[ You know what. Adolphe knows that he's not good at being social. He'll leave this to Taair and Richie and keep his own mouth shut to these people.
As a preventative measure, he slowly... puts a hand over Hawke's mouth. Do not ruin this for them. And to Richie, he whispers to ask for any medical supplies. ]
[He cants his head to Adolphe to catch the whisper, nodding, before speaking up himself, blissfully unaware of Hawke's crimes.]
That we don't. We'll be on our merry way tout-suite my friends, I guarantee you that. Though — we might ask for a bite to eat and any medical supplies? If you've got them. [He shrugs, gesturing to their porcupine and one-eyed wonder, both of whom are still leaking through their impromptu wraps. As are he and Taair, but they're in less dire shape.] Don't know if you can tell, since we're holding it together so well, but our boys took a bad tumble on the way in. How embarrassing.
[These people do not know what tout-suite means, Richard.
The four share a silent look between themselves, but they do not say anything to the group before carefully resuming their tasks. Clink, clink, go the dishes as they are carefully washed and put aside. Chop chop goes the knife, slicing into the raw mackerel.
The man by the stoves, however, smiles at them and simply inclines his head to a corner of the room. Should they follow his gaze, they will find a neat stack of linens. All have seen better days, but they are technically clean and could be fashioned into extra bandages... There is clean water available for them to wash up, too. Buckets of it.
If they want to grab any of the food or try speaking to the workers one-on-one, they are welcome to do so.]
[ blessed!!!! taair immediately looks so thankful and bows again to the smiley man with the burn. ]
Thank you. [ softly - he'll immediately head that way for the linens, picking them up in his arms and murmuring some soft directions to hawke and adolphe especially. please sit down, let me take care of you.
his eyes catch on the lady filleting the mackerel, briefly, for reasons unknown, and then he ducks his head and makes his way to start fixing up hawke more properly. let's fashion him a sorta eyepatch. ]
Please eat something - it is old wisdom, after all, that a good meal can do wonders for the health. [ thanks jiaoqiu ] ...The food you are making looks wonderful. I pray that we do not make too much extra work for you all, for your kindness.
[ Adolphe holds back his violent urge to smack him upside the head for that lick, but he will behave and gently set Hawke down due to Taair's request. He also sits, but a little distance away, only because he wants space to just have his limbs flop, still embedded with a bunch of arrowheads.
Still, he doesn't trust others so easily, so he keeps an eye on the man near the stove. ]
[ he might be down but he's not out yet!!! there's the most tired of smirks when adolphe helps him down but otherwise he rests with his eyes mostly closed while taair does his best to patch him back together. ]
Water first. Just in case I simply leak it all back out.
[The lady filleting the mackerel is far too preoccupied with her work to pay Taair any mind.
The man near the stoves smiles at Adolphe easily, before turning back to his work. He ladles more hot broth into smaller bowls; the kind that's easy to pick up in one hand. Four of them in total.
The man kneading dough glances at Richie, cocking an eyebrow at him. For whatever reason, though, instead of answering with words, he lifts a hand to point at the ceiling. Perhaps he means to say this feast is intended for someone upstairs.]
this is fine, though. he'll focus on binding up those injuries, though the fact that no one talks does not really escape his notice either.... interesting ]
If you provoke him, and he reacts, that is on you... [ to hawke, though it's not meanly. it feels good to be able to sit and relax, and he carefully works on bandaging hawke's injuries better, making him a makeshift eyepatch, then starting to work on adolphe's, too. much better. ]
[ Adolphe eventually sighs of relief as he looks at Taair treat his wounds. He doesn't really say anything else and merely looks around. Water would be good. He lost so much blood that he just hangs his head, resting his forehead on his knees and tries to get some quick rest that way. ]
[ hawke makes nyeh faces at taair, and yet still paps him gently when he's done in thanks. he goes on to sleepily eyeball the rather silent staff while adolphe gets his turn, distantly aware they're not even murmuring quietly amongst themselves. hm! wonder what's with that!
but he's also would rather focus on drinking and munching than poking that proverbial hornet so thank goodness, maybe ]
[Oh, four bowls for our four guys!! That's so nice. Richie grins over his shoulder at the gesture, but refocuses on bread boy.]
Ah, upstairs folk. I see. We've heard all kinds of crazy rumours about the man in charge. Guess no matter how out of this world he may be, he still eats fish and bread. Same as anyone else.
