable in the rain than inside. "Hold'a second... is that?" he muttered to himself.
A Quests page will be used to track ongoing quests. This currently includes the main quests, secondary quests, those non essential for the game to advance, and personal storylines, which are fully devoted into learning more about who your character was. At the moment, only Ember has an active personal quest.
Will be crazy when you eventually time-warp your way out of trauma and eldritch horrors.
We won't go too far, Rivas! There is a small RP section coming up, but you won't miss much and we won't reach the big NPC hub/combat before you get back. Have fun!
Gladiola, you are making a strong case for me to not introduce that item ;) You'll have a paladin, a cleric, and a second cleric coming up as an NPC who you can become chummy with. You'll be fine for now, but I wouldn't be TOO surprised if you all leave the asylum with a madness or two.
@Ember, you are completely correct, and I'll be more considerate in the future for the sake of rerolls and other reactionary abilities. Your mote of time ability can be used after seeing the results of a roll, even though a bit delayed, I'll say you can still spend the mote should you want to in order to undo the trauma, steal those bad moments away, however you flavor it. 1 in 4 shot to shake it off, up to you.
Gladiola:
I plan on integrating some aspects of that to the lesser madness you have received, but it isn't the primary focus of the madness. It is luckily a flexible one in how it manifests, so we can certainly tailor it to you.
Unless anyone wants to rest or RP, I'll be moving forward into the Asylum either tonight or tomorrow evening.
If you notice, I've put Sanity counters in my alias header. I strongly suggest you read the rules for Sanity, but I'll put some key notes below.
It is incredibly hard to recover from sanity damage. It is either very time intensive, or requires the use of (at minimum) lesser restoration. Even then, very hard to remove until late-game.
Whenever you take Sanity Damage equal or above your Sanity Threshold (your highest mental score's current modifier) you receive a Madness.
It is very difficult to shake off a madness, even one of the lesser variety. These will stick for a while, and if they accumulate, they will be very nasty.
Depending how this works out, we may adjust the system. Particularly with enough time and a good divine caster, you can use restoration to cure many of these madnesses, which is rather strange to think about as we still have this Asylum that was open up until about a week ago.
Looking at the rules, Sanity Attacks are Mind affecting, so Rivas' dormant Phantom actually bumps his roll to 12, narrowly beating the check. How lucky :(
"'Finish it?'" Campre interrupted psychic, "Look at me," he said, gesturing to the cuts that still lined his body, "sure as hell I wanna see her ripped to shreds, more than anyone. But if it's deciding 'tween Scaen gettin' her just desserts, or me hightailin' it outta here alive, sure as hells know which way I'm headin." Campre shook his head. "Crazy woman..." he remarked, though it was unclear if he meant Rhade or the Doctor.
Campre grinned at Ember. "Protect my life like its your own. Smart move, kid. Without me, you're all good as dead in here, be wise to remember that one."
Ember:
I will use those going forward. Think that this will be interesting development, and one that works for Ember (an imposter in his own way) more than the other PCs.
You have obtained a minor madness, specifically, a "delusion" following your scene with the mountain of corpses.
Delusion wrote:
A delusion is the persistence of a belief that no amount of evidence to the contrary can dissuade the afflicted character from having. The belief is often that another specific person either loves or wants to harm the afflicted character, or the afflicted character may have an inflated view of his own abilities or importance. Sometimes the deluded character believes he suffers from an affliction or persecution that does not exist.
The exact nature of the delusion is decided by the GM. Delusions are typically roleplayed, though a GM might apply penalties to skill and ability checks having to do with the delusion, or decide that such checks fail outright because of the character’s delusion. In some circumstances, delusions can be debilitating, while in others they are merely quirky or annoying to those around the character.
How could so many bodies could be accumulated by so few people: there are many more responsible. The doctor could change her shape, as could the creature of your nightmares, who else is a doppelganger around you?
Your delusion: You are certain that there are doppelgangers plotting against you, disguised among you. For the sake of party cohesion, the strange, shared bond you feel makes you adamant the others aren't shapeshifters. But with anyone else, how can you be certain?
RP it as you will, I am trusting you'll handle this well.
Gladiola:
You have obtained a minor madness following your scene with the mountain of corpses. Your madness will be revealed later, don't worry about it yet ;)
Blood trailed from the door outside towards the chute, the bodies evidently dragged and crammed through the hole where they gathered below.
