... A winged serpent snarling at the viewer. Turning it over, the phrase "JUSTICE IS PERFECTION" is etched into the back...
O.L.L.I faces Thorn
"This unit hypothesizes that these fiendish simian creatures were at one time normal humanoid beings. The fact that their bites created sickness within you all leads this unit to posit that they were tainted in some fashion. This unit would suggest that you stay vigilant for any signs of infection or altered mental states. Hopefully your immune system has shrugged off the effects. This unit doesn't have the curative power it would take to cleanse an Abyssal infection."
O.L.L.I pauses, looks at Reghar and then resumes speaking
"In any event, let us continue our search as you have indicated."
O.L.L.I follows his Bariaur companion
Choices in transit through the second floor include:
-The passage Thorn took to fight the monkey at the opposite end of the hall.
-An opposite passage a baboon took to assault Kev during the fight (it doesn't take a modron to figure that they both lead to the 't' shaped passage opposite where you came up)
-The corridor at the end of the hall.
-Numerous rooms honeycombed throughout the "blocks" of former suites on either side of your group, walls demolished or erected to alter the floorplan.
“Alright,” growls Thorn, seeing that his companions seem stymied by the choices, or perhaps in shock at Kev’s hasty departure, or O.L.L.I.’s conjecture that they might all turn into baboons. “Let’s start with the corridor at the end of the hall. And you,” he stabs a finger at Rennet, “don’t think about going anywhere. We still need to take you to the balmy-house when we’re done here.”
O.L.L.I sticks close to Thorn
Displaying a distinct lack of shame, Rennet picks through the assorted gear; he can remember several occasions when he has smelled of demon monkey arse, or worse.
Finding nothing more attractive than the piecemeal he’s already wearing, he trundles after Olli, but not before tossing a gesture considered obscene by most civilized races with external genitalia in Thorn’s direction.
Thorn, O.L.L.I, Rennet and Reghar pick their way around the brown mold in the hallway to reach the corridor on the far side of the building. The itinerant investigators note that, surprise, surprise, the windows are all bricked up; here and there a little gap in the masonry allows precious little fresh air to enter the second floor. Gnawed bones, rinds of fruit and "monkey presents"litter the floor here are there. Yawning holes in the walls allow entrance to more modified suites. Some are covered in chicken wire, others with haphazard wooden barricades, others lie open.
On your right there are three openings; the closest links up to the hallway where you just fought the baboons (Thorn passed through recently), the middle is blocked by chickenwire and the furthest isn't blocked at all.
On your left, the closest door is blocked by a makeshift screen of scavenged wood and the next is blocked by chickenwire. The four of you notice an intact wooden door at the end of the hall.
“None for me thanks berk,” says Thorn in response to Rennet’s gesture, smiling to show a mouthful of sharp, crooked, slightly yellowed teeth.
“Rightio me cheeries let’s try this way first,” the goatman says, gesturing towards the right with his heavy sickle. In lieu of any protest from the others, he heads warily down the corridor, stopping at the chickenwired opening and peering carefully within.
Stalking prey, now that's more like it.
Reghar follows suit and moves quietly like the others. He is prepared to hurl his spear at the first sign of danger.
In lieu of any protest from the others, he heads warily down the corridor, stopping at the chickenwired opening and peering carefully within.
The hallway smells heavily of the stables.
Looking through the chickenwire, Thorn can see several cages large enough to hold hunting cats, apes or a similarly sized animal. Dirty straw is strewn across the floor and several of the cages are overturned. Some contain chains and manacles. All are open, as far as you can see. Craning his neck to see further, the bariaur notes an overturned rack or shelf of some sort spilling its contents through the straw. A whip here, a crop there. Several long gaffes.
O.L.L.I. inspects the cages, looking for any sign of their provenance
SPOT: 1d20+5=21, Knowledge(Planes): 1d20+5=6
"I believe we have discovered the monkey's 'kip' fellow adventurers."
“How’d they get at us if this wire’s still up?” Thorn asks, looking into the room to see if he can spy another exit. He’ll also try to determine how hard it would be to rip down the chicken wire (guessing, not very – but why would the monkeys tack it back up behind them?).
O.L.L.I. inspects the cages, looking for any sign of their provenance
The cages appear to be made of standard wrought-iron, available on most of the Outer Planes, The Outlands, The Prime Material and the Elemental Plane of Earth. There are no identifying marks (though it stands to reason that a territorial creature would "mark" its territory) on the cages or the locks.
Thorn's view of the whole room is blocked somewhat, but he figures that the room continues to his left, parallel to the corridor he presently occupies.
“Eh, well I don’t theink Enoch’s hiding his gold in there,” Thorn mutters, moving on to the next opening down the passage, and likewise looking within.
