Pathologic: Day Five, which will give the Haruspicus a chance to seize the evasive Sand Plague

(or, in which things get Lynchian)

The fifth day has come.

Infected in the past 24 hours: 100 people
Died in the past 24 hours: 79 people
Gone missing: 22 people
Number of dead at the moment: 395 people
Number of infected: 107 people

You will not be able to defeat this enemy. Less than eight days remain.

---

So the first thing I do when I discover that I've been thrown into jail is get angry. More than a few swear words bounce off the walls of my apartment while I come to terms with what just happened. It seems unfair, but in the back of my mind I can't help thinking that this is what I deserve for getting too confident. It really, really hurts to lose those weapons and miss out on a quest reward from Notkin, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I have to find a way out of this new mess.

After the initial shock has passed, I notice that this is no run-of-the-mill prison like the one in the Town Hall. The Sand Plague is here, too. The two men standing guard are fine, presumably pumped full of immunity boosters, but the bodies dotting the stone floor—some of them living, some not—tell me that I can't take my time escaping. As if on cue, a plague cloud wafts through the bars of my cell and fills my lungs. My infection meter takes a jump.

Get out.

I get a couple more lungfuls of disease before I see that one of the corpses is close enough to my cell to be searched. I grab the dead man's revolver, gun down my guards, and start to head for the exit when the cries of the afflicted pull me up short. I turn back and, fumbling with bottles of morphine, give two of the men a peaceful death. I am uneasy about the ethics of euthanasia in this game, but having killed two guards, I desperately need the reputation boost that comes with a mercy killing. I rationalize it by telling myself that I couldn't leave them to die slowly in that plague-infested basement. It is better this way. Right?

The air outside the building is not much clearer than it was indoors. I'm in the factory district, which apparently is the latest breeding ground for the Sand Plague. My vision blurs and I actually stagger to one side as my fever climbs. Sadly, my antibiotic pills are useless to me now; in my weakened state the side effects would be just as deadly as the disease. I am in the late stages of infection, with my blood slowly beginning to hemorrhage from my body. With horror, I watch my health bar shrink, bit by bit.

I'm dying.

I have only one chance. My laboratory is just to the south of the factories, close enough for me to reach it before I succumb to the Plague. I have twyre there, along with brewing recipes left by my father. Vaguely, I remember reading somewhere in my journal that twyrine brews can be combined with infected organs to create an antibiotic mixture. It won't eradicate the disease, but it will hold it at bay, and the health penalties are lower than with conventional medicine. I burst into my lab and stagger over to a storage chest containing my herbs and recipes. I snatch a potent-looking one, cook it up, and mix it with an infected kidney left over from my adventures in Day Three. The result is "dead porridge," a foul-looking pale paste. Well, it's better than death, anyway.

By now it's late: almost 4:00 in the afternoon. With my infection back under control, it's time to turn my mind back to battling the epidemic, which means paying the Bachelor a visit. He's learned of my discovery about the steppe people having a low-level resistance to the Plague, and he wants me to get one of their hearts for him to experiment on. Once again, I am nonplussed at doing his dirty work, all the more so because of my connections to the steppe people. The Bachelor counters my protests by pointing out the necessity of doing this if we're ever going to produce a vaccine. What's one life measured against the entire town? With that he sends me over to Ospina to find out the location of a guinea pig, since (he says) he is too repulsed by Ospina's strangeness to make the trip himself.

OSPINA QUOTE OF THE DAY: "But why is nobody being buried? No creeping of carts, no sound of shovels in the cemetery? "

The antipathy is mutual. Ospina does not hide her anger that I am doing the Bachelor's bidding, saying that he is a "bastard" who "will bury us all." Nevertheless, she recognizes the need for a test subject, though she cloaks it in mystical trappings, as is her wont. A "twyrine bride" (the "stripper" from Duke's Day Five) has been brought forward by the Worms as a willing sacrifice to appease whatever natural force is causing the epidemic. As a Haruspicus, I have the divine right to cut out her heart.

When I arrive at the appointed spot out in the marshes, however, the young woman seems anything but willing. She's been brought there by three butchers (one of whom I met on Day Three), and she pleads with me not to kill her. The butchers are unmoved. The earth demands a sacrifice, they tell me, and, as the heir of Burakh, only I can perform the rite and take the first step in stopping the Sand Plague. They watch me grimly in the firelight, waiting.

I hesitate, then refuse.¹ The steppe people may be my people, but I am not going to take part in the barbaric sacrifice of an innocent just because they tell me to. Enraged, the trio attacks me while the woman flees into the darkness. I shoot them all before they can harm me and bend over their bodies, pulling on my gloves. These guys are natives of the steppe, too. Theoretically at least, they should have the same natural immunity as the twyrine bride. I hope their hearts will do.

