A BioHazard® 5.0 play-by-post adventure run by bh5ogm
"I really dislike creatures who try to kill me for food! I dislike lies! I dislike it when people don't listen. I dislike this place, and I dislike it when people do stupid stuff!" I think of my own failed attempt at moving the file cabinet.... "Ok, I'll shut up now." Feeling somewhat better but still filled with the rush of adrenaline, I test the small door.
"For sure, as much as it is quite important for the two of you to complete your rite of passage, it is quite important to me that we ascertain the working status of the Vee-Ex," Grover says somberly, still looking out the door to where the Faar plunged to its death. "I agreed to come along and play the part of a youth on his rite, so it would be most awkward if you returned with your water," he says, looking up at Heil and Pafnuty, "and I did not."
"Let's get our water---all three of us, hee hee---but for my mission to be a success, can we spare the time to see if the computer is functioning?" He asks honestly and with hopes that Heil will be patient enough. If Pafnuty is as smart as his reputation, he may only need a few minutes. In the meantime, he doesn't feel the need for rushing onward in the Holy Water quest. Grover watches as Heil tries the small door, then he retrieves his telescope and vials.
"Well, how about a compromise? We get our Holy Water first, and then come back here to boot the Vee-Ex." Deep down, it is a great blow to his curiosity, but he suddenly finds himself thinking of others for a change, instead of himself. And he sees the value in it. His only friends back home are his notebooks, but they are predictable. Heil and Grover are anything but, and his life never depended on notebooks like his life depends on these fellows now.
"Well?"
Heil "humphs" and moves to the small door at the back of the room. The door is rectangular like a normal ancient door, and has a simple doorknob with no locking mechanism inside. The sides of the frame and door are weather sealed. It is about three feet high and two wide, large enough for a man to fit in, if tightly. Grover gets out his telescope and peers downwards... too dark to see anything. If only he had a night vision scope like he once saw a Die Eire carry. As Heil starts to pull at the door, Grover arrives with his Mystic torchlight. Heil finds that the doorknob does not turn, but that the door opens after only a few tugs. A cloud of dust expands from around the door as ages of settled dirt are disrupted. Pafnuty leaves the keyboard with which he was familiarizing himself (the characters look like the common language of the ancients) and walks over.
Beyond the door is pitch black. Grover bends down and gets near, revealing that the door opens up into a metal tube of some sort. About four feet from the door is a ladder in the wall. Moving in closer, quietly, he hears nothing from the echoes in the tube. He puts his finger through the door, and illuminates the vertical tunnel. The sides are brick and plaster, obviously very ancient, but the lack of mildew or moisture leads Pafnuty to suggest, "This tunnel has not be opened recently... perhaps ever."
Looking up and down with his head slightly through the door, Grover cannot see the termination of the tunnel or the ladder. He emerges from the doorway and is about the ask for a rock or pebble, when Heil holds one out in his hand. Grover nods, takes the rock, promptly drops it down, and waits three second before heaing the faint sound of the rock hitting a hard surface... perhaps the same concrete flooring in the tank room. Magnifying his Mystic torch lamp to its brightest, Grover peers up and down and still can't catch sight of the top or bottom of the tube.
"Well, who goes?" asks Pafnuty, almost implicitly directing the choice between Grover and Heil.
"Seeing that I control the light---hee, hee," Grover says, flicking his Mystic torchlight on and off, "perhaps I should."
"What exactly are we looking for?" Heil asks impatiently.
"A power source, I suppose," replies Pafnuty, "or some reason why this room has no electricity."
"Elect tricitee?" Heil repeats.
"Um, power, you know. Energy. The thing that makes your heating coils hot, light bulbs bright, and the computing machines compute," Pafnuty explains.
"Oh, you mean 'spark,'" Heil says triumphantly.
Pafnuty thinks for a second, then nods, "Yes, spark. The ancients called it electricity."
Grover nods his head again and interrupts the dialog abruptly, "I will go down, because it only makes sense. The power source for this facility must be large indeed, and I find it hard to believe that it would be stored above this room, seeing that we are only forty to fifty yards below the surface, you see?"
Then, turning, Grover bends down and moves into the tunnel head first, then, surprisingly, begins to climb down... head first, shining his torchlight brightly. "This Mystic is strange indeed," Pafnuty thinks.
