Susurrations

[FangedSmile]

This is a survival/horror RPG like Outlast, Silent Hill, Fatal Frame, DeadSpace, Resident Evil, Dread Out, Daylight, and Amnesia.

Okay, so the dice roller style only works if we have more people. So, this is gonna be more like SCP Containment Breach. There are monsters, and we can roll a dice to see if we encounter stuff (writer's choice). That would just involve rolling a dice whenever entering a new location, looking under a bad or in a closet.... Basically, if something could jump out, will it. The idea being simply to get creative with escapes. We could do a roll and a random number generator that correlates to the top SPCs.

Setting:
The town is in a made-up location called Crown Valley, with the slogan: A town so great, you won't want to leave.
Crown Valley, named for the western-most mountain peak's shape and the fact that the sun seems to set upon it like a jewel, used to be a trade route. However, as less dangerous routes were discovered the popularity diminished. Mainly accessed now by truckers, the town seems almost frozen in time with mom-and-pop stores instead of chain outlets (you'll even get slapped for mentioning Starbucks at the comic book/coffee shop). It's picturesque and pleasant, but holds none of the interest today's society depends on. Your cell phone doesn't get a signal, they haven't heard of Netflix, and kids actually go outside. Radio stations and books are the main sources of entertainment
The town is surrounded by mountains and you must drive through a mile-long tunnel if coming from the south, or drive a rather steep mountain road if coming from the North. Most people who come to the town do so because they've gotten lost, or are taking a shortcut from one bigger city to another.

The hospital in which our story begins is a relatively small building that is mainly an emergency room with a second and third floor that serve as a regular hospital as well as a doctor's office, and a basement morgue. There is a helicopter pad on the roof.

Once 'The Event' happens, the tunnel and road will disappear. You could still try to climb the mountains... but what if the whole world has changed?
-

HOSPITAL MAPS
1st floor
2nd floor
Pediatric ward
More to come as the game progresses.

[FangedSmile]

“Seven,” muttered Jason Zobel, with his eyes shooting daggers at the clock on the wall as each minute passed. “Six... Five…”

“Four... Three... Two…” joined Melissa Higgings, forcing the words out around tightly gritted teeth as each minute clicked by.

“One,” they both finished. That was it, the final seven bits of their patience had been tried and trampled on.

With much cursing from Melissa, and an equal amount of agreeing from Jason, the young couple reviewed the facts as they knew them, and again reached the conclusion that their current circumstance had to change. Since Melissa was stuck in the blue upholstered chair, Jason stalked up to the registration counter with his hands balled up into fists and a sharp, irritated glower carved into his face.

His piercing stare and aggressive posture, however, soon mutated into the red flush of frustrated embarrassment as he had to try again and again and again to grab the attention of one of the two emergency room employees who were eating dinner and talking about The Voice.

“Excuse me!” he called, though the pair did not respond. “HEY!” He shouted, much to his own surprise. In a much calmer tone now that both women were staring at him, he added, “I-I need some help. My girlfr-”

“We don’t know how much longer it’ll be sir,” interrupted the fifty-something year-old who looked to have retired from giving a damn about her job a few years ago. “Patients are seen by order or arrival and severity of their injury. Unless you feel that your life is in immediate danger I need you to go sit down.”

Jason drummed his fingers against the top of the counter and nodded a few times as his frustration built up again. “Yes, but it’s been four hours and other people have come and gone."

“They probably had appointments with a doctor, sir,” replied a younger blond employee sporting the smug grin of a viper that's waiting for its venom to kick in. “We can only treat so many people at one time and there are plenty of people here in worse shape than you.”

“I understand that.” Jason flushed again. “It’s just that she’s in agony. Isn’t there anything-"

“You want me to give her a painkiller?” Asked the older woman.

“… Yes? … Yes. That would be-”

“So, you think you can walk into my hospital and get drugs?”