As I slog through the marshes on my way back to the Bachelor's pad (heh), I receive a note from Fat Vlad's son, "Young Vlad," concerning the well that he has been digging to provide the town with untainted water. His laborers are refusing to work, claiming to see and hear frightening things in the underground caverns beneath the town. They won't say what, though, so Young Vlad turns to me to investigate the matter. I'm not particularly keen to poke around down there, but I do need the handsome sum he's offering in order to buy food for tomorrow. So down I go.

Immediately I can tell that something's not right. The earth surrounding me doesn't look like normal dirt; it's dark red and slick, as if saturated with blood. I'm apparently alone, yet despite the absence of other people there are lit torches installed at regular intervals. The soundtrack has changed, and it sounds muffled somehow. The throbbing music and smooth, circular tunnel walls give me the impression that I'm walking around inside some gigantic circulatory system.

I have a bad feeling about this.

For some reason Young Vlad doesn't throw down a rope, so once I'm underground I'm stuck there and have to find another way out. I set off through the tunnels, turning this way and that, and before long I am hopelessly lost. The network of caverns is surprisingly extensive, with numerous branching paths, dead ends, and loops, and my town map gives no indication of which way I should go. On top of that, I start to hear a deep voice chanting in an unintelligible language, dully echoing through the strange caverns. Combined with the music, the resemblance to the sound of a beating heart is even more pronounced. Spooky.

I'm just beginning to worry about how I will get out of here when the tunnel ahead suddenly opens up into a large chamber with a domed ceiling at least twenty feet over my head. In one corner is a small platform. A lone figure waits for me there.

What the HELL

This is the Rat Prophet, the pure embodiment of the rats' nature and power (!). The chanting I was hearing earlier? That was the Rat Prophet, mimicking the voice of my father (!!!). He knows a lot about my father and the Sand Plague, but everything he says is gibberish—I can't make head or tail of anything he says. Eventually the Prophet falls ominously silent, and, head spinning, I stumble to the other side of the chamber. There, a hatch opens upward, and I waste no time getting out.

I surface behind the theater, which also has become an epicenter for the Plague. As long as I'm here I figure I may as well check out today's play, but when I enter the theater I find that the director is already busy playing to a packed house:

Knock 'em dead

Back at Young Vlad's place, I hesitantly ask about the Rat Prophet, fearing that I am losing my mind. Young Vlad seems concerned, but he assures me that it was not completely a hallucination. Other citizens have reported seeing the Prophet as well. He seems to bestow his presence and dark knowledge on those who are attuned to the town and the earth on which it rests. Beyond that, Young Vlad knows nothing.

I feel like I'm getting in way over my head. With difficulty, I can at least cope with real-world problems, such as finding a cure or stopping looters. But there is apparently a cosmic, spiritual dimension to this as well, and I feel ill-equipped for it. Between my brush with death today and my weird entanglement with the Cult of Bulls, I worry that I may be cracking under the pressure.

¹ This is apparently a departure from what happens in the Bachelor's scenario. I'm not sure what long-term consequences there will be for this.

Pathologic: Day Five, on which the Bachelor is to regret that the existing prefer the living rather than the dead.

At 7am:


The morning of the fifth day has come. 
Infected in the past 24 hours: 105 ppl. 
Died in the past 24 hours: 74 ppl. 
Gone missing: 30 ppl. 
Number of dead at the moment: 370 
Number of infected: 107 ppl. 


You will not be able to defeat this enemy. Less than eight days remain.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pathologic.

Today's Map

Day five brings a new low. The plague breaks out in the heart of the Town--just outside the Theatre-turned-morgue--which makes travel a nuisance. On top of this, the infection has intensified: as soon as I enter the area I'm swarmed with rats, and the ragged plague victims lurch around in groups, rather than alone. I can't even walk straight: as soon as I settle on a course, a thick plague cloud will materialize, forcing me to either divert or breathe in lungfuls of disease.

The political climate has also deteriorated. Alexander Saburov, drunk on the authority I've given him, has told me the townsfolk have lost confidence in my leadership. They've called Inquisitor Karminskiy from the city to address the surge in crime: rippers, bandits and rapists have begun to wander the streets in broad daylight. Saburov informs me that, very soon, I will be officially replaced.

Broad Daylight is putting it a bit strong, I guess.

Fire Starters / Innocent People

I get a note from Anna Angel across town at the start of the day. She tells me she has a get-rich-quick scheme: we're going to blackmail Var, the Hunchback, and fleece him for all he's worth. I'm promised a cut of the money and sent across town to collect. Easy as pie, right? Of course, this is Pathologic we're talking about.

