Temislow Community Hospital
Purpose / Function
On the surface, Temislow Community Hospital functions as a modest rural healthcare facility. It treats wounds, illnesses, chronic conditions, and houses a small morgue. But beneath its clean halls lies a darker reality—it's also a veil over Midnight Genesis Facility, a hidden research facility run by The Blue Curtain. Bodies aren't just buried; they are studied and experimented on.
Officially, it is the town's only hospital and one of the largest employers in Temislow. Unofficially, it is a node in a continent-spanning network of secret facilities designed to study the unknown, especially creatures.
Design
The main building is rectangular, two stories tall with an underground level officially listed as storage. Walls are pale grey stone covered in a matte antiseptic paint, chipped in places. The floors are ceramic tile, often cold to the touch. The ceiling is standard acoustic tile, though some sections have warped slightly, as if something above them is too heavy.
The lower levels, accessible only through restricted stairwells and elevators, are constructed of reinforced concrete with faint glowing lines of sigil-etched metal beneath the surface—barely visible, but always humming.
Entries
Main Entrance: Automatic sliding glass doors, secured at night.
Rear Service Entrance: Used for deliveries and body transfers, locked and watched.
Emergency Entrance: Reinforced steel doors.
Windows: Shatterproof, narrow, and barred from the inside. In patient rooms, they do not open.
Secret Elevator: Access to The Blue Curtain’s subterranean lab is possible only via a service elevator behind a locked morgue wall.
Sensory & Appearance
Visitors describe the hospital as “too clean.”
The lighting is dim but uniform, soft LED panels emitting cold light. There’s no scent of bleach or medicine—just the dry, inorganic air of a place scrubbed of life. Footsteps echo faintly in the halls, and the walls absorb conversation strangely, making it hard to tell if someone is right behind you or two rooms away.
In some corners, there's the faint scent of ozone, like after a lightning strike. And occasionally, a music box melody is heard, though no one owns one.
Denizens
Hospital Staff: Doctors, nurses, orderlies. Most are unaware of the building's true purpose.
Blue Curtain Agents: Disguised as administrators or specialists.
Janitor “Old Klev”: Silent, always around when something strange happens. Rumors say he never leaves the building.
Shades: Faint figures seen in reflective surfaces after certain deaths. Never directly.
Automated Drone: Rumored to be a “med-sphere” patrolling the sublevels.
Contents & Furnishings
Standard Rooms: Beds, basic vitals monitors, sterile white cabinets.
Morgue: Steel drawers, with a temperature too low for comfort.
Restricted Basement Labs: Arcane equipment, time-displacement chambers, memory extraction rigs.
Quiet Room: A soundproof, empty room on the second floor. No one knows why it was built, but it's always warm inside.
Valuables
Prototype “Temporal Extractor”: Hidden beneath the morgue; can replay the final seconds of a corpse’s life.
Encrypted Research Logs: Stored in magickal glass tablets.
Ancient Bone Relics: Contained in the sublevel archives, used in necrotic-temporal fusion experiments.
Patient Zero: A preserved body in a stasis pod deep below, sealed behind six levels of security.
Hazards & Traps
Sublevel Lockdown: Activates if unauthorized individuals access the labs. Seals doors, vents neurotoxin gas.
Perception Traps: Some rooms are designed to confuse time and direction. You might exit before you entered.
Resonant Walls: Sensitive to vibration—if you raise your voice too loud in the wrong room, alarms trigger.
Morgue Drawer 13: Not labeled. It's booby-trapped and feeds data directly to The Blue Curtain.
Special Properties
Temporal Dampening Field: Lower levels operate on slowed time; a minute above equals 30 seconds below.
Sound Inversion Field: Certain rooms record conversations in reverse, only playable through Blue Curtain codecs.
Memory Bleed: Extended time in the research wings can cause recent memories to overwrite older ones.
Emergency Reset Glyph: Buried in the foundation, able to erase all digital and magickal traces in the event of compromise.
Alterations
Numerous. The original building was smaller, but The Blue Curtain has expanded it subtly over the decades. Certain areas shift slightly in size. The third floor doesn't officially exist, yet several staff have used keys to access it in emergencies.
Architecture
A cold, utilitarian Rodian design—function over form, based on the Brutalist principles of strength and simplicity. No ornamentation, just uniform stone, glass, and metal. Locals hate how it looks—“out of place,” they say. They’re not wrong. Its foundations follow ancient city planning glyphs from civilizations pre-dating Temislow itself.
History
The hospital was built in 1761 AR, the same year the town was founded. The Blue Curtain placed it there on purpose, anchoring its secret research into necromancy and chronomagick beneath a layer of civic trust.
The community believes the Council of Rodia funded the hospital for rural development. In reality, The Blue Curtain funded, designed, and staffed the critical sections from day one.
While it has saved lives and eased suffering for decades, it has also been the site of:
- Mysterious deaths with missing bodies
- Sudden, unexplained staff transfers
- "Ghost" patients that appear on no registry
- A full wing quietly shut down after an energy surge ruptured five timelines
Tourism
Very little tourism is tied directly to the hospital—though it does draw medical interns, history buffs, and the occasional conspiracy theorist.
Some suspect more than they admit. There’s a local urban legend that if you sleep in the hospital’s waiting room during a full moon, you’ll dream of the future—or someone else’s death.
A few dark tourism bloggers have tried to sneak in, but those who go poking around the lower floors… usually stop writing.
Subtle unnatural forces hum through the building. In patient rooms, the air is unnaturally still, like breath caught in a dying throat. Some report an odd pressure on the ears, like the silence before a storm. In the basement and sublevels, cold seeps from the walls even in summer—dry and sterile, like nothing has lived there in a long time. Sensitive individuals may experience vertigo, time skips, or faint whispers from walls that aren’t quite soundproof.
The elevator occasionally moves on its own. Staff blame electrical glitches. But it always goes down.
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