... but the Exchange Rates are Murder! [IC]

[Dr Archeville]

[bg=#000000]Don't... know...[/bg]

"Says 'e don't know," the zombie -- the one standing -- replied, quickly putting his hands up in a defensive posture, "but, that don't mean he don't know! It's all in how y'ask tha question!"

The glowing-eyed zombie turned to the still-seated zombie, "hey there. How ya doin'?"

[bg=#000000]... uhhh...[/bg]

"Yeah, that happens," he replied, nodding. It put one arm around the other's shoulder, "Listen, my friend here's lookin' fer someone, an' I'm lookin' ta help you. Now, where ya been recently?"

[bg=#000000]Cave... wet... water... [/bg]

It looked up at Trevor, eyes blazing, "says a cave an' water." It turned back to the other, "water in tha cave? Near it?"

[bg=#000000]Yes... both... I... remember... diving... diving in the... water... with a s-scuba tank... [/bg]

The first zombie got a concerned look on its face, "uh-oh... I think 'e's startin' ta remember..."

[bg=#000000]Scuba diving... by myself, on a clear, moonless night... I remember wanting to... to... to check out some rare cave fish, and... and they'd come out the furthest on... on nights with no moon. Wait... did I die? Was I killed? What happened to me?![/bg]

The seated zombie began twitching and jerking about, and weird, inhuman sounds came from its throat.

[Gizmo]

Midnight regarded the mumbling, trashing corpse with a mixture of wary caution and impatience. "Need more to go on," he demanded from Dead Head. The intense teenager was not uncaring toward their informant's obvious distress, but with his grandfather's life potentially hanging in the balance, he wasn't inclined to be particularly gentle. He wracked his mind for anything he might have heard recently involving underwater or shoreside caves.

[Dr Archeville]

Trevor had not heard of anything recently in regards to the assorted underwater and seashore caves that dotted North Bay, Port Regal, and Lonely Point, though he did know where all the most popular ones were.

"Alright, man, stay with us," the flaming-eyed zombie said to the other, grasping both its shoulders. "Which cave didja go to? Where was it?"

[bg=#000000]P-Port Regal...[/bg]

"Port Regal, good, good!," the zombie repeated, "but where in Port Regal?"

[bg=#000000]Near the Asylum... half a mile south...[/bg]

The zombie drawled out a brief curse, "near th'Asylum, he says. Half a mile south. Man, I hate goin' near that place!"

Trevor knew of some caves in that area. Many were off-limits due to a possibility of connecting to tunnels which lead to Providence Asylum.

[Gizmo]

"Get over it," Midnight suggested flatly, sprinting off and retrieving the Night Cycle from its place on the lawn. Righting the vehicle and starting it's whisper-soft engine, he gestured brusquely for Dead Head to get on. "Might need your... talents," he noted, swapping his beaten fedora for his matte black helmet. "More dead bodies before the night is through."

[Dr Archeville]

"Yeah, sure," the flaming-eyed zombie replied as he rose and shambled towards the bike, "but what about him?"

[bg=#000000]... so cold... [/bg]

"I don't wanna jes' leave 'im out here," it went on, looking back and forth between Midnight and the mostly-dead man, "but I don't think that thing can hold all three'a us. If the cops ain't gonna be by soon, ya think he can law low in yer friend's place," He cocked his head towards Travis' home, "'til I can come back an' escort him someplace proper, like tha nearest morgue?"

[bg=#000000]... so dark... Emily? Emily, where are you?[/bg]

"Whoa, hold up!," the flame-eyed zombie called to Midnight, then turned back to the corpse still sprawled on the lawn. "Who's Emily?"

[bg=#000000]Emily... my... my girlfriend... was diving with me when... when it all went black...[/bg]

"Says his girlfriend was with 'im. Probably taken, too."

