A Stately Journal Wrote:4
I wasted no time in preparing my next survey. I have only one mix of Perrault's solution left in my current stocks, with more to be available shortly with all going to plan. Just enough for a tentative trial of this operation.
It was not the easiest of operations to organize; piping to set in place, triggers to be done-- I required several consultations to my dusty ledgers on the basics of engineering, but luckily the drudges could be properly instructed in the process with supervision. It is at these times that I so wished I had found a gnome or at least a proper engineer to assist me-- though I would be a fool to go searching now. This array is crude, but effective. I set the previous subject within the room in his proper place and swiftly made my way out to scout for a prospective subject amidst the trails.
Finding a suitable aid was significantly more difficult this time. The trails were rather barren due to the early hour, and the transients passing through were all deathly fearful of the locale. At first I thought perhaps to make my way to Westfall, before I had the good fortune to stumble upon a minutemen from Darkshire. He was a rather spirited young man, seemingly of hardy constitution and average wit. I plead for his assistance and then made to escort him to my abode. He was very skeptical of the area-- perhaps rightfully so, due to the abandoned and admittedly foreboding visage of the derelict catacombs. Promptly upon entering he addressed me over it-- he even had the clever notion to accuse me of necromancy, as I had yet to impart upon him much knowledge of my profession. I did not answer, merely retreating into the next chamber. The gates were locked shut a short moment before he could make to rush after me-- and after that the doors were sealed, to contain the fumes of the sedative gas released into the small opening chamber. I was not overly impressed with the machinery-- one failed to deploy entirely, and another only expelled from one nozzle. In the future I must monitor my drudges' constructions much more closely.
Regardless of the technical deficiencies in the constructs, they proved effective. Shortly thereafter the minuteman was collapsed upon the floor, and was ready for preparation. The drudges and I entered into the chamber and set about disarming him. He was stripped down to the tunic and leggings beneath his armor, and his blade was removed from his person-- these would work quite well in setting the scene of his disappearance later. A drudge would complete the facade. Finally Perrault's Elixir was administered, and the drudges took him into the testing chamber proper. I entered the observational range, and waited for his awakening.
Needless to say, he was less than compliant upon his rising from slumber. At first he was frantic, issuing a slew of curses upon my person and calling for my presence. I did not entertain him with banter; I only read my prepared text and then sat back. My instructions were simple and clear, at least in my own opinion: Within this chamber is a man. You may leave this chamber at any time-- the method of release is simple. One is, at least.
The minuteman replied to my amplified voice in anger for several minutes, before he finally began to observe his surroundings. The testing chamber was situated as follows. A large opaque holding chamber, open to the above. Within was the prior subject, suspended by his arms and balanced upon a pipe beneath him. To any within the chamber, he could not be observed. Above his chamber was a pipe, leading in from a container of water, tethering down the gate out of the room by a heavy iron chain. Connected to that container was a pump.
Beyond the obvious and (to most) ghastly solution there was also one which was designed to be more adverse. One of the tombs within this chamber had been carved further into. A grate was placed before it, and the method of entry was made via a seemingly infectious gap within the stone. It was coated with layers of plague residue-- thus while it appeared virulent and released an ominous mist, it was in fact wholly lacking in danger (save for consumption). Further within this tunneled crypt was a precarious array of jagged stone, arranged with the altar further within to create a rather ghoulish visage. The tomb here was quite musty, the environment oppressing to even I, being used to working in such conditions within these catacombs. The heat was made stifling by burning herbs I had set within, and it was likely that the presence of the conflagration would be enough to burn the eyes with the residue released.
Despite the attempt at such an atmosphere the object and guardian of said object was very simple. Upon the wall atop the altar was a text, detailing a combination which could be deciphered to open the lid of the altar beneath it. Within was a key, able to unlock the chain tethering the container weighting down the gate in the main chamber. It was, by my personal accounts, an easy feat to accomplish if one was careful not to gore themselves upon entry of the passage.
