CLOSED | if i cut off your arms and cut off your legs,

[murderbaby]

WHO: Mhavos, Barrow, Sawbones, Ellis, Vanadi, Edgard, Athessa, Leander, Dick, & Holden.
WHAT: Slasher Plot / Murderhaus / I should really have come up with a set name for this thing.
WHEN: Late Harvestmere / Early Kingsway.
WHERE: Ostwick.
NOTES: This plot is based on the idea of slasher movies, so there will be blood, violence, torture, cannibalism & NPC death.

YOU MAY REMEMBER going to Ostwick on a Riftwatch mission, closing a rift on the property of the noble Pickney house, and being accosted by the Lady Elsed Pickney. Her (adult) son is missing! Terrible things are afoot!

But that's easy to ignore; Gawen Pickney rather publicly announced his intention to elope with a Dalish elf a few weeks ago. Assurances are made, yes, we'll let you know if we see him, and what can you do but that?

It's time to move on. Traveling back to Kirkwall, a storm breaks out, and everyone decides it's better to find a place to stay for the night than push forward. The Silver Lamp is a cozy Inn on the roadside, and the proprietor, an elderly man named Medrod, is very kind. It's not tourism season in these parts, so he's happy to give everyone a discount for the night, and the meal is on the house. Everyone eats well, has a pleasant enough time, and wanders off to bed for the night.

(The food your characters ate was not people and did not taste strange in any way.)

And then Medrod will let the sleeping gas seep through the Inn, laced with Magebane just in case, and everyone will wake up a few hours later, dizzy and, in many cases, in pain.

(Look for a toplevel with your character's name below.)

HOW WILL THIS WORK? Well, I'll be NPCing Medrod the Murderer. Medrod will be showing up in each thread eventually, after a number of tags I RNG'd. It's entirely possible to escape before he shows up! And don't worry, if you guys get in a rut, I'll make him show up early to spice things up ;)

I'll also be doing dicerolls!

If you have a situation where you feel your character will need to roll (I'm going to let you decide this!) put ROLL in the subject line, and bold what you need me to roll for.

(For example, you can have a whole tag like normal, and then Bob tries to pick the lock. Then I'll roll for success or failure, as well as other factors, and reply to that thread with the results. But if you don't want to rely on dicerolls, for whatever reason, don't worry about it. The dicerolls are an opt-in feature. Use it as much or as little as you want.)

I'll also be rolling for discovery, which will work the same way: if your character is looking for something, put ROLL in the subject line and bold what they're looking for (normal tag normal tag then Alice looked for a lockpick) and I'll reply with results after rolling. But if you just want your character to find the thing without dicerolls, go for it.

IN SHORT, I'm only making this as hard as you want it to be. Your characters are already waking up to torture. If you want them to find the special key and escape in two comments, it's totally fine. (Just respect other people's difficulty levels, if they want to give their characters a harder time.)

The only thing that has to rely on rolls is killing, apprehending or injuring the Murderer, but since I'll be NPCing him, those rolls are automatic and will be baked into his reply comments.

IF YOUR CHARACTERS GET FREE, let me know what they'd want to do next oocly (options below), and I'll set that up for you!

Other potential goals to keep in mind besides escaping:

- Finding / saving others.
- Killing / apprehending Medrod the Murderer.
- Getting evidence of Gawen & his Dalish wife's murder to eventually send to Lady Elsed.
- Getting your stuff back (all obviously visible weapons / staves have been taken away).

You got questions? Lemme know!

DETAILS:

- While in the torture room, your character is free to hear (or not hear) distant screaming. It's muffled enough that you can't identify the source (it's Edgard). The screaming has stopped.

- The hallways between the rooms are pitch-dark, and even those who can see in the dark will find it difficult to navigate, as the walls and ceilings are mirrored, distorting the size, shape, and direction of the hallways.

Comments

ATHESSA & BARROW.

[murderbaby]

B is for Barrow, bothered by spikes.