[Gizmo]

Trevor felt a brief stab of guilt at that. "We'll save her," he promised the distressed corpse quietly, "One way or another." He turned to Dead Head and added flatly, "Tell him to hole up inside. Don't touch anything." Adjusting his grip on the Night Cycle's handlebars, he revved the nearly silent engine. "Wasted enough time already."

[Dr Archeville]

"Ya heard the man," the flaming-eyed zombie told the other as he clambered onto Midnight's bike. "Get inside that house, there, but don't touch nothin'. Er, find a fireplace, an' sit down in front'a it."

[bg=#000000]... okay... [/bg]

The dead man rose from Travis' front yard, and slowly shambled inside.

"Hunh, I ain't ever rid one'a these before. Always thought it was too dangerous...."

[Gizmo]

"You're dead, Midnight pointed out harshly as the Night Cycler jumped to life, startling given its virtually silent engine which belied it's finely tuned power. "Hold on," he instructed, adding, "to the bike. Jacket's dry clean only." The toneless growl made it difficult to tell if the black clad vigilante was making a joke or not. Regardless, he poured on the speed, making a beeline for Port Regal.

[Dr Archeville]

Midnight's cycle sped down the city streets, though to him it could not go fast enough. Something had happened, would be happening, to his grandfather, and he would not allow that.

Minutes later they'd reached the spot the odd zombie had described, the seaside mouth of a cavern half a mile south of Providence Asylum. The crisp sea air and clear, cloudless (and moonless) night sky was an eerie contrast to whatever dread things might wait withing the caverns. And that's if the ones behind this were here -- all Trevor knew from the dead man was that this is where he was killed, but it was not necessarily where the bad guys were holed up. But it was the only lead they had, so here they were.

The other dead man, the one who'd been riding with Trevor, was silent through the trip. Or, if he had said anything, Trevor's intense focus had blocked it out. Once they arrived, though,it spoke up. "Some bad stuff's gone down here," it said in a strained whisper, "I'm sensin' lots'a magic 'round here."

[Gizmo]

Midnight grimaced beneath his mask and muttered something made unintelligible by the filter it contained at the mention of magic, pulling the Night Cycle up to a secluded spot and swinging off with practiced ease. "Specifics?" he asked brusquely, stalking softly through the sand and casting his gaze from the sea to the mouth of the cave. Ruby lenses made even the reflected starlight sufficient for his needs. "Going in blind as it is. Need exploitable weaknesses."

[Dr Archeville]

"Necromantic, 'course," the zombie replied flatly, "corporeal undead creation, zombie's an' such, an'... whoa, that's weird." He paused and cocked his head as he peered into the cave, "somethin' else, somethin' doin' with spirits, but not raisin' up ghosts or th' like. More like... like resurrection, almost. An'... the heck? It's like there's two distinct magical style in there, two different groups'a magic in there."

The zombie twisted at the torso to look at Midnight, twisting it at an angle impossible for a normal, living person. "Exploitable weakness? Those silver knuckledusters ya got'll do good 'gainst some. Strikin' from stealth's, good, too -- cain't aim spells or claws at targets they cain't see -- but some undead got keen senses'a smell or hearin'. Breakin'a spellcaster's concentration or ability t'chant or gesture's a good tactic, too."

The cavern mouth was just wide enough that going in side-by-side would be a tight fit, so they'd need to go one before the other. It was laso pitch black inside -- the starlight did not reach far.

[Gizmo]

Midnight weighted the zombie's observations judiciously in his head. His inclination was to think about magic in terms of exotic technology, and he wasn't entirely clear why the presence of two styles of sorcery was so surprising. More like schools of martial arts, he mused, training implies commitment which implies division. If there were two distinct groups at work here, it radically changed the layout of the situation.

"Fine. Let's move." Taking point, the black clad youth silently slipped into the shadows of the cave's mouth.

[Dr Archeville]

Trevor's unnatural eyes adjusted to the gloom of the cave, and he could see that not ten feet beyond the mouth the floor was wet. If it was high tide there would be a small river going through here, but for now it was more a lagoon. The roof of the cave sloped down, so that he and his foul-smelling friend would need to dip into the water to go further.