Quickly, the shed grew crowded. Not one to wait and be left alone, Campre pushed aside those remaining downstairs, hurrying up the corpses and crawling through the small chute. He left the chute without any grace, falling onto the floor with a thud. When he got to his feet, he pointed to the door, intent on having another open it. "Go on then, ain't steppin' out 'less I know it's safe..."
And as to not waste time...
The western courtyard had seen better days, even before the asylum's collapse. Trampled flowerbeds lie smeared and squashed, and stark, grey walls climbed towards black clouds that blanketed Briarstone Isle, and poured rain into the courtyard. Perhaps at one point, when maintained and under blue skies, such a place would truly lend to the rehabilitation of its inhabitants.
To the north, a fallen wall blocks what may have once been a way inside. Luckily, a simple door to the west lead outside. Recent prints in the mud indicate that both Dr. Scaen and Davian went inside through this door.
No climb check needed, but I would like a will save from everyone to see how you are taking this. Let us say DC 12 Will, the effects will manifest later ;)
Ember climbed the pile, sinking down to his knees in twisted limbs, finding support when he stepped on torsos. Most of the now bloated bodies gave in to pressure, though some snapped to the sharp sounds of bones breaking.
He arrived at the entrance of the chute, it stood about as high as his hip when he stood upon the mountain of corpses. Lamp in hand, he spied a faintly lit exit after around fifteen feet that lead to dark room.
It would be a tight squeeze for Gladiola to crawl in the chut with a shield in hand, but possible. Campre covered his nose, trying to speak between gagging. "We're in the -glergh- the "secret tunnel" you, you," He heaved against the wall, looking away from the bodies. It seemed there was not much left inside him. "C-Courtyard. Up there. S-Slight detour. Move."
For Those that climb:
Please place yourself in the Western Courtyard map. You arrive in a plain shed without windows, relatively empty outside of sacks of fertilizer and some assorted gardening tools.
I have a little event planned shortly in the future for it's introduction, then a couple scenarios around it early in the asylum. Not to worry, it'll be here soon enough :) probably at a point where you wish it wasn't.
Ember has removed the oil lamp that hung over Dr. Scaen's procedure table. It has a single pint, and can be on for six hours before running out of fuel.
Assume dim light for the asylum unless otherwise stated. There will be many sections of near absolute darkness, and there is very little natural light.
While positioned in the center of the group, Campre followed closely in the footsteps of Eponine, checking over his shoulder on occasion, giving concerned or frightened looks to Rivas and Rhade backing the rear. "And now he won't shut it." he murmured as Ember stopped speaking. "There're stairs right out here, take us right to Admissions."
Gladiola gave a push to the thick, cold door leading out of the furnace room. Before the door swung open, before the lamp's flame could reveal what the room stored, the overwhelming smell of rot and decay greeted the five patients and the orderly. Bile crawled up the back of your throat.
A mound of mutilated bodies lay heaped against the eastern wall, piling almost six feet high. Patients, orderlies, doctors, though it was impossible to determine where one began and another ended. Hundreds of lifeless eyes looked off in every which direction, from whatever angle, at least three bodies stared at you soullessly. Limbs reached out, some mangled and crushed, though some seemed to almost stretch towards you, calling for help, their plea unanswered.
Interrupted, thousands of flies circle in a swarm over the carcasses. Campre's vomiting is hardly heard over their buzzing, and the smell is masked completely by the bodies.
A staircase lay to the south of the carrion hill, each rising step covered in more and larger rubble than the last - a collapsed wall eventually stopping any from ascending more than half a dozen steps.
To the north, a tunnel stretched hardly five feet before debris blocked the path.
There was but a final exit to the room, and fortunately, one that was accessible following the Asylum's fall. Eight feet above the ground, a chute wide enough for a single person to climb angled towards the surface. It was from here that the bodies came from - discarded from above, now piling into the rotting mass that formed convenient, if morbid, stairs to the exit.
There was no sign of rubble in the chute, but neither was there any indication of how far it extended.
Campre appeared confused by Rhade's questions. "You can't remember?" In silence, his glance shifted to each of the freed prisoners. Then, putting the pieces together, the man cursed. "It'sa sanatarium. A, uh, asylum for the disturbed. Y'all were dumb and deaf, now you decide you can't remember? Just my luck I'm stuck with five loons who can't settle on their disorders."
The orderly looked at Gladiola, expecting backlash. "Patients, not loons. Sorry. New ones I'd bet, don't recognize your mugs." His apology didn't sound sincere. "Looks like we're in the furnace rooms. Protect me and I'll guide you outta here, understand? I live, we all live. Think ya can remember that one?"