“Ye- Nooo. W-what?”

“We do not just give drugs to anybody off the street that says they need ‘em. You have to wait to be seen by a doctor.”

“We’ve been-” Jason stopped himself from continuing the carousel of a conversation and tried a different approach. “Hey, our cell phones aren’t working. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

There was a part of him that said ‘shut up,’ but the rest of him wasn’t favoring rational thought. “I need to call an ambulance to come get us and take us to a real hospital.”

The woman stared at him over bejeweled glasses. She leaned forward so her elbows were resting on the counter and her hands were clasped beneath her chin. There she sat for an uncomfortable length of time, drilling holes through him with half-lidded eyes and an patient smirk before finally speaking. “Did being a smartass make you feel any better?”

Jared deflated and stared back dejectedly, with no other response to offer.

“Mmhmm,” hummed the woman as her coworker snickered. “Now that you’re done, do you want to go sit back down like a good boy, or do I have to call security?”

“Can you at least tell me how many people are ahead of us? Higgins, Mel-“

“Boy, you say one more word and the only thing you’re ever going to hear me say is whatever you overhear when I’m calling security to escort you out of my waiting room." Her gaze darkened, though the rest of her remained perfectly still. "Go. Sit. Down.”

Jason fled back to Melissa, looking very much like a kicked puppy. She shook her head incredulously and used him to pull herself up onto her good leg. “Fuck it,” she spat. “There’s gotta be a liquor store here somewhere. One bottle of Jameson’s should last until we can get to a different hospital. It’s been four hours; I don’t think the bone hit an artery.”

With her somehow leading the way even as Jason supported her weight, the pair made it to the exit and had just tasted fresh air when-

“Higgins, Melissa?” called the nurse who had taken Melissa’s vitals three hours ago. She was staring at a clipboard and shoved a lollipop into her mouth, sucked on it for a few seconds, then removed it again and said in a much louder tone: “Higgins! Melissa!”

Jason and Melissa turned to each other and hesitated.

“Higgins, Melissa. Last call,” droned the nurse. Other patients looked from Melissa to the nurse and a few began to fidget.

“I’m Melisa Higgins,” spat Melissa, with the reluctance of one being asked if they wanted to vote for Trump or Hillary, or dive into shark infested waters with half a tuna strapped to their back.

“Right this way,” replied the nurse, before returning the lollipop to her mouth. She disappeared from the waiting room with its pale yellow walls and blue vinyl chairs, and the thought of being able to do the same pulled Melissa and Jason after her.

[lonemanslayer]

"Just can't catch a fucking break...." Bryce Pendleton muttered to him self as he rest his face in his palms.

It was supposed to be a simple conclusion to a frustrating month. Just had to drive to the middle of who-cares-ville and turn over the case files he'd slaved over for the past few weeks, then cash his big-fat check and climb into a bottle for a month.

The first bit had gone off without a problem. The getting home and celebrating with his favorite whiskey, however, would be on indefinite hold. Coming back though God-knows-where, and some jackass can't seem to tell the difference between green and red on a fricking stoplight.

Bryce lifted his head and attempted to look up at the lights above. He instantly regretted it as his neck ground in protest and sent shocks of pain down his back. He rubbed his neck ruefully in a futile attempt to relieve the pain. Normally he tried to shrug off any injuries, but it was hard to do that when he couldn't even lift his shoulders.

With a sigh, Bryce crossed his arms and tried to remain as still as possible. He had been placed in one of those curtained-off exam rooms for people who comes in for emergency care, but do not need surgery . Plain dull walls, minimal furnishings, dim lights and the ever present smell of disinfectant.

He was sitting on one of those generic padded tables/beds for medical examinations, the ones with the paper rolled over them to keep them clean. Everything about the room made him feel worse. It was too hard to pretend everything was okay when he was stuck listening to machines beep and nurses talk and people moan, all while trapped in a cage of thin curtains and his own physical pain.

