Planescape Torment REBORN - PART 5: The Mortuary (Crematorium)

The 3rd Floor of the Mortuary houses the crematorium, where corpses of people who have not signed a Death Contract are incinerated instead of being raised. There should be a hefty amount of useful ite

Leaving the embalming room, you head to the stairway that you discovered earlier in the chamber you found the embalming fluid.    

             “Seen anything interesting going on?” You jokingly ask the zombie worker number 821 as you walk past it.

              As you address the zombie, it blinks in surprise. “Eh? Wut?”

             “Zombie can talk now?” You halt, look at the corpse in front of you, and turn to look at Morte.

“He’s not a zombie, chief.” Morte has the same disbelief on his face.

The ‘zombie’ tries to respond behind his stitched lips; he has a peculiar half-frightened, half-angry expression. “Hoo YU? Wut yu wunt?”

“Tell me who you are right now or I call the guards.” You threaten the talking corpse.

The zombie doesn’t seem to follow your threat. He looks you up and down for a few moments, then frowns. “Wut yu do heer?” His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Yu spy on Duhstees?”

“I’m asking the questions, tell me what YOU’RE doing here before I call the guards.” You put on an angry frown.

There must be something in your eye that makes the zombie’s expression crumble. “nuh-nuh-no! dun’t cull th’ gards!” He looks even more frightened. “muh-muh-me spy un Duhstees, say wut i see. Nuh-nuthin’ more.”

“Spy? For who?”

The zombie falls into a frightened silence. He seems unwilling to talk anymore.

“Talk!” It’s too late now for you to stop your threatening demeanor.

“Hold on...” Morte sounds surprised. “This berg must be an Anarchist. Heh. Posing as a zombie’s got to be a first for those addled sods.”

“Anarchist?”

“That one faction that wastes their time peeping on authority figures and looking for ways to tear down anything that stinks of order or control, chief.” Morte snorts. “The Anarchists think every berk across the planes’ll be free and happy to seek out their own ‘truth’ once the establishment is burned to the ground. They want to establish a new order - no order at all.”

“Interesting... the nature of this mindset riddles with contradictions however, you know that?” You turn to look at the zombie again.

The zombie watches you both fearfully. He is still silent... but something in his expression tells you Morte’s guess was right on the mark.

“The Anarchists, huh? Is that who you’re watching this place for?”

To your surprise, the zombie turns away from you... he is starting to glance around fearfully. But you know that in his disguise, he’s not pacing his way out of here through whoever it is that are guarding this place.

“Look at me! Hey! What have you seen the Dustmen do?” You dress your tone with the assertiveness of an authority figure. And it works.

“Nuthin’. They do nuthin’. Can’t find nuthin’. Dead, dead, just dead people, Duhstees do nuthin’.” His eyes narrow in conviction. “Still I watch.”

He’s not lying. And so far, you came up with the same conclusion, too.

“How do you come in and out of here?”

The zombie grunts. “Yu kin escape through portalz.” He waves his hands. “Phoof.”

You turn to Morte at the mention of the word.

“Which one?... I mean... where is it?”

The zombie waves around the area. “They’re evereewheeer.”

“show me!”

He is silent for a moment, then nods slightly, as if in understanding. “why shud i hulp yu?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m getting your little disguised a*s exposed.”

He looks you up and down as if wondering if he can take you on, stares at your scars, then decides against it. “i wunt yu t’git me a key in return.” He seems hesitant with his negotiation.

“the key to unlock the stairway leading down?” Morte jumps in.

“nah, the key of the embalming room.” the zombie points to the chamber from where you just left. “The dusstie chit hazzit.” He points at his eyes. “She haz yuhllo eyez...” He then makes a motion with his hands that reminds you of a pair of cutting shears. “Bladezz on fingerzz.”

“I’ll be back with the key.” You signal at him to stay put.

The zombie squints at you. “If yu’re cught, dun’t say nothin’ about me, or me gut yu in yur sleep.”

“I’ll get your damned key... but you had best watch your mouth.”

The zombie’s pupils fixate slightly out of panic.

 

You get back to Ei-vene and she’s still on duty with the corpse. She frowns in annoyance as you tap her for attention.

“Dum zomfies. You done. All stich up. Go-go-go.”

“Wait.” You make the motion of a key turning with your hand. “I need the key to this room. Do you have?”

She leans forward, looks at your hand motions, then sniffs. Her hand darts into her robe, then emerges, a key hanging from her wickedly sharp index finger. She flicks it into your hand. “Bring back when done. Go-go.” She just wants you to leave her alone.