"You. Stop your whining and tell me what you know."
As Gladiola marched toward him, the man shrunk further back into the darkness until his back pressed into the cracked stone wall. "I'll- I'll tell you anything, just, stay, stay away."
"My, my name's Campre Linweigh. I'mma, hell, was'sa orderly at Briarstone." Campre rose to his feet, hand against the wall to hold himself up, though hunched slightly over. His face, marked with cuts from his recent "surgery," was littered in short stubble peppered black and gray. Keeping his eyes on the party, he walked south. "'Round a week back, things fell apart. Don't know how it started, but all'uva sudden, staff and patient began changin'. Y'all met Scaen and Davian. Two a bit different after things went sh**. All them cells were packed few days back, we's all that left."
As the others talked about leaving, Campre acted friendly. "Pr-proper weapons?" He took a hesitant step towards the group. "Saw Scaen stashing goods in that trunk there. No one'll mind even if they ain't yours. Should take a look through if your gonna help me survive this." The man gripped a large piece of rubble firmly in his hands, and warily eyed the group.
Chest, Gladiola:
Some of the items within the chest have some kind of calling towards you: a well-used Lucerne's Hammer barely fit within. It appeared to be the same one from your dream. In addition, a heavy wooden shield seemed familiar to you, and a set of scale male armor seemed to be your size. Two bundles of arrows and a shortbow also caught your eye.
You have all your items except for your longsword, holy symbols, and holy text.
Chest, Rivas:
Some of the items within the chest have some kind of calling towards you: a chain shirt seemed to be about your size, and a bundle of goods all seemed yours.
You now have all of your gear.
Chest, Pasiune:
Some of the items within the chest have some kind of calling towards you: a small bundle of goods seems familiar to you, as does a short-spear that appeared hand-crafted (albeit by an amateur). You seem to recall the item from your dreams.
You now have all of your gear.
Chest, Ember:
Some of the items within the chest have some kind of calling towards you: In particular, a knife caught your fancy. While the tip was practically blunt from use, the blade appeared otherwise quite well made. It seemed to be the same weapon from your dream. In addition, you find studded leather armor that seems tailored for your size, and a backpack full of items that seem to suit you.
You now have all of your gear. In addition, your Dagger is Masterwork. Due to its worn nature, however, you only receive the +1 bonus to Slashing attacks, and not Piercing attacks.
Chest, Eponine:
Some of the items within the chest have some kind of calling towards you: a star-knife, the same from your dreams. In addition, a comfortable scarf seems to have once been yours, as does a worn, waterproof backpack full of goods key to a traveller.
You now have all of your gear.
After you emptied the chest of what seemed familiar to you, a few items remained.
Might be able to get a post or two up before the new year. I did bring my "In Search of Sanity" book, so I am ready to move on whenever everyone else is.
I suggest everyone RP a bit in this room, get a sense of everyone else, revive those still down, see if you can find any goodies or hints for what may come next.
Pasiune awoke, the scene hardly different from when she was knocked out. Ember, while his wounds had sealed, was still unconscious, and laid motionless in his shared cell with the psychic and Gladiola. The three remained locked in their cage.
As Rivas unlatched the thick, leather straps that stretched across the man's chest, the man rolled off of the operating table, skittering away into a dark corner of the room. The man blinked at the four who remained conscious. In the darkness, Eponine saw a frightened, tortured man - skin more covered in blood than not, with deep circles under his eyes. "St-Stay back!" he barked, "why, why're you, you freaks acting l-like, like, people all'uva sudd-"
The earth trembled far beneath the six of them, a long, dull tremor that drowned the erratic clinks of metal and silenced the cries of the now-free man. Small bits of the ceiling chipped off into dust, crumbling at the floor.
You can use all of your first level abilities so long as you have the components for them. You have the feeling you have your abilities, but that does not mean that they are necessarily familiar, or were part of your past life. All up to you how you'd like to RP it, it is divine influence after-all.
For the sake of any daily abilities, assume that waking up from your nightmare was a full eight hours rest. If anything needs to be prepared, assume you had the time to already prepare spells/other abilities.
You find a wooden holy symbol, one that appears hand-carved. Seeing it gave you a strange unexplained relief. In addition, you find your masterwork fortune teller's deck.
Pasiune's bag:
You find an alchemist fire and a potion of cure light wound. They are labelled, and the handwriting is incredibly neat.
Gladiola's bag:
You find your shaving kits (nice touch, by the way) and your grooming kit.