A is for Athessa, who'd like to say, "yikes!"

we already rolled for this but I'm including it anyway for the sake of transparency

[thereneverwas]

When he starts awake, it takes Barrow a moment to fully realize what he's experiencing.
For starters, he's standing, and quite uncomfortably at that. Beyond that, there's an awful piercing ache in the right side of his body, which, it slowly dawns on him, is because he is fully sagging onto a row of spikes in a very small (compared to him) container.

This starts him awake entirely, jostling the whole contraption and, of course, spiking him in new places, considering he has very little room to move around. A strangled "fuck!" escapes him, but he is able to stave off abject panic long enough to realize that the vertical sliver of light he's seeing in front of him is not a window in the contraption, but a crack in the doors. Feeling carefully around in front of him, he's able to grip the bases of two spikes and wrench the doors open, spilling himself onto the floor, hands slick with his own blood.

[sulahnan]

Athessa, meanwhile, doesn't so much start awake as drag slowly to consciousness. Her mouth tastes weird. Her eyes are uncomfortably dry and blinking doesn't seem to be helping. And worst of all, she's on a rack.

"You can say that again," she grumbles when someone swears, and she cranes her neck to look at her wrists and how they're bound. Then, at her ankles. She doesn't struggle, already feeling that if she tried too hard to free herself, she'd simply dislocate her limbs without having anyone tighten the contraption.

After he's freed himself, Athessa let's her head fall back to rest against the rack.

"Barrow, I think we might be in a bit of a bind."

ELLIS & VANADI.

[murderbaby]

E is for Ellis, who's in a tight spot.

V is for Vanadi, stuck with the wrong lot.

[highborn]

Vanadi has woken to worse things, but only by a very, very slim margin.

Panic is the first response, but that's never particularly useful, and so he gives himself a few silent, tense moments to simply take it all in — the arms, the chains, the presence at his back. And what does he have access to — there's the dagger usually in one boot, but that feels missing. The lock pick set in the cuff of the other? Maybe. He can't reach.

He indulges in exactly one squirm to be sure he can't check it himself, notes the very distressing way the chains tighten, and decides he ought to make the acquaintance of whoever it is he's locked to.

Quietly, he murmurs, "If you're awake, I'm going to need your help."

[heorte]

The pull of the chains drags Ellis to consciousness. When his head lifts, the first thing in his sightline are limbs.

Severed limbs.

It sets the tone very firmly, before he parses the soft entreaty from behind him. They're in a very bad place, and they're liable to follow the example of the owners of those limbs if they don't get out. A surge of something very close to fear has Ellis echoing Vanadi's movement, straining against the chain before the cinching of it demonstrates what a very bad idea it is.

Yes, he's awake. Ellis doesn't bother saying as much, sagging in the chains with a shuddery exhale before he speaks.

"Tell me what you need."

It goes without saying: he can't wrench himself free anymore than Vanadi could.

SAWBONES & EDGARD.

[murderbaby]

S is for Sawbones, who'd like to be somewhere else instead.

E is for Edgard, who'd better keep his head.

[muckspout]

Edgard wakes up with a start. He attempts to sit up and feels great weights on his body. He can't move! He wiggles a little and glances down. He's chained to a table.

As he's craning his neck to look around, he notices a large axe looming above him. He is for a moment transfixed by the gleam of the metal. With a clank, it moves downward an inch. Edgard responds with a horrified scream.

Once he realizes his head is still on his shoulders, he continues wiggling attempting to move somehow. The loud clacking noises are mixed with a litany of screamed curses, trade and orlesian alike.

If someone else is in there, they will have to be pretty loud.

ROLL

[okayimin]

Sawbones is not loud. Sawbones thinks she will never speak again, because that's safer, that's practical, there's screaming and the smell of rotted flesh and old blood and- Dwarves don't dream, but they do remember and Sawbones shudders when she comes out of a memory to find a reality not entierly different.

"Stone," she says in a hoarse whisper. There's chains around her, loose and heavy and she's never been more happy to be as small as she is. Small and quick and quiet even for a dwarf, so she starts to wiggle and squirm, trying to work her way out of the chains. Edgard will just have to keep screaming.