Shooting an estranged glance at Pafnuty, Heil moves into the doorway and begins to climb down, feet first.
Pafnuty moves to the doorway and looks down, seeing the rapidly descending light. "I'll just... um... st-stay here and look out for more Faars."
"Right-o, Pafnuty!" Grovers reply wafts up the tube.
Grover descends to what he thinks is at least 100 feet down the ladder before he comes to the end. At the bottom of the tunnel there is a flat metal circular floor, lightly covered in dust, and a tiny door, identical to the one above. It opens in the same side of the tunnel. Although there is no handle on this side, Grover remembers that there is no locking mechanism and isn't worried. He decides to wait for Heil.
A minute later, the agile swampdweller jumps down from five rungs up and lands on the floor next to Grover. He checks out the door, and without a word or look his way, he moves past Grover and pushes. There is a metal scrape as the door opens wide. Heil doesn't realize that it would open so easy and with such relatively small force. Grover moves in and lends his torchlight to the room. No light comes from within. The air is very stale and stuffy but breathable. Getting down and looking in, he sees a larger room full of strange ancient machinery and furniture.
The two look at each other, and Heil mockingly extends his arm, giving way to Grover, who nods sarcastically. Grover crawls in and cautiously stands up, illuminating the room. It seems to be devoid entirely of life of any kind. It is filled with more electrical components and silver boxes with colorful labels still on them. The air indeed is very stale and thick... perhaps Pafnuty is right? Perhaps this area hasn't been visited since 2013, nearly 500 years since.
Using only the brightness from Grover's insatiable Mystic fire, the two explore the room, not really sure what they are looking for. Heil is frustrated. "Why didn't Pafnuty come? He's the one who knows all about this stuff."
"We may yet find something of..." he stops as he comes across a locked metal cabinet on the wall with universal symbols for "danger" on it. "...use. Heil, your lock picks."
Coming over to the small box-like cabinet in the wall, Heil immediately sees the daunting shiny metal lock that fits itself through the handles, securing the cabinet soundly. He moves it and inspects the key hole. "Looks easy enough," the vagabond states, reaching into his pack for his picking tools, some of which he fashioned himself, some of which he bought from the visiting traveling merchants. [Dex check 11, 6, 10, 1: done]
Only a minute later, the lock arc springs loose with a metal <clank> and Heil pockets the formidable yet unlocked lock. Grover opens the doors to find a neatly stacked row of what he easily recognizes as handguns. Three of them. Heil nearly chokes as he reaches for one madly. Taking it into his hand and gripping the handle, his face has a childlike and cunning grin.
Grover grabs one less conspicously, noting its strange, almost non-existent barrel and its bulky body. Searching for a clip where one would usually be kept, he instead finds a button that mechanically ejects a smooth silver cartridge that is sealed on all ends. Sudden realization comes across his Mystic mind.... Sunbolt weapons. "Ca-a-areful young Heil," Grover says with growing respect for the weapons. "These are no normal handguns."
Heil cares not for Grover's warning, but quickly begins to walk around, practicing his holster release, mock-triggering the various electrical boxes in the room. Grover grabs the second one and puts them both away. "Gather yourself, young Heil. We have yet to find Holy Water or a power source for the Vee-Ex computer above."
Only a few minutes later, after relaying to Pafnuty above what they found and what they hadn't and searching the room thoroughly, Grover finds what he believes to be some sort of power switch. It is a large metal lever inside another locked cabinet, which Heil efficiently opens. (Heil now has two seemingly daunting but nevertheless unlocked locks, a proud trophy of his trip if there ever was one). The tip of the handle is red and has two settings, one labeled "O" and one labeled "-". It is set to "O". There are also several more detailed universal "danger" and "caution" symbols around this area, and there are metal tubes going up into the ceiling from this point.
For his part, Heil locates a box of technical manuals filled with crisp, clearly-typed pages of ancient language. There are four total, each held within a giant 3" binder filled to capacity. He is not looking forward to hauling the manuals back up.
Meanwhile, Pafnuty up above has been checking out the computer system wiping the dust off the monitors and keyboards. He also uncovers what looks like some peripheral equipment, covered lovingly by long-dead users with plastic sheaths.
What now?
