Strange Aeons

Another Day Another Tragedy

The fight at the estate was draining for all of us. If these are the people that were kept at the outer properties of the estate I shudder to think what may be going on at the main house. He had left the bodies of our foes in the building and “cleaned” up. As terrible as Theron’s death was it did serve as a great barometer for our group as to what the limit of our abilities are or were, I’m still trying to figure that out, am I relearning stuff I had forgotten or am I growing new skills. I think for the sake of my sanity I will simply tell myself I am growing and learning new things. After the fight many of us were fairly depleted on resources so we decided it would be best to head back to the inn. It may have been a short day of adventuring but it was as taxing as a full day’s work. Sometimes we need a break which we admittedly haven’t taken since awakening. Even if it comes in the form of a half day I very much welcome it. My relationship with the inn keeper seems to have gotten better; then again, I did set the bar pretty low and by bar I am talking about the metaphorical one not the physical one that I supposedly damaged or blew up depends on who you ask.

Once we got back to the inn our group seem to go its separate ways and do their own thing, which is nice considering we don’t get much time away from each other. I believe Yusei went off to help the apothecary. It was a nice gesture by him for sure and anything that help build / repair our public image can only help. My biggest fear is that something horrific may come out about us from our past that nobody knew before and all the goodwill we have been trying to build will be for not. Supposedly we have worked for the count together in some capacity in our past. Yet with our new moral compass guiding what we do I wonder what I or the group would think if we discovered the true extent of some of the atrocities we committed. Can we really just hand wave everything and use or amnesia as our excuse… oh that part of my life I don’t remember and I have decided to become a better person so I’m no longer beholden to the punishment of the crimes I committed before. As group we forgive each other’s prior actions fairly quickly. But what if one us…no its not healthy to speculate these kinds of what ifs.

Anyways once we got back to the inn people went off and did their own thing with their free time. For me I decide a nice afternoon meal and drink followed by a little nap was exactly what I needed, my body was craving for the time off and I can happily say that the nap truly helped me reset and could now focus more clearly on the tasks ahead. I made my way back down for dinner despite still being a little full from my meal this afternoon considering we don’t typically eat lunch but dinner is dinner so I shall eat, be social, have a good time (hard to come by), and listen to another tale from Wynzo.

This was all interrupted by a lady by the name of Melison, yes, the same lady from the notes in the cave. She came barging in shouting about how we murdered her guest and just left the bodies out to rot. Everybody was listening but the volume of the conversation didn’t allow them to do much else. It is clear she was trying to discredit us, why I do not know. If she was going to ty and discredit us I figured now was as good a time as any to bring up the fact she trafficking and distributing illicit drugs. Yusei did what he could to try and diffuse the situation. Wynzo tried to calm the crowd with a spell but from the looks of the patrons faces it seemed to have hurt our standing with them rather than help. For a brief second, I thought Theron was going to do what he does best and cut her down right in front of everyone but instead blocked her exit and then “allowed” her to pass. Then walked back to the table mocking the lady which I found quite humorous. Maybe our trained silent killer has lighter more fun side I’m sure the town would welcome more of that humor I know I would.

After the exchange I went up to the bar and donated some money for the troubles and said to buy everyone a round of drinks with it. Drago did the same. I then decided I would welcome some more sleep and retired to my room. The next day I woke up to some disturbing news. Wynzo was eaten last night by some creature who pretending to be the gnome we had met on our way out to the cave. It is quiet saddening and unnerving. Not so much that he was eaten but that it happened in the safety of the inn. A place we actually felt safe but it does not seem like that anymore. Evil will find us where ever we are. Apparently, the creature was communicating with Wynzo mentally during the night so he, Theron, and Drago all went out in the middle of the night to go investigate. On night time trip they invited the creature back to the inn; were attacked by the witch, which we now know is very much real, and the assassin that made an attempt on his life the first came back and tried to kill Wynzo’s life again. It seems like fated wanted him dead tonight one way or another. The creature spent the night in Wynzo’s room and I guess killed him and then proceeded to eat him leaving behind only a couple organs. So much for the time off yesterday and the fresh start this morning.