You don't have to run a hard track to get it up to him, do you? The way in was a bit inhospitable. I'm hoping for smooth sailing on our way up, but something tells me that ain't so...
[Look, maybe they're mute. Maybe their tongues have been cut out. But they're clever and they're listening, and they can catch a drift. This place doesn't seem like it'd breed a good deal of loyalty on the lowest rungs of the ladder. Could use that to their advantage, maybe get pointers about a less treacherous route inwards and upwards.
Or they could point them to a pit full of spikes. Equally possible.]
[The man by the stove carries the four little bowls of soup to each one of them, and sets a pitcher of water down near Taair. The boys may share it between them. Then he returns to his work, idly stirring more ingredients into the big pots of soup on the stove without uttering a single word.
Eyeballing the staff, Hawke makes eye contact with the man cleaning the dishes. Like everyone else here, he remains silent. But he still gives him a nod of acknowledgement, hello.
Bread boy gives Richie a weird look. Almost amused...? Perhaps he simply finds Richie's way of speaking funny, especially considering that it doesn't look like he gets much in the way of conversation from his co-workers. But even then, there is a bit of tension visible on his shoulders. More so, when Richie mentions making his way upstairs...
Either way, they have soup and water now. There door that will, presumably, lead them to the next area patiently waits for them to finish licking their wounds.]
[ very softly, he reaches up to touch the hand of the man by the stove in thanks, giving it a very light squeeze and showing him a warm, thankful smile. ]
Thank you, my friend.
[ waters everyone.... he'll eat a bit of the broth, though not much - too nervous to really fill his already small appetite. now that both the big boys are bandaged, he will quickly tend to his own injury, smile at richie, and then turn more seriously to the next door.
... ready whenever you are, gang. hp restored (?) ]
[ Adolphe eyes the stew for a moment. He would usually not eat something from someone he doesn't trust, but he really needs the energy right now from how much blood he lost. Adolphe thinks the water is a little more trustworthy from how clear it is, so he'll definitely drink water and then stand, ready to go. ]
unlike some paranoid members of their merry little group, hawke partakes and finishes everything given to him. what's it gonna do? kill him faster?? he's also at like, 1HP so here's hoping the healing power of food boosts him back to yellow status.
he pats his tum gingerly when he's done, giving the kitchen staff a tired thumbs up, and checks on his far more alive companions ]
[Aaah, touched a nerve. That does tell him something though: more trouble awaits, and it's enough to get the folks on the payroll antsy. Bad news all around.
Richie only smiles, collecting his bowl and saluting the kid with his spoon.]
Not to worry. We'll figure it all out. Thanks for the hospitality, all of you. We'll keep mum about it, never you fear.
[Last thing he wants (aside from all four of them dying in here) is to repay kindness with tanned hides. Richie will finish his broth and water, and collect all the bowls for washing. He brings them to the gent cleaning up.]
Thanks, pal. You guys are solid. Truly, you are.
[And he'll make his way ahead with the gang. What terror is on deck now?]
The broth is........... passable. Not great. Not bad. Just passable. There is a bit of a funky aftertaste to it, but likely nothing to worry about. Must be something in the mushrooms that were used to make it. It's warm and it sits in their bellies nicely enough. The group bids their farewells to the kitchen staff, who continue to go on about their business as if the group was never there, and then they try the door.
Time to head up to the fourth floor.
... Or not, because the door is locked. And at glance, Richie can tell that the tools he needs to unlock it are exactly the same tools he lost to the flooded mass grave downstairs. Wuh-oh.
They could cut it down. Or they could perhaps ask the kitchen staff for one last act of kindness. But when they try to do anything else — they find themselves feeling woozy. Disorientated. The ground beneath their feet ripples. The lights are too bright. Colors too intense. There's a sharp ringing noise.
(Maybe they should have worried about the mushrooms. This is Yves's cooking, after all.)
The kitchen staff turns to look at the group, their eyes now a bright red. And then, all of a sudden, they transform. No longer human, but horrible, beastly creatures. Screeching. Screaming. Advancing on them. Danger, danger, danger.
Taair, Adolphe, Richie and Hawke: Every atom in your bodies is screaming at you to get the fuck out of here. You have never been so certain of your own fucking mortality as you are right now. These monsters are a threat and they will kill you, of this you are sure.]
anyway that's horrifying! absolutely fucking horrifying! thankfully taair's first instinct is not to stab or hurt, it is to run when he is in danger. Hit da Bricks. so he jolts to his feet, dropping his bowl in a clatter. and then - he looks at the creatures, and stumbles backwards - one step, two steps, back towards the wall, putting a hand over whichever of the injured men are closer to put himself in front of them.]
