Samir makes his way into the scripting room, and begins to rifle through the detritus left behind by the cultists in search of clues. Instead, however, he finds himself distracted by a recipe of sorts - fully annotated - for a mixture that would prove efficacious in removing blood stains and other difficult materials from cloth and leather.
Malachi steps around the puddle of acid bubbling on the floor and follows the others into the cult’s hideout, staying toward the rear of the group. He pokes around one of the dorm rooms with Joren, but is too distracted to make much out, other than the fact that the place is empty and quiet. Too quiet. “Where do you think everyone went?”
Joren and Malachi check the dorm and finds it in a state of disarray. Several sets of shoddily constructed bunks line opposing walls. Discarded covers litter the floor beside several of the beds, while others are neatly made. At the foot of each bunk is a chest, and most have been left open. Curious, Malachi looks through them and finds that some of the chests contain night clothes, while others contain clothes more suited for the chilly outdoors. And all of them have been disturbed by rummaging. Joren takes a few moments to sort through the evidence, the pain from his wounds sapping his focus. But then he makes a connection that helps. The beds that are made correspond with the chests containing night clothes. It looks like cultists were sleeping here in shifts, and something happened to prompt everyone to make a hasty exodus. Leaping out of bed if sleeping, not bothering to change clothes, only grabbing essentials from their belongings in the chests, and leaving without closing the chests. He thinks about the fires at the docks, the broad daylight assassination of a councilor in his chambers, and Ashley's concerns about something happening deep underground.
It's clear from the state of this dorm that they had not been expecting to leap into action. At least not this soon. Had his big display at the arena forced their hand prematurely?
Looking through the scripting room, Samir sees desk along one wall, and a stone slab in the center that looks like an operating table. And on the table lies a man. His chest does not rise and fall with breathe, and he appears quite dead. A pool of fresh blood has formed around the back of his head, and a small drop falls from the edge of the table to splatter on the ground. From the entrance, he looks burly and strong. His arms and shoulders bulge, and stretch marks are visible His face is tanned and weathered. But as Samir circles around, he sees that the other half of the man's face is not attached to the head. Rather, it is draped over an entirely different, rune-marked face like a mask of skin. That half of the body is also different, Instead of tanned and muscular, he is thin an pale. Samir can see the point on the man's bare chest where the transition happens, and it lines up with where the face mask is attached. Several runed staples lie unused on the table beside the man's head along with a half-empty vial of shimmering pink liquid and a tattooing needle
The sight is revolting, but informative. The cultists have somehow been stealing faces not just as disguises, but as a way to transform the body. The stretch marks on the muscular half indicate that this transition is not easy on the body. But this operation seems to have gone wrong, or to have been abandoned halfway through.
Ashley steps into the kitchen and looks around in disgust. In the center of the room are several long dining tables, and along one wall there is a counter with several knives, pots, and food scraps. Plates with half-eaten meals lie around, which give her an unfortunate insight into their diet. Rat bones, some still sporting meat, bitter-looking roots that still appear raw and tough, and a few empty shells that resemble the stone crabs she and the others had fought in the tunnels. None of it looks cooked, and she doesn't see a stove around. Which maybe makes sense. Where would the smoke go?
Like in the others rooms, it looks like everyone left in a hurry. Some plates are overturned, their contents littering the floor. It looks like many left through the door she entered through, but a trail of debris points her in the direction of another door on the other side. Carefully, she cracks the door and peeks through. Another hallway, leading opposite the direction they entered through, aiming slightly down. There are a couple more doors intersecting halls, but then a sound grabs her attention. A faint scratching echoes through the hall, muffed by something. And a quiet voice, unintelligible with the distance and the acoustics.
Vilus walks up to the vault door, trying to recall the specific knock to open it, but finds it already ajar. He slips in, wary of traps, but finds none. Then he enters the vault proper. Some of the contents he had seen previously have gone missing, as he expected, but there are still piles of clothes and other basic belongings from previously captured prisoners. And Vilus sees one new bundle of clothes, fairly expensive-looking. In it, he finds a coin purse with 100 GP, and a strange crystal that feels warm to his touch.
Vilus pockets the gold and the warm crystal, maybe something for Samir to look over later, he also looks to the expensive clothes and wonders if maybe the cages are currently occupied, maybe a source of information is to be had in this place.
He quickly picks through the clothes to see if there is a shirt that will fit him, less damaged than his acid burnt and ripped one that he has on. He also looks for a cloak. Since the meeting at the inn by the shield pass Vilus seems to have made a habit of giving his cloaks away, having gone through two already.