Despite Wynzo’s death there is no time to mourn we must continue on with our investigations and help this town become safe again. We went back up to the Fort to present our evidence to the constable who refuses to open the door and let us in. While we were present our evidence Drago had turned into a bird and was flying overhead scouting the fort from above. Afterwards we made our way down the hill and out of sight of the fort where met back up with Drago who gave us his report. Apparently, the guards we saw walking along the tops of the wall are undead so that’s just great. As much as the estate may be a problem a fort in town is filled with undead with the entire town completely unaware seems like a much more pressing issue. Also, it probably wouldn’t help our image if we went and took care of the lady who just had a public confrontation with us the night before. We are going to have to discuss our findings with the Sleepless detective agency and put together an action plan on how to deal with these two serious situations.

If You are reading this then I would like to apologize for my past transgressions.

Sincerely,

Argo

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Rebirth and Renewal
2018-07-14

25. Erodas

Wearily we made our way back to the inn.  Algregor has resumed his post warning everyone of the impending doom coming.  We had our meal in silence.  Whether it was in reverence of our fallen comrade, frustration, exhaustion, it's hard to say.  I sent myself to my room shortly after and buried my face in the book we brought back with us from the asylum.  Did I want to learn something? Perhaps gain some clarity or understanding?  Maybe just torture myself a bit for not being able to act quicker?  Again, hard to say.  It was enlightening at least.  I drifted to sleep soon after I finished the final pages.

(The following happened while I was asleep.)

Andrea took Wynn to her room to psychic duel him and scared the shit out of him.  Elgregor woke up Wynn telling him there is blood at the chapel.  Wynn wakes up Drago to check it out. 

The ground around the chapel and near by houses is tinted red and plants are starting to grow out of the ground which eventually becomes a thorny rose garden.  The building Theron is in is covered in roses.  Drago and Wynn go to the building and Drago is able to open the door unhampered because of wilderness whatever.   They approach the blanket and Theron wakes up.  Wynn uses mage hand to move the blanket and seeing that Theron is moving, Drago uses cure light wounds to try to damage him, to no avail.  Drago and Wynn run away and Wynn faceplants into the thorns when he gets outside.  Drago gets Wynter from the chapel and she attempts to detect undead when Theron comes out.  He's alive.  They return to the inn

(end sleep)

I was startled awake by a knock on my door and groggily open it to see an alive Theron.  Internally, I was startled to no end, but considered quickly something miraculous must have happened for Wynn and Drago to have escorted him here.  I requested that we wait until morning to fill everyone in since I wasn't entirely convinced I wasn't dreaming.  However, they insisted I look over Theron since he was apparently quite alive but had a wound that would not be healed.  I quickly realized there was not much I could do to fix this.  I figured he was cursed.  We adjourned until morning.

We decided to better prepare in the event we would encounter more undead at the wailing house again.  We went to Wynter and the sleepless agency to bargain for some holy water, which worked out fairly well.  Wynter agreed to cast the spell to create it for free. Shortly thereafter we went to the Apothecary and met Sentalar, an angry little halfling that was convinced we were the reason people were disappearing.  After some back and forth,  which included him trying to bribe use to not get disappeared, I told him that when I had some free time, I would come help him to make up for past transgressions.  We then went to the high market to look around briefly before making our way to the Wailing House to hopefully finish what we started.  

Rather than deal with the first room and the haunted tree that was almost fully restored, we climbed in through a window on the side.  On the ground level, we proceeded to go room by room.  The first door we opened triggered the walls around us to bleed, which sent Wynn and I into a brief bout of fear.  A few of us heard a man crying from somewhere but it was difficult to pinpoint.  Inside that first room, the windows exploded inward and cut a Wynn and Drago a bit.  The following room had a couch in it that was polluted with some kind of disease, but also had a magical coin that represented the sin of glutony, which Argo held onto.  I figured consolidating sin to a single person would be for the best.  The following room was filled with broken and empty shelves, which led to the last room that had a desk with the journal of Cyrus Vaunt, which apparently was the family that founded the town.  In this room, a trap door to the basement was uncovered, and we went down there to find that it looked as though someone (4 someones) had set up camp here.  In the corner there were some crates and casks of wine.  In one of the crates were the skeletal remains of who we suspected was Cyrus and that this house was being used for smuggling.  It's likely those undead creatures were the reincarnation of the people who were using the house.   We took the remains with us to lay them to rest.  

The only other place we didn't inspect turned out to be the kitchen, which had several swarms of bats, which, while annoying, did not pose much of a threat.  We left shortly thereafter.

