IC -2 - Yesterday Upon the Stair - Everyone

[aine]

I’ll use 5 luck to get an extreme success for Louis’ POW roll.

[Mephistophilis]

Shaking your head and blinking your eyes, the form of the woman comes into better focus. Sitting in the alcove on a pile of bones is a vile-looking creature, not your grandmother, not your grandmother at all. This is a bloated, misshapen distortion of the woman depicted in the portrait under the basement stairs, eyes long rotted away, bloated and glistening like a hellish grub. The same vermin scuttle and crawl across her naked body.

She is gnawing on something, a piece of bone with flesh hanging off, the length of a thigh bone. She holds it between her two claw-like hands and tears at it with jagged, razor-like teeth. Blood drips down her chin and across her fingers.

Visible in the alcove are several niches carved into the wall. They seem to hold various bits of occult gear, mouldering papers, a book, human skulls... There's something else as well. A shrivelled human hand with a thick black candle rising from the palm, its flame cracking with an unnatural violet shade.

Reaching for one of the crude niches behind her, the old woman plucks something from a dish, it's round and white with a trailing back of dripping red, like a fresh eyeball. She pops it into one of her rotted sockets. In a low voice, harsh and grating, she says 'Let Granny take a closer look at you children.'

She's right in front of Kyle now but he seems frozen in place. Just muttering 'Granny?' again. The old woman stretches out for an embrace. And scoops Kyle into her arms, lifting him up in a grotesque approximation of a hug. Lifting him higher, above her. She opens her mouth wide, jagged teeth glistening with blood, and her jaw widens, snake-like. Pulling Kyle in towards her mouth rows of razor-sharp teeth unfold from the ever-lengthening gullet, and his feet disappear into her maw, her neck muscles compressing and releasing to pull him further in, engulfing his body. Only as the teeth start to slice into his flesh does Kyle snap out of his reverie. Expression of benign confusion transforming into a look of pure fear as he emits a piercing scream.

Sitting in the alcove on a pile of bones is a vile-looking creature, bloated, a misshapen distortion of the woman depicted in the portrait under the basement stairs, eyes long rotted away, bloated and glistening like a hellish grub. Vermin scuttle and crawl across her naked body. Rats, spiders, worms, snakes, and insects of all types - scuttling, writhing, creeping, and crawling over the pale, distended flesh.

She is gnawing on something, a piece of bone with flesh hanging off, the length of a thigh bone. She holds it between her two claw-like hands and tears at it with jagged, razor-like teeth. Blood drips down her chin and across her fingers.

Visible in the alcove are several niches carved into the wall. They seem to hold various bits of occult gear, mouldering papers, a book, human skulls... There's something else as well. A shrivelled human hand with a thick black candle rising from the palm, its flame cracking with an unnatural violet shade.

Reaching for one of the crude niches behind her, the old woman plucks something from a dish, it's round and white with a trailing back of dripping red, like a fresh eyeball. She pops it into one of her rotted sockets. The single eye seems to fixate on Shirley. Staring right at her. 'Let Granny take a closer look at you little girl.' The voice is low, harsh, grating. 'Why should I let you go? Why shouldn't I just eat you like all the other children who have visited me? Like I'm going to eat your little friends.'

She's right in front of Kyle now but he seems frozen in place. Just muttering 'Granny?' again. The old woman gives Shirley a grotesque smile and stretches out for an embrace, scooping Kyle into her arms, lifting him up in a grotesque approximation of a hug. Lifting him higher, above her. She opens her mouth wide, jagged teeth glistening with blood, and her jaw widens, snake-like. Pulling Kyle in towards her mouth rows of razor-sharp teeth unfold from the ever-lengthening gullet, and his feet disappear into her maw, her neck muscles compressing and releasing to pull him further in, engulfing his body. Only as the teeth start to slice into his flesh does Kyle snap out of his reverie. Expression of benign confusion transforming into a look of pure fear as he emits a piercing scream.

She's right in front of Kyle now but he seems frozen in place. Just muttering 'Granny?' again. 'Let Granny take a closer look at you children.'

Your grandmother stretches out to embrace Kyle, scooping him into her arms, lifting him up in a big hug. Kyle hanging slack in her arms.