 

You return to the zombie worker ‘821’ and he seems surprised since you came back so fast.

“here’s the key.”

The zombie’s eyes widen, and he snatched the key from your hand. He turns it over, nodding all the while. “Gud... gud.” He then turns back to you with a smirk. “Yu wunt out, go tuh arch on firzzt fluur, nurthwezzt ruum... yuh need fungur-bone, shape of crook...” He holds up his index finger and bends it into a crook. “When yuh have key, guh to arch, jump ta sucret cryp and ken escape frum here. Secret escape route.” He nods eagerly. “Yuh can REST there.”

“an arch on the first floor... northwest room... crooked finger bone...” You mumble as you note them down on your journal parchments.

“That woman Dhall told us about is somewhere in these rooms in the northwest too, Morte.” You show the skull what you wrote down on the parchment and he nods.

You turn back to the man in disguise. “The makeup is pretty impressive.”

“Me gud at duh-guise. Me also gut scars. Me wuhr lots of embalming fluid. Me make GUD zumbie.” The zombie giggles through his stitched lips, then tap his head. “Duhstees stuh-pud.”

“Yeah, *they’re* the stupid ones all right.”

Morte tries to sound sarcastic. But the sarcasm is evidently lost on the zombie, who nods eagerly. “Stuh-pud Duhstees. Me make GUD zumbie.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” You look at his scars.

He looks at your scars. “I ask yu same question. Me, it not hurt much.” Clasps his chest. “Me TUFF.”

“Alright. I’m leaving now. Let’s go, Morte.”

The zombie doesn’t seem to care.

You leave the Anarchist to his spying and head up to the floor above you.

 

 

 

The long stairway leading up is now slowly getting you out of the sluggish flume beneath your feet. The wall around you is solid, it feels like parts of this structure are built into tough minerals. The amount of solids in between works great as a pressure control system, canceling noise from both - outside and between sectors, all the while minimizing the airflow.

As you slowly approach the sound of stone slabs being moved around on mechanical tracks, you notice there’s something hot up above. Whatever creature is radiating such heat is big and angry. It also sounds like it breathes fire.

“This is not the way out chief.” Morte sounds like he’s been letting you go the wrong way the whole time and the skull expects you to realize that on your own. “To get out of a building, you go down. Not up.”

…

“Unless you want to do the Dusties a favor by throwing yourself in the crematorium for them.”

‘Crematorium’ you think. It makes sense to you now. You’re willing to meet the caretakers here and there should also be more belongings for you to go over in the area where they get rid of the corpses.

“You can like… punch the door, you know. Till it bends…”

...

“...or maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough. There could be a key like… under a gimmick rock you were standing on when you were inspecting the lock.”

...

“Or punch it AND kick it. That’ll definitely break the door wide open…”

Morte is bored. He doesn’t sound like he is worried about what you might find in the crematorium. He JUST wants to get out of the place as soon as possible.

 

 

 

You arrive in a spacious room. it’s flickering shades of ember. There are rolls of cabinets placed next to the arcing walls. The intense heat introduces you to an entirely foreign range of intensity that is nothing like the timeless realization of your lifeless skin lying on stone slabs. So different that they almost feel like the same coat of penetrating needles all over the receptors in your brain.

Before heading for the cabinets, you peek through the two doorways on both sides of the room that are placed where the internal wall and the bigger outer wall intersect. In just under a minute, you listed three other rooms just like the one you’re in located in four corners of this enormous circle floor. The arc-around is much like the lower floor but this one is a bit smaller. Makes sense since you’re heading up. Slabs with corpses on them being casually inspected by robed men, six in total, before being pushed into the mouth of the fire mechanical beast of a furnace next to the room you’re currently in. The air roaring from the mouth of this beast is incredible. Walking even a few steps into the beast’s mouth would certainly cause your hair and flesh to burst into flame.

Shambling around the place are more zombie workers, they’re perfectly made for pushing these heavy blocks of stone with corpses on them around. Skeletons holding big clubs patrol the place. They won't do anything instinctual unless the caretakers assign them with tasks, it seems.

In the middle of the room is still that endless hollow pit. It’s not continuing to grow upwards anymore though, and the shape of the ceiling tells you that from the outside the top part of the building looks like an onion.

You open your journal and flip to the last page. ‘a key’, it reminds you. For the stairway leading downwards that is. You’re going through the cabinets in the first room now.