Once back he asks "anyone found anything interesting? There's evidence that the cultist took someone else recently and held them where it was held, I didn't want to go back there but it might be worth checking out if there's someone to save, someone who might have an idea of where these f*ckers went."
“Wherever they went, they left in a hurry.”Malachi shares the highlights on what they found in the dorm rooms, unmade beds and open chests. “Did they go to join the others at the docks? Are they on the ships we saw in the harbor, or did they go deeper underground?”
"Yes, it is looking like they were leaving suddenly. Unexpectedly roused by... something. I am wondering if my addressing the crowd on the arena floor was playing a part in spurring them on before they had planned, for better or worse. I am fearing worse...."
Joren holds his father's sword grimly. "Ashley or Samir, were you seeing or sensing anything different?"
"Good listening!" Joren grins at Ashley, sending his echo at the front of the group as a vanguard, himself taking up a central position in the marching order.
"Being careful, though. These cultists are loving their traps, and it is possible the sounds may be coming from them... or prisoners they left behind."
Samir's mouth is half open when Ashley bursts in, the vial of shimmering liquid - now corked - in his hand. Startled out of his train of thought, he shoves the vial into his satchel and begins heading out with the others. "There was a man in the room, quite dead. It looked as if someone had been operating on him and stopped halfway through. I don't quite understand how, but it seems as the cult is somehow stealing not only people's visages, but somehow transforming themselves physically into other people!"
Joren nods grimly as Samir's clue clicks into place, whispering "Jean-Lou's nine assassins, of whom he was killing six and a half, and Vilus and I the rest, they had faces of others stapled onto their own. Possibly being the result of completing the partially-complete procedure you were just seeing?"
"gods I hate this, I hate all of it..." Vilus merely complains as they group begin running in the direction of the cultists.
If the group happen to run past the room where Vilus was held hostage, he will hiss a low "wait!" At the group and poke his head in. But if not he leaves it
“The workers that were killed at the harbor were similar. Their faces were not natural, it was like they were missing. You looked right past them without seeing them.” Malachi shares what they saw and learned in the alley by the docks. “Maybe the cultists took their faces to staple on to someone else.” Malachi hurries down the hallway with the others, staying toward the back and looking over his shoulder occasionally to make sure nothing appeared behind them.
Going through the door in the kitchen and down the hallway, Vilus thinks about his last time here and concludes that the prison must be back the other way because this corridor is entirely unfamiliar to him. The scratching grows louder and louder, as does the muttering. But there only seems to be one voice, oddly familiar. Then, the group reaches a door, small and unassuming, but sturdy. It is open just a crack, and the voice is clearly coming from within.
Malachi:
Malachi's body seems to reflexively recoil away from the door, even while he finds himself drawn toward it. It's as though his passenger feels ambivalent towards what might be on the side. Something tempting, or something revolting...
(Everyone give me perception to recognize the voice. If someone wants to open the door, give me stealth)
With the corridor unfamiliar and the rush of chasing the noise, anxiety creeps in and blood pumps in Vilus' ears, he has no idea who's voice it is (nat 1, perception)
"Andra... it is Andra's voice. Yet he is not commanding and confident as he was sounding down below Tensmith." Joren's voice is a tense whisper. "Instead he is sounding crazed. Manic. Not that he was not insane already."
For the third time that day, the smell of blood rises to meet Joren's nostrils. The scratching continues, like something hard scraping against stone... no, metal.
Joren pauses and inhales slightly. "Fresh blood," he mutters off-handedly, his voice as casual as if saying 'hey, I think I felt some raindrops'.
He looks at his companions. "We must be proceeding carefully. Time after time, the cultists are setting traps for us and sacrificing their own in doing so. From Jon Shep and the others exploding on death near the inn, to the exploding fuse trap when we were chasing Andra underground, to the crossbow traps in near the underground lake where we fought Andra, to the monstrosities ambushing in the arena, to the pot of acid falling on Vilus just now. They are clearly guessing we may be coming this way. So here, they may be setting a trap with whatever is left of Andra too..."
He trails off. "Perhaps we should be stepping back except for my echo and one of you mages can be opening the door at a distance? Then we, especially Samir," (Joren glances fondly at the bespectacled half-orc), "can be trying to investigate whether we are noticing any signs of a trap."
Ashley nods at Vilus's words and heads into the kitchen to see what clues the cultists' might have left in there.
Investigation 22
Samir makes his way into the scripting room, and begins to rifle through the detritus left behind by the cultists in search of clues. Instead, however, he finds himself distracted by a recipe of sorts - fully annotated - for a mixture that would prove efficacious in removing blood stains and other difficult materials from cloth and leather.