The next passage in the hallway is a ragged hole in the cheap plaster that comprises most of the dilapidated inn/tavern. Peering in, you note another ragged hallway leading back towards where you entered the floor. At least sixty feet away, the corridor makes a right turn. The ad-hoc floorplan was made either by a madman or an amateur architect that had never previously seen a building, much less been inside of one.
On the right from your entrance is an unpainted wooden door succumbing to mold from the damp humidity the suffuses the area, hanging open. From within you can smell the unmistakable aroma of too many animals kept in tight quarters not long ago and it's easy to see that this is the room blocked by the chicken wire from the hallway, cages and all.
Thorn snorts and spits onto the floor. “Doesn’t look very exciting down this way,” he says. “Maybe we could try those doors back the other direction.”
"Yes. Let us go the other way. I need something to kill."
Thorn grimaces and scratches his lower eyelid. “What are you, a Doomguard? Still ... given how things have evolved so far, I’d say you’ll get your wish soon enough.”
"Doomguard? Never heard of them... are they tasty?"
O.L.L.I perks up at Reghar's question
"Fellow adventurer Reghar. In response to your query the Doomguard are a faction sect centered on Sigil that believes in hastening the entropic ..blah...blah..blah..."
O.L.L.I switches into boring pedantic mode and begins chattering about the Sinkers in an attempt to edify the burly half-orc.
<Rubs temples>
"You're making my head hurt."
O.L.L.I looks at Reghar, a frown on his boxy face.
"This unit apologizes Reghar. Are you certain that it is this unit that is the source of you pain? This unit has not struck you physically or used a magical effect to harm you. Are you feeling well? Are your previous injuries affecting your status? Do you feel any change in your mental state from the monkey bites you sustained? Blah ... blah ...blah."
O.L.L.I begins to pepper Reghar with questions.
O.L.L.I switches into boring pedantic mode and begins chattering about the Sinkers in an attempt to edify the burly half-orc.
Reghar looks up. His expressions seems to say: "Why me?!"
“Heh,” snorts Thorn. “He has that effect on me too. Not a bad sort though, apart from the babble and the statistics…”
O.L.L.I: Which being is on first?
Rennet: <silence>
O.L.L.I: Do you know which being is on the initial base?
Rennet: <silence>
O.L.L.I: I do not comprehend what you are pantomiming, fellow adventurer Rennet.
Rennet: <silence>
O.L.L.I: THIRD BASE!
Changing directions, the group heads down the hall, using Rennet's scythe and other available materials to push the brown mold infested corpse in the opposite direction.
The first passage is blocked completely by scavenged pieces of wood. It looks stable enough, but the humidity has warped the blockade already in parts. Through the next passage, half blocked by ripped and ragged chickenwire, you can make out shattered crates and a looming iron maiden shaped to resemble a voluptuous fiend sitting in a large open crate of her own. A smear of dried blood mars the otherwise flawless surface of the torture device.
Two human sized bodies in piecemeal armor lay on the ground. Even from the hall, you can see that the baboons have been at them and some aspects of their skin and anatomy seem disturbingly strange, even after you've lived in The Cage. The strangest thing of all, though, comes when you look up. Serpentine roots twine from the ceiling, breaking through holes in the floor above. Even as you watch, you note that they seem to...twitch at times, causing small dustings of reddish dirt to fall to the floor. The ceiling strains from the weight of whatever the roots are connected to.
Even further down the hall is a closed wooden door of sturdy construction. Cautiously, you try the knob. Locked.
“I do like a female who likes the rough stuff,” opinions Thorn, looking through the torn chickenwire at the iron maiden. “But I don’t much like those sort of roots…” he gestures up to the pulsating roots on the ceiling. “Any one o’ you berks got a green thumb?”
O.L.L.I: THIRD BASE!
Can I reach the roots with the scythe? If so I will carefully (and perhaps, idiotically) prod one.
It's a three story building, but you haven't noticed any way up there. Not surprising, considering the rest of the construction. With the windows boarded or bricked up, there could be any number of trees (or worse) up there.
Lacking any further recourse, Rennet ducks under the chicken wire and starts giving those roots a good probe. The sensitive strands of vegetation react by curling up, hugging the ceiling.
“And he claims he’s not addled,” mutters Thorn, as Rennet stands directly below the tentacles – er, roots – and pokes them.
"Be wary fellow adventurer Rennet. This unit theorizes that that vegetation is more active than is usual in a sessile plant."
As the roots recoil, Rennet ceases poking.
Reghar swings his head left to right. "Need something to kill," he mutters.
There is a muted "hiss" from above as the roots curl away.
