Party 6

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Benson takes a look around the den, eyes lingering on the ale and goblets for a moment. Two fireplaces, they must get cold easily, he thinks. Not finding anyone in the room, Benson turns back to the main room.

"I'm going to check on the children again. Just a moment," he says and tries the front door.
 
"I can't place it, really, but that music is awful." Reppip complains. "Maybe we could go up the stairs and ask them to stop before it gets stuck in my head permanently? That could cost me a lot of lodgings and feedings over the upcoming years, since I don't think anyone would pay to hear this. This is almost as bad as the little boy who we let play with our instruments back with my old Troupe, until he got so frustrated that he slammed Steffun's recorder, and she chased him through the alleys and he made the most wonderful rhythmic little patter-patter-pitter-thump until she found him and he just started doing this awful shrieking that is really hard to describe. Let me see if I can show you what that sounded like..."

Reppip backs up a step and breathes in deeply.
 
Reppip catches himself.

"Oh. We're trying to be quiet. I just remembered. Sorry. It really is a great sound to hear though, much better than this horrible thumping on the keys. I wonder if maybe half of his hand is dead or something?"
 
Rubbing his shoulder after using what little might he has to help try to open the door, hopefully it's not pull when we tried to push. As he streches slightly, "yeah, let's just check the last corner then we can head upstairs. I'm sure once we clear this out and get out of here you will have a handful of songs to share." As Varïs smiles looking to Reppip.
 
Reppip very quietly sings, almost a whisper.

"Ol dead-handed Eddy
Flailin his fingers on the harpsichord
Until we are ready
Our ears are getting sore.

Ol rotfinger Eddy
Makin' noise that hurts us
his tempo isn't even steady
and it's making me nervous

Gangrene-puffed-up hands
Has me hoping for deafness
So I don't hear the minuet dance
performed by the deathless"
 
After having heard that the door was shut, Hazel feels the hair on her neck begin to rise. "Aw hells no." She rears up, and attempts to kick down the door, not caring about any noise she may be making. After a few solid kicks, the door seems like it should be cracking, but it isn't. Now thoroughly uneasy, Hazel grips her braid nervously. "Well, guess we have to see this through. No way to go but onward."

She gives Reppip a fond smile, "I could listen to you all day Reppip. You gotta pretty voice. Though we should probably make at least some effort to not make tons of noise while we're here. I'm feeling less and less like there's anything normal in here."
 
Strange House:

Having nothing better to do upon seeing that the front door was now suspiciously barred, you decide to take a quick scope of the other rooms. Despite the apparent ruckus you make, the harpischord music seems to continue unabated, save for the occasional pause as the player makes a mistake and then starts the piece over. It seems like they need more practice.

Dining Room:

A crystal chandelier glitters above the dining room, watching over eight empty chairs -- all of them high-backed, cushioned with velvet whose crimson-red hue matches the silken drapes covering the large windows on the far wall. Like the main hall, the walls here are ornately carved with a quaint scene, this time elegant deers flitting among tall, looming trees. The table is set, all silverware polished to a dazzling shine -- though you get the sense that it was more for appearance than for eating at this time of night. A painting of an alpine vale is mounted above the unlit fireplace, while a fine tapestry depicting nobles hunting wolves from horseback hangs from the wall adjacent.

Kitchen:

Moving on, you open the plain servant door to find a decently sized kitchen, sporting a bit of gloom in its quiet atmosphere but also quite orderly and tidy. The shelves are neatly stocked with cleaned and dried dishware, sparkling faintly from the light from a small window near the top. The worktable has mostly been wiped clean, save for one corner where a cutting board lays covered in a light sprinkling of flour.

The rusted iron pipes of the oven snake out like a labyrinth, twisting up and into the ceiling in strange formations that probably only make sense to the person that forged it originally. At the back of the room a door hangs ajar, leading to what appears to be shelves in a well-stocked pantry. To the right wall is a dumbwaiter, currently shut closed though its hinges look like they've been well-worn and well-used.
 
As the group walks into the dining room Varïs walks to the far side of the table examining each chair. My back towards the door? No thank you. Head of the table, impolite for guests, also signifies power, neither of which I seem to have at this time. Eyeing the far side seat, with the back of the chair against the wall he pulls it out trying to avoid much noise and takes a seat. Relaxing and regaining his legs underneath him he picks up a spoon peering to his appearance. Noticing his shaken look, sweat causing his hair to become flustered. Varïs takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and pushing his hair to one side. As he exhales he gets back up wandering with the rest of the group into the kitchen.