OOC:   Everyone can act but obviously Darren wouldn't do anything to hurt his grandmother

Devouring Kyle: 2d6 4

[BoyBlunder78]

Looking confused at Granny, why is she holding Kyle? shes not his Granny she's his. KYLE!! That's my Granny not yours!!" Darren shouts, looking around frantically, thinking that if she's here then so must Ian. ["IAN!! IAN!!! where are you?? GRANNY'S HERE. YOU WERE RIGHT!"

[Mr. Handy]

Harry rushes toward the burning hand, taking his ghost trap off of his belt and pushing the catch to open it. He designed it himself, and it's functional and airtight when it's closed. Holding the trap in front of the hand, he uses the poker to push the hand into the trap, not wanting to touch it with his own hands, and activates the catch again to seal the trap shut. He knows that fire needs oxygen to burn, and once the little air inside the ghost trap is gone, it should be extinguished.

[aine]

Louis swings his bat in a rage at the woman, maybe he can keep her distracted from a) chewing and b) Harry’s strange plan.

Fight? 30 roll: 28, any damage- not sure what die…

[LiviaBlue]

"She's no one's grandma! She's the witch from the mirror, and the painting... And, and the book!!!" Shirley continues to try to make the others understand while at the same time trying to recall what little she read from the pages she found earlier.

When the monstrous woman grabs Kyle she follows Louis' lead and starts shooting her BB at her.

BB (50%):
d%

Damage:
1d6/2

Should I roll something to recall that the book.said witches might be vulnerabile to fire, iron and silver?

[BoyBlunder78]

Looking on in horror as he sees both Shirley and Louis attacking his poor defenseless granny, Darren cries out. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! GET AWAY FROM HER!! YOUR HURTING MY GRAMMS!!" Looking around frantically for Ian as he's sure that he must be here, surely he must, after all he saw Granny upstairs so it makes sense that he must be here with her.

[Mephistophilis]

Kyle screams, and screams, and screams. Embedded within the unnaturally distended throat of the huge slug-like witch, buried up to his shoulders, all he can do is twist and shake in the crushing peristalsis. Sharp needle-like teeth rending and tearing skin and flesh.

Harry slides the candle into his ghost trap, the flame flickers with the movement. He activates the mechanism which engages with a satisfying click. The little flaps flick closed but their movement is arrested by something thrust into the cavity. Looking up, Harry sees a shadow emerging from behind the quivering bulk of the monstrous Jabba-like crone.

'Oh my God, Enslin, you idiot. Did you think that was going to work?' It's Roger. His fingers blocking the closing mechanism, he calmly grips the shrivelled hand and burning candle, lifting them out of the ghost trap and placing them back on a shelf. He looks all wrong, bulging in strange places, skin taut over lumps and protrusions that seem to writhe underneath. His gestures odd, joints slightly off, movements awkward, like a marionette.

Pumping her BB gun, Shirley launches several ball bearings into the mammoth flesh of the old woman, each round firing with a pop and impacting with a sickening plop. The witch winces with each impact and there is a small indentation as each round strikes her. But the amorphous flesh quickly regains its smooth, blubbery surface.

The old woman's neck continues to squeeze and pulsate, sucking Kyle deeper into her gullet. The top of his head disappearing into the giant, distended maw. There's a loud crack and the screams stop. The writhing body goes limp. For a brief moment the last glimpse of his face and eyes, they're lifeless. And then Evelyn slurps him down, inside. Licking her lips, blood dripping from her teeth, cascading over her shrivelled lips, and dripping down her chin. She smiles a wide smile, jagged, red teeth exposed between those bloody lips.

As the BB rounds thud into her body, the old witch shrieks, 'You little bitch. I'm going to kill you next...'

OOC:   No need to roll to recall stuff. You can recall it if you heard it or read it.

Desperately scanning the cavern, Darren can't see any sign of Ian. He just can't understand what his Grandma is doing or why his friends are trying to hurt her.

OOC:   Test extreme POW again but with two bonus dice this time

Louis's lump of wood does 1d4 damage, do not apply any damage bonus.

