1.1 - In Search of Sanity - Prison of the Mind

Razhel sighs. She is not ready to squeeze into another tight hallway, but knows that barring climbing the outer walls and potentially facing the winged shadow that deposited the shapechanger's corpse in the small strip of outdoors they were in, it is the only viable choice given to them so far.

As the group cautiously enters the hallway, the light emanating from Elias's shield quickly catches the attention of the forms beyond the wreckage.

"Whoa, there!" one of them shouts, "We got more here!"

As you filter into the hallway you note that all three, apparently human, men have crossbows trained on you. A fourth man can be seen further back in the hall, rounding the corner.

"Stay back," one of them threatens as Elias moves close, "you won't get another warning. Who are you?"

A third voice, quieter and directed at his fellows, adds, "Dear gods, how many of them are there? They're going to overwhelm us!" The same voice then shouts back to the fourth person, "Denman, you lout, get the captain!"

"Real people?" he whispered in hope to the others then raised his voice, "We aren't shapeshifting horrors! We've just escaped from one... and it lies dead outside!"

Of course that's what a shapeshifting horror might say but he really had no recourse but the truth.

"We don't want to fight. We just want to know what the hell is going on here."

Elias is momentarily quiet as one of the strangers asks who they are. How do you tell someone who you are, when you don't even know who you are?

Elias carefully sheaths his sword and raises his hands. Easy...we mean no harm. As my compatriot just said, we're not shapechangers. In fact we have actually just escaped from one. Can you tell us what's going on?

Two of them look at each other, while the third man squints his eyes and readjusts the aim of his crossbow. "Likely story," he says. "If you arent' one of them, prove it - were you staff or patients? both?"

One of the other men says aloud to the man taking point on the conversation, "I don't trust them, Hugh. Look at them clothes. Some of them are wearin' armor, and we're barely holding on in here. Where'd they get the steel?" His eyes dart to where Elias just sheathed his sword.

The man in the far back quickly disappears through the western doors.

"We were prisoners," he tried to explain, "trapped in cells a level or two below your feet near a furnace... but we escaped. I don't know any more than that. I don't even know my own name. We won't make any moves to come near you but please tell us what's going on here."

"Prisoners?", the lead man, Hugh, asks, "This ain't a prison. You mean the solitary rooms?" He shakes his head, "How can you not know your name?" He shifts his gaze across all five of you, "Do any of you know your names? How can you not know what's going on?" He takes a hand from the crossbow and gestures around quickly, "It's pretty difficult to ignore, and you sure as all hells didn't come from off-island."

The nervous man chimes in again, "How could they not know, Hugh? They're playing with our heads, they are. Done come up from near the furnace in the cellar it sounds like. Those creatures have been all over that place, using it for all knows what foul deeds." With shaky hands the man moves his finger to the trigger of his crossbow, pointing it at Axon.

For once, Razhel remains in the back of the pack. It was difficult enough trying to explain their presence and having no memories, they didn't need to account for why she had the eyes of a dragon.

Grim clears his throat and lowers his crossbow. In his accented Varisian common, he speaks toward the men at the barricade. "Who is in charge here? May I speak with them? Like my fellow survivors here, I can not remember my own name, but I do remember my last memories were of heading to Thrushmoor to meet with an agent of the Sleepless Agency. I had done some freelance work for them in the past."

"The Sleepless Agency?" Hugh says, lowering his weapon slightly and his face cheering up with a glimmer of hope that wasn't there before, "If you're one o' their number, we might actually have a chance to get out of here. Did the Agency find a way through the mist?" The other men look noticeably more comfortable as well, yet still on edge.

At that, the fourth man from down the hall reappears with someone else in tow. The new man is tall and lean with dark, short-cropped hair, beard, and mustache. As he comes closer the fourth man from earlier, Denman, steps aside and motions towards you. "What'd I say?" Denman says, "a whole group of 'em. What should we do, Captain?"

The newcomer comes closer, the other men splitting to the side, holding the aim of their crossbows on you cautiously. You see clearly his armor is of better quality than that worn by the others, leather instead of cloth. He wears a spiked mace at his hip and a cross bow is held in his hands, aimed to the ground. He carries himself with a confidence that indicates he is comfortable in the armor and in his position. "I'm York," he says to the group, "and I suppose you're going to try and convince me you're not shapeshifting monsters sent to infiltrate and kill us. Beings I'm responsible for keeping the people here safe, you'd best be awfully damned convincing." He stands, pointedly, seemingly expecting you to speak up.