Malachi steps around the puddle of acid bubbling on the floor and follows the others into the cult’s hideout, staying toward the rear of the group. He pokes around one of the dorm rooms with Joren, but is too distracted to make much out, other than the fact that the place is empty and quiet. Too quiet. “Where do you think everyone went?”
Joren and Malachi check the dorm and finds it in a state of disarray. Several sets of shoddily constructed bunks line opposing walls. Discarded covers litter the floor beside several of the beds, while others are neatly made. At the foot of each bunk is a chest, and most have been left open. Curious, Malachi looks through them and finds that some of the chests contain night clothes, while others contain clothes more suited for the chilly outdoors. And all of them have been disturbed by rummaging. Joren takes a few moments to sort through the evidence, the pain from his wounds sapping his focus. But then he makes a connection that helps. The beds that are made correspond with the chests containing night clothes. It looks like cultists were sleeping here in shifts, and something happened to prompt everyone to make a hasty exodus. Leaping out of bed if sleeping, not bothering to change clothes, only grabbing essentials from their belongings in the chests, and leaving without closing the chests. He thinks about the fires at the docks, the broad daylight assassination of a councilor in his chambers, and Ashley's concerns about something happening deep underground.
It's clear from the state of this dorm that they had not been expecting to leap into action. At least not this soon. Had his big display at the arena forced their hand prematurely?
Looking through the scripting room, Samir sees desk along one wall, and a stone slab in the center that looks like an operating table. And on the table lies a man. His chest does not rise and fall with breathe, and he appears quite dead. A pool of fresh blood has formed around the back of his head, and a small drop falls from the edge of the table to splatter on the ground. From the entrance, he looks burly and strong. His arms and shoulders bulge, and stretch marks are visible His face is tanned and weathered. But as Samir circles around, he sees that the other half of the man's face is not attached to the head. Rather, it is draped over an entirely different, rune-marked face like a mask of skin. That half of the body is also different, Instead of tanned and muscular, he is thin an pale. Samir can see the point on the man's bare chest where the transition happens, and it lines up with where the face mask is attached. Several runed staples lie unused on the table beside the man's head along with a half-empty vial of shimmering pink liquid and a tattooing needle
The sight is revolting, but informative. The cultists have somehow been stealing faces not just as disguises, but as a way to transform the body. The stretch marks on the muscular half indicate that this transition is not easy on the body. But this operation seems to have gone wrong, or to have been abandoned halfway through.
Ashley steps into the kitchen and looks around in disgust. In the center of the room are several long dining tables, and along one wall there is a counter with several knives, pots, and food scraps. Plates with half-eaten meals lie around, which give her an unfortunate insight into their diet. Rat bones, some still sporting meat, bitter-looking roots that still appear raw and tough, and a few empty shells that resemble the stone crabs she and the others had fought in the tunnels. None of it looks cooked, and she doesn't see a stove around. Which maybe makes sense. Where would the smoke go?
Like in the others rooms, it looks like everyone left in a hurry. Some plates are overturned, their contents littering the floor. It looks like many left through the door she entered through, but a trail of debris points her in the direction of another door on the other side. Carefully, she cracks the door and peeks through. Another hallway, leading opposite the direction they entered through, aiming slightly down. There are a couple more doors intersecting halls, but then a sound grabs her attention. A faint scratching echoes through the hall, muffed by something. And a quiet voice, unintelligible with the distance and the acoustics.
Vilus walks up to the vault door, trying to recall the specific knock to open it, but finds it already ajar. He slips in, wary of traps, but finds none. Then he enters the vault proper. Some of the contents he had seen previously have gone missing, as he expected, but there are still piles of clothes and other basic belongings from previously captured prisoners. And Vilus sees one new bundle of clothes, fairly expensive-looking. In it, he finds a coin purse with 100 GP, and a strange crystal that feels warm to his touch.
Vilus pockets the gold and the warm crystal, maybe something for Samir to look over later, he also looks to the expensive clothes and wonders if maybe the cages are currently occupied, maybe a source of information is to be had in this place.
He quickly picks through the clothes to see if there is a shirt that will fit him, less damaged than his acid burnt and ripped one that he has on. He also looks for a cloak. Since the meeting at the inn by the shield pass Vilus seems to have made a habit of giving his cloaks away, having gone through two already.
Once back he asks "anyone found anything interesting? There's evidence that the cultist took someone else recently and held them where it was held, I didn't want to go back there but it might be worth checking out if there's someone to save, someone who might have an idea of where these f*ckers went."
