Delilah's brain is in an absolute haze. She feels like she is somewhere else outside herself; like she's watching this young woman sitting in a chair, somewhere in the corner of the room. And yet... She is there. So close to herself, and yet so far away. It seems a life age has gone by. And yet... She's lost all count of time, lost track of the days that have passed. They all seem to be melting into one. One big whole.

There is a dark haze on her mind, a fog, unending. Fully and completely engulfing the being and the existence that I'd get. Every so often, she feels the urge to say a single word.

"Greatness."

And it comes back...And it comes back... And it comes back, and she feels like she needs to reach out touch it. Her voice, hoarse and thin, continues to repeat the word "Greatness," until she is just barely whispering the word, over and over again. It feels comforting to touch the word. "Greatness." One time. Then the next...Then the next... Then the next. 

In all reality, she is sitting tied up with her own rope, on a chair, in the middle of the room where she escaped the last time, and completely unaware of what is going on right now. Every so often, someone comes in to check on her and makes sure she's fed and...somewhat comfortable. At the very least, that she's breathing and alive. But her mind is utterly broken.

(Wis save...11) 

Something else seems to tickle the inside of her mind. It's kind of itchy. She wishes she could reach in and scratch the itch... Open her head up, pull her brain apart and scratch it. But the word comes back again...and she needs to grab it. 

"Greatness..."

Ah, that's better...

In all reality, two and a half days have passed. Gerald has come in to visit Delilah occasionally. He kind of fuses over her a little bit. He makes sure her hair is out of her face, unruffles her shirt sleeves, and readjusts her to make sure she is sitting comfortably in her chair. 

All the while, he tries to talk to her, saying things like, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Sigh... I wish this never would have happened. But yous just too smart for your own good. Yous brought down the wrath of... Well... Our Lord and Master upon you. That must have been something... You actually saw him! Felt him... Wow. But look at you... You're so sad... So sad." 

He spoon feeds her some porridge and she blankly eats it. Out of habit and reflex, she eats it. He makes sure she is doing alright, that nothing is amiss. 

The shift changes eventually, and the head of the group... Cyrus... comes in with a smile on his face. He looks at her. "Oh, my little mouse..."

(Wis save... 12)

Again... Delilah feels the desire to open her head up, open her brain up, and scratch the itch that's there. It's almost painful, and she begins to groan a little bit. She wants to keep digging... And digging... And scratching... And scratching... Until it goes away. But out of that haze comes that word again.

She bows her head, blankly staring at a point on the floor. "Greatness..." An uneasy half smile grows on her face from the relief of saying it. Her body relaxes again. 

"Greatness indeed...my little mouse. So broken. So far away..." His voice hisses out with pleasure.

His smile fades and he turns serious. "You brought this upon yourself. You brought this upon your own person... You will soon see the... Greatness... Of our Lord and Master Mephistopheles himself. You've seen him once already... Felt his influence. Been in his presence... You'll get to see him again soon. I must go now... Utter your word..." His smile grows again.

"...Greatness..."

"...And be content. Soon you will see true greatness. Goodbye, my little mouse."

(Wis save... 7)

He leaves, and her mind sinks deeper into the dark haze.

 (Wis save... 19)

The next day... The haze begins to lift. Delilah feels herself coming back from an eon, a generation of mindlessness. Lost in herself... She finally comes back. She feels the present. She feels the moment. She feels the word uttering in her throat, and this time she stops herself. 

Her eyes regain a spark of awareness, the blank glossy look receding now. She registers a person in the room with her as her consciousness pieces her surroundings and memories back together like a puzzle. A person... A cultist. Unfamiliar to her, he sees her come awake. He recognizes the look in her eyes, and immediately goes into action.

He comes up to her and sneers. "Undying." Delilah's enchanted silken rope falls free from her, and he takes a new rope, binding her fast. He ties her hands in front of her, followed by her upper arms. He leans closer and says, "Alright. I saw that... You're awake now." His smile grows.

She slowly raises her head to look at his face. Her brow furrows, pushing away the residual haze, trying to process the words he's saying. 