"God I hate hospitals"

He glanced over to the chair by the door to the room and saw his favorite leather jacket. Well, it had been his favorite. Now it was a mess of tears and shards of glass that resembled a jacket.

Starign at it though, he was forced to admit that he'd been lucky not to suffer any major injuries. Even the dipshit who hit him had been able to leave the wreck under her own power. Bryce's car, however, was not so lucky.

"Fuck me..." he moaned as the hassle of using whatever piddly amount of cash his insurance company gave him after totaling his car to get a new one, as well as using the check he'd just received to cover the medical expenses the uninsured dipshit couldn't cover, began to weigh on his already overtaxed shoulders.

"I need a smoke." The paper ripped as he slid awkwardly off the exam table and felt every movement slam into the base of his neck. He staggered and winced. "Lord..." The pain at every movement, the solitude, and the fact that they had taken his firearm left Bryce feeling more exposed than simply having to be stuck in one of those damn hospital gowns that never cover ones ass. He Jack-Sparrow-walked his way over to his jacket and fumbled with the pockets until his hand landed on his cigarettes.

As he pulled the pack out, his eyes landed on the 'no smoking' sign in the hallway. "Oh come on!" he said, cramming the pack back into his pocket. He thought about taking a swig from his flask, but figured he'd better save it for when they handed him the bill.

Bryce glanced up at and saw young couple being lead down the hall by a nurse. Well, actually 'heard' was more like it. They where making a hell of a racket bitching about some such or another as they passed by, one limping and cursing and the other lending encouragement and agreements to the complaints. "I am getting too old for this...."

[B. B. Wolf]

"So how have your classes been lately, Hannibal? Have your students been treating you well?" asked Dr. Candice. Her blonde curls bobbed gently as she looked down to her notepad, scribbling notes down. Her legs leaned to the side, feet crossed at the ankles as she awaited Dr. Fergesuns response.

Hannibal sucked in a huge breath and rolled his eyes up as he thought about the question, then released it as he relaxed back into the sofa.

"The students are great. Most of the ones taking my classes anymore are looking for something easy, but still interesting. Which I suppose I don't mind. I get a couple of hard heads every now and again, but it's pretty simple getting them to calm down for the most part. I'm still enjoying it, it's rather nice having smaller classes. Lets me get closer to the students that need or want the extra help, you know?"

Dr. Candice scribbled a couple of things down, nodding her head.

"I can see how that would make things less stressful. A closer relationship with the students makes it easier to keep individuals focused. It also helps to have such an interesting teacher."

One corner of Hannibals mouth twitched up into a half grin as he reached up to slide his glasses off. He puffed a quick breath on the lens, then proceeded to wipe them clean with his shirt tail.

"I am pretty awesome," he said with a self deprecatingly sarcastic tone. Dr. Candice let out a short laugh and grinned, finally looking back up at him.

"And so modest," she said. Hannibal shrugged in a 'what can you do' manner and brought his ankle up to rest on his knee and replaced his glasses. Dr. Candice allowed him to bask in his moment of humor a moment before setting her notepad aside. Her voice took on a gentler tone as she asked, "Have you had any more delusions?"

Hannibals smirk only diminished slightly as his eyes shot down, looking directly at anything not looking back at him.

"Not really. I had a moment during one of my boxing classes where I thought I saw someone running through a wall, but we were doing sparring matches and I had just taken a pretty good blow. Other than that, just the usual."

Dr. Candice nodded her head and smiled comfortingly.

"Are the dreams of Moira still pleasant?"

Hannibal nodded his head, still not looking directly at her.

"Usually. Occasionally I still have nightmares about what the accident must have been like. But mostly they're more like memories. Dates I'd taken her on, or that she'd taken me on."

He heard the chair creak as Dr. Candice shifted her weight. He glanced up to see her looking at him expectantly. Not demanding, just waiting. He let out a sigh and rubbed at the corner of his eye.