The first thing that caught your eye from the very start was a big leather pouch, which can be worn over your shoulder. Inside of it, big leather pockets are meticulously sewn onto the side. You can carry at least 20 kilos of stuff in it. You pull out from the satchel of your loincloth the bandages, the needles, the threads, and the scalpel, then put them into one of the compartments inside the pouch. You might need them now for emergency but you should probably get rid of them when you’re out of here. It’s not very charming carrying the smell of death. The triangle ring goes in the compartment next to the first one, and for the collection of junk, you bundle them up in the far side of the bag. They seem pretty useless to you right now.

Next to the pouch is a piece of charcoal. Charred bone of some sort of creature it looks like, perhaps a finger bone, or a talon. Various symbols have been scratched onto its surface… the scratching is so faint you almost missed them. It’s clearly a charm. But you don’t know how to activate it. You put it in the pouch, someone might find it valuable.

There’s nothing of use left as you look through the rest of the cabinets, so you head out to the second room. That also means you’re gonna get into the sight of the dustmen inspectors. You could try to sneak up on one, knock him senseless and take the robe to disguise yourself, but something tells you that the intimidation from the scars will get you less questioned. The immense flame from the furnace would also work great as a distraction. Barring the path to the next room are two zombies busying pushing their slabs. You can’t help but giving them a quick inspection as you casually walk them past.

The numbers ‘613’ are cut deeply into this plodding corpse’s forehead, but an inch of shredded, leathery skin separates the “1” and the “3”. Looking closely, you can barely make out a ‘2’ carved there. The zombie follows your movement as you move along.

The skin of this next female corpse is heavily tattooed with intricate patterns. The skin of her brow has been peeled back so that the number ‘1148’ could be chiseled into the skull beneath. Her mouth has been sealed shut with thick, rough stitching.

Both of the zombies don’t seem to be bothered by your presence.

As you’re about to enter the next room, you were sure for a split second you met the gaze of a robed figure across the floor. The distance must have made him a bit hesitant to raise any alarm.

Inside the next room, you meet with two zombies and a skeleton standing in a small corner. Someone set them there and they’re now waiting for their upcoming tasks. Next to the creatures are some more cabinets. You approach to inspect the two zombies and the skeleton first just in case.

This animated skeleton smells horrible, as if it had been only freshly stripped and prepared. Its jaw and major joints are tightly bound with leather straps, the straps are woven around the body in such a pattern that they resemble muscles and tendons, and a rough smock has been thrown over it. Metal bolts punched into the skeleton’s joints secure the wrapping. The number ‘1221’ has been chiseled into his forehead. This skeleton looks like it has seen a great deal of service; many of its bones are chipped and its numerous fractures are bound with sealant and foul-smelling glues. You want to pry out the skeleton’s joint bolts. If the skeleton becomes malfunction, it would be a funny prank.

“whoa, chief. That’s vandalism. Those bolts are probably the only thing holding that bag of bones together. Necromancy only goes so far with these old fellas, y’know?” Morte doesn’t seem to like the idea of pranking the dustmen.

“so?” you’re not having a second thought.

“oh… nothing.” Morte does a strange bobbing motion, it looks like a shrug to you. “just wasn’t sure if you knew that or not. By all mean, go head.” Then he wanders off. He’s not interested in the animated workers and the skeletons must’ve made him feel rather awkward.

...

“Hey, chief! you might want this.” Morte is almost too excited and you kinda jumped since you were focusing on trying to remove the bolts. The scalpel is too fragile for the job so you’ll need something firm. Such object would also solve the locked-drawers issue.

As you peer into the cabinet Morte shouted at. You see a pry bar and it’s perfect.

“I was going to look here next.” Translates roughly into something along the line of: ‘nice find, skull.’

“You like it don’tchu.” Morte seems proud of his development as the freshly recruited member of the party.

You pick up the prybar. It feels sturdy in your hands. You’re definitely seeing it forcing open doors, chests, and even the occasional reluctant rib cage. It also makes a good bludgeoning weapon when there’s no time for subtlety.

Underneath the prybar, you spot a scrap of dry parchment, some kind of request it seems. On it says: “Contact The Necromancer responsible for raising contractual worker 42. I know he’s examined the skeleton before, but I am certain the initial raising of the body was warped. The worker still responds to commands, but when it has completed a task, it resumes pacing in the same circular pattern as it did before. Dhall recently informed me that worker 42 exhibited that same walking pattern when it was a zombie decades ago. There may be a soul echo in the marrow or the skeleton’s age may have caused the magic animating him to decay. One of the initiates suggested it may be following an order issued by a higher-ranking dustman in the past, but I have found no records of such an order. Whatever the reason for its behavior, the matter is to be resolved or the worker replaced.”