Ember's bag:
You find a signet ring with a crimson bird on it, the same item from your earlier dream. In addition, your bag has a small vial of holy water.
Rivas's bag:
You find a simple dagger, one that appears never used. You also find a single platinum coin, a Platinum Crown from Varisia, it appears.
The doctor breathed in and out deeply, looking across iron bars at Gladiola, snarled grin across its face. The creature turned around, noticing now that Davian had fled, and that the cell was now open. It let loose a growl, slinking to the shadows, fleeing to the eastern room.
With the threats gone, a silence overtook the room. It was cold, damp, and without a single window to let in light. Underground, you suspected. The stone walls were lined with deep fissures, rubble formed in places where the ceiling and walls had caved in. Where the blood wasn't viscous and sticky, it was had caked dry. Most all of the floor was covered in it, and splotches danced along the ceiling and walls closest to the operating table.
Six sacks lie by the northern cells, some appear empty, others bulky, tearing at the seams. They drew you in - yours, they must be, you thought.
Barely visible in the darkness, the Changeling noticed more than her human counterparts. In the corner of the room, an old, wooden chest lay unattended, perhaps forgotten by the doppelgänger and her compatriot.
Though pitch-black, there was more to explore in the south. To the east, a wooden remained shut. Nothing could be heard from either area.
The bound man broke the silence, wrestling with his bonds, scrambling as he looked at Rivas. "Hurry, damnit, free me."
EDIT: Oh. I wrote Eponine, not Pasiune. A slip on my part but I messed up. The attack is redacted, Pasiune should still be conscious I will correct this in the next post.
With a forceful push, the trowel struck true, landing directly on the creature's neck by it's shoulder. Was its skin like the humans it once disguised itself as, perhaps it would've drawn blood. Despite the rage growing in the paladin, her attack hardly affected the hardened skin of the doppelganger.
Really should have taken a five foot step back, Pasuine ;) open the previous "Behind the Screen" roll to see the Doctor's prepared action.
The creature reached out quickly as Pasiune began to gesture for her third spell. "Enough, freak!" it shrieked, tugging the psychic's arm, yanking her into the cold, metal bars. As the creature's mind tingled, it brought a claw across the woman's stomach. Nine damage.
Davian called once more from the darkness. "Scaen! Now!" He paused briefly. "Damnit." A half-dozen steps were heard from the darkness, then, nothing.
Previous Rounds:
First Round
Rivas
Eponine
The Doctor (15 lethal)
Pasiune
Ember (12 lethal) (Unconscious, Dying)
Gladiola
Davian
Second Round
Rivas
Eponine
Pasiune (9 lethal) (Unconscious, Dying)
Ember (12 lethal) (Unconscious, Dying)
Gladiola
The Doctor (18 lethal) (modified turn order via readied action)
Davian
Third Round, all players are up.
Rivas
Eponine
Pasiune (9 lethal) (Unconscious, Dying)
Ember (12 lethal) (Unconscious, Dying)
Gladiola
The Doctor (18 lethal) (modified turn order via readied action)
Eponine, you may pick them up as a move action. You may choose to open your door as your standard, and can include a stealth check to do so without drawing attention if you'd like.
Eponine snatched the key ring. From where he was, she could not see Davian, and the doctor was focused on those in the northern cells.
Blood dripped from the doppelgangers chin, fresh blood on the white, ribbon bow at her collar. Though Gladiola was now armed and thrashed against the iron bars, the doctor-creature stood close, shoulders shrunk, blank white eyes still.
Behind the Screen:
Prepared action to attack on indication of Gladiola or Eponine casting a spell.
Attack Roll:1d20 + 8 - 4 ⇒ (15) + 8 - 4 = 19 Damage:1d8 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Again, objects were pulled towards Rivas, this time a ring of keys jingled. He pulled the keys to the iron bars of his cell.
As the most you can move an object is fifteen feet per round, I've moved the keys to the closest possible location. They can now be picked up from your side.
Davian watched the doctor for a moment, assessing the situation. A smile formed on his face, staring at Pasiune. "So full of surprises," he said softly.
The blue-eyed man dipped deeper into the darkness, only the Changeling could follow him as he walked into a corridor to the east. "Scaen," Davian rang out, "leave them for later." An unseen door screeched open.
Blood continued to pour from the creature's nostrils. While the doctor-garbed thing curled inward in pain, it seemed to feel little compared to Pasiune's first assault. It's white, pupil-less eyes flicked back and forth between those that remained standing in the northern cells. Its eyes stopped, though it was unclear who of the two it glared at.