I toy with the weapon a bit more, practicing a few phantom shots. I like it. "Grover, you really think we will need this swamp crap?" I say, motioning to the four heavy binders. "I just mean, if we don't need them, why take them, that's all I'm saying." Looking at the weapon one last time, I put it away, making Grover suddenly feel a little better. I hook each of my two new trophy locks on different belt loops. "Sweet," I think to myself.
Pafnuty restlessly paces the gangplanks just outside the room and every now and then uncovers and investigates a new piece of equipment inside the room. He is frustrated with the mysteries and dilemmas that surround him. They are bound to their quest, but could some mythical Holy Water be as important as restoring this computer? Why would both be found in the same place if not? Why is the water stored in such vast tanks? Perhaps it is the power source?
"So no power source, Grover? What's taking so long?" he calls down the tube.
"Heil, I'm going to pull the switch," Grover says aloud while looking at the large metal lever with the red-painted tip. "If it doesn't work, no loss, eh? But if it turns the 'spark' on, we'll have a working Vee-Ex. We'll also probably have a hooting and hollering Pafnuty a few stories up, eh? Hee hee!" Grover raises an eyebrow in Heil's direction, and pauses to give the swamp rat a chance to protest. "If this doesn't work," Grover thinks, reflecting on the Sunbolt weapon, "I'll still have something to show for this technological installation."
Grover shouts up the ladder shaft, "Pafnuty, I'm about to switch something on that very well may be the electricity your Vee-Ex needs. Be ready, hee hee!" Right back comes the characteristically feeble "Okay!" from the boy genius. Grover returns to the switch handle and gives a look to Heil, who quits playing with his newfound energy weapon long enough to observe what will happen. Grover places both hands on the switch and prepares to push up. "Hold on to your mutants, hee hee!"
Standing patiently in the center of the room, and away from any of the computers that will soon be receiving an electric charge just in case, Pafnuty stands with his arms folded. He can hardly wait for the computer to activate. He imagines saturating his mind in the complexities of an ancient processing machine and potentially igniting an intellectual Renaissance. Wondering silently, he cranes his neck back to stretch it, and opens his eyes with his head looking straight up.
[Shift to Matrix-view ultra slow-speed visualization of processes in turbo-charged Pafnuty brain]
Upon seeing the long translucent tubes of electric lamps still in their bare unprotected fixtures above, Pafnuty's brain suddenly begins an independently-spinning thought pattern. Cross-checking the properties of ancient glass with the pressure/humidity properties of centuries-old inert gasses and the decomposition of tungsten in unstable inert gases, Pafnuty's brain comes to a horrifying realization....
[Return to real time]
Pafnuty hears a distant thump as Grover pushes the breaker switch and completes the circuit. Ducking down as fast as he can and putting his head between his knees and his hands over the back of his head, Pafnuty prepares for his worst fears.
Two hundred feet below Pafnuty, in an underground chamber only graced by the carbon dioxide of four humans ever, a quarter mile-long array of two-ton nickel cadmium heavy-duty industrial power cells releases the full charge of their potential. The batteries, in parallel array, elicit a low hum from the surrounding electrical wiring that in turn feeds the massive voltage supply to a vast network of hubs around the complex.
Hit with the full force of the electric charge for which they had once been built, the ancient and fragile light fixtures above Pafnuty explode in a series of loud pops and bright flashes, showering down onto the room a cloud of razor-sharp glass shards, still warm from the sudden combustion of once-inert gases. Pafnuty's head is buried sufficiently under his forearms but his exposed hands became home to several thin blades of glass. (3 points physical damage; bleeding begins next round).
The low hum and a slight vibration accompany the sudden activation of a series of red LED lights around the room, the brightest of which above the low access door from which they arrived. However, from that open door, echoing down are shrieks of pain from Pafnuty, preceded by a loud cacophony of what sounds like gunshots.
Heil kicks aside the box of technical manuals as he moves quickly towards the door and into the ladder shaft. A few shards of glass zip past him and crinkle to the floor. Grover, still not quite sure what has happened, but desperate to find out what he has done, closes his eyes and begins to concentrate on Mystic intonations.
Heil ascends the ladder as quickly as he can. A few minutes later, he arrives at the top, winded and arms sore, to find Grover finishing up wrapping Pafnuty's hands. Rags, already soaked through deep red, lay on the ground as Grover finishes tightening fresh rags even as crimson starts soaking through. (Pafnuty takes another round of bleeding damage for a total of two).