 

Elias keeps his hands away from his weapons as York speaks. How can we prove to you that we are not these...shapeshifters?

With nothing to add to the conversation of any substance yet, he focused his attention behind his own group. If there were more shapeshifters skulking around here, he didn't want them to get the jump on his companions and himself.

"Ah! Captain York. As I was attempting to convey to your guards, I was on the way to a meeting in Thrushmoor with an agent of the Sleepless Agency. I have done freelance for them in the past." Grim reiterates for the captain's benefit. "There are worse things about in these halls than shapeshifters. Some nightmarish horror, which I can only guess stole part of my memories and those of my companions here, walks in the shadows. This fiend has a face of nought but ragged fangs, is dressed in rags, and wields a razor."

"We escaped from a cellar full of corpses and one of these shapeshifting fiends bent on carving us into meat." He holds up his bloodied arm. "It did not foresee that our numbers could overwhelm it and our lot was saved by a man who died by its hand helping us escape those cells down there." He continues on.

"And the mist is filled with even more dangers. Something foul with wings lurks up there in the sky over this place."

York breathes heavily through his nose, narrowing his gaze over the group after listening to what you have to say. "You make a strong case for yourselves," he says finally. "I just don't know if we can take the risk. For the past two days, this place has been overrun with lunatics and monsters that can look like anyone." He reaches up and scratches his head awkwardly. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to step back from the barricade and leave this place." He starts to turn away.

The other guards wince and look at each other. All of them by now have let their guards down considerably, so much so that if they all decided to shoot, they'd only put holes in your shoes. One of the original three guards at the barricade, a rotund balding man with unfortunate teeth, speaks up. "Captain," he says, "What if they can help? You know, we're not going to last forever here. We have to find a way out, and these people, if they're telling the truth and are with the Sleepless, they could be our ticket off this island."

Captain York places a hand on the man's shoulder. "I hear what you're saying, Ralf," he says, "But I have a million things to do, and I don't know where we'd start, trying to vet these strangers to make sure its safe."

"He's right though," Denman says, "We have to do something. We can't just sit in our little corner of the asylum until our food and water run out. If Winter's right, maybe these are the very folk she suggested might come to help us, even if they can't remember." The other three men nod and intone their agreement.

York turns fully back to your group, pursing his lips and shaking his head. "They're not wrong," he says, "We could use the help, and I don't want to leave you to your deaths if you aren't monsters, but...we have kids here. We have to be careful." He seems to consider Elias's question a long moment. "Maybe. I...I can't imagine those things would kill their own, it wouldn't make sense. You could prove whose side you're on if you can show you're their enemy. Bring back a few of their corpses and we can reconsider."

York appears to be quite set on things and looks eager to return to whatever other duties he has behind the barricade.  

"Excuse me for yet another moment Captain." Grim calls after the man as he turns to go about his business. "According to your current knowledge of the situation, where would be a place where these shapeshifters may be located so we do not waste time in bringing this proof to you?"

"For all I know, right next to you," he answers back. "We don't know their numbers, or where they are exactly. Large portions of the building have collapsed, and the last group we sent out, nobody returned. We've killed at least three of them, so far."



 

"If it's true that we are your amnesiac backup, we'll do what we can... but who is Winter? And what exactly was your mission here before it all went to Abaddon?"

"Mission?" York replies with a curt laugh, "I think you misunderstand. Winter's the one keeping us all in one piece here. She's supposedly one of them Royal Accusers. She had some sort of mission here, showed up just a few days ago, before everything went to shit. But me? I was an orderly." He juts a thumb to the round man next to him, "Ralf was one of the cooks. The only mission we all have now is to survive." His eyes flicker to Grim again, a haunt to his look, the same look he had when Grim mentioned the dream-creature in yellow rags a few moments ago.

Fair enough, if that's what it takes to prove ourselves, we'll set out to do it. Just so we don't waste precious time looking, can you direct us to any pockets of these foul creatures?