The door. [ he says, a mumbled word against all the bright, awful colors, against the awful moving ground - pressing backwards, or at least he hopes so. he doesn't draw his sword. ] Door. Door, we have to - get it open, the door.
sorry this was inevitable [ Of all the times to eat food when he normally doesn't trust it made by someone else, it had to be one of them. He truly fucked around and found out. The monsters are a threat and they will kill him. He knows this. His body is screaming. The overstimulation of the senses makes him want to scream. But he doesn't.
hawke's smelling colors and tasting rainbows but he's still somehow? upright? he's basically invincible given the sheer amount of damage bouncing around his body from getting up so fast and having the world spin but you know what!!! he's still armed and dangerous!!!! he yeets one of the grenades at the former trustworthy kitchen staff
[FUCK CLAUDE VON REIGAN. EVERY TIME I PUT MY TRUST IN HIM BAD SHIT HAPPENS. CLAUDE IS MY ENEMY FOR LIFE!!!
Richie is furious. He's high as shit and he's seeing things and Adolphe is dead maybe? And he doesn't like fucking monsters, and Hawke is lighting a grenade and pitching it at the beasts when he ought to be chucking it to the door.
So you know what?
plabby 📻 russia toaster Request: [1d20] Roll: [14] Result: 14
Richie is intercepting that piss poor throw and smacking Hawke's grenade at the fucking door, FUCK THIS.]
[It's so cute of you to roll like I didn't plan on y'all to use one of the grenades here from the very beginning. Wipes tears... Thank you for doing this without me even having to suggest it to you. I love it.
Anyway, the grenade hits the door! But it is not the type of grenade that detonates instantly. There are a couple of seconds between the moment the string is pulled and the grenade goes boom — and those couple of seconds are more than enough for the dang thing to bounce off the door and land on the floor. It rolls away, towards our no longer trustworthy kitchen friends.
And then it fucking explodes.
Gore and viscera splatter all over the Four Fangs. In the scant few seconds before the ground literally crumbles and gives way beneath them, they catch a glimpse of the very human faces of the four they had befriended minutes before. Their faces oddly intact. Eyes wide and unseeing. Mouths open wide, an empty chasms where their tongues had been ripped out long ago. Expressions filled with shocked betrayal.
And then the third floor completely falls apart, plunging them into the darkness below...
[You fall, you fall, and you fall... And for a moment, you fall back into yourself. Your true self, your memories of the castle and heaven all forgotten.
Taair, you are a child. It is the middle of the night and you should be in bed.
But tonight, you suddenly woke up to the sound of screaming. Metal clanging somewhere beyond your door. The thunderous noise of heavy footsteps running down the corridors of your home. The one screaming sounded vaguely like your mother, you think.
You're alone. You may investigate, or you may cower in your room. But you must make a choice.]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-03-23 03:12 pm
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As a preventative measure, he slowly... puts a hand over Hawke's mouth. Do not ruin this for them. And to Richie, he whispers to ask for any medical supplies. ]
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immediately once again regrets his life decisions but at least he's not adding more of his .02 to their problems ]
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That we don't. We'll be on our merry way tout-suite my friends, I guarantee you that. Though — we might ask for a bite to eat and any medical supplies? If you've got them. [He shrugs, gesturing to their porcupine and one-eyed wonder, both of whom are still leaking through their impromptu wraps. As are he and Taair, but they're in less dire shape.] Don't know if you can tell, since we're holding it together so well, but our boys took a bad tumble on the way in. How embarrassing.
What's that, mackerel?
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The four share a silent look between themselves, but they do not say anything to the group before carefully resuming their tasks. Clink, clink, go the dishes as they are carefully washed and put aside. Chop chop goes the knife, slicing into the raw mackerel.
The man by the stoves, however, smiles at them and simply inclines his head to a corner of the room. Should they follow his gaze, they will find a neat stack of linens. All have seen better days, but they are technically clean and could be fashioned into extra bandages... There is clean water available for them to wash up, too. Buckets of it.
If they want to grab any of the food or try speaking to the workers one-on-one, they are welcome to do so.]