The room in its entirety runs from North to South about ten feet by thirty feet. You can tell that it used to be two rooms made into one by demolishing the wall between and boarding over the entrance to the hallway. In the end closest to the central corridor (home of the corpse) there is another rough passageway cut through the wall so you can see the corpses of the primates you so recently defeated.
Thorn looks dubiously at the roots. “Any of you lot hear that?” he asks. His (currently heightened) sense of greed is telling him to loot the bodies and search the room, but currently his sense of self preservation is winning out.
“I really don’t want to be off my guard below those things,” he mutters. “Reckon we can find a way up, see what they’re attached to-like?”
He looks back at the locked door at the end of the corridor. “I’m thinkin’ you and I could take that door down with little trouble,” he says to Reghar. “Stand back.”
O.L.L.I stays ready for any surprises
"Guard your brainbox fellow adventurer Thorn."
Returning to the hallway, Thorn eyes the door at the end. He picks a starting point roughly thirty feet away and flexes his neck, the disembodied whispers of Aym kicking through his head...
Barriers...destroy...mine...what's mine...
Cloven hooves thunder on the warped floorboards. The wooden door with its brass fixtures and doorknob grow larger and larger with each gallop. Grinning like a madman, Thorn lowers his horns and barrels like a thrown javelin through the door, splitting through horns first. Wood splinters fly into his face from the broken portal, larger shards littering the stairs behind the door. The break in his momentum is like being slapped by a giant; as the initial adrenalin subsides, Thorn's torso and front legs smart from the impact.
The only remaining part of the door is the lock and doorknob, still held in place with a hand-sized piece of wood.
Flexing his (very sore) neck, Thorn holds two fingers in front of his eyes. Yep, just two fingers; his race's famed thick-headedness apparently comes in handy. On his left is another staircase of solid construction, littered with stray bits of door.
In the storage room
As Thorn attempts the "Bariaur Skeleton Key Maneuver", causing a great deal of noise, the iron maiden rocks a little. One tentative shake. Pause. A more urgent push and it rocks on its base. Then, it stops.
O.L.L.I turns his gaze to the tottering iron maiden
The iron maiden shakes again, coming close to toppling over. The latch on the front starts to buckle. An incoherent wail of rage and pain echoes within and you start to smell the sickly stench of carrion.
O.L.L.I deduces that there is a 86% chance that something of alien/and or undead status trapped within the iron maiden. Whatever the being might be, it is unhappy with its incarceration.
"Attention fellow adventures!" O.L.L.I proclaims in a loud voice. "Something is emerging from the iron maiden. Assistance is required!"
Thorn tilts his head back, grimacing, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s how you open a door,” he grunts with satisfaction, then looks about, hearing O.L.L.I.s call. “Ah…”
With one more great heave (and even louder screams) the iron maiden flies open, revealing one of the most grotesque things you've ever seen. It's about six feet tall and man-shaped. Sunken human-like eyes flit hungrily about the room, ignoring the modron after only a glance before focusing on the corpses and the living flesh and blood party members. Its pale head has only a few stray whisps of hair clinging to its rubbery flesh. A too-large jaw splits into two pieces supporting three rows of teeth, dry tongue lolling to and fro. It's arms resemble the rear legs of a horse turned backwards, with razor sharp claws instead of hooves. A smaller, more humanlike set of arms sit on the ribcage just underneath the grotesque upper set. It stinks like an open grave or a battlefield days after the dead have been left to sit, large tears and holes pocking its pale flesh. Its stomach sags where once vital organs have been pierced, the remnants dangling and dripping fluid. It stumbles at its sudden freedom, still caught to the apparatus in a few places, making a sound like it's gagging.
The creature is branded on it forehead with an unfamiliar glyph: a sideways "Y" piercing a circle.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming Box,” mutters Thorn, taking a further moment to massage his aching neck, a little put out that no one is appearing particularly impressed by his feat with the door.
He takes a moment to glance into the chamber beyond the broken door, assuring himself that there are no immediate lurking dangers, then, assuming there are none, trots back towards the door to the iron maiden chamber. Hearing a strange gagging sound, and catching a whiff of an unpleasant rotting stench, the bariaur takes the precaution of drawing his sickle as he goes , before stopping just outside the entrance to the chamber and staring in open-mouthed amazement. “What in the Hells?”
O.L.L.I. steps back and readies his healing wand. He analyzes the creature that has emerged from the iron maiden.
Warden:
Rennet: Init: 16+1 = 17. Rennet grips his scythe tightly and readies an action to attack the creature should it come near.
Reghar: Init: 1+8 = 9. Reghar decides this thing looks badass and casts Bulls Strength on himself to even the odds.