LEANDER & MHAVOS.

[murderbaby]

L is for Leander, who has a strange goal.

M is for Mhavos, an unfortunate soul.

[murderbaby]

Maybe it's the swinging of the saw that wakes Leander, or the unsteady breathing of the elf tied down in the corner, or something else entirely. But the room is not quiet, and as the sleeping draught wears off, that becomes more and more apparent.

Mhavos is chained to a table, sleeping fretfully, but clearly not awake. Whatever dose of sleep they were both given, it was a little much for one of the smallest elves in Riftwatch. As he sleeps, a pendulum saw descends above his torso.

Body parts sit half-butchered on a nearby table, close enough for Leander to reach, if he's willing to risk the movement. Mhavos is farther away, of course, but his light sleep could be broken by a word, and the chains poorly fitting for an elf of his side may be broken out of, with an effort.

What will Leander do?

[sarcophage]

It's the saw; it's the meat.

Leander awakens quietly, opens his eyes, and movement tugs his attention at once toward that jagged swinging shape. The elf so peaceful beneath it—dead? No, his chest still holds a rhythm. The red shapes in their periphery call to him next, turning his head, resolving into something

unexpected.

His eyes, and only his eyes, move to take it in.

Humanoid shapes, practically arranged. The stains on the bench older than today. Common instruments with worn handles. More than a hobbyist's space. Was this their host, or are these his tools? Sound of the apparatus swinging, swinging, lower, lower, a little at a time.

Trying an arm against his bonds rewards him with new resistance, to which he surrenders at once. Not only at his wrists, but everywhere, the gentle ratcheting shift and squeeze of chain. Like an embrace, he thinks, his thoughts still loose. An embrace, all over, like the glyph he draws on the floor of his room, to lie within the circle—

Lower, lower. He watches it, interested in the mechanism.

The space is tighter than it could have been when finally he says,

"Mhavos."

DICK & JIM.

[murderbaby]

R is for Richard, who's made a new friend.

H is for Holden, who thinks, "not this again."

[nonvenomous]

A sharp intake of breath leads Richard Dickerson’s return to the waking world; heavy chain slithers link over link when he shifts to lift an arm, and finds it anchored to the cot -- no. Table. This is definitely a table.

He lifts his head, brow furrowed, and looks down to find that he is bound quite securely. More chain.

Bleary, put out, he looks right, and then left, to frown at the anchor in his palm -- this is still Thedas. Late, he registers the shape of a preserved corpse occupying the space next to him. Some of a corpse, anyway -- the bottom third or half or three quarters is missing. Female. Elvish. Dalish, most likely.

He tries to scoff. The sound falters over a shudder; he has to catch it behind his teeth.

This is fine.

[acreage]

It's partially the clinking of chains that wakes Holden, partially the waning effects of the sleep gas. He stirs, awareness filtering in slowly — there's light that wasn't there before, though at least below eye level, there's a pounding to his head, a grogginess that doesn't make immediate sense — and moves to lift a hand to his face.

There seems to be a skip in his perception, like a poorly edited video. He moves, and suddenly there's a bloom of pain across his arm, the wetness of blood, and that wakes him up pretty goddamn quickly.

Richard can probably hear the pained noise he makes before he can stop himself, the rustling around in that iron maiden over there.

POST-ESCAPE.

[murderbaby]

[Watch this space.]

• The Murderer has a significantly bruised face.
• The Murderer has an injury to his scalp, bleeding.
• The Murderer is missing an eye.

SAVE THE ELVES.

[murderbaby]

There are several taxidermized elves, and one taxidermized human, within the maze under the Silver Lamp Inn. Can you save the dead from this dark place?

[sulahnan]

They're out.

How they got there doesn't matter. All that matters is that they're out, and they're all alive if a little worse for wear, and now they're left with the coming dawn and a horrible building looming over them and the knowledge that there are dead bodies beneath their feet.