We took the remains to the chapel and proceeded to give a proper burial and Wynter provided a prayer to lay him to rest.  Going back to the house, it was clear that the curse had been lifted.  Things seemed a little brighter.  We made our way back to town and decided to stop in the smoke house for some inquiry.

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Stepping through the Veil
The Deathly Rose

Deathly rose whose wilting is grace,
Leave marks of blood with each thorn embraced.

I remember Her.  The roses that fill my vision, the words that play over and over again in my head… they are Her.  And I can remember her gathering place just outside Cheliax, where we would gather among Her roses; it's the same place we would take the gnomes and halflings.

Flower blooming as the drum beats,
A ruby red, yet so discreet…

Murderer, that's what I am.  The revenant's existence and motivation confirms it.  I killed this man and he has risen from the grave to seek revenge upon me.  If not for the invisibility I believe he would have succeeded, though it was important to me to get him away from the others.  "Over here" I tried to shout, though it came out as a raspy, dust-ridden whisper.  It turned to find me and knew the instant it passed me.  But in a few moments, it was destroyed, another nightmare from my old life come to haunt me.

An urgent remark then was said,
So the ruby rose turned scarlet instead…

My companions thought the Wailing House might provide us some information, or at least clues, regarding the goings-on in the town.  Any place with "wailing" in the name is exactly the kind of place I seek to avoid.  Its very name indicates the lack of quiet we will find there, and noise brings punishment.  Sometimes it brings death.

Am I a thorn?  A petal?  The stem?
Surely my sounds will not condemn.

Our great welcome, upon noticing the unnatural darkness in the area, was a haunted tree, or enchanted tree… I don't know.  It attacked us.  It hit like you would expect something of that size to hit – very hard.  Even trees, however, can be flanked, and Wynzo positioned himself perfectly as I attacked and Argo burned it to the ground.

Piercing, slashing, maybe the thorn?
Even roses take time to mourn.

The entrance room should have been the sign.  Ghostly faces moved through the room, shouting and screaming as if death had not already found them.  Or maybe because it had and the afterlife is the only safe place to scream?

Velvety smooth, maybe the petal?
Chances are slim to show your mettle.

While I explored upstairs in the mostly ruined second floor, I suddenly heard some fighting from down below.  I hopped down and helped the others dispatch some zombies that were ravaged by nature.  The sweet smell of roses should come from death, not the stench these things gave off.

The stem, the base, from which a rose blooms,
Held like a blade, will only spell doom.

Together, upstairs, we found an enchanted, magical dagger.  First it found us by attacking on its own, with no one wielding it, not even a ghost so far as we could tell.  It glowed a disturbing green color until we destroyed whatever was enchanting it.  The others found it was a magical dagger that could deliver a magical poison, so I kept it when no one asked for it.

Not one but all – it's what I prayed,
I am the rose; I am Her blade.

In the next room we found a ghost of some kind, whose hits felt like having my physical strength, my mind, and my soul all sapped from me at once.  The first hit signaled the danger to me, but if it could hit me the others were done for, so I stayed in hopes it would fall to my blades or Drago's bomb.  And then I saw Her in a field of flowers, watching a single rose wilt until the last petal hit the ground.

Deathly rose whose wilting is grace,
Now comes repose, now ends the chase.

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The Fallen Star

We can't seem to figure anything out about this town.  Each place we search only opens more doors.  We've heard rumors about the Wailing house so we decide to check it out.  As we approach it is clear there is some evil present.  It even seems darker and darker as we approach.  True to it's rumor it looks like it is a haunted house.  As we approach the door heading up the stairs the massive tree in front comes alive and begins swinging.  I don't think I've ever been hit by a tree before but I would be ok with it not happening again.  It hurt.  Luckily for us and what the tree didn't know is we have an expert in explosives and fire in our ranks.  We quickly burned the tree down.  What a strange occurrence though.  It must have been created or enchanted by some magic user.  

We head in to the house and quickly learn why it has the name the name it does.  Ghosts came pouring from the walls and began screaming the sounds of their death.  If it wasn't for the fact that I have seen a haunt poor a tsunami of blood down a hall, then this probably would have felt worse.  We quickly move on out of this screaming room.  