"And she's still there when I wake up in the morning," he finally offered.

Dr. Candice nodded her head. She gently crossed her legs as she leaned back in her chair. She tapped her pen on her chin as she waited.

"And what did you talk about this morning?"

Hannibal put his foot back on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he rubbed his hands together. When he twisted them and gripped them together he let out a sigh.

"Honey."

Dr. Candice raised an eyebrow.

"Honey?"

Hannibal nodded his head, still not looking at the doctor.

"Yeah. I told her about how a few of my students were having some trouble with allergies. She mentioned that eating a spoonful of honey made locally can help with ones immune system cope with that. So then we discussed a couple of places around that sell locally made honey. I told her I'd stop on the way here and get a jar."

As he told the doctor about his morning experience, he started to rub his hand together again, then interlocked his fingers and began pushing his thumbs against each other. When he finally did look back up, Dr. Candice was still watching him. His face took on an apologetic look.

"It was only about twenty minutes this time," he said.

Dr. Candice smiled and shook her head.

"You don't have to apologize to me, you know that Hannibal. And that's much better than last time. Have all your interactions been so short?"

Hannibal nodded and took a deep breath in relief.

"Yeah. Usually about twenty to thirty minutes, then she's gone."

Dr. Candice made an affirmative noise as she picked her note pad up and jotted down a few more things. Then she put it on her table and handed him a slip of paper as she stood.

"I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today, so here's your prescription. They'll be able to fill it for you at the front desk on the way out."

Hannibal nodded and took the note, standing as well. He read the prescription note over, just like he did every time, before stuffing it in his jacket pocket. As he turned to leave, Dr. Candices hand on his arm stopped him. She smiled as she looked him in the eye, gripping his shoulder reassuringly.

"You're doing great, Hannibal. Things will be back to normal for you before you know it," she said. Hannibal gave her that short little side smirk.

"Thanks, Doc. I appreciate all your help."

------------------

Hannibal slipped the bottle of pills into his jacket pocket and turned on his heel, ready to go home for the day. His mood had taken a dive when he had to talk about Moira, and he hadn't been able to pull himself out of it on the short walk to the pharmacy counter. He took a deep breath and let it out aggressively, then shook his head roughly. Outside. What he needed was some fresh air, that'd make him feel better. And maybe a little spoonful of that honey in his other jacket pocket...

He still thought it was a strange setup in this hospital. The psychiatric department was on the second floor, and the pharmaceutical area for it just down the hall. With another shrug, Dr. Fergesun headed towards the stairs. Maybe the extra exercise would help him out too.

[FangedSmile]

Good job everyone! Your characters are well-defined and their reasons for being in the hospital are excellent. Some notes about the transition: Time moves differently so even if someone says an hour has passed between your post and theirs you can still appear in the nightmare realm (I know it’s corny, but it’s descriptive…) at the same time as them if you choose to do so. Also, there is a creature… You know how a nope can drop into your lap and suddenly a relaxing car ride is ass-clenchingly terrifying? Similar concept. This creature secretes a liquid that turns pitch black the moment it touches any other surface, and seems to boil and fester and actively hate what it touches. If this creature grabs you, you are transported to the other dimension. You might not see it, because it tends to appear and disappear very quickly. When it touches you you start to disappear from the world you know and re-appear in the new one. You can have this happen quickly, or slowly.

-You are free to look out the windows. The second floor doesn't have any lights on after the transition. The first floor has lights, and there are instructions written on the walls and if you see a text map (like with arrows pointing the direction different things are located in) the ER is scratched out and the ICU has a bunch of eyes hastily scratched around it.

Melissa watched Jason fight against sleep. The painkiller they'd given her was slowly lulling her away from the world, but she'd been hoping Jason would be better off. "Hey!" she called, and her voice sounded far away, as if someone else was talking. "Shtay wake!"