On my way over, I get wind from Kain and Olgimskiy that the Saburov, who's gotten fairly high and mighty, has performed a mass arrest under my nose. Sure, he's taken a multitude of criminals off the street, but there are a few holed up in the Town Hall who are obviously innocent. The Executors, guarding the cells, demand a ridiculous sum: 60,000, which is all but beyond my means. George Kain and Young Vlad give me a fair bit, though it's not enough. What's more: Saburov, all too happy to have caught so many criminals, won't listen to any of my pleas for mercy.

I don't have time for this. I decide to pocket the money and go blackmail the hunchback.

When I reach the hunchback, I find him tied in knots for his stripper daughter who has run away from home. He's crushed to find out about the blackmail; of course, from watching Kevin play, I realize this fellow's loaded. Fifty thousand won't hurt him much. The poor soul gives me an advance, and says he'll pay the rest when I find his daughter. The blackmail is enough shame to drive him out of town, apparently, and he wants to leave with family.

I track down the girl dancing at a local tavern and arrange to meet in the now-quiet Tanners District at 9pm.

Vaccine
The vaccine Rubin developed for me yesterday (Unmentioned in the previous post) is not good enough. I find him camped out in his super-secret laboratory, and he tells me that in order to develop an improved serum, we need fresh infected tissue. We need Artemiy Burakh, the Haruspicus.

My cohort Rubin, in his super-awesome lab.

This is problematic, of course, because Burakh has been captured by Alexander Saburov, and is being held in a factory down south. I glean this much from Saburov's ailing wife (who actually predicted my death on the first day) and seek out the holding cell where they're keeping the Haruspicus. It's guarded, and I have no desire to kill town officials. So I hire out some goons from Gryph and set Artemiy free.

"At the end of this, we may be on opposing sides"

The Haruspicus says he'd love to help, that he'll be in the Tanners District at 9pm with a freshly-cut heart, and that I should get there a bit early.

I can already see where this thing is headed. I show up at the appointed spot and poke around for a bit, when I see the ground littered with corpses. There before me is the body of a guard, an infected, and beside them both the scantily-clad body of a young dancer. Her heart has been left exposed; with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I rush it to Rubin's laboratory. After some cryptic comments about blood, he promises me a serum in the morning.

I'd like to end my day on some kind of victory. My purse is brimming with about 50,000--just ten grand short of the ransom for the prisoners. I head to a pharmacy, sell off as much as I can--medicine, food, anything--and head to the Town Council. I pay the greedy Executor his due, and he lets the prisoners free. As they slouch out, I open up my quest diary to see the mission completed--though the note doesn't read with a hint of optimism. "The prisoners are free, but I am afraid there is a great probability of their going out onto the streets after such an injustice," it reads.

Really? Is that supposed to cheer me up?

I emptied all my funds to free these six men, and I'm told they're probably going to go off and become marauders? Thanks again, Pathologic, for the vote of confidence.

My mind begins to race. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance the Haruspicus didn't kill the Hunchback's daughter--that the girl was some other stripper nobody knows, who just happened to be at the appointed meeting place when the Haruspicus needed an infected corpse. To be certain, I run back to the Tanners District and comb the yard, searching for some sign of the real daughter. No luck.

I don't have enough money to buy alpha tablets to stave off infection. The disease is devouring my entrails, I'm getting hungry, and I'm about to collapse from exhaustion. Perhaps the Hunchback will have some sort of compensation for information about his daughter's death. I lurch over to the other side of town to deliver the grim news--to tell him it was a murderer who killed his daughter, after infection had taken her.

This sends him into a rage. He begins to rant about putting together a "brotherhood of fanatics" to take down the Olgimskiys, who were *obviously* behind it. I leave him enraged, plotting revenge in his attic, no richer than when I came.

I have just one more out. Perhaps Anna Angel, who started all of this nonsense with the Hunchback, will have something to say. I tramp back to the Western side of town, carefully avoiding the infected district, to inquire. She greets me with a laugh: What? The Hunchback is forming a band to take down Fat Vlad and his spoiled son? According to her, this was all part of her plan, and she used me from the beginning.

Before I drop off to sleep, I resolve to comfort myself by checking into the Hospital and Morgue. When I come to the church I find it locked, with seven hundred starving plague-ridden victims clawing to get out. The guards commend me for my wisdom, but speak in hushed tones that I really ought to find some way of getting them food. Stricken, I delve into the infected district to inspect the Theatre, where I was greeted with this cheery sight:

Oh, and this too:



Utterly defeated, I check into Lara Ravel's "House of the Living", stomach growling, and ask for some medicine and food. She doesn't have any. So, with a long sigh, I go to the nearest bed and sleep until morning, worried about what tomorrow will bring.