The house was in poor condition.  Overgrown with plants and not very structurally sound.  The next room must have been some type of waiting room, but it's tough to tell with the roof having collapsed.  We begin to check it out while Theron heads upstairs to explore more.  As we're looking around from the mounds of the dirt erupt Draugr.  What the fuck are Draugr doing sitting in dirt piles in the middle of this house.  They didn't put up too much of a fight, but it was definitely an odd place for them to be.  This house makes little sense.  It might be just a haunted house as we have found nothing that gives us any answers to what is happening in this town, just more questions.

As we make our way up the shaky stairs a glowing dagger begins to attack us.  Really…a dagger.  Nothing invisible carrying it that we could tell.  We had to attack the dagger itself.  when we, put it down upon further inspection it turns out it was a magically dagger.  It must have been haunted or something.  The upstairs for the most part was empty of any more answers.  As I was looking around a Spectre appeared from no where.  This was easily the toughest battle we ever had.  All I could do was watch as he sucked the life force from Theron.  My silent partner was gone and there was nothing I could do about it.  I tried to save him, but I was helpless.

We carry his back to Winter to see if anything can be done.  While we wait we discuss what everyone has remembered recently.  Argo recalls his lab getting raided; Yusei remembered his last name, Lutharen; Andrea remembers that her shadow is of a creature that mind swaps; Drago remembered his cats name, Shade.  What did Theron remember, we will never find out.  Maybe he remembered people he had killed and that is why he stayed to fight instead of saving his own life.  If he had, I would have died and I'm sure he knew that.  When we recount what happened with Winter and she looks at the body she lets us know there's nothing she can do that is powerful enough to bring him back.  The Sleepless Agency might have something available though.

The agency obviously does not like us, the only way to open this relationship up is to be honest with them.  We have nothing to hide and if we are going to make a new name for ourselves we must start now.  We go through the events of the last few days without leaving out many details.  I think it is starting to work and they are warming up to us.  they ask for daily updates on what we find out.  After a long day it is time to go back to the Inn and rest.  With one star fallen, we must continue our new journey.

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Shunned
Glimpses of the Past

This journal, nameless and singularly empty, lurks in my mind. She can feel that it was not always so. Its time-worn binding betrays a frequent usage. But the pages have told all their secrets and whatever remains was stripped clean. She will recount her thoughts here in a naive hope that once written cannot be erased. Some never learn.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The terror at the Asylum has passed. Although the island remains haunted we will do our best to return those here to sanity and safety. Or should I say, others will do that. I just wanted to get off the island. And I'm happy to help the rest do the same. But beyond that, we must all look after ourselves. Winter's aid has saved our lives I'm sure. But we've already repaid that debt. We are even. Perhaps we owe more to Desna and Pharasma. If they feel they are still owed they may try to collect. 

______________________________________________________________________________________

Her surety was growing. An identity was being developed. The poor thing. The more she tried to fill in the gap the more she opened the door. And once the door was opened a crack, many things could push through. Power would come first. But then she would realize the door should have stayed shut. It is the key and the gate. Ignorance could have been a refuge.

______________________________________________________________________________________

I've come to know my companions more now. Their names, their intentions, perhaps a glimmer into their pasts. Wynzobit has woven many tales. Now he is the yarn. Yusei was a physician or so he says. His connection to an otherworldly power is pure. It is reassuring that we can rely on it. Theron, I think, will not wish to remember his past. He hides behind a mask. This amnesia is just another mask for him. If he takes one off he may find he must remove them all. Argo I can't quite read. He is brash and disregards all social norms. Perhaps in the past he had a similar disregard for constraints on his research. He's already blended the mundane and the eldritch in his fires. What else lays just beyond his reach? Drago and his beast, tenacious to the end. His powers are growing faster than any of ours. Whatever malign influence held back Cat has been lifted. He is healthy and growing. I wonder how much larger he will get now that he is free.

 

And me? I remember. I remember the doorway into the mind. I remember how to open it, come through.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I am the key.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

We've made it to Thrushmoor. The town is sparse and yet somehow inviting. At least this town is alive. I want to go, to feel, to let the emotions of the past and the future wash over me. And yet my so-called friends are apprehensive. I've never seen them more unified with a singular purpose than when they shunned me. This hurts. They don't care of my feelings. I can feel. Even if I everything had been blunted and gray. Maybe parting ways after we finish here will be a good idea. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________

And I am the gate!

