"I concur," Nathaniel says after hearing Wynter out, nodding in agreement with Hearda. "Whatever this... strangeness is, it could very well hold the answers to many if not all of our questions."
Search Posts
"We cannot trust our own memories, what is left of them anyway," Nathaniel comments regarding Amber's questions, "so perhaps we cannot trust theirs either." He turns to Wynter. "You say you have never seen us before. Is it possible that you have but do not remember? Our own memories are... all but gone."
"In a somewhat... distasteful way," Nathaniel remarks in an equally soft voice as Amber's, his words quite possibly reflecting the half-elven woman's thoughts if her expression is any indication.
"A search certainly cannot hurt," Nathaniel says simply in agreement as he begins to move through the room carefully. "Do be careful though. One never knows if the good... doctor has left any traps and such behind." Mechanics:
With Kalas back on their side Nathaniel can now focus on the doppelganger. Even so it seems his strike is off, his slender blade hitting nothing but air. Mechanics:
"Kalas, listen to it speaking of subjects," Nathaniel says, trying to talk sense to the half-elven warrior as he once again attacks the creature. "Truly listen. It is no defenseless woman." Mechanics:
"Kalas, snap out of it," Nathaniel calls out to the half-elf as he closes with the "woman" and tries a straightforward stabbing strike. "We are not the enemy here, nor is the ghoul. He is on our side. The true enemy is posing as the female victim." Mechanics:
[ooc]Moving to attack the "woman".
Although more or less certain that it is indeed the woman on the slab that is the real enemy, still he hesitates. This place and the tricks it is playing on their senses all the time have allowed doubt to creep into his mind. Instead of taking action he stays his hand, waiting to see Hearda's attack and the effect it has. Mechanics:
"We are being fooled. The doppelganger is not real," Nathaniel calls out. "Amber, your arrow, while apparently striking true, only hit stone."
Allowing the once again controlled ghoul to rush into the room and perhaps take the brunt of whatever attack may soon be coming, Nathaniel casts a simple enough spell, one that allows him to see the magic in people and things and places. Perhaps this in combination with Argrade's charge will help clear things out, if only a little. Mechanics:
"This is not good," Nathaniel notes, hardly a difficult observation to make. Wasting no time he moves towards the slumbering form of Dvarin, kneeling down and slapping the man in an attempt to wake him up. "I do apologize." Mechanics:
"There is something... off about this room," Nathaniel speaks up after calling upon his magic to shield him for the coming fight. "It appears... staged for lack of a better word. I could be wrong or it could be just my nerves, but not all is as it seems." Mechanics:
"Minds? No, not exactly," Nathaniel replies. "Yet, perhaps there is a way to maybe find out more. Hardly a flawless way, I admit."
"Zandalus?" Nathaniel's question is directed towards no one in particular. "Would that be the yellow-garbed man?" He pauses, his momentary silences enhancing the meaning of his words. "Or someone -or something- else?"
"No, not a doppelganger," Nathaniel agrees as he looks at the hungry creature, waiting to see whether Dvarin's magic will take effect. Still he does not rely on that alone as he moves alongside Kalas, bestowing a minor protective spell on him before brandishing his slender sword. Mechanics:
"If we are all ready shall we open it then?" Reaching for his lockpicks Nathaniel proceeds -quietly- to examine the door to see if it is locked or not. If it is... well, a bit of practice in picking locks is always useful.
"At least now we know what they look like," Nathaniel offers. "Perhaps it would be best if we can avoid it next time. If we can." Approaching Hearda he adds his own senses to the half-orc's. "So, do you hear anything?" Mechanics:
His eyes widening in equal parts surprise and disgust Nathaniel nevertheless clings to his stoic nature and retains his sanity despite the sight before him. Moving to support the half-elven warrior he attempts to stab at the head with his slender blade. "This place is just full of surprises it seems," he attempts to quip. He does not fail entirely, although the slight shake in his voice does detract from the remark. Mechanics:
"Just a little bit of protection," Nathaniel offers as he puts a hand on Hearda's shoulder and mutters a few arcane syllables. As he finishes there is a momentary light blue glow coming from his hand and warmth suffuses the half-orc briefly. "There. It may help if something goes wrong."
"Come," Nathaniel beckons to Dvarin. "It seems there is little to no point to argue. At least, grisly work though it is, it is almost over. One more, yes?"