Devouring Kyle: 2d6 9

[Mr. Handy]

"I know this will," says Harry as he strikes the witch with the iron poker. "Use fire, iron, or silver!" He knows that there's no point in attacking the puppet Roger. If they can bring down the puppet master, his strings will be cut. He doesn't believe in magic, but he assures himself that this is some super-advanced science that is known to very few. After all, Arthur C. Clarke said that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. He doesn't understand how it works himself...yet. But he will master it.

Fighting roll (25% base skill) attacking the witch with the iron poker:
d%
Damage to witch:
1d6

[BoyBlunder78]

Here goes.

1d100 My Pow is 65 not 60 so need 13
1d10
1d10

OOC:   Squeaked it!!

[aine]

Louis hits with the bat. “Yes! Silver, iron and fire!”

Bat damage: 3. I can’t remember what Louis has in his pocketses- can I roll for luck for either a box of matches or a silver knife from the cutlery drawer?

[LiviaBlue]

As always, Herry was just a little quicker than her, especially when it came to recall stuff from books.

With no weapon of either iron or silver, Shirley looks around the cavern in a desperate attempt at finding flammable materials, all the while trying to put some distance between herself and the witch.

"She's coming after me!

[Mr. Handy]

We're carrying homemade torches. You can borrow mine if you don't have one of your own. I also have matches.

[aine]

“Shirley, Harry’s got matches!” Louis shouts. “Light the torches!”

[LiviaBlue]

Shirley grabs the matches and hastily lights up a torch for herself and whoever else wants one, her BB still hanging around her torso at the ready.

"The books and papers behind her!" She points out the flammable objects. Though with the witch between them, they needed a way to light them up from a distance.

If we have a sling or a baseball bat with can make and light up some guano balls.

[aine]

Louis ain’t great at cricket but he’s holding a bat….

[Mephistophilis]

With an arcing swing, Harry brings the iron rod to strike against the bulging blubber of the old woman's chest, the small hook on the back of the poker snags her skin and the force of the blow rends a hash in the flesh which leaks a sluggish trickle of blood. She definitely feels the wound as she recoils from the blow and her lip curls in a snarl of pain and anger. At the calls from his friends he takes a step back and shoves a hand into his pocket, his fingers close around the matches and he holds them out for Shirley who snatches them desperately from his hand.

Shirley attempts to strike a match which snaps off between her fingers. On the second attempt the phosphorous crumbles and flakes off the tip of the wood. On the third try it flashes into flame and she puts it to the rags tied around a splinter of wood and the end of the torch catches and splutters into life, giving off a smoky and uneven flame.

While Shirley is lighting her torch, Louis follows up on Harry's blow by swinging his makeshift club which slams into the naked, quivering flesh of the old woman. The blow connects squarely and he feels the impact delivering a hefty thwack, but she barely seems to register it, her face seemingly transfixed on Shirley and her flaming brand.

'Don't even think about it you little shit. I'm going to eat you like your little friend. Suck the fat off your bones and then I'm going to make a pet out of you so I can play with you every day. Pluck your little legs off one by one.' The witch laughs, her voice low and disconcerting. 'I've been doing this for more than a hundred years. Crunching the bones of little children. Giving me immortality!' She hesitates just for a moment, seemingly looking down at her own bloated form. Then she continues, a sort of wild look of glee on her face. 'But you? This is what you have to look forward to...'

Blinking your eyes, shaking your head, the naked form of the woman comes into better focus. Sitting in the alcove on a pile of bones is a vile-looking creature, not your grandmother, not your grandmother at all. You don't know how you could have thought it was her. This is a bloated, misshapen distortion of a woman, a distortion of the woman depicted in the portrait under the basement stairs, in one black eye socket it seems the globe has long rotted away, in the other a fresh, bright eye fixated on you, blood dripping from around the socket itself, like the eyeball has been freshly inserted. This creature is bloated and glistening like a hellish grub, vermin scuttling and crawling across her naked body.

She belches and stretches into her maw, drawing out a piece of bone with flesh hanging off, the length of a thigh bone. She holds it between her two claw-like hands and tears at it with jagged, razor-like teeth. Blood drips down her chin and across her fingers.

