Heroica RPG - Quest #115: The Tale of One Bleach Too Many

[Asphalt]

Indeed I speak of betrayal Kinslayer. And by your own words justified.

My "kin" name me "Half-Born," I worship the Wanderer, forbidden ties, home, and hearth. I am a beast, a creature of human nightmare. Do not come to me with tales of familial woe expecting sympathy. If you choose to allow your past to make you one apart then that is your choice. I choose to fight my past in an effort to make my path wend with those in need and those of shared goal. If you would walk my path so be it, if not, then do your job and we may go as the Wanderer wills.

Edited October 27, 2014 by Asphalt

[Yzalirk]

"I do not ask for sympathy. I seek to help those in need and deserve help. Most of my gold goes to fighting for those less fortunate than I. I do not praise or worship anyone besides the Star People whom arrived from the sky. People see me as a beast, a twisted being forged from scraped Earth. I am no different than anyone else besides appearance. Remember, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Let's set our other problems aside and get this job done we where paid to do, and I intend to collect."

[Asphalt]

If you would conclude this, then search that portion of the room to my left. I do not believe that we will only need to go one portal deep into this "mansion" in order to find what troubles our imployer. I will search to the right near that strange table. Perhaps this room holds clues, perhaps not, but at the least we will need to find another door.

Edited October 27, 2014 by Asphalt

[Yzalirk]

"Alright, I will search the room."

[Asphalt]

Look closely, we need to know what we might face before we face it.

[Endgame]

With the light emanating from his arms, Vindsval illuminates the room, the slight burst of light just enough to properly examine the room.

To the left of the door was a leaking pipe, the rod of rusty metal making a light screech as it gushed water. The ground ther pipe was damp and soggy, and fastering with a malignant mold.

To the right of the door was something less pleasant than mere fungus. It was a metal table with a large, tight clamp on it, presumably meant to lock down someone's wrist. Positioned above the sharp, gunmetal brace was an arm attached to a creaking piston. At the end of the arm was a sharp syringe, the tubing rusted from the room's moisture. On the right side of the contraption was a lever to operate the piston. Presumably, the entire contraption was some sort of device to administer shots to those who squirmed or were uncooperative.

[Asphalt]

Vindsval grimaces at the sight of the table. He is beginning to think the good scholar might be more than just absent minded. He looks closely at the syringe attached to the arm. Careful not to prick himself on the needle he attempts to remove the syringe from the piston arm.

Mold, damp, and torture. Who have we agreed to help?

[Asphalt]

Vindsval continues to try and remove the syringe from piston arm.

Keep searching the room Earthbound. If our employer could hear them from his rooms they must have been close.

Edited October 28, 2014 by Asphalt

[Endgame]

The brittle needle esaily sperates from the machine. Upon further examination, it looked like the syringe still contained a few droplets of medicine. The label read: "Potential Cure."

[Asphalt]

Potential Cure? A cure for what?

Vindsval places the Syringe with medicine in his pouch and continues to search the room.

[Endgame]

Vindsval finds glass shards in the corner of the room, but otherwise, there was nothing else.

[Asphalt]

OOC: By nothing else does that mean there is no other exit to the room?

[Endgame]

QM Note: Correct. There is one entrance you came in (the wood door), and the one exit pictured in the picture.

[Asphalt]

Vindsval shuffles past the broken glass to the closed door. He puts his hand on the handle and places his ear against the door to see if he can hear anything on the other side.

Be ready Salts.

[Yzalirk]

[salt-Upon-Wounds enter the left room and examines the floor.]

[Asphalt]

The room is empty, whatever this "chamber" was it is empty now. Come over here to the door. When I open it be ready to go in. Do you have a weapon?

[Yzalirk]

"I have my spear. Are you ready to do this?"

[Asphalt]

rolling his eyes. Prepared enough, just be sure that is pointed in the correct direction.

Vindsval grips the handle tightly and attempts to open the door into the next room.

[Yzalirk]

"Come on, put some muscle into it big guy!"

[Endgame]

The party forces open the oaken door, Asphalt capble of throwing open the door and tossing it to the side. It practically pops off its hinges as the party moves forward:

Two odd statues stand stoically, with a table in the center. Notes are scrawled on it, as well as a pile of empty cups. Two doors are in the room: one to the left, and one to the right.

[Asphalt]

Vindsval sniffs, Well at least the air is getting better.

He Enters the room and goes to the table in the center. He picks up and reads the notes.

[Yzalirk]

[salt-Upon-Wounds examines the statues.]

"Who are they supposed to be of or depict?"

[Endgame]

Vindsval sniffs, Well at least the air is getting better.

He Enters the room and goes to the table in the center. He picks up and reads the notes.

Vindsval reads the scratchily written notes.

I swear the statues have been watching me, ever since a few days after the accident. Not just the statues, but... Everything. Sometimes as I sit here, I can feel something breathing over my shoulder, and eyes locked onto the back of my head. As if the walls had eyes... Ad the blasted noise! I cannot get anything done with this incessant racket. It's not loud, mind you, but it's presence, it... It unsettles me, to my core, even.

It is decided. This place will no longer be my worksop, but rather, a graveyard. Now I will be rid of this blight, I sincerely hope, and be able to return to my studies. However, if this evil continues, I will have to turn to professional help...

[salt-Upon-Wounds examines the statues.]

"Who are they supposed to be of or depict?"

Asphalt examines both statues, both covered in all sorts of mold and grime. Interestingly, through the filth he can see the statues have joints, with rubbed out descriptions plastered on their shoulders. The hero cannot identify what they were supposed to be, but at once, point, they must've moved.

Edited November 1, 2014 by Endgame

[Asphalt]

Vindsval pockets the note.

It would seem that the dear professor decided on the professional help after all. It would seem that the man's paranoia was beginning to drive him mad. But as a warlord will tell you, just because one is paranoid, does not mean his leftennant does not wish him dead.

He moves to the statues.

I have heard stories of automatons, Moving, mindless, men of metal. Perhaps in their prime, these two were such?

He reaches out and grasps the staff in the hand of the statue on the right of the table. He pulls, attempting to remove it from the statues grasp.

[Endgame]

Asphalt pulls the defunct staff from the statue, tearing off the entire arm with it. The statue's other arm jolts backwards and the hand unfurls, as if it was in pain or dissapointed by being amputated.

Static Staff: The severed arm of a statue. Club, WP: 4, Electric-elemental.

What will the party do from here?