‘42’ was the number written on the forehead of that corpse you saw when you recall the memory of the motions of Ei-vene’s taloned fingers. So it’s a skeleton now, according to the parchment, and it must be nearby.

 

There’s a container next to the cabinet you found the prybar in and it’s locked. You gladly put your latest tool to the test. This might be one of easier tasks for the prybar in your hand, and you can’t wait for it to be challenged. Inside the container you just bashed, 33 copper commons are found, along with two glistening blood drops.

These droplets are hard and smooth like pearls. It has a perfect candy bite size so you curiously pop one in your mouth. The blood drop instantly dissolves and spreads through your bloodstream. Something seems to be happening with the blood around the fresher wounds on your body. You’re feeling as healthy as can be after what Ei-vene just did, so the effects of the blood drop might seem mild. It should cause some interesting reactions during combat or when you’re more injured, you think to yourself as you put the other blood pearl into one of the compartments of the pouch. The prybar is still in your hands and you’re going to pry out the bolts on the skeleton in just a moment.

Using your prybar, you rip the bolts from the skeleton’s joints. The skeleton collapses, some of its bones still twitching. “Sorry about that, bones…” On the ground now is a pile of junks. You kick the bones to the side, pick up the leather strap and put it in your sack. There’re also a big club and a number of rusty bolts that the skeleton also drops. The bolts are too rusty for your liking and you’re still skeptical about the utilization of blunt weapons. It’s also harder for you stay obscured in the shadow with cumbrous items in your inventory.

 

The zombies standing next to what left of the skeleton you just vandalized don’t seem to be bothered by the ruckus you just caused.

The first one looks to be a well-aged, even ancient, woman. Aside from the embalming fluid stink, the stitches sealing her mouth, and the number ‘679’ stitched onto her right cheek, it’s likely she looks only slightly different now than she did in her final years.

This next corpse’s head was clearly severed at some point and hastily sewn back on. Several different sets of stitching - all in various states of unraveling - seem to indicate that the head is constantly being knock back off and reattached during the course of its work. A number - ‘79’ - has been cut into its temple, circumscribed by a fang circle that appears to have been branded on its forehead. The fang circle looks like it was branded on the corpse’s forehead long ago, presumably before it died. It might be a religious icon of some sort, or a rite of passage. You notice that one of the recesses between the inner ‘fangs’ has a small triangle within it, as if it has some special significance.

“interesting… how did that mark get there…” you pull out the sheet of parchment and draw a small square with the fangs and the number ‘79’ in it.

And that should be all for this room.

 

Blocking your path to the third room is a shambling zombie. Down the middle there’s a dustman standing next to a slab with a corpse on it. This figure is facing the huge hollow pit. It would be unfortunate if he turns around as you walk him by.

The reanimated corpse has had its lips sewn together and the number ‘310’ carved into its brow; the smell of formaldehyde permeates the area around it. It turns its lifeless eyes upon you as you move to bar its path.

This corpse seems nothing of use, so you make your walk as casual as possible to the next stop so that if you’re spotted, at least you’re not trying to sneak around suspiciously.

 

Next to the doorway, outside the third room on the right you notice a small self, and there’s a big key on it. You peek into the room to check if there’s anyone inside and indeed there were none, so you swiftly hop over to grab the key on the shelf. This key is heavy. It’s a strange fusion of bone and an unidentifiable blood-red metal. The jagged c-shaped head looks like it’s ready to clamp down on whoever holds it. The size of the key fits the locks of the two unbreakable metal gates earlier.

This third room is identical to the first one. There’re cabinets along the arced walls and a spiral stairway that leads you down. You’re descending downwards to see where the stairway leads to first. The stairs go just as deep as the one on the other side, and it’s blocked by a stone wall with a big keyhole in the middle. You fit the hole with the heavy key you just took from the shelf, and the wall lowers to the ground. You’re welcome to the familiar smell and sight of the chamber you woke up in. You must’ve missed the stone wall because the main intention of the person who designed the door is for it to be a secret passage of sort. There’re plenty more cabinets up in the crematorium so you’re heading back up to finish your looting crave. Morte shakes his head in defeat.

As you got back to the crematorium, a dustman was also entering the room at the same time. He sees you but Morte is still not exposed yet. Morte notices your sudden haul, he knows that you see something alerting and *that* something sees you too. Morte has never been more ready to tear through the air at the speed you wouldn’t be able to imagine a floating skull could reach. He awaits your reaction.