Looking around he sees Benson inspecting the dumbwaiter, Varïs notices one section of the counter isn't clean and goes to wipe it off before looking to the pantry.
 
Oh wow, those chairs sure do look comfortable, and iI can't see atop the counter without hopping, and hopping would make noise and Hazel asked me not to make noise with my whispered singing because that might alert the monsters more than everyone slamming at a barred door, so maybe I'll just have a seat in this nice cushion. Varïs looks like he's having a hard time. Normally I'd try to cheer him up, but I think I'll just enjoy this really cushy chair and try to pretend that the stupid harpsichord mistakes aren't putting me into an awful rage.

"So, Varïs, those sure are nice spoons, huh?"
 
Kitchen:

The pantry is very well stocked, and cramped as a result -- you're almost wondering how they managed to fit so much food in this dingy side room like they were puzzle pieces. A couple barrels labeled "wheat grains" sit in the corner, next to sacks of old potatoes and a wheel of cheese or two. There are sections stocked to the brim with dried jerky, nuts, seeds, and many jars of dried fruit and candy - the canisters of which seem to be slightly opened and disturbed from their spot, as if a child had reached for them. An entire shelf is devoted to spices, three racks filled to the brim with exotic ingredients - though they appear to be collecting a bit of dust from lack of use. Next to a particularly large and nearly empty canister is a note in fine handwriting:

----------------

Helga, fetch more salt when the caravans pass by. --G

----------------

It's a bit crinkled, and looks like it's been sitting here for quite some time. The caravans must not stop in town all that often.
 
Varïs sits back down after his exploration in the same seat he was in before. Picking up the spoon again as Reppip comments he drops it to the table, "yeah, the spoons are clean. Seems like some objects are spotless but others have been left alone to collect dust." Trying to see how his diversion went from the reality he is still unsure how prepared he is for the darkness and what lies ahead.

As the music once again starts, "I'm surprised you can be so patient with another soul with a musical talent upstairs." Varïs smiles genuinely, knowing the music is not as vibrant as Reppip's or the travelers they came with, but it deserves it's own respect.
 
Benson takes a look around the rooms, seeing no one. Something else does catch his attention. "Where is the basement? Didn't the children say-..."

Not children. Bait.

Benson puts his hands on the table, interrupting the polite conversation about spoons. "It seems that we have been mislead. I couldn't guess as to why, but nothing is what it should be. A monster in the basement that doesn't exist? Where are the owners of this place? They must have heard us. Who has locked us in? I feel sure that the music coming from upstairs is another lure intended to draw us in further... But what choice do we have? Be on your guards. There is no telling what we might find ahead."

He puts his helmet on, and adjusts his shield on his arm. Re-lighting his spear again, he goes back to the stairs. "I'll take the lead," he says to the others. And in a much softer voice he says to himself, "Watcher grant me the strength to be vigilant for what may come," and he goes up the stairs.
 
"Benson of the strength,
Our pillar, and a guardian,
going to great lengths,
To defend those needy chi-ildren.

Benson climbing the stairs,
to face what makes that sound,
Who is inspiring, and cares,
Who spreads virtue all around..."

Reppip sings Benson's praise, greatly impressed with both the man's size (and ability to block projectiles) and his bravery at facing whatever is up the stairs.
 
Varïs gets up from the table, making sure to push the chair in after. Heading towards the stairs he pauses at the bottom of the staircase behind everyone. Looking up to the ceiling.

May your darkness guide me, let me see through it and remove those who stand in the way of my journey.

Varïs begins to ascend with a cold look upon his face ready for anything that may await. Feeling the stones in his left pocket and the glass orb in his right.
 
Hazel spends some time inspecting the dining room area. She idly pokes around trying to see if she can find anything unusual or noteworthy. She's starting to grow frustrated when the tapestry catches her eye. It seems...off to her. She goes over and inspects it more closely. A moment later she gasps and goes runs back into the main hall and inspects some wood paneling that had caught her eye earlier.

"Well y'all, it would seem that either this house isn't exactly...natural. Or the owners had peculiar taste. There's skulls and whatnot in this here wood paneling. The tapestry in the dining room had other weird images hidden throughout it. I..." She swallows nervously, "I'm beginning to suspect that there's a lot more going on here than just some