________________________________________________________________________________________

It may be a better idea than I realized initially. For it seems that we know this town. We used to be local toughs, working for the Count. Everyone treats us with fear and trepidation. It was for good reason. We regularly abused the people of this town. Well, my "friends" certainly did. Argo may have blown up a bar. Wynzobit extorted merchants for protection money. Unpleasant accidents may have befallen competing artists. Theron probably murdered someone. Maybe the people here have more to fear from them than me. A part of me is enjoying their surprise when they find out that inside they worse than what they think they saw in me.

The feeling passes. The people here need help as well. And since we wronged them we should fix it. We have a debt to repay and may never be able to repay it. We try to help a lost traveler with her cart but it goes poorly. She may have gone missing. Many others in the town have gone missing as well. We have a number of leads to follow. The local fort seems to have shut down. The Count has gone missing and his manor may be empty. A local painter is drawing murals of an endless cyclopean city. And the detective agency should be able to provide us with some more information. Our first stop will be the painter. And then I think the agency and meeting up with Winter. We may need her help to convince the agency to help us.

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Rocking Chairs

More horrors of undead waited for us; they're everywhere, like a constant reminder that here death is not a finite experience.  You linger on as a mockery of life.  We destroyed them quickly, and looked to the somewhat stable stairs that would take us toward our goal.  The others kept talking, always making noise, so I climbed up and checked the hallway beyond.

The further I climbed, the more obvious it became someone damaged them intentionally.  They want to keep us out.  We will not be denied; She will plant roses in the path of blood I make.

Sneaking forward about 20 feet up, I find yellow fog in a room filled with crates.  It looks like a storage room someone has used to hide, and then I see a man staring forward, aware unlike the woman, with fog billowing from his mouth.  He doesn't see me as I watch, studying him.  He looks like a man, but there is something strange about his chest and the way it moves.  His breathing is off.

I head back, tie a rope to the stairs for the others to climb.  They do, but make so much noise.  If they could see my face they would see the winces I make every time they make a sound.  Unsurprisingly when we reach the room as a group, the man is hiding.  Luckily, the cat finds the scent of something and finds the man.  We dispatch him, but he has a lasting effect on the others.

Whenever the others are close to the man, they fall asleep and see more visions of that thing and the events surrounding it.  It is their punishment for making so much noise, a prison of the mind meant to afflict you with madness when you should be resting at ease.  It is a cruel punishment.

The dream discussion is interrupted by angry barking and terrified screams.  I immediately jump down the stairs and head toward the dog and man we left alone in the dark.  The others follow, most of them slowly.

Drago sent his cat forward with me, telling it to follow and guard me.  At the other end of the hallway beyond a pair of double doors we found more ghouls standing in or around what used to be the washroom.  In the center of the room was a pool, or bath, or stew, of acrid water filled with dead people.  It is nightmare made manifest, like everything else in this place.  One ghoul talks like he's in charge, gesturing to the others and barking orders.

We fought them and won, but not without some lasting scars.  I almost died in the drink, drowning as the life drained out of me.  But the man?  He should have died.  After having his neck ripped open and arm torn off, he should have died.  He started drowning in the pool, too, but they saved him.  Drago healed him just enough to be scarred mentally, so much so, that now he won't talk.  It shouldn't take so much torment for people to learn to be quiet.

I stayed with the man and the dog as the others ventured back upstairs to question the hollowed out man; apparently we did not injure him enough for him to be truly dead.  They used the magical incense to communicate with his mind and did not share a great deal with me.  That's okay, I don't need to hear it… and I don't want to.

The others decided we needed to head back to the shrine to rest and regain their magic.  To avoid the man we now know is an imposter, a patient pretending to be a doctor, we went outside the asylum to the visitor's center instead of traveling through the asylum.

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More survivors, more problems

19th Arodus, 4717

Mira, the silent guard, gathered us up. Something moved furniture down the hall we originally came from. I assumed it was the result of more ghosts in the night, but we had to check. Sure enough, we found no creatures. Could be ghosts, could be rat people, but hopefully nothing worse.

20th Arodus, 4717

No bad dreams, thankfully. It always feels like they are on the edge of my thoughts. We set out as soon as we could, this time back to the darkened room.

