Planescape Torment REBORN - PART 2: The Mortuary

Somehow you feel relieved more than anything now that you've lost your memory

The 1st thing you do as you enter the chamber where the door that you just unlocked leads to is to scan it as always. it's not too much bigger than the one before it, in fact, they might be exact the same in size. both chambers seem to narrow down inwards and there a deep dark pit in the middle with stone barrier to prevent the walking corpses from falling into it. what seems to be the outer walls arc continuously, the entire structure could be in the shape of a silo, but you have no idea how many floors it has.  

                There are 3 more zombies in  this chamber, and 2 more slabs. but these slabs are bigger than the one you woke up on. at least triple the size no less. the same stuffs cover these slabs. bloodstains, rust, and other remains. these big slabs rest on a platform that allows it to be rotate, though. quite a mechanism they've got going here and you are mildly impressed.

                "Pssst... some advice chief," Morte seems concerned about your lack of focus on the main task of getting the team out of the belly of this big pregnant spider "I'd keep quiet from here on - no need to put any more corpses in the dead-book than necessary... especially the femmes. plus, killing them might draw the caretakers here."

                "Caretakers?" you asked.

                "They call themselves the 'dustmen'. you cant miss 'em" they have an obsession with black and rigor mortis of the face. they're an addled bunch of ghoulish death worshippers: they believe everybody should die... sooner better than later."

                "We ain’t no corpses, I’m sure i would be able to reason us out of here in no time" you are now eager to meet these dustmen, they run a sacred mortuary and practice necromancy magic so discussing the matter of life and death with them might shed some light on some matter of your mysterious being. "oh, and what about the female corpses? why don’t you want me to take care of them?"   

                "Wh- are you serious? look, chief, these dead chits are the last chance for a couple of hardy bashers like us. we need to be *chivalrous*... no hacking them up for keys, no lopping their limbs off, things like that." Morte doesn't seem to be joking for the 1st time in a while.

                "Last chance?" you smirk and Morte is surely irritated. its funny seeing him like that.

                "Chief, they're dead, we're dead.. see where I’m going? eh? eh?"

                Poor romantic Morte seems desperate for some action. who knows how long has he been floating around without a body. you feel sorry for him.

                "We've already got an opening line with these ladies, chief. we've all died, at least once: we'll have something to talk about. I’m sure they'll appreciate men with our kind of death experience."

                "Didn’t you told me before that I’m not dead?"

                "Well... all right, you might not be dead, but i am! i wouldn't mind sharing a coffin with some of these fine, sinewy cadavers i see here." Morte starts clacking his teeth, as if in anticipation.

                "I'll keep that in mind, skull." and you will keep that in mind.

                "Oh by the way, if you are half as forgetful as you seem to be, start writing stuff down - whenever you come across something that might be important, jot it down so you wont forget." Morte for once is being reasonable.

                as you think about the act of writing things down, your right lower arm twitches and itches. you cant wait to have some kind of pen to hold, to swirl around on some blank surfaces. it almost feel like an addiction of sort.

                "There's plenty of parchment and ink around here to last u, so start a new journal as you look for the one that you lost. it surely couldn't hurt." you are not used to receiving good advice from the skull, but it was some damn fine suggestion.

                "All right... nice one, Morte. now let's hit it." for someone who is nameless, you seem alive and you feel more eager to discover the mystery of this world that dawns you more than ever.

 

                You turn your attention to the zombies in the chamber and you walk towards the closest of the 3. This shambling corpse gazes at you with vacant eyes. her skin is paper-thin, almost wispy... it's like someone draped a sheet of cobwebs across her frame. the number "594" has been scratched onto her forehead with a charcoal pencil.

                "Pssst" - it's Morte - "u see the way she was looking at me? huh? you see that? the way she was following the curve of my occipital bone?"

                "You mean that blank-eyed beyond-the-grave stare?"

                "Wha- are you blind? she was scouting me out! it was shameless the way she wanted me."

                "Wanted you to go away maybe. I’m sure she would prefer me to some bobbing head with a big mouth." you almost burst out laughing.

                "You? yeah right! trust me, chits beyond the grave don't care about all that 'physicality' and 'I've got a body' and 'I'm all scarred and tough looking'. they want guys with spirit. that's me, chief. you? corpse like you are as common as copper."

                "Whatever, Morte. let's go." you shake your head.

 

                This next zombie looks like she had her left side of the face caved in with a club. her flesh sags in bruised, swollen clumps over her ruined skull. the number "626" has been stitched onto the corpse's right cheek, just below the eye.

                "Nasty wound you’ve got there." you mumble.

 

                The last corpse is lumbering along a triangular path. once it reaches one of the corners of the triangle, it pauses, then turns and staggers towards the next corner. it has "965" tattooed on the side of its skull. as you approach, it halts and stares at u.

                "Heh. looks like someone forgot to tell this sod to stop walking the rule of threes."

                "What do you mean?"

                "This corpse don't have much left in the attic, so they cant do more than one task at a time... when they're told to do something by the necromancer that raised them, they'll keep doing it until someone tells them to stop. this poor sod probably finished some task, and they forgot to tell him."

                "what about this rule of threes?"

                "Eh? well, the rule of threes is one of those 'laws' about the planes", - from Morte's tone of voice, you can tell that if he has hands they would be gesturing 'quote on quote'- "according to this 'law', things tend to happen in three... or everything's composed of 3 parts... or there's always 3 choices, so on and so forth. a load of wash if you ask me. if you look for a number, any number, and try to attach some great meaning to it, you are gonna find plenty of coincidences." 

                You pay no mind to this 'law' Morte just told you about and move on to the door that leads to the 3rd chamber. nothing in your mind tells you that these rules of the plane are of any importance.