Trevor, with a Con of 16, can hold his breath for 16 rounds. Or he can free up one of his Gadget points, or spend an HP for a rank in Equipment, to get a rebreather. Dead Head don't need to breathe.

Once under, two paths became clear, one leading left and one leading right. Both had the remnants of tracks, but a moment's study (perhaps interrupted by a quick return to the surface for some air) showed that the ones to the right all went further in, while the ones to the left all went out.

[Gizmo]

For the time being, Midnight opted to rely on his own lung capacity training rather than breaking of a rebreather from his belt. He only had a limited amount of air, and it made sense to save that in case he was forced to remain submerged later on. Fortunately, he was able to see just as well under the water as in the gloom of the cave, and gestured with two fingers to the right, leading the way as Dead Head, free from the constraints of living biology plodded along the riverbed behind him.

[Dr Archeville]

The lambent emerald flames in Dead head's eye continued to flicker in the murky, casting weird shadows about him.

The path was almost completely submerged now, with one small pocket of air several hundred feet in -- further than a normal man could reach, and Trevor himself almost reach for his rebreather before his keen eyes noticed the shimmer of the water's surface. He had to control himself to not gasp and take in large gulps of cool air into his burning lungs, as such would make a noticeable racket, but to his mentor's credit he retained his calm.

Sinking back into the murk, the tunnel continued another several hundred feet. When he surfaced this time, he found himself in a wider tunnel, only half-submerged, opening to a small (roughly 10x10) chamber filled with lit red and black candles, set on the floor or in nooks in the wall. Strange sigils were painted in red and black on the cave walls, and a leering cow's skull with half-melted candles atop it greeted the intruders.

At the far end of this vestibule was another opening, a tunnel sloping to the left. Dancing shadows indicated the presence of more candles, and Trevor's ears could just make out the sounds of chanting and movement coming from beyond.

[Gizmo]

Rising ominously from the dark water like ominous, solid shadow, Midnight stalked silently into the smaller chamber, looking around, though narrowed eyes as water dripped from his matte black costume. Classy, he thought dryly, observing the bovine skull. With wet, gloved fingers, he snuffed the flame of candle one by one, plunging the cave into darkness apart from the flickering light coming from further up ahead. The inky void was only his friend, after all. Signaling Dead Head for continued silence, he crept forward to peer into the larger hollow.

[Dr Archeville]

Dead Head take a cue from Midnight and assists in snuffing out the candles with his dead, waterlogged fingers. Trevor was really glad he had a gas mask.

Creeping forward, the corridor makes a sharp turn to the left after about fort feet, leading straight into a small (roughly 15x15) chamber serving as a guard post. Two figures, one in black robes and one in red, were conversing quietly; the black robed one sat cross-legged on the cavern floor while the other leaned against a wall. Against the far wall, facing out, were three pale figures, wearing tattered clothes (one in a jogging outfit, two in decent suits). Their eyes glowed with a faint red light; the room itslef was illuminated by several lit candles and two large torches set into the walls.

They did not appear to see Trevor.

[Gizmo]

Midnight seemed to fade into the shadows even before the waves of inky mist began rolling off of his body, thickened by the damp of the river water. The first of the guards barely had time to register that the dimness of the cave was deepening before a brutal right hook brought him down. The darkness was complete and total as the robed figure sitting on the cave floor joined his peer in unconsciousness as a second dull thud sounded in the cloud.

[Dr Archeville]

The trio of zombies, receiving no orders from their comatose masters, stood frozen against the wall.

Dead Head walked up to them, quickly looking over each one. "Jes' empty shells..." he whispered, "nuthin' there... cain't risk 'em bein' activated, though, coming up behin' us once we pass... "

He unslung the shoulder from his back, and held it up like a baseball bat. "Sorry, fellas, but it's th'only way..." He swung at the rightmost one, with enough force to send it crashing into the one next to it, and then both into the third. They fell into a heap, and the faint glow in their eyes was snuffed out.