“Wherever they went, they left in a hurry.” Malachi shares the highlights on what they found in the dorm rooms, unmade beds and open chests. “Did they go to join the others at the docks? Are they on the ships we saw in the harbor, or did they go deeper underground?”
"Yes, it is looking like they were leaving suddenly. Unexpectedly roused by... something. I am wondering if my addressing the crowd on the arena floor was playing a part in spurring them on before they had planned, for better or worse. I am fearing worse...."
Joren holds his father's sword grimly. "Ashley or Samir, were you seeing or sensing anything different?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Ashley bursts from the kitchen, eyes wide as she looks to see that her friends have gathered again and are exchanging notes.
"This way!! I heard them, they went down, literally down, this secret passageway. C'mon, we should follow, not let them get away!"
"Good listening!" Joren grins at Ashley, sending his echo at the front of the group as a vanguard, himself taking up a central position in the marching order.
"Being careful, though. These cultists are loving their traps, and it is possible the sounds may be coming from them... or prisoners they left behind."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Samir's mouth is half open when Ashley bursts in, the vial of shimmering liquid - now corked - in his hand. Startled out of his train of thought, he shoves the vial into his satchel and begins heading out with the others. "There was a man in the room, quite dead. It looked as if someone had been operating on him and stopped halfway through. I don't quite understand how, but it seems as the cult is somehow stealing not only people's visages, but somehow transforming themselves physically into other people!"
Joren nods grimly as Samir's clue clicks into place, whispering "Jean-Lou's nine assassins, of whom he was killing six and a half, and Vilus and I the rest, they had faces of others stapled onto their own. Possibly being the result of completing the partially-complete procedure you were just seeing?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
"gods I hate this, I hate all of it..." Vilus merely complains as they group begin running in the direction of the cultists.
If the group happen to run past the room where Vilus was held hostage, he will hiss a low "wait!" At the group and poke his head in. But if not he leaves it
“The workers that were killed at the harbor were similar. Their faces were not natural, it was like they were missing. You looked right past them without seeing them.” Malachi shares what they saw and learned in the alley by the docks. “Maybe the cultists took their faces to staple on to someone else.” Malachi hurries down the hallway with the others, staying toward the back and looking over his shoulder occasionally to make sure nothing appeared behind them.
Going through the door in the kitchen and down the hallway, Vilus thinks about his last time here and concludes that the prison must be back the other way because this corridor is entirely unfamiliar to him. The scratching grows louder and louder, as does the muttering. But there only seems to be one voice, oddly familiar. Then, the group reaches a door, small and unassuming, but sturdy. It is open just a crack, and the voice is clearly coming from within.
Malachi:
Malachi's body seems to reflexively recoil away from the door, even while he finds himself drawn toward it. It's as though his passenger feels ambivalent towards what might be on the side. Something tempting, or something revolting...
(Everyone give me perception to recognize the voice. If someone wants to open the door, give me stealth)
With the corridor unfamiliar and the rush of chasing the noise, anxiety creeps in and blood pumps in Vilus' ears, he has no idea who's voice it is (nat 1, perception)
Joren positions his echo right at the door, ready. He tries to place where he has heard the voice before, his face deepening into a scowl...
Perception: 21
"Andra... it is Andra's voice. Yet he is not commanding and confident as he was sounding down below Tensmith." Joren's voice is a tense whisper. "Instead he is sounding crazed. Manic. Not that he was not insane already."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
For the third time that day, the smell of blood rises to meet Joren's nostrils. The scratching continues, like something hard scraping against stone... no, metal.
Joren pauses and inhales slightly. "Fresh blood," he mutters off-handedly, his voice as casual as if saying 'hey, I think I felt some raindrops'.
He looks at his companions. "We must be proceeding carefully. Time after time, the cultists are setting traps for us and sacrificing their own in doing so. From Jon Shep and the others exploding on death near the inn, to the exploding fuse trap when we were chasing Andra underground, to the crossbow traps in near the underground lake where we fought Andra, to the monstrosities ambushing in the arena, to the pot of acid falling on Vilus just now. They are clearly guessing we may be coming this way. So here, they may be setting a trap with whatever is left of Andra too..."
He trails off. "Perhaps we should be stepping back except for my echo and one of you mages can be opening the door at a distance? Then we, especially Samir," (Joren glances fondly at the bespectacled half-orc), "can be trying to investigate whether we are noticing any signs of a trap."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Vilus summons a spectral purple mage hand Infront of Joren and it gives the fighter a big old thumbs up.
Samir blinks silently at joren for a moment, before belatedly nodding his agreement and taking a step back.