A stable base of operations, however humble, is a cornerstone of survival. But 'safe' is always relative and rarely permanent. Recognizing when your bolthole has become a liability is a critical skill, often learned moments before hostile entities kick down the door.
Indicators of Compromise:
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Increased Scrutiny: Unusual attention directed towards your location or known associates by guards, guild agents, or individuals you'd rather avoid. Loiterers who don't belong, sudden 'routine' patrols focusing on your area.
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Direct Threats/Warnings: Obvious hostile actions against your location (attempted break-ins, vandalism with threatening symbols) or warnings received from credible (or desperate) sources. Assume any threat is serious until proven otherwise.
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Association with Recent Incidents: If your safehouse or identity can be linked to a recent crime, public disturbance, or event attracting negative attention (e.g., accidentally awakening a minor chaos god in nearby ruins), assume observers will eventually connect the dots. Proximity breeds suspicion.
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Compromised Associates: If allies or contacts who know your location are captured, turn traitor, or simply vanish under suspicious circumstances, assume your location data is now in enemy hands.
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Gut Feeling (System-Enhanced or Mundane): Sometimes, you just know. A persistent sense of being watched, things feeling 'off', minor possessions subtly disturbed. Trust your paranoia; it's often just heightened pattern recognition reacting to subconscious cues. (Low LUK individuals may experience false positives, but it's usually safer to assume the worst).
Responding to Compromise:
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Confirm (If Possible & Safe): Discreetly verify the suspicion if time and safety permit. Quick observation, cautious inquiries via disposable cut-outs. Do not risk direct confrontation solely for confirmation.
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Bug Out Immediately: Once compromise is reasonably suspected, evacuate. Do not linger to pack sentimental items or wait for morning. Grab essential gear (Go-Bag/Bug-Out-Sack – See Appendix R) and disappear.
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Sanitize (Optional/Time Permitting): Remove incriminating evidence or personal identifiers if feasible without delaying escape. Burning documents, wiping footprints – basic measures can hinder pursuers.
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Utilize Escape Routes: Use pre-planned egress points or unpredictable paths ([Urban Navigation], hidden tunnels, sewer access). Avoid main thoroughfares immediately after leaving.
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Establish Temporary Shelter: Find a short-term hideout completely unrelated to your previous location or known haunts. Remain mobile initially if actively pursued.
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Secure New Long-Term Base (Later): Once the immediate danger has passed and you've assessed the situation, begin the process of finding a new, secure base, applying lessons learned from the previous compromise.
Abandoning a safehouse is disruptive and demoralizing, but clinging to a compromised location is suicide. Adaptability and timely retreat are hallmarks of the survivor, not the stubbornly deceased.
(Inkstained Prophet's Reminder: If your safehouse is compromised by slimes, standard evacuation protocols may be insufficient. Recommend immediate incendiary decontamination and relocation to a different dimension. Or at least a different continent. Vile things.)
[Kevin's Story: Part 23 - Tumbling Down]
The System's warning screamed in Kevin's mind, overriding the lingering metaphysical weirdness from the altar and the unsettling behavior of the nearby slime. [Hostile Entity Detected Nearby!] Multiple. Armed. Searching. Outside the main entrance.
Panic flared, cold and sharp, momentarily eclipsing the exhaustion and the lingering chill from the altar's energy. Trapped. The only exit he knew was blocked. He instinctively doused his oil lamp, plunging the vast temple chamber back into near-absolute darkness, save for the faint starlight filtering through the collapsed roof sections far above and the dim, pulsing green glow of the slime near the altar.
He pressed himself flat against the cold stone floor behind the massive altar slab, straining his ears. Faint sounds drifted from the entrance – the crunch of boots on gravel outside, muffled voices carrying indistinctly on the wind. They hadn't entered yet, but they were close.
He needed another way out. Module 306 mentioned hidden chambers, crypts… but searching for secret passages while armed hostiles were closing in felt like a death sentence. His eyes darted around the dimly perceived edges of the chamber. The walls were breached in places, collapsed sections leading back out onto the plateau… but likely exposing him directly to whoever was searching the exterior.
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His gaze fell on a section of the far wall, partially obscured by a fallen pillar. It looked heavily damaged, a latticework of cracks radiating from a gaping hole near the base, probably leading nowhere but a pile of rubble outside. An idea sparked – desperate, probably stupid. Could he make the collapse worse? Create a diversion, maybe even an exit?
He needed a distraction now though, something to draw their attention if they entered while he tried his insane demolition plan. He scanned the floor near him. Loose rocks, debris… His eyes landed on the slime, still pulsing faintly near the altar's base, seemingly oblivious. An awful, Guide-violating idea occurred. Could he… use the slime? Throw something at it? Would it react loudly? Aggressively? Maybe its acidic nature would cause some kind of commotion if it hit stone?
He dismissed the thought immediately. Antagonizing the weirdly energized slime felt like juggling unknown explosives. Stick to physics, however unreliable.
He grabbed a fist-sized rock from the floor. With a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength (STR 11 feeling marginally useful), he hurled it with all his might towards the main entrance archway, aiming high.
CRACK!