Visible in the alcove behind her are several niches carved into the wall. They seem to hold various bits of occult gear, mouldering papers, a book, human skulls... There's something else as well. A shrivelled human hand with a thick black candle rising from the palm, its flame cracking with an unnatural violet shade.

Making direct eye contact with you she grins, exposing those sharp, bloody teeth. Then her expressions changes for a few moments. It's odd, pained even, like she's straining. She shifts her vast bulk to one side and then, with a pop and a small splash, another rat-thing is birthed by the witch onto the muddy floor. A cascade of bloody fluid and afterbirth splattering across the little creature and spattering at your feet. Sauntering round the old woman's bulk the mangy grey cat sidles up to the slick rat-thing and licks it clean. The newborn monstrosity is quickly swarmed by rats and other rat-things, who carry the little monster towards one of the many rat-sized tunnels lining the room.

Before it can disappear into the hole you catch sight of the creature's little face. Human-like as you have come to expect. Little eyes, an all too human nose, lips revealing teeth that sit somewhere between the rodent and the human. And that face, the face of a child. Torment writ upon his features, pain, distress, confusion, animal-instincts to run, and hide, and devour. Looking right at you. Tiny expression of...of what? Recognition? Remembrance? And that face...a realisation slowly dawns. I know that face. The face of your little brother, the face of Ian. Your brother. The little boy you failed to protect from this witch. Who has devoured him and transformed him into another of her little rat-things.

Then he's gone. Into a tunnel. Into the darkness.

OOC:   For witnessing this most unnatural birth and the transformation of your little brother that'll be a SAN test at a cost of 1D3/1D8 points of Sanity.

The old woman's expression changes for a few moments. It's odd, pained even, like she's straining. She shifts her vast bulk to one side and then, with a pop and a small splash, another rat-thing is birthed by the witch onto the muddy floor. A cascade of bloody fluid and afterbirth splattering across the little creature and spattering at your feet. Sauntering round the old woman's bulk the mangy grey cat sidles up to the slick rat-thing and licks it clean. The newborn monstrosity is quickly swarmed by rats and other rat-things, who carry the little monster towards one of the many rat-sized tunnels lining the room.

OOC:   Roll Spot Hidden

Before it can disappear into the hole you catch sight of the creature's little face. Human-like as you have come to expect. Little eyes, an all too human nose, lips revealing teeth that sit somewhere between the rodent and the human. And that face, the face of a child. Torment writ upon his features, pain, distress, confusion, animal-instincts to run, and hide, and devour.

A realisation slowly dawns. I know that face. The face of Darren's little brother, the face of Ian. The little boy you all failed to protect from this witch. Who has devoured him and transformed him into another of her little rat-things.

Then he's gone. Into a tunnel. Into the darkness.

OOC:   For witnessing this most unnatural birth and the transformation of Ian that'll be a SAN test at a cost of 0/1D6 points of Sanity.

No chance of a silver knife but if you pass Luck you can have picked up some matches.

Darren had a baseball bat but I think he might have given it to Ian. You want to try batting with something improvised (like Louis's wooden plank) then that'd be a hard Gym Class roll to smack a flaming ball into the books and papers.

[Mr. Handy]

Something snaps in Harry's mind, and suddenly everything makes sense. Everything. "Euclid was wrong!" he exclaims. "Two parallel lines can intersect!"

Notice Stuff roll (40% skill) when the rat-things go:
d%
Too bad I couldn't fail the roll on purpose.

Sanity roll (current level 4) for seeing the rat-thing's face:
d%
Sanity loss for seeing the rat-thing's face:
1d6
And that's zero Sanity.

[BoyBlunder78]

1d100
1d6/2 now 52%

OOC:   Clearly he wasnt as fond of his Brother as he thought......

Tears streaming down his face..." Ian......I'm soo so sorry i couldn't keep you safe" the sound barely audible as watches the creature disappear. The last time time he would ever see his brothers face.
Using the sleeve of his costume to wipe the tears and snot from his face his eyes lock on the disgusting bloated creature infront of him. Raises his crowbar. Screaming at the top of his lungs he charges towards it.

[aine]

Luck 65 roll: 47. Gym 40 roll: 2

“Take that, you old bat!” Whilst the hag is busy watching Shirley, Louis uses his simple plank to good effect….