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Thank you. [ softly - he'll immediately head that way for the linens, picking them up in his arms and murmuring some soft directions to hawke and adolphe especially. please sit down, let me take care of you.
his eyes catch on the lady filleting the mackerel, briefly, for reasons unknown, and then he ducks his head and makes his way to start fixing up hawke more properly. let's fashion him a sorta eyepatch. ]
Please eat something - it is old wisdom, after all, that a good meal can do wonders for the health. [ thanks jiaoqiu ] ...The food you are making looks wonderful. I pray that we do not make too much extra work for you all, for your kindness.
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Still, he doesn't trust others so easily, so he keeps an eye on the man near the stove. ]
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Water first. Just in case I simply leak it all back out.
[ pls ]
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That said, being Taair is busy with the other two and his skills lie elsewhere, he edges a bit towards the fellow kneading dough.]
Boss man's got a big appetite, huh? Or are you fixing the working people a feast?
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The man near the stoves smiles at Adolphe easily, before turning back to his work. He ladles more hot broth into smaller bowls; the kind that's easy to pick up in one hand. Four of them in total.
The man kneading dough glances at Richie, cocking an eyebrow at him. For whatever reason, though, instead of answering with words, he lifts a hand to point at the ceiling. Perhaps he means to say this feast is intended for someone upstairs.]
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this is fine, though. he'll focus on binding up those injuries, though the fact that no one talks does not really escape his notice either.... interesting ]
If you provoke him, and he reacts, that is on you... [ to hawke, though it's not meanly. it feels good to be able to sit and relax, and he carefully works on bandaging hawke's injuries better, making him a makeshift eyepatch, then starting to work on adolphe's, too. much better. ]
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but he's also would rather focus on drinking and munching than poking that proverbial hornet so thank goodness, maybe ]
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Ah, upstairs folk. I see. We've heard all kinds of crazy rumours about the man in charge. Guess no matter how out of this world he may be, he still eats fish and bread. Same as anyone else.
You don't have to run a hard track to get it up to him, do you? The way in was a bit inhospitable. I'm hoping for smooth sailing on our way up, but something tells me that ain't so...
[Look, maybe they're mute. Maybe their tongues have been cut out. But they're clever and they're listening, and they can catch a drift. This place doesn't seem like it'd breed a good deal of loyalty on the lowest rungs of the ladder. Could use that to their advantage, maybe get pointers about a less treacherous route inwards and upwards.
Or they could point them to a pit full of spikes. Equally possible.]
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Eyeballing the staff, Hawke makes eye contact with the man cleaning the dishes. Like everyone else here, he remains silent. But he still gives him a nod of acknowledgement, hello.
Bread boy gives Richie a weird look. Almost amused...? Perhaps he simply finds Richie's way of speaking funny, especially considering that it doesn't look like he gets much in the way of conversation from his co-workers. But even then, there is a bit of tension visible on his shoulders. More so, when Richie mentions making his way upstairs...
Either way, they have soup and water now. There door that will, presumably, lead them to the next area patiently waits for them to finish licking their wounds.]
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Thank you, my friend.
[ waters everyone.... he'll eat a bit of the broth, though not much - too nervous to really fill his already small appetite. now that both the big boys are bandaged, he will quickly tend to his own injury, smile at richie, and then turn more seriously to the next door.
... ready whenever you are, gang. hp restored (?) ]
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unlike some paranoid members of their merry little group, hawke partakes and finishes everything given to him. what's it gonna do? kill him faster?? he's also at like, 1HP so here's hoping the healing power of food boosts him back to yellow status.
he pats his tum gingerly when he's done, giving the kitchen staff a tired thumbs up, and checks on his far more alive companions ]
Whenever you lot are ready to continue.
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Richie only smiles, collecting his bowl and saluting the kid with his spoon.]
Not to worry. We'll figure it all out. Thanks for the hospitality, all of you. We'll keep mum about it, never you fear.
[Last thing he wants (aside from all four of them dying in here) is to repay kindness with tanned hides. Richie will finish his broth and water, and collect all the bowls for washing. He brings them to the gent cleaning up.]
Thanks, pal. You guys are solid. Truly, you are.
[And he'll make his way ahead with the gang. What terror is on deck now?]
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The broth is........... passable. Not great. Not bad. Just passable. There is a bit of a funky aftertaste to it, but likely nothing to worry about. Must be something in the mushrooms that were used to make it. It's warm and it sits in their bellies nicely enough. The group bids their farewells to the kitchen staff, who continue to go on about their business as if the group was never there, and then they try the door.