A small blue box blinks on the largest dusty monitor screen in the computer array.
Damage for Pafnuty per round of bleeding (until fully bandaged) is d4 times 2. Note, that's worse than d8 per round! So, roll two d4's, double that, and that's how much Paf is down. Yikes!
"Ow! Shoulda seen the signs. Just enough impurity in the xenon... for the tungsten carbide to go... supercritical. Crikey, that hurts!" he yelps, wincing with pain, his frail movements weakening by the minute.
"What's he babbling about? Guy sure is a bleeder," he says as he catches his breath.
"Brinthas warned me of this. He has hemophilia. He will die if I don't stem the flow. Don't just stand there, get me some more rags!" Grover's trademark smile is somehow absent.
Pafnuty's last thoughts, before losing consciousness (if he does lose consciousness) are of home and his Jen mother, who left his father shortly after his birth, when no one was sure he would survive. There's that morbid theme again. A spare thought zips through his desperate synapses: "I hope they don't put cause of death on my tombstone."
So Pafnuty takes 3 points from the glass itself then 4 + 6 points for the two rounds of bleeding so far, so 13 total. 43-13=30. The under-5 rule doesn't command a CON check for conciousness but because you're such a buggerin' bleeder, we'll say you do. Gimme a d20 roll, 11 and under means you're still (somewhat) concious.
(The under-5 rule means that if you ever have less than 5 physical hit points, you must roll a constitution check every round in order to stay concious, whether or not you are bleeding.)
"Brinthas warned me of this. He has hemophilia. He will die if I don't stem the flow. Don't just stand there, get me some more rags!"
"What's a hemoph-whatever? Is it like a wus? I've had worse wounds shaving. If it's important, that small blue box is blinking over there." Still winded, I try to help Pafnuty stop bleeding.
Reading those matrix-view ultra slow-speed visualizations really makes dizzy. I hope you know that, Will. With your last post, you're beginning to sound like Dave... heh.
You rolled a 13, which is better than 11... so Pafnuty faints.
Grover sweeps a clear area in the glass debris on which to kneel. Pafnuty's head rolls back as sweat beads off his pale face. Heil whips out his canteen and pours some water on Pafnuty's face, but to no avail. Checking desperately for a pulse, Grover sighs in relief.
"He's OK. Lets just keep these tourniquets on tight. Save your water. We'll be here for a while until he wakes up. Let us hope that is soon... I do not know where this electricity is coming from or how long it will last." Grover cradles Pafnuty's motionless body in his arms.
Heil cocks his head. "There you go thinking that we're going to be fine and dandy, changing paths mid-quest. You might be here for the secret society of super brains but I'm here only until I get my Holy Water, got it? I don't need your help if you're going to be stubborn."
So you're saying that normally the -5 [sic] rule won't apply, because he has more than 5 physical hit points left (30), but because he's a bleeder you're making him make the check anyway? Dang bloody BH5oGM. Sorry, no pun intended. :)
Yeah, I'm a mean one. :)
I'm taking into effect the rapid blood loss and his tendency to do so because of an overall low CON. He's not in a coma or anything, he just needs some time to refill, if you know what I mean. And it ain't the "-5" rule, its the under-5 rule. Under +5 that is.... If you're under 0 you're automagically unconcious. ;)
Grover the Jurassic, member of the Mystic order of pure strain humans and a man on the verge of completing the most important mission of his life to date, tries to be patient as he holds on to the young lad on the floor. Not having an innate technological bent, but nevertheless more curious about the VX than Heil, he offers to trade places with him. "Care to take a turn playing nursemaid, hee hee? I'd like to see what it was we just powered up. Maybe we got lucky and it can give us some kind of operational status. By the way, I noticed that blue blinking light, too. Let's hope that's good news, eh?"
Heil harumphs and sweeps an area of floor clear of glass shards. He continues sweeping the floor with the side of his foot into a small pile, then kicks it out the door and off the side of the walkway.
Grover sighs to himself and lays the frail youth down on the smooth, cold hard floor. "You're a gentleman and a scholar, Heil my boy."
Heil sarcastically does a bourgeois bow and continues to pace around the room.