Taking advantage of his position and the fact that they have the creature surrounded Nathaniel withdraws his slender blade from its flesh only to have it dart forward once more, seeking to fell it. Mechanics:
Following Kalas' example Nathaniel moves quickly to join the fight. Maneuvering himself so that he is opposite of the half-elf he manages to flank the one called Latchke as his sword cane darts forward. Mechanics:
"She is not just an old woman," Nathaniel whispers. "The real question is whether she -or it- is alone or not." Mechanics:
"There is someone down the hall," Nathaniel says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone... or something. Whatever it is, it is... well, humming."
"Two birds with one stone as it were," Nathaniel offers as he accompanies Hearda to the door. "But just because these creatures may have knowledge of who we are and why we are here does not mean they will share it with us. Judging from the... err... nurse they may not only be unwilling, but incapable as well." Moving close to the door he takes a closer look at its lock. "Given the state of this place I do not expect it to be trapped or even locked but one never knows, does one?" Mechanics:
"Are we certain they are enemies?" Nathaniel's voice is soft, almost a whisper, as he expresses his doubts. "Or are we allowing our memory loss and perhaps even paranoia to make us see foes everywhere?"
Once again the hooded man stabs at the strange creature, only this time he does so along with the rest of his newfound companions. And indeed it makes a difference. Mechanics:
Attempting to return the favor, Nathaniel tries a rather straightforward stab with his sword cane. There are no flourishes, no fancy footwork. But unlike his previous attack this one does not strike true, quite possibly due to his foe's rather... unique physiology. Mechanics:
With the hem of his previously black cloak now illuminated by faint silvery runes, Nathaniel moves a little ahead and closes with one of the rats, his unsheathed blade darting forward as it seeks the creature's flesh. Mechanics:
His mind going through his possible options for what appears to be an unavoidable fight in his very near future, he finds that he does have some magic in hand that could prove useful. The thinking also helps to keep the sight of the pile of bodies from distracting him too much, though it does nothing when his hands finally touch it in his attempt to climb it and join the others that have already gone ahead.
Mechanics:
"An odd phrase to use," Nathaniel remarks with a crooked smile of his own. "But a fitting one I think," he adds, his mind traveling back to a... dream, or rather a nightmare. He then puts both hands on his cane, leaning against it as he waits for news on what awaits them next or for his turn to climb up, whichever comes first. On purpose he does not turn his gaze on the pile of corpses again, not until it is necessary.
Joining the others Nathaniel takes in the sight of the giant pile of dead bodies in various states of dismemberment and decay. His eyes widen and there is an almost audible gulp as well. "What...?" The single word is the only one he can manage until he regains his composure and control, finding focusing on their escape rather than what is in front of them a welcome distraction. "I do have a rope myself, a silk one. It should be strong and sturdy enough," he offers.
Moving quietly Nathaniel opts to follow the halfling. After all, given their circumstances and the creatures and things that are supposed to roam this place's hallways sticking together seems like the smart move. "Mind if I join you?" His question to Feliks is spoken softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Mechanics:
Letting the others debate the creature's fate for a little while, Nathaniel instead busies himself with looking for his belongings, which soon enough he does find among the various items stored in the bags. He wastes no time getting dressed before retrieving a well-made backpack containing various knicks and knacks, as well as a pair of belt pouches and a scroll case, from inside a bag. 'Even my coins are here. Surprising,' he ponders briefly to himself before continuing. His thieves' tools come next, and then a nondescript leather pouch, which he fastens to his belt after checking the sling and bullets contained within. A wrist sheath with little gears on it he secures on his left wrist and forearm before placing a dagger in it and pulling his sleeve down over it. And then he pauses as he looks at the last of his belongings. One is an entirely black hooded cloak with what appears to be an almost heart-shaped silver clasp. He examines it for a moment before putting it on and pulling the hood over his head. He smiles a crooked little smile followed by a sigh of relief as he picks up the second item, that being what appears to be a cane of steel and black wood. There is an almost imperceptible click as he examines it for but a moment before finally its tip touches the ground. "Whatever this creature is, whatever unpleasantness it had in store for us," he finally joins the conversation, "it is now a prisoner. It is, more or less, helpless and at our mercy. And executing it in cold blood does not sit well with me. It is not responsible for our being in these cells and I am certain it is not responsible for our memories being gone. It is a scavenger and an opportunist and a killer and if we had killed it during the fight? Now that would have been one thing. But this? This, in my eyes at least, is another." He sighs pinching his nose. The void where his memories used to be is an annoying thing indeed. "Bind it in a cell and leave it there. Or let Campre decide its fate. He is, after all, the one most wronged by it and in more ways than one." "And maybe, just maybe, pass one of those healing potions to Mr. Eventide?" Mechanics:
"Calm yourself Old Man," Nathaniel says softly, "and still that... righteousness of yours for a moment. I understand you do not particularly like aberrations. But think. That is what our current predicament is as well. All of us without our memories? Either an aberration or quite the coincidence. And I am betting on the former myself." He places a hand on the older man's shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. "And this creature may have information that will shed some light into all this. So, let it be, if for a little." Having spoken his part, his attention is then drawn to what the halfling seems to have found. "What do you have there Feliks?" Although at first he looks at the vials he then notices the pile of bags, proceeding to rummage through them, looking for anything interesting or useful. Or familiar.