The rock struck stone far inside the archway, echoing loudly in the cavernous space. He immediately scrambled away from the altar, keeping low, heading towards the damaged section of the far wall. Had it worked? Would they investigate the sound?
Muffled shouts from outside. A sharp command. Then, the crunching footsteps grew louder, moving towards the entrance. Yes! They were coming inside. He had maybe seconds.
He reached the crumbling wall section. The hole near the base was choked with rubble, but the cracks spiderwebbing above it looked deep. He brought out the prybar from his [Basic Toolkit]. Wedging it into one of the larger cracks, he threw his weight against it. Stone groaned. Dust sifted down. It wasn't enough.
He needed more force, something sudden. He glanced back. Torchlight flickered within the main entrance now, casting long, dancing shadows. They were inside.
Okay, LUK ???, don't fail me… or fail me interestingly? He braced himself, took a deep breath, and kicked hard, aiming near the prybar, channeling panic and desperation into the blow.
His foot connected solidly. For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then, a sharp CRACK echoed, much louder this time. But it wasn't just the wall. He felt a jarring pain shoot up his leg – he’d kicked awkwardly, twisting his ankle. Simultaneously, the section of wall he'd been working on didn't just crumble; it exploded outwards in a cascade of stone and dust far more violent than his kick should have warranted. A shower of debris rained down, and a section large enough to crawl through opened onto the windswept plateau outside.
Ding!
[Skill Check: Improvised Demolition (Untrained) - Success? (Volatile Outcome)]
[LUK ??? Effect Triggered: Critical Failure (Minor Injury - Twisted Ankle) combined with Unexpected Success (Wall Breach Exceeds Expectations)!]
[Status Effect Acquired: [Minor Sprain (Ankle)] - DEX temporarily reduced by 2. Movement impaired.]
A success and a failure wrapped in one painful, dusty package. Typical. Shouts erupted from the temple entrance as the unexpected collapse drew immediate attention. "What was that?" "Over there!" Torchlight swung in his direction.
No time to worry about the ankle. Kevin scrambled through the newly made opening, ignoring the searing pain, and emerged onto the dark plateau. He glanced back – figures with torches were moving cautiously towards the collapsed section from inside. He needed to disappear.
He forced himself into a limping run, heading away from the ruins, towards the cliff edge where the path down began. The wind tore at him, cold and biting. Behind him, he heard shouts, pursuit beginning.
He reached the path's start. The descent looked even more terrifying now, knowing he was being hunted and his ankle was unreliable. He popped the Veteran’s [Stimulant Herb Packet] into his mouth. The taste was bitter, pungent, but almost immediately a wave of warmth spread through him, dulling the pain in his ankle and clearing the fatigue from his mind.
Ding!
[Consumable Used: [Stimulant Herb Packet (Minor)]]
[Buff Acquired: [Heightened Reflexes (Temporary)] - DEX +1 (Counteracts Sprain partially). Stamina regeneration increased. Pain suppression active.]
[Duration: 30 Minutes]
Better. He started down the path, moving much faster than his careful ascent, half-running, half-sliding on the loose scree, relying on the herbs and raw adrenaline. The flickering torchlight from the plateau above spurred him on.
Twice, his volatile luck seemed to intervene. A section of path that looked solid crumbled beneath him, but instead of sending him plunging into the abyss, it dropped him onto a narrow, previously unseen ledge just below, allowing him to rejoin the main path shaken but alive. Later, a sudden, fierce gust of wind roared up from the sea, extinguishing the torches of his pursuers far above for crucial seconds, allowing him to gain distance in the renewed darkness. Neither event felt purely 'lucky'; they felt chaotic, dangerous rescues born from near-disasters. [Probability Flux Resonance] indeed.
By the time the stimulant herbs began to wear off, leaving him trembling with exertion and the returning ache in his ankle, the first hints of dawn were staining the eastern sky. He was nearing the base of the cliffs, the lights of Port Azure visible again, though still distant. His pursuers seemed to have given up or lost him on the treacherous path in the dark.
He collapsed near the fisherman's track, hidden from the main path, gasping for air. He had survived. He had escaped. He had even… altered his Luck stat? Maybe?
But as the adrenaline faded, harsh reality set in. He couldn't go back to the Drunken Sailor. 'Finn' being seen near the disturbed ruins, potentially chased by armed men… word could get back. Martha could be questioned, endangered. His sanctuary was gone.
He looked towards the sprawling, waking city. He needed somewhere to hide, somewhere anonymous, somewhere even grimier and more forgotten than Martha's storeroom. He thought of the darkest, most neglected corners mentioned in dockside whispers – the abandoned fish processing sheds near the cholera-ridden 'Mud Flats', the leaky, half-collapsed warrens under the old piers, maybe even finding a discreet access point into the sewer system the Guide occasionally referenced with distaste.
His stomach churned. He was Level 3, he had a dagger, a handful of coppers, and a bizarrely functioning Luck stat, but he was effectively homeless again, forced back into the deepest shadows, with unknown enemies potentially searching for him and the ghosts of Finn's past swirling ever closer. The gamble at the temple hadn't brought clear fortune, only deeper uncertainty and immediate consequences. He pushed himself to his feet, testing his aching ankle. Time to find a new hole to crawl into. The grind, it seemed, always found a way to bite back.