Grover sits down at the computer and takes a glance at the ancient keyboard, each key with a strangely familiar but not quite recognizable symbol on it. Grover remembers hearing one of the elders, a master of the chronology of languages, talk of the evolution of the language of the ancients to now. It is proof that while the cataclysm had a global impact, some pockets of society were able to carry on the written language. This elder even had one of the most rare objects in the world, a Rosetta Stone of sorts: a text written by a post-cataclysmic scholar in an early dialect of new English. Grover did not have the time or patience to study that certain field, but he wishes he had now. He draws upon the fields he has studied, diplomacy not being the least of which, as he moves his fingers to the keys.
h e l l o
He types, then presses the large green elbow-shaped button.
*VXTERMINALT499812statuscheck...
*PULSEBIOSok
*VSPDRAMok
*LX1221TBok
*LX1222TBok
*LX1223TBok
*...
*...
*...
The computer pauses and seems to make some sort of low-pitched rattling noise. Grover tries to decipher what he can of the surprisingly recognizable language.
Heil looks over Grover's shoulder, trying to make his own sense of the output. Pafnuty stirs on the ground, moaning almost inaudiably.
Grover turned and smiled. "Wake my friend, if you have the strength. The task is at... fingers! Heehee!!" Grover turns back to the keyboard when the screen scrolls up some more....
*g2983 intact
*g2984 intact
*g2985 intact
*g2986 intact
*g2987 intact
*g2988 missing
*g2989 intact
*g2990 intact
*
*XPROMPTUNABLETOPROCESSARCHIVE
*ABORTRETRYFAIL?
*
*_
"Well, my pretties, there's good news and bad news..."
Pafnuty jolts upright, his eyes darting around the room. When they find Grover and Heil, his shoulders relax and he uprights himself. Blood is caked on his hands and on the back of his head and neck. "I'm very weak...."
"You look like shi-" Heil says.
"Come, Pafnuty, make sense of this," Grover encourages.
Noticing that the monitor displays some data, Pafnuty gets up and moves over. Grover surrenders his seat.
After reading the output, which fills up the screen, Pafnuty glances over at the open metal cabinet and the computerized honeycomb of dataplugs. Four are missing out of a total thirty-two. The display lists eight checks. The dataplugs are divided into eight groups of four, one of which is missing.
With fingers poised, Pafnuty is ready to answer the computer's query.
Pafnuty mentally parses the last string in the display into three tokens, based on his sketchy knowledge of the ancient language. He guesses the tokens indicate choices for the next action the VX will take after discovery of the error condition. He expects two of the choices: try again and don't try again. But the third escapes him, and he doesn't even know which token maps to which action. His fingers hesitate above the keys.
"Grover, it's saying that it can't continue without the missing group of four dataplugs, and it gives three choices. At least it's powered, but I doubt we'll get very far without the plugs. I'll attempt to bypass the power-up check."
With not even a hunch to guide him, he enters the keys to spell the second token, "RETRY."
He swivels in his seat, looks at his blood-caked hands and shivers weakly. "Crikey, warn me next time you throw any ancient power switch! The filaments in those old bulbs couldn't hold the---" he gives up the physics lesson, not having the strength.
"Thanks for the help. I should've told you I'm a bleeder...." A look of anguish and shame flits across Pafnuty's face as he imagines how blanched his father's expression must have been upon hearing the news that his much-touted heir would never be a warrior. He squelches the thought with practiced efficiency.
"I need water before I dehydrate," his voice cracks, and he points to his pack near the door to the walkway.
r e t r y
*VXTERMINALT499812hexcheck...
*...
*...
*...
*g2983 intact
*g2984 intact
*g2985 intact
*g2986 intact
*g2987 intact
*g2988 missing
*g2989 intact
*g2990 intact
*
*XPROMPTUNABLETOPROCESSARCHIVE
*ABORTRETRYFAIL?
*
*_
"Fewmets," Pafnuty says as he unscrews the cap to his canteen. "We need to find the remaining four dataplugs. There's just no way around---"
"No," Heil interrupts, "what we need to find, folks, is the Holy Water. I'm going back down the ladder. There's got to be some point to that room and a more practical accessway. Who's coming with me?"
Go To:
PBPArchives
| BioHazard
| Module 1
| prev
| next
This page updated: Mon Jan 09 14:22:11 2006
All text Copyright ©1999-2006 PBPArchives.