As some of the others begin the task of questioning both prisoner and -at least apparent- jailer, Nathaniel simply moves about the room, examining it, searching for anything that might help them or interest them. "Nathaniel," he introduces himself simply after the one calling himself Dvarin has done the same. There is a little pause before he adds, not without some hesitation, "Or Nathan. Or Nate." He shrugs in an attempt to appear casual, nonchalant. "Take your pick." "An asylum you say? That is disturbing, especially considering we remember... well, not much other than our names." He takes a better look at the others. "You do not believe we are rightfully here, as you say. But without our memories how can we be sure?" Then he looks at the creature. "Although that hardly looks like a properly licensed medical professional..."
Mechanics:
"May I suggest more securing the admittedly heavily injured... creature and less chatting about it?" Despite his smile, crooked though it may be, there is a distinct driness in his tone as he speaks. Nathaniel may appear as if he is handling it all rather well but he is tense enough without having to wait around longer than needed. "Perhaps we can use the table now that it is vacant," he adds.
Taking advantage of both the old man's attempt to distract the creature, as well as the fact that a half-elven man seems to have embedded one of the saws in its head, a fact that is bound to be all sorts of distracting, Nathaniel exits his cell in as quiet a manner as he can manage and moves towards the table, taking one of the saws in his hand as soon as he is close enough. 'Here we go,' he thinks to himself as he brandishes what can rather loosely be called a surgical tool. Mechanics:
"Well," Nathaniel says simply as he takes the syringe in his hand very very carefully. He almost begins to ask where it came from but decides otherwise. Instead he inserts it into the lock, moving it this way and that and listening for that much desired little click. "At least one seems to have gotten out, eh old man?" The remark is spoken in a soft voice. Just because the creature appears to be preoccupied does not mean they have to make it notice them again. Not if they can help it. "Tsk..." Mechanics:
Despite the horrendous sight in front of him Nathaniel still manages to keep his composure, albeit barely. And especially when the waxen creature almost slams against the other cell's door. Still, there is little he can do to help either himself or the others from where he is, that much he realizes as he looks around for anything he could use to try and pick the cell door's lock. "A piece of wire, a broken off fork, a syringe needle," he mutters softly to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "Anything..." Indeed his quick search and subsequent examination of the lock at the very least serve as a welcome distraction from the thing that used to somewhat resemble a nurse only moments ago. Mechanics:
Noticing his older cellmate's offered and then withdrawn hand, Nathaniel seems puzzled for a moment as he turns to regard the other man with his now normal -albeit still a little disconcerting perhaps- golden eyes. "Are you well?" Even as he speaks the words the pale raven-haired man realizes the absurdity of his question given their circumstances and manages a crooked little smile, even if it is not entirely heart-felt. "The question stands regardless," he adds with a shrug, offering his own hand.
"Well, that was...," Nathaniel -that... that is his name, is it not?- manages to utter as blessed consciousness returns to him, his tone of voice at least showing that he is in control of himself, if only barely. His voice trembling slightly betrays that latter fact. "...disturbing," he concludes as he pats himself down, feeling flesh where he half expects to find but brittle bone. Regaining as much of his composure as the time and the place and the attire and the circumstances and more allow him, he looks around, finding the faces of those in the same cell as he strangely familiar. 'As if from a dream,' he ponders as understanding dawns on him. "A dream indeed," he mutters to himself. "A nightmare..." He registers the man being tortured -for only torture could bring out such screams- and an expression of sympathy appears on his face. Indeed, he almost springs to action, but quickly he stops himself. He has nothing but a patient's gown on him, and a dirty one at that. This does not seem to stop some of the others though, that much he can tell, as his eyes very briefly glow with a silvery blue light and he once again looks around, this time seeing things under a different light, both literally and figuratively speaking.
Nathaniel Harker: "What... are you?"
It is more of a reaction to the sight of the strange creature -if it can even be called that- rather than a question, as Nathaniel searches his memories for any knowledge of such a being, anything that could provide him with some insight into both the foe and the situation. But it is not only thinking that he resorts to. There is also action. With magic bolstering and protecting him he quickly decides that there is no flight from whatever this is, no escape from the ever pursuing fog. But there is fight.
|