"...Wha?" mumbled Jason, as he slowly raised his gaze off the floor.


"Waykip!"


Jason grinned dimly at her. "They're charging us by the minute anyway; you might as well get some rest."


"Nooo," she whined. Her leg was in a cast, but it seemed that every time they got what they wanted a new problem stepped up to bat. The doctor from the E.R had spent maybe two minutes (90 seconds of which seemed focused on making sure she wasn’t dealing with domestic violence) with them before shouting “X-RAY!” to a young nurse who was more than irritated at having his conversation with another young nurse interrupted by expectations that he perform his job.

He hadn’t offered them a single word before handing Melissa’s chart over to a man coming out from the Ambulance bay smelling of cigarettes. The X-Ray technician somehow had even less to say. Then came the new doctor who, instead of offering them only the annoyed stares of the sleep-deprived, would NOT shut up! He talked about how the bones were mainly just fractured so no surgery would be needed, his recent vacation, the state of affairs surrounding the town’s k-12 school, politics, his upcoming vacation, his favorite TV show, and a rather long anecdote about golf… By the time he’d set Melissa’s leg, given her a pain killer (which she took if only to drown him out), and personally escorted them to a recovery area in the out-patient services area, he’d barely even stopped talking long enough to breath.

He told Melissa to keep her leg elevated for at least three hours before they attempted to drive anywhere, packed ice around the cast, and left in one impressive display of one man’s triumph over his own lungs. Jason watched him go. He knew he should have asked about discharge papers, but he just wasn’t willing to do anything that might make the doctor start talking again.


"Wanna go ta ah hotel," said Melissa, with a pout.


"Still waiting on discharge papers." Jason yawned and leaned forward so he could rest his arms on her bed and attempt to get even just a few minutes of sleep.


Jason awoke abruptly in response to his body relaxing enough to nearly send him tumbling out of his chair. The brief moment of alertness was accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and a valiant attempt at becoming more energetic.


The breath stopped. There was something unpleasant about the air- even beyond the smell of iodine and alcohol which he’d already grown accustomed to. Now, however, there was a sourness that he couldn’t place.


The sounds that had been a background to their growing impatience, the nurses chattering, machines beeping, patients coughing, and TVs set to different news, game show, or soap operas, were now missing. It didn’t feel like the peace of silence, it was more like the noise had been spirited away.


When he looked to the bed he saw Melissa lying peacefully in her drug-induced sleep and, though he would have liked to be happy for her, he felt a twinge of irritation. They were just supposed to be waiting on discharge papers, so if things had settled down enough for the hospital to be this quiet why had no one come to release them?


As he was a 21 century man, his next instinct was to try and make light of the situation by checking to see if their phones had charged. His was at 90%, and Melissa’s was at 97%. There still wasn’t any signal. Procrastinating just long enough for both phones to fully charge, Jason stood and leaned out into the hallway.

The fluorescent lights made the mint-green wallpaper turn a sickly yellow-green, and it almost looked like a light fog had somehow snuck into the building as there was a haze he could see in the light. The curtain around their recovery room was torn and stained, and the reception area which had earlier been an endless stream of noise, was now lifeless.

“Hello!” Jason called. The sound echoed and each time he heard it he felt more stressed by it. Like it was the worst idea in the world and it had run away from him, showcasing his idiocy to anyone who might pay attention. Then he knew without a doubt that he should not have shouted, because the wall across from him, written in what must have been blood, was seven words: If they hear you. They kill you.

[B. B. Wolf]

Hannibal had taken a seat at the checkout area. Something had happened to the computers and they couldn't bring up his file to update it, but they didn't want him to leave before they had a chance to do that. It was frustrating, but he calmed himself down by pacing for awhile and took a seat. It wasn't their fault, it wasn't anybody's fault, really. He'd had just as many computer problems as most people out there, so he knew the score. But it still irked him. Never the less, he sat patiently and waited for the receptionist to get back to him. As the minutes went by, he found himself drooping. His sleep the previous night had been fitful. He shook his head, trying to keep himself awake. He'd give himself a good workout at the gym tonight, really tire himself out. That'd give him a good sleep. The last time he'd pushed himself beyond his limits he slept like the dead that night.

His eyes drifted close again before fluttering open. He glanced at the counter. The lady seemed a little panicked about something, so he assumed they weren't any closer to getting his copay taken care of. He leaned back in the corner seat and closed his eyes. Maybe a quick nap while they figured things out wouldn't hurt. The last thought he had before he fell asleep was that they'd probably forget him in this dark corner area, but that it wouldn't be that big of a deal if they did. After all, Moira had told him just this morning that he'd been snoring again.

------

Hannibal came to slowly. His vision swam as he opened his eyes and they refused to focus on anything. He hadn't been drunk in awhile, but the last time he'd woken up and was still tipsy this was exactly what it felt like. He groaned and brought his hands up to rub at his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to get them to focus on something. When he was finally able to see, he looked around. The checkout area on the second floor was abandoned and the lights were all off. Hannibal frowned. Not only did they not have the decency to let him know they were ready to check people out, but they'd locked him in the-

Hannibal's frown turned concerned when he saw it had only been a little while that he'd been asleep. No more than half an hour according to the clock on the wall. As he took a closer look, he saw even that assumption was out the window, as the clock was cracked and the hands had completely stopped moving. He began to get more worried. He chewed on his lip as he heaved himself out of his chair, still looking around in case someone was just pulling a very elaborate prank. When nobody seemed forthcoming, Hannibal heaved a deep sigh.

"Well, I guess I better go look for someone. Maybe the first floor has some people left." he said to himself.

He walked slowly toward the stairwell, ignoring the blood stains he saw on the wall. They probably weren't there anyway.

[Also, assuming we roll the D20, I rolled a twenty.]

[FangedSmile]

You’re free to make your own monsters and scenarios if you like. I’ll make the notes black and it’s up to you to read them. If you don’t think your character should know the info, don’t read the note.

Hannibal: Good Roll The second floor is completely dark. There are creatures up there that thrive in the dark. They move by dragging their misshapen forms across the floor, but most of that you'll see is a dark figure on the ground wearing what almost looks like a gimp suit that's melted onto someone and been through a hurricane. They have outstretched arms that appear longer than normal, and long fingers with what looks like claws. They are immensely strong. You can smell a sickly sweet odor, and get a general feeling of foreboding. The closer you get, the more you feel hungry eyes upon you. The first floor is lit, though you notice flickering lights that seem to flicker in order, as if someone was pacing beneath them and causing the disturbance.

Hannibal: Bad Roll You don’t see anything spectacular, but do notice a sense of foreboding. The hallway is dark and you hear an occasional wet slap and slight squeak like a wet shoe on a tile floor. The first floor is still lit, though some of the lights are flickering as of holding on by a thread.

Across from Jason was a public bathroom, and around the corner from that was an identical hallway full of rooms. The nurse’s station was lit like a beacon in the darkness and two white-clad nurses were leaning on the counters like wind-up dolls someone had lost the pin to.

Jason left the room and entered the hall as one might enter a chilly lake, and started towards the station. Melissa had told him all about the way hospitals charged people until they were so broke they could barely afford to live and he wasn’t about to let this one do that to Melissa. She had a badly broken leg, worse than they’d thought, a fractured forearm; and a sprained wrist, but there was no reason to keep her in the hospital now that she had a cast and a splint.

“Don’t…” moaned a voice that was coming from the hallway diagonal to the one Jason stood. “Don’t tell her she’s pretty…. Don’t tell… Don’t lie…”

The nurses snapped up at the sound and turned towards it. With their backs to him, Jason approached more slowly in case he was interrupting something important. They were dressed in white and wearing skirts. Not nurses then. Candy stripers? No, candy stripers wore pink…

“D-do,” sputtered the voice.

“Dearie, are you well?” sang one of the women at the nurse’s counter. She had a 1950s singer’s voice, though Jason was sure he heard the crackle of an old radio.

“Too much excitement,” said the other woman, in a similar tone. It reminded Jason of Zooey Deschanel. “Not good for you. Make you sick. Sick, so you’ll have to see a doctor. Sick, so you’ll have to take a pill.”

They crept forward in shutter-stop movements that ended with small quivers.

“D-d-d-“ continued the voice, as a figure came into view. It was a woman with her hands held up to her face. Blood was spilling through her fingers. The other two women stopped, though they did not seem to be frozen in shock or surprise. Their shoulders relaxed noticeably, as if disappointed.

“D-don’t… D-d-do...” Stuttered the bleeding woman.

“Now, out with it, my sweet,” sang the woman closest to her. “You’ll feel better.”

“D-d-d-do … Do…” The woman dropped to her hands and knees in violent tremors, her voice came out strained as if she was trying to hold it back. “Doooo!” She cringed, but then became still.

Jason looked to the two women who were still standing. Why weren’t they running to help? He took one more step and noticed that in their hands they held items which glistened in the light. One held a scalpel; the other went less gracefully and carried a bone saw. The woman with the saw bent to lean against a wall, and froze like a statue. The other stopped a few feet from the injured woman.

At her presence, the injured woman took a breath and spoke words so innocent, and yet so wrong. “D-do you think I’m pretty?” She looked up and Jason froze.

Her mouth was slit open a full three inches past where genetics would have stopped it, and her teeth seemed ragged and shattered to sharp points.

“No,” gasped Jason as he retreated backwards. This was a dream. His eyes shot around, looking for an exit. It seemed everywhere he looked just deepened the nightmare. There were bloody hand-prints and barricaded doors, stretchers stained and tipped on their sides. And on the other side of the hallway, written in big bold, white lettering, was one word.

RUN.

[B. B. Wolf]

Something didn't feel right. It was as if the entire staff had disappeared in the blink of an eye. The lights were out, but he couldn't tell if the power for the whole building had gone, or if some freak accident had just knocked out this floor. Not to mention that creepy feeling like someone was watching him and that cloyingly sweet smell in the air. When he got back he'd have to write some of this down. It certainly makes for a good story, thought Hannibal. But the strangest part of it by far, were his hallucinations. Maybe it was the creepy atmosphere, but he was seeing some strange things. Always out of the corner of his eye, dark shapes were flitting through the shadows. Whenever he tried to focus on them, they'd disappear. Not the strangest thing ever, he supposed, but not what he normally saw either.

But that feeling of being watched just kept intensifying as he moved toward the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see someone come down the hall, or at least standing there. Nothing. His eyes darted left, then right, seeing those creatures darting in and out of the shadows, teasing his sight. Huffing irritably, Hannibal took his glasses off and shook his head. With his forefinger and his thumb he massaged his eyelids before throwing off the strange feeling and moving on. He didn't see the blood seeping out from one of the side doors in the hallway, and didn't see the cheshire grin peering at him through the window.

As he finally started down the stairs he saw the lights flickering in the distance. Relief watched over him, finally someone could tell him what was going on! When he exited the stairs though, things did not get any better.

The feeling of being watched didn't go away and the lights didn't stop flickering. In fact, if he let his imagination run away with it, he could almost imagine someone slowly walking the length of the hallway right toward him, as the lights flickered in order with slowly increasing intensity. He could almost even hear footsteps. He blinked. He blinked again. The flickering lights got closer. Hannibal reached into his jacket pocket and popped open the pill bottle. Pinching one of them between his fingers, he threw it into his mouth and swallowed it immediately. If the writing on the wall was any indication, he was going to need it.

(Rolled an 8)