Conversation · Warded Door

A heavy door with a missing handle stands before you, covered in dozens (if not hundreds) of Semenese trinkets and charms. It appears to be locked.

Break down the door.

You smash into the wood and see a small crack appear on the door frame. It's going to take one more try to break through to the other side, but you've done it...

"You're not thinking of trying again, are you?" The lieutenant stares at you as you stand there, silent and brooding.

Smash into the door and shout: "Welcome to Revachol!"

The door shudders with your impact. Hinges snap, panels crack, splinters fly by as you smash through, tumbling into the darkness ahead.

Smash into the door again -- wordless.

Smash into the door and shout: "Hands up, now!"

Smash into the door and shout: "Fuck the system!"

Smash into the door and shout: "Freeze, dirtbags!"

Smash into the door and shout: "Fuck, it hurts!"

"What are you doing, officer?!" A voice rings from the other room. It sounds almost worried -- worried about your health.

Ow, shoot! Whose moronic idea was it to just run through the door? Don't you know that things like that hurt?!

Walk it off, son! Stop wriggling like a maggot, it's nothing to worry about.

"Please don't cry, please don't cry..." (Slap your face.) "I don't want anyone to see me cry!"

"Are you alright?" The lieutenant steps closer, his eyes soft and worried. "This looked... pretty intense and painful, I must admit."

"What is going on there?!" an upset, high-pitched voice calls out from the bookstore. "Are you really trying to break down the back door?"

"I warn you, don't tempt the spirits, officer!" You can hear her take a frightened step backwards. "Don't tempt the spirits or you'll damage the holy wards on the door!"

It barely looks like you've done any damage to the door, however -- it's still locked and closed, covered in dozens of little charms and trinkets.

"Is that... Is that blood I'm seeing?" (Rub your forehead.)

"Oh god..." (Try to breathe normally.) "This really wasn't the best idea, was it..."

"I deserve this. My body deserves to suffer for being this weak and disappointing."

[Leave.]

Maybe I should break it down? But not before I strategize...

That's right, take in your surroundings. You need to have a solid ground and a proper posture if you want to succeed.

Check your surroundings.

The room is dimly lit and littered with old barber shop rubbish, but the path to the door is clear.

And what about the door?

It's made of a solid block of wood, but it has stood there for ages -- the hinges are old and coated with a carmine layer of rust. It should be doable.

First -- check your posture.

Steady breathing, solid core -- you've got this. With one shoulder forward you're ready to smash into the door like a battering ram.

Unlock the door with the key.

After exerting some force you manage to turn the key. It's eerily silent. The door slides slightly open, letting a draft of cold air into the room.

You feel the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rise up, as if someone's standing right behind you.

An uneasy knot forms in the pit of your stomach...

Touch the back of your neck: What is this feeling?

Outside, the wind howls in from across the bay. The building at Rue de Saint-Ghislaine stands like a matchbox on its side, with men inside like little wooden sticks ready to catch fire.

A panicking woman squeezes the pendant around her neck until it leaves a mark inside her palm. A man, a few metres away, stands frozen with a key in his hand. Somewhere inside a spider is spinning its web.

"Uh, Kim? Maybe you should go first..."

"Detective, you're the one in charge." The lieutenant motions toward the door.

[Open the door and enter.]

Knock on the door.

Only an echo... No one is there.

A hollowed out, dark echo...

What if... you just break it down?

A heavy door with a missing handle stands before you, covered in dozens (if not hundreds) of little oddly-shaped trinkets and charms. It appears to be locked.