[Gizmo]

Maintaining the stygian cloud, Midnight observed Dead Head's handiwork with detached analysis. Puppets? Different from him. Different from the one on the lawn? He didn't have time to consider the full implication just then. Waving a pair of gloved fingers forward once the undead hero's sickly glowing eyes turned his way, gesturing for silence and speed as he continued deeper into the cave, intent on tacking down his grandfather.

[Dr Archeville]

The passage continues, still just wide enough that walking side-by-side would be possible but tight, so they continued single-file.

After about fifteen feet, the tunnel turned sharply to the left; after another fifteen feet or so there was a fork. From the right, darkness and silence. From the left, more flickering lights, and louder chanting, and the sounds of people moving about. Something else, too, something large and angry, pacing in a cage and straining against chains.

[Gizmo]

Creeping along the rocky tunnel, Midnight paused as the unlikely pair reached the fork in the passage. Turning to Dead Head, he quietly intoned, "Don't want anything coming up behind us. Check the right, then double back." Without waiting for confirmation or explaining what he would be doing himself, the black clad vigilante faded further into the shadows and headed down the left passageway to take stock of what they were up against.

[Dr Archeville]

Trevor follows the left-hand path, towards the flickering lights and baleful chanting. The path went another thirty feet or so, gently sloping to the left, before opening to an enormous (roughly 60 x 60 foot) cavern, surrounded by a narrow ledge and lit with torch, candle, and oil lamps. Six robed cultists, three in black and three in red, scampered about the room. Two chant while mixing a foul-smelling liquid in a large vat up in the northwest corner, while two others chant as they pour buckets of the slime into a deep circular groove set into the center of the chamber. The circle, taking up half he chamber, held a stone altar, with robed cultists on either side chanting and throwing some sort of powder into the air. At the head of the altar (which was the farthest side from where Trevor was) stood a seventh chanting figure, in dark red robes adorned with numerous small animal skulls. Strapped to the altar: Travis, beaten and bloodied!

Bookshelves stand against the walls, though only a few books sit in them. Two slate tables in the southern section of the cavern contain chemical (alchemical?) apparatuses. At the far end of the cavern are two passages. Both are lit, and the one on the left is where the animalistic roars and rattling chain sounds are coming from.

[Gizmo]

Midnight's teeth ground together behind his featureless black mask. He could probably creep into the cavern unseen and dispatch a few of the cultists before the others were any the wiser, swinging the odds in his favour. Certainly it would be the tactical thing to do, the way his grandfather had taught him to deal with numerically superior foes. Seeing the man who had raised him bloodied and battered, however, turned the blood in his veins to ice water, and he could almost swear he felt the midnight mist sliding, ink-like, just under his skin.

There was something to be said, after all, for the direct approach.

A massive cloud of billowing black spread forth from the chamber's entrance, spilling forward like the edge of a slow motion explosion. "Bow down, fools," a chilling, emotionless voice grated out from the darkness, the acoustics of the cave lending it resonance and making it hard to tell where it was coming from. "You meddle beyond your means."

[Dr Archeville]

Six of the cultists immediately fall to their knees, and plant their faces in the dirt.

The seventh, the one at the head of the altar, remains standing, but does bow. "My Lord, please, give us a chance," his nasal voice begged, "we can do this! This vessel is strong -- it took three assaults to take him down! -- and the odds are good that he shall survive the transfer! And even if he does not... well... he would make a fine undead! Please, my Lord, we are so close -- we are doing all we can to- my Lord? Have you..." he swallowed hard, "sent... someone?"

Trevor had heard Dead Head coming from 30 feet away, but it appeared the cultist did not hear him until he was right behind the hero.

Whatever was chained in the chamber beyond continued to growl and pace.