The minuteman approached the pump first, naturally. A quick observation could show him that it was connected to the gate in some way; he seemed angered still, but visibly relieved at the apparent ease of which this process was prepared. He came upon the pump and gave it a simple tug or two, watching as the gate twitched with the expulsion of water from the container poised beside it. He began to pull once more, and then caught ear of the thrashing of the subject within the container, who I assume was snapped awake from his stupor by the liquid pouring down upon him. The minuteman drew back immediately-- I do believe I could nearly see the gears turning within his head as he made his way to the chamber, knocking on it as if to gauge response. The muffled subject made a call in return, indecipherable through the gag which had been situated upon him.
At this point the observation became excessively more interesting. The minuteman pounded upon the chamber for a brief moment in attempt to find some way to release the fluid already within; a logical solution perhaps, but impossible with his lack of ability to actually pierce the solid tank. His aggression against the chamber faded as he caught sight of the other gate and passage; though he appeared very cautious to approach the seeping gash within the stone he could visibly see the release within. After a moment of composure he braced himself and thrust his hand into the gap, long enough to turn the gate open and tear his arm from the apparently plagued chamber. An amount of courage I was not overly expecting, given his initial outburst. He seemed much more hesitant to crawl into the tomb, however; and certainly the grasping claws of the partially risen drudges within were a deterrent. I rounded to the other side of the observational chamber, so that I might be able to watch further. Ever slowly the minuteman made his way in, withdrawing at the slightest crumbling stone or flexing of a withered hand. As he came in contact with the mist of the burning plaguewood he drew himself back in an instant, vocalizing his pain as the fumes came in contact with his unshielded eyes.
For a long, rather stifling amount of time he remained poised against the back of the carved tomb, staring at the altar ahead and the text upon it. I must assume the pressure of the situation and the pain from the mist must have impeded him greatly, as e seemed to not consider approaching further. Instead he crawled back out of the tomb and leaned his head against the tank containing the prior subject, vocalizing what I imagine was dialogue of apology from the way his face contorted. Once more, a lengthy span was spent just frozen in this one action. I thought to prod him onward at first, but just as I moved to call forth illusions upon the room he stood upright and began to stagger back to the gate out. With a look of gloom upon his face he pulled the pump down, resulting in more thrashing from within the chamber behind him. His grimace grew, but he began to pull regularly. Luckily the machine was rigged expertly-- it was only as the final drop emptied into the chamber that the canister pulled up, the sound of merry clockworks filling the room momentarily before the door fell open for the minuteman. He began to make his way out, and started to sprint as the sound of the thrashing and guttural, drowned gasps for breath began to echo from within the tank.
The prior subject was pronounced deceased quite quickly, and the minuteman had been long gone before the body had gone still. It was at this point as he passed out of the only prepared chamber that I had a rather fiendish thought. It was cruel, but then again in all fairness the man did slay the subject over a rather simplistic riddle. I called for the drudged to empty and release the chamber, and made my way down. A brief moment later and the body of the prior subject was reanimated, and unleashed into the darkened chambers beneath where the minuteman roamed now. Let us not leave anyone to report of this location, after all.
The minuteman, lacking weapons and armor, fared poorly against the brute strength of the risen subject.
I must confess that while this procedure was somewhat crude in nature and surely an unpolished methodology, it did grant me some interesting results. This is, in essence, what I would consider to be the true fragmentation of the mind. The point where it is forced to fold in upon itself, and crush its urges of morality and ideology alongside it. Where man may revert himself to a period of a feral frenzy, all focused upon survival. The mind does not only break, but regress. It is a most interesting thing to behold as a guardsman sworn to his people is made to slay a man for his own survival. Or rather, his immediate survival.
I am eagerly awaiting the next batch of Perrault's elixir. In the meantime I must invest in better craftsmanship for my devices. Until then,
~E. A. Hastings