He gives her a suspicious look and wraps the silken rope up. Taking it with him, he leaves the room as another cultist enters to guard her. Delilah keeps staring forward at the floor, trying to itch her mind. Listening to the sounds of the engine. Feeling her aches. Watching the flicker of the dim oil lamps. Trying to remember everything that happened. It's slowly coming back together. Drawing a blank on the last couple days, she isn't even sure what time it is. That's the first word out of her mouth... 

"Time..."

"Eh? You say somethin'?" The cultist looks over at her. She looks at him, then slowly looks back at the floor... Not sure how that new word feels in her mouth yet. She grimaces. Hey voice is hoarse and her throat is tired. She has no idea why. 

(Insight check... 6)

Delilah can't remember anything from the last three days. It is all just a big blank in get mind. The last thing that she does remember... Is going toe to toe with Cyrus, fighting, getting the rope around him... 

The memories before that start flooding back, as if on rewind. Being on deck. Being held prisoner... Happy. The dagger in his neck. Threats of mutilation. The disgusting poison... Gerald. Being stabbed by Cyrus at the top of the stairs. Paralysis... Breaking the necks of the two cultist guards, the snaps reverberating in her ears. Her empty stomach heaves a bit with disgust and contempt. She closes her eyes to try to block the memories. 

Cyrus comes in. She hears his mocking voice, slightly sing song. "Is the little mouse awake from her nap?"

Delilah opens her eyes and slowly looks up at him. She registers his face. The haze is fading faster. Quiet, she just stares at him with an unpleasant, exhausted look. 

"Awww... Look at you. So tired. So worn out." He mocks her. "Did we have a fun time in the land of mystery?"

She turns her head away in irritation, not wanting to give him the time of day. 

"That bad huh?" His smile grows slightly. "Maybe you've learned a little lesson these past couple of days. Maybe we've learned something, too."

"I've learned something..." Delilah says, her mouth and humor dry. The corners of her mouth twitch.

"And what is that?" He sneers.

"Not all Gods' powers are created equal." She looks up at him. A confident fire burns behind her eyes as she emphasizes her next words. "You have a weak God."

His smile fades. It turns into a scowl. 

Maintaining eye contact she coughs and spits, returning the scowl.

With that, he comes up to her and grabs the back of her head and her jaw. Forcing her mouth open painfully, he pulls out one of the vials of acidic potion and dumps it down her throat. 

(Requested dex check to fight back... 23)

She kind of chokes and coughs, and aggressively spits it back in his face. 

With that, she feels a hand strike across her face, her head swinging to the side from the force off his strike. Trying to blink away the stars, she feels the stabbing prick of a needle in her shoulder.

"How -dare- you?" He growls maliciously. Delilah just forces a chuckle and a smile. It was worth it. 

She can see him shaking with rage. Cyrus snaps at the other cultist. "Give me another vial!" With that, he snatches the vial from the other cultist and tries to dump it down her throat again. 

(Dex check with disadvantage... Paralysis starting to kick in. Nat 20, then 18+5.)

She spits it out again in his face. She sputters and coughs and spits again. As soon as she can breathe, she starts laughing, carelessly defiant. Elated. Angry. Slightly unhinged still.

"AAARGH!!" His eyes blaze with fury. He strikes her several times, the last blow sending her and the chair she's tied to crashing to the floor. Breathing and shaking with rage, he says,

"My little mouse... Is going... To take her medicine... Or there will be consciences." The last word drips venomously. 

"Now... We wait." He steps back, slowly regaining his composure. The paralysis continues to flood through her body. She cannot move or command her body now. On the floor, her face stings... The pain, as always, still registering through the numbness. She closes her eyes, accepting her fate at this point. 

He takes another vial, and this time, gently opens her jaw. He slowly pours it into her mouth, down her throat.

Delilah gives Cyrus one last look of utter hatred and defiance. He looks down at her and returns the look of hatred. But then he smiles. "See? Isn't this better? Now... You have nowhere to go, and nothing to say."

"Goodbye my little mouse."