Morgan and Randa creep into the mouth of the cave. Then the owl presses on. As it scoots the hat along, the tunnel opens wide into a cavernous room. Inside along the walls are some standard hunting gear, skinning tools, hammer and chisel, a tanning square, and various animal hide. There are bones, carved and ornately shaped arranged around the room as well. In the center of the room is a cast iron tub. Two broken lamps, smashed, lay beside an alter. Three men lay around the tub. They do not appear to be moving. 

Morgan continues to keep Randa updated. To avoid making noise, he uses the Message spell to convey information.
He orders the familiar to come out of the hat, quickly look at what Morgan assumes are corpses, and then go investigate the direction of the coughing (if it came from elsewhere).

The cough came from this room. As the owl creeps along, closer to the bodies, one stirs. Lying on his side, facing away from the owl, he curls up into a fetal position. "Postraeck, is that you?" He says weakly. "Aglaut? Olix?" After a pause, he asks with terror filling his voice. "B-bert? Ernie?"

Now that the owl is closer, coming fully into the room, it can see that the bones are humanoid and the stretched hides take on a vaguely human shape as well. "Please Ernie, no more." Morgan can't smell it himself, but the owl communicates to him through their telepathic link that this room has the heavy iron-like smell of blood. It's smothering and making it difficult to breathe for the creature. There are no lights to give color, but the tub runs with a thick liquid from splashing that does not run like water. A rubber ducky sits atop a soap dish at the edge of the tub, almost looking as though it is staring directly at the owl. 

Morgan grows paler and paler as he messages what his familiar sees to Randa. He swallows hard, brow furrowed. He doesn't quite understand: are those… prisoners?
(Investigation: 12)

He curses Dallur under his breath. "Is it possible that stupid man can't count past two? Why the hell didn't he mention these people?"

His mental voice drops lower, edged with unease. "Randa, I don't know how you imagine your old age, but I'm not planning to end up as a rug on a wall."

He glances toward the cavern entrance, suddenly feeling the air too still, too heavy. "We need to find those two... before they find us. I say we wait a bit. If nothing happens, we try to draw them out."

A ridiculous idea sparks behind his eyes. "I hope this doesn't get us killed..." he mutters.

He sends the mental command to his familiar: jump on the face of the the half-awake man — scare him, make him scream — then retreat. Look for a safe spot, a cavity or something, and stay hidden (Stealth: 19)

Jacaranda nodded to him then put a hand on his shoulder, put the other hand up to the Vestige at her throat and then vanished from sight... morgan could still feel her hand on his shoulder.

( Invisibility.)

Morgan appears to stand alone near the mouth of the cave, though he is unaware. He can feel the reassuring squeeze of Randa's hand on his shoulder. (unless it's not Randa's hand. SPOOKY!)

The owl does as instructed. It jumps over the man turned away and lands on his face. It's rough, clawed feet making the human recoil in shock. As the owl sees his face, Morgan recognizes this as one of the fleeing bandits that had escaped Entropy's sword. However, the man has changed some since last Morgan saw him. This man's eyes have been removed and hollow sockets gape at the owl. He tries to scoot away from the thing that jumped on him, but is hampered by his disembowelment. 

"St-stay back! Whatever you are, please stay back." He says while cradling his cut on his abdomen with one arm and dragging himself away with the other, leaving a trail of blood after him.

The other two bodies around the tub do not move. 

Randa frowned invisibly......Bert and Ernie had just been added to one of her lists.....

She sighted down the tunnel watching for anything coming to investigate.

DM: Perception Check, please, Randa. 

19

lets try that again to see if it displays.

18

DM: I'll take it, but I would prefer you don't edit dice roll posts. 

Randa's head is on a swivel. 

"Please... please help me..." the man begins to sob weakly.