Time to head up to the fourth floor.
... Or not, because the door is locked. And at glance, Richie can tell that the tools he needs to unlock it are exactly the same tools he lost to the flooded mass grave downstairs. Wuh-oh.
They could cut it down. Or they could perhaps ask the kitchen staff for one last act of kindness. But when they try to do anything else — they find themselves feeling woozy. Disorientated. The ground beneath their feet ripples. The lights are too bright. Colors too intense. There's a sharp ringing noise.
(Maybe they should have worried about the mushrooms. This is Yves's cooking, after all.)
The kitchen staff turns to look at the group, their eyes now a bright red. And then, all of a sudden, they transform. No longer human, but horrible, beastly creatures. Screeching. Screaming. Advancing on them. Danger, danger, danger.
Taair, Adolphe, Richie and Hawke: Every atom in your bodies is screaming at you to get the fuck out of here. You have never been so certain of your own fucking mortality as you are right now. These monsters are a threat and they will kill you, of this you are sure.]
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anyway that's horrifying! absolutely fucking horrifying! thankfully taair's first instinct is not to stab or hurt, it is to run when he is in danger. Hit da Bricks. so he jolts to his feet, dropping his bowl in a clatter. and then - he looks at the creatures, and stumbles backwards - one step, two steps, back towards the wall, putting a hand over whichever of the injured men are closer to put himself in front of them.]
The door. [ he says, a mumbled word against all the bright, awful colors, against the awful moving ground - pressing backwards, or at least he hopes so. he doesn't draw his sword. ] Door. Door, we have to - get it open, the door.
[ HIT! DA! BRICKS!!!! ]
cw emeto
sorry this was inevitable
[ Of all the times to eat food when he normally doesn't trust it made by someone else, it had to be one of them. He truly fucked around and found out. The monsters are a threat and they will kill him. He knows this. His body is screaming. The overstimulation of the senses makes him want to scream. But he doesn't.
horseki 🤦 adonephe Request: [d20] Roll: [1] Result: 1
He throws up on the floor and passes the fuck out. ]
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OKAY. COOL. COOL COOL COOL.
hawke's smelling colors and tasting rainbows but he's still somehow? upright? he's basically invincible given the sheer amount of damage bouncing around his body from getting up so fast and having the world spin but you know what!!! he's still armed and dangerous!!!! he yeets one of the grenades at the former trustworthy kitchen staff
ari again🩸dehawked Request: `[1d20]` Roll: `[4]` Result: `4`
ah ]
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Richie is furious. He's high as shit and he's seeing things and Adolphe is dead maybe? And he doesn't like fucking monsters, and Hawke is lighting a grenade and pitching it at the beasts when he ought to be chucking it to the door.
So you know what?
plabby 📻 russia toaster Request: [1d20] Roll: [14] Result: 14
Richie is intercepting that piss poor throw and smacking Hawke's grenade at the fucking door, FUCK THIS.]
> THIRD FLOOR...?
Anyway, the grenade hits the door! But it is not the type of grenade that detonates instantly. There are a couple of seconds between the moment the string is pulled and the grenade goes boom — and those couple of seconds are more than enough for the dang thing to bounce off the door and land on the floor. It rolls away, towards our no longer trustworthy kitchen friends.
And then it fucking explodes.
Gore and viscera splatter all over the Four Fangs. In the scant few seconds before the ground literally crumbles and gives way beneath them, they catch a glimpse of the very human faces of the four they had befriended minutes before. Their faces oddly intact. Eyes wide and unseeing. Mouths open wide, an empty chasms where their tongues had been ripped out long ago. Expressions filled with shocked betrayal.
And then the third floor completely falls apart, plunging them into the darkness below...
(Hold for incoming subtls.)]
>> TAAIR
Taair, you are a child. It is the middle of the night and you should be in bed.
But tonight, you suddenly woke up to the sound of screaming. Metal clanging somewhere beyond your door. The thunderous noise of heavy footsteps running down the corridors of your home. The one screaming sounded vaguely like your mother, you think.
You're alone. You may investigate, or you may cower in your room. But you must make a choice.]
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>> ADOLPHE
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>> HAWKE
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cw: body horror, eye stuff
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>> RICHIE
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CW: blood, choking on blood
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CW: severed limb, blood, gore
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