The next area was not what we expected. Then again, I'm not sure what we expected to find. We just knew we had to search for food and hopefully a way out. Instead, we found a gathering of survivors, all dressed in yellow tatters. Clearly weakened from lack of food, and probably lack of sleep, they didn't attack us, but were cautious nonetheless. Eyes followed us as we walked through the camp and a doctor seeming quite lucid approached us.

His name was Ren Elborne and he led us into his room, or at least makeshift shelter. There were injured there, seeming to sleep. He explained that all those in yellow were dedicated to Zandalus and he was merely pretending. I wasn't sure we could trust him, at least with the knowledge that there were other survivors, but he did give us useful information. We talked of Zandalus and how he and his closest followers are in the remains of the second floor surrounded by yellow fog. It was tempting to simply charge in, but he mentioned it would be better for us to hunt down something called an oneirogen. He believed killing it would reduce or eliminate the fog.

It was the best lead we had so we set off. Our path put us through the kitchen so we searched for food but found nothing. Nothing besides a disgusting haunted cauldron. An adjacent room, the prep room, held the yellow cult's kitchen staff and the remaining food. I didn't think entering would be a good idea, but I was outnumbered.

In the kitchen, things were awkward and more than once I clenched my fist on my staff, ready for anything. But Wynzo was able to maneuver the awkward and dangerous conversation and determine a cook was able to help us and snuck us some food.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we left, but I knew we were simply jumping from the pot into the fire. The next area was filled with danger. First, we fought a strange lizard creature that nearly killed Wynzo. Then we had a wall of stone pushed upon us by some ghouls. That time Argo nearly fell. It got still worse, as we found a screaming man being tortured and eaten alive by ghouls. His name was Ilky Volus and we encouraged him to stay put in the hallway as we searched for our prey.

Around the corner we found stairs and another door. We went for the door and found a room that was likely once quite peaceful, filled with rocking chairs. But we found out filled with ghouls looking up at the ceiling, seemingly fascinated. Perhaps our prey lurked above.

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Argo...

Again my mind continues to fray apart.  Life continues to be bleak.  There have been noticeable changes in our group even in the short amount of time we’ve actively remembered being together.  We find fragments of information of our “former” selves.  If that's even true, who knows.  Our sense of urgency to get out of this asylum is still there but everything about this place makes it painstakingly slow.  Even the most minor of encounters can set us back an entire day.  We are like tired dogs sent out to explore, find safety, supplies, and a way out only to return battered and broken less than 2 hours later.  Any time I feel like we are making serious progress this nightmare finds another way to strike us down.  I have grown weary and cold of this life we live.  I feel as though I should be offended and taken aback for some of my actions but compared to the rest of what's around us mine our tame.  Our blatant disregard for dead bodies and our unceremonious ways of moving them, such as myself dumping one out of a wheelchair so we could cross a violent river of wine, should garner some sort of reprimand but here it's how we’ve managed to survive.  Some weren't so lucky.  We ran across an attic whisper the other day.  Some in our group were fortunate enough to not know how they come about to be.  Unfortunately, I knew the dark truth behind the existence of such a creature and was my burden to share with the group of how they come to be.  In this case it was the lost brother of the boy back at the chapel.  How could anyone do such horrible unspeakable things to a child as to create an attic whisper!  Even the Mountain, who as far as I know is the cheeriest person in existence, was overcome with such emotion he couldn't even speak.  So to recap we have come across:

-Massive mounds of dead strewn about bodies.

-Undead creatures hanging from meat hooks eating each other.

-A priest in a washing basin who was mutilated and changing into something terrible.

-A paralyzed lady on her knees spewing multi-colored fog from her mouth and secreting blood, which has since turned wine, out of every pore on her body.

-An old woman in a wheelchair with a massive hole in her chest with seemingly an unlimited amount of wine flowing out from it.

-Two interns locked in a closet with their heads bashed in.

-A dorm room completely covered in guts and wine.

 

And that's just the stuff that hasn't attacked us.  The only thing beyond the chapel barricades that gives me hope is the dream lichen we found growing.  Thankfully Myself and Edgar were able to collect it without damaging it.  Now when we get a chance it will be up to me to probably prepare it for use when needed.  It gives me hope that something so good can grow in such a terrible place. It also helps that almost every room we explore there is always a source of wine, although the others do seem to make a fuss when I drink it.  Not like anyone else was going to drink it.