Dead bodies of Dalish elves who have been abducted and likely tortured before being cobbled together into a madman's sick doll collection. Regardless of whatever talk might be going on, Athessa stares back at the door to the inn, struggling with the images of those faces. Leathery faces with delicate whorls of ink on their skin. Crude stitching on incisions that won't heal. Glassy eyes, unseeing.

Though she had clung tightly to him with the sudden relief of breathing the open air and seeing the waning starlight in the sky, Athessa tries now to slip her hand out of Vanadi's grasp and walk back toward the inn.

REST AND HEAL.

[murderbaby]

Some people are in no condition to fight, or want to protect against danger. Somewhere, in a secluded and defensible part of this dark maze, they wait-- and work-- for hope.

ROLL

[thereneverwas]

This is a good opportunity to take a minute and recuperate from the horrors they've seen so far, and Barrow is doing so by watching the door, holding anything he may have found useful as a weapon since leaving his and Athessa's chamber.

His back is to those left behind who are too injured or shocked to do much moving about, and by the grim set of his jaw, he's ready to break the face in of anyone unfamiliar who tries to cross the threshold.

REVENGE.

[murderbaby]

What has been done here must be answered in kind.

illegal etc thread for richard

[highborn]

Vanadi had been somewhat less than pleased to find himself working alongside Richard, largely unsure how he should be treating the man — but Richard made this a very easy decision with what was to Vanadi's eye aloof avoidance. Right then, pretending nothing happened. He can do that. There's plenty else to distract himself with, and he'd given Richard a wide berth as he suspects is preferred.

That is, until their stay in the inn. In the exhausted and bloody aftermath Vanadi finds that he very distinctly no longer cares about prickly interactions and childish avoidance, and his mind goes back to a mission ago: Richard had been kind enough, all things considered, and more importantly had loaned Vanadi a bit of much-needed healing magic. It's enough to have him seeking the man out on their trip back, sidling up next to him.

"How are you doing?" it's a low tone that promises this isn't just smalltalk, but an actual question.

[nonvenomous]

Richard, who has shed his blood-heavy civilian clothing and encased himself in leather armor and a rugged cloak for the journey home, sighs slow and deep to himself upon registering the presence of close company. That it’s Vanadi’s voice that rolls up with it is really the icing on the cake -- the scruffy lines around his mouth furrow in deep, hollows sunk hard into his face when he looks away to gird himself. Fine.

“Pleased to be outside again,” he says, once he’s found his grip in normalcy. He is polite. He is almost always polite.

A glance over in aside will likely tell him all he needs to know, but he inquires back all the same:

“How are you?”

illegal thread for ellis

[nonvenomous]

This is a safe camp, not far from the road. It’s been a quiet night -- no rain, just brisk stirs of wind to flag at the fire and keep clouds drifting through the moonlight overhead. Those who can sleep are sleeping.

The hot, burrowing pain of fresh-broken bone proves a poor compliment to the chill seeping up through hard-packed ground. Richard, normally one of the first to start snoring, eventually twists to sit up in his bedding. He’s still for a long moment, sitting in silence, surveying the rest of camp before he begins the process of extricating himself, quiet as rogues have a way of being.

He’s gone to bed in his armor, and hooks his cloak up from his pack as he steps long over a sleeping body.

The fire is still lively and warm enough to warrant sitting at while he smokes.

pulls tarp over this

[heorte]

For a time, Ellis has laid very still and considered sleeping. They have a long journey, half of them are injured, all of them are shaken, and Ellis at least should be prepared to shoulder as much as is necessary to make this easier for the journey back.

But when he hears someone stir, rolls onto his side to see Richard hunched at the fire, Ellis gives up the venture and leaves his own bedding to join him.

At first, it doesn't seem as if Ellis intends to say anything. Richard smokes, Ellis warms his hand over the flames, and that may as well be it. And then—

"Forgive me one useless question," he begins. "Are you alright?"

Richard is free to deflect. Ellis wouldn't be surprised if he didn't care to delve into any part of what had just happened.