The stairs descending the operating theatre where the growth of hell from the spill-well to the sewers below. Through the body on the slab in the center of the room, with one of three circles from the Grimoire Verum sigils from Abognazar drawn in the rings.
Hell's growth seems crawled
from the grates beneath and down the legs of the operating table like branched vine-works,
while that from the center is thrust through the table and carcass.
The
leveled seating in the round room is made for doctors and medical students
to observe a surgery or dissection clearly. Magnifier glasses and curved
mirrors give views of particular organs from which the hell seems to
be growing for inspection.
The mortician stands over him,
scalpel in hand, said students and anatomy artists surrounding the
chamber, one seem interested in the player, fastidiously sketching as
though running out of time.
Mortician - "We mean you no harm. Come see." He smiles, "It's God."
In fact aside from the prison tattoos and the actual hell growing out of him the corpse does look a bit like a western bearded white guy God or maybe Santa Clause, but in reality he just looks like a local cult leader.
... as the ghosts of the bodies in the foyer gather
passing through the main locked door, more coming through the floor from
the incinerators below.
Mortician - "Mmm ... yes ... our founder. This is how he got out you know. His 'grand plan' to escape his own Hell and into a new world. Our world. And we helped him. Now look at us. LOOK at US.
"And here or God lay on the slab like the rest, dug up from the church yard for a bag of coin.
So how do you plan to escape us, your own Hell incarnate."
Killer - "Killing. It's what I chose."
Mortician - Smiles, "Good to know. Completely helpless. Now we mean you harm."
The door crashes open as the artists from the other rooms pour through with the dissected bodies dragging their trellises. A Killer's bullet passes through the ghost mortician as he steps forth smiling, hatchet cane raised to strike.
A sound banging through the above ducts accompanied by a lot of swearing ... some twisting of metal and banging directly over head ...
The
Learner drops landing on hands and feet, stands back to back with the
Killer, wearing if, the Top-hat and coat, passes the Killer bladed
walking stick and pistol from the drawer, with one full load.
Learner - "I wasn't gonna let you die alone."
The Mortician cocks his head looking at the Learner.
Killer - "There are better things you could have said right there."
Learner - "No. Listen and Sh. Only his weapons will work on him. But ... you know I think these other guys may actually be living zombies !? Because ew."
Shoots the flopping arm, flipping it to the corner a twitching hand righting itself to crawl back to.
Learner - "I literally punched one in the back of the head like five minutes ago. I think it was that one." Shoots. "Did nothing ! So I did a lot of it ! This is not my fault they were already like that."
Killer - "I ... believe you ?"
The Learner starts canting Hebrew.
Killer - "What are you doing ?"
Learner - "Sh. I'm dealing with their ghosts."
Electricity crackles from the Learner's chanting mouth, across the face beneath glowing eyes sparking. Down to the arms, and whips it at the the gathering at the door, the watchers in the observation ring rise to join.
This works well on their souls, tearing them from their bodies to weaken them.
While
playing as Learner, one can see for example the singular soul
connecting the disconnected body parts across the room like a network,
and pluck it like a web.
The Mortician draws the memory of
his bladed cane and pistol. The learner's power tries at the Mortician
but seems too weak until distracted back to the artisans, leaving
Mortician to Killer.
The Mortician's blade locks to the Killer's in its strikes as opposed to the body, the pistol as secondary making the intended strike from the left.
From a sixteenth century Spanish sword and dagger style.
In
the end the two versions of the walking stick become one and can kill a
ghost, being fused of both worlds. This pistol too but only with as much of the original ammo as the player has left.
After it's done, the Founder's' body is examined further, Killer digging around in there with the forceps ...
Learner - Pulls the monocle, "Here."
Killer - "I wanted macroscopics for these." Pulls a goggle to place the monocle, "But they didn't want to pay out for that." Digging digging with a squirt. "Said I was a killer not an investigator and ... there it is.
"Looks like somebody betrayed their god."
Drops the silver bullet to the tray.
...
Learner - "This is the most disgusting crawl ever. Are we even past the intro yet ?"
Killer - "What ?"
Learner - A look ... "Let's ... just get out of here."
As they turn to leave the body sits up, the door closes behind them.
Out to the front door, the Killer bangs three times ... nothing. Again and nothing again.
Learner - "Oh fuck ..."
Killer - Bangs again, "What."
Learner - "I don't think we can kill that."
The Killer turns as the Founder walks through the far door at the end of the hall dragging Hell's growth behind him, covering the walls. "Oh fuck ..."
Both - "The bullet."
Learner - "You know what's cool about maps ?"
Killer - "Which way."
Learner - "Behind the curtain on the right. Basement to the bloodletting drop access, the incinerator, the mausoleum, and then the sewer where the all Hell apparently lives. Literally ... the best I got."
Killer - "That's not better."
The Founder roars his pain.
Learner - "Sure it is."
Runs for the curtain gone (player dies shortly unless following).