 

Notes to self:

-My blood seems to have been replaced with wine…….mildly concerning.

-Also according to papers found my name is Argo

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Patient Name: Andrea
The heat of the moment shown in your eyes

//Sanity = 16 -6 -2 = 8

Patient Name: Andrea

Treatment: observation, therapy, anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers.

Notes: patient discussed "his work" and attempted to use magic on the staff.

Nothing in the description seems familiar. She doesn't know what the work is or why it's important. She doesn't remember that her name is Andrea. It's not. Not really. It's not really fair to hold her to account for what was done. Her current state is precarious. The asylum is dangerous. She should leave before she finds herself lost in dreams. The nightmares of the past would find her again.

I am alone here with all of these people. No one her understands me. Sticks and stones may break some bones but the weight of the world is in my mind. It feels like it always has been. But I'm stuck here. Alone.

We venture out in a haunted repetition. No one willing to admit the truth. The food is running out. Sanity is in short supply. Each new day a new hope is beaten into the ground. My mind spreads out across the physical dimensions but all I feel is the wailing of the dead. Maybe through esoteric space I can escape. But I've forgotten the key to the gate.  There's nothing to be done now.

I suppose I'll lie here a time. I feel as though my memory may be improving. I rather preferred when I was a scarcely remembered shadow of the distant past. I was little more than a disturbed reflection in a puddle of rain. Even once stilled, it fades as well.

There is peace in stillness.

Perhaps I shall return there soon.

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Blood Hallway

It was time to rest for the day.  What a horrific scene, the lady sitting there, blood pouring from every orifice.  As we made our way back, two people appearing to be inmates came from the visitor's room and immediately charged us.  Is this their normal behavior or have they been driven mad.  It is so hard to know what was in place before this place went to shit and what what happened after.  A mad house that drives people even more mad.  We knocked them unconscious with relative ease and decided to keep them locked up in the basement.  Being surrounded by that much death and decay might be just as bad as if we had killed them.  

I tried to figure out what some of these magically items are.  It's so difficult to determine what the properties are when I can't even remember who I am.  Bits of information come to me as we wander these halls, but I don't know why I know what I know.  I could only figure out a few of the items, but I will try again in the morning.

The Next Day

One of the items we received was an incense that let's creatures in the area speak telepathically.  I don't know if it's the worst idea or the best idea, but we are going to light it in the room with the administrator to try and gather information.  Hopefully something comes of it.  We make our way back to the administrator and light the incense.  There was nothing at first.  A few people heard screaming and whispers.  It appears she is trapped in some sort of dream world wandering the mists and forever afraid.  Some of us believe we should end her life to spare her this torture, but Edgar wants to keep her forever wandering her torment.  We will have to watch out for him, he appears to be a healer but must have a dark side if he wishes that fate for her.

We snuff out the incense and move on to the rooms we moved past yesterday.  The slime on the ground led to one room where we discovered a couple Pickled Punks.  Undead fetuses born of the necromantic energy.  Why do I know this?  A thought for a later time.  They can be created two ways, on purpose from Necromancers or with enough Necromantic energy.  This tells us something.  Whatever happened, mass amounts of Necromantic energies were involved.   Maybe whatever new experiment the head administrator was taking part in was some sort of necromantic ritual.  The Pickled Punks had killed Chawaar, one of the Doctors here whose office is across the hall and already rummaged through.

The other room of note was one that had two individuals that seemed to have recently died.  They were unconscious due to some blunt damage to the head and were lying under their desks.  This room was locked coming in.  Very strange.  There was a wand on the desk with a note from the administrator scorning the use of magic.  Hypocrit.

We continue forward past the administrator's office to a long hallway with a few rooms to the sides and a door at the end of it.  We begin searching the rooms and quickly come across more of the inmates who are aggressive without words.  This place must have driven them even more mad,  or maybe they won't attack anyone in the yellowish robes.  We quickly knock these ones unconscious as well and continue to search bringing us to the end of the hall.  

Blood, so much blood.  It is everywhere.  Rushing down the hallway, smashing all of us against each other.  Dripping and coated in blood.  We can't escape it.  How can we escape it?  It's in this room, it's in the next room.  It's everywhere.  There's footprints of blood.  Our cuts from the battle prior…more blood.  How do you escape that which gives life…we are surrounded by it.

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