Conversation · The Hanged Man

Good. Death does not care for your smart alecking. It reeks and disintegrates in a feast for cadaverine bacteria.

"For a week he seems well preserved actually."

"As I said it's been below freezing since last Sunday. Today is the first chance to thaw. Things would be... worse if it had thawed earlier."

"I've kept an eye on the forecast. It's been below freezing since last Sunday. Today is the first chance to thaw. Things would be... worse if it had thawed earlier."

(Back off and catch your breath.)

But there is no breath to catch -- only the cadaver filling the air and your nostrils. He slowly rotates before you, decomposing.

"I don't know what to think. What do you think?"

"I think he was upright immediately after death. Blood has gathered in his hands and feet. And his neck." He points to his fattened chin.

"The noose acted like a tourniquet, keeping the blood in his head. The hypostasis here is in tune with a hanging. That's what I think."

Stop, relax your eyes.

"I'm squinting, Kim. Why am I doing it?"

"How should I know why you're squinting, officer?"

(Stop squinting) "I don't know either. Maybe I should just stop."

(Squint harder) "His face and hands are pink. Thighs too. The rest is greenish."

"Oh," he snorts. "You're trying to assess lividity."

"Tell me, who are you, dead man?"

No reply. How ever many times you keep asking.

"Please stop trying to perform a necromantic ritual. We have other things to do."

The fish-lips stay silent in response. You must be losing your mind, asking him that over and over...

"Who is he? He is male, forty to fifty. With an athletic build."

The lips of the corpse are swollen, preposterously. They are also silent. You have no idea why you just said that.

"We've looked at the belt, now how do we get him down?"

"We need to talk about getting him down again."

"Yes, we do." The lieutenant inspects the belt, his forehead is lined with worry.

The man before you is naked, but for a pair of underpants and enameled boots. His skin is greenish, marbled with decaying veins and blotched by lividity. A fading web of tattoos covers his chest and shoulders. The cargo belt used to fasten him to the branch above appears industrial in strength.

"Do they always do that?"

"They do after seven days, yes. We're deep in decomposition here."

As you breathe in, the odour comes over you. It's a spell of the mind telling you to run -- and your stomach to wring itself empty. With your hands at your sides and your eyes squinting you stand in it.

The corpse appears to laugh at you, black froth bubbling on it's lips. Every molecule in this body reeks of death. It's still too much, you feel it coming up again...

It's especially painful this time. You've thrown up so much there's nary anything left down there. Hot tears of pain streak down your face -- you're crying too. Crying and convulsing at the same time.

"I failed AGAIN!"

The lieutenant is clearly at a loss.

"What do I do now?"

"Officer, you just need to be stronger. Learn to keep it in long enough for us to work. There's nothing else to do."

Relax. It's okay if you don't make it today -- the bloated corpse isn't going anywhere.

Maybe it's okay if you don't make it today? The dead man isn't going anywhere -- and there's always other things to do...

You can open this White Check again by going to your CHARACTER SHEET and spending a skill point to upgrade your Endurance. Gain new skill points by exploring and completing side-tasks.

"...even though I got my shit compressed!? How is it possible?"

"I am at a loss as well. I could swear your shit was together, detective."

Sometimes even that is not enough... Life is unfair.

Just cry.

Little black bubbles pop on the corpse's lips, decay liquid like tar. It's like he's gurgling.

The corpse appears to laugh at you, black froth bubbling on it's lips. Every molecule in this body reeks of death. It's still too much, you feel it coming up again...

The ammonia only makes it worse! The combination forces tears out of your ducts. You manage to keep it in once...

The second time -- not so much. When the vomiting is done your cheeks are wet with tears.

"The ammonia didn't help at all..."

"Nor does the wind right now..." You feel the lieutenant pat your back, rhythmically.

The weight is reassuring. Like a crenel on solid fortification. Pat pat pat...

"I've seen strong men turn themselves inside out for hours. You're facing tough odds here. Alcohol withdrawal makes it considerably harder."

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU?!?! Are you going to CRY now, son?

You heard the coach! This is weakness. It cannot go on much longer, or you will LOSE.

"Can't we do something else? I think I want to solve something else now."

"That's probably a good idea. Clear our heads. But before we can do that..." He withdraws his hand from your back and looks you in the eye:

"You need to get your shit together."

"But I don't wanna get my shit together!"

"Then the world will turn away from you, and leave you behind."

Say nothing -- just nod.

"We should go talk to the locals, find something else to do while the wind changes. It's pretty bad right now."

"Give it half an hour, get yourself together, then come back and have another go."

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