Cataloging Lemaire's Lab

Jp with mdman, Lasersexpanther, Lorem, LucianNepreen and Cindy

It was a longer journey to the lab than initially thought but after back tracking a little and making some turns, ten minutes later they were at the other entrance to the lab. No traps were detected and the door wasn't locked, mostly because this was the way anyone would have entered the lab after Lamaire’s escape.

There were no traps inside the room, the mutated rat which had been killed by Sung during the rescue of Jackal and Lily, was gone. It was clear this room had been touched but hopefully they could find things of use still here. "First things first, everyone spread out and look for a switch but do not press anything until we can figure out if it's the one for the trap.”

Vor kept his notebook out in case of anything interesting, aware that terrible things had happened here but not of the specifics. It seemed fitting, Lamaire performing only Metira knew what in a dark, damp tunnel complex. Vor remembered reading several rather dramatic books about such subjects, usually romanticizing the tragedy of their condition. How naïvely he had agreed with them at the time. His search was unfruitful, the room either being of more concern for the Baron's cleanup or it had been evacuated with more care than the artwork.

All the equipment in the lab was shut-off but if not all of it remained, it seemed as if a good portion if it did. However, it didn't contain any unusual equipment.

The shelves were lined with a variety of herbs, a few contained various metals, some had different liquids. Some larger containers held preserved brains and other body parts. A few brains were labeled - rabies 2. There was also a wall of what seemed to be different variations of the formula Lemaire was working on - twenty in all but some were clearly older than others.

Elizabeth walked over to a wall that had a slight bulge, "I found something. It looks like a hidden switch.”

Cronk had finally returned to the group, or rather found them. It took the orc twice as long to return as it did for him to take the girls to Marcil.

When he walked in, he gazed at the brains in the jars. They were contained inside of some liquid inside the jars. Cronk figured that was how brainwashing occurred.

The huge orc shook his head. “Cronk not want brain wash,” he mumbled.

Sasha walked over to see what Elizabeth found, but gave a light chuckle at Cronk's comment. "Do not worry Cronk, that's not for brain washing." She said "It's preservation, somewhat similar to a pickle, though drinking that liquid would make you very very sick or outright kill you. And they are labeled Rabies which would make you go crazy then die."

"Let's see." Sasha said standing next to Elizabeth looking at what looked like part of the wall on a quick glance but on inspection was off color to set it apart from the others. "It's never easy." Sasha commented.

After a smile fell on Elizabeth's lips at Cronk's she quipped, "No , I suppose a big red button would be too easy." Before saying to Sasha, "I will let you and Miss Ipsum determine if it is the correct switch. I, in the meantime, will start deciding what should be taken with us for Dr. Jackal's research.”

Sasha reached into her coat and produced a pair of waxy looking leather gloves and held them out to Lady Elizabeth. "Wear these if you plan to touch anything. Almost all the chemicals here are skin permeable. And no telling what they can do."

"Merci," Elizabeth thanked Sasha and took the gloves, "I will be sure to put them on, if needed."

First though the job would be more cataloging not just for the Baron and the Order but also to show Jackal, just in case they overlooked something the doctor might need.

The word pickled made Cronk think of Sursild, the pickled herring of home while growing up. Suddenly, Cronk’s stomach growled as loud as one of Quinn’s snores.

All the work had worn off the effects of breakfast, or breakfasts, as Cronk had two. It was the Good Doctor’s orders for Cronk to eat after giving blood. Now, he was hungry once more.

Rubbing his chin, Cronk began to search for anything identifiable as food. Not seeing anything, he began to get frustrated, making his stomach growl all the more.

Around all these macabre ingredients, Vor was given a moment to study them closer as Elizabeth and Sasha began their work. Despite his distaste for this whole structure, he did hurriedly sketch some of the body parts with a private fascination. He had always had a peculiar interest in death, something he had been given little chance to delve into with his recent work. Yet here, in the lair of his most hated of peoples, he found a small gallery that he could explain as documentation and he took the chance readily.

The sound of Cronk's stomach caught Elizabeth off guard, but he did require more food than the rest of the group. "Cronk, if you can wait, I did bring some provisions - food, it's in the van. " She paused, noticing the Orc looking around. "Do not eat anything in here." It was such an important command, the Eldren uncharacteristically didn't even say please.

Sasha patted her pockets pulling out something wrapped in paper. "A snack to tide you over." Sasha said, tossing the pemmican to Cronk. "It's like jerky." She told him. Going back to looking for a way to pop the faux panel from the wall without activating the device

Cronk caught the package and opened it up. He sniffed the pemmican. It wasn’t like Sursild or Lutefisk, which would have placed his mind at home. However, it was meat and not fruit or vegetables.

Cronk unwrapped a small, weathered package—a slab of pemmican. The bar glistened with a sheen of rendered fat, its surface flecked with bits of dried meat. He held it up, marveling at its simplicity.

The first bite was a revelation. His teeth sank into the dense, powdery texture—a blend of smoked and dried meat, pounded into submission. The flavor burst forth earthy, primal, and unapologetically meaty. It’s as if the essence of the wilderness itself had been condensed into this humble bar.

“Hmm,” Cronk excitedly expressed. “This good! Cronk thank Masked One!”

Cronk chewed slowly, savoring each morsel. The lean meat—perhaps elk or caribou —released its essence, a memory of open plains and ancient forests. The fat, golden and rich, coated his tongue.

Cronk wiped his greasy fingers on his trousers, feeling oddly content. Pemmican isn’t just food; it’s a bridge across time—a link between the past and the present. He took another bite, wondering why the Masked One hadn’t told him off this goodness before now.
And so, in that remote cabin, Cronk chewed, swallowed, and smiled - a silent thank-you to the Sasha who shared this treat with him. For in pemmican, he found not just nourishment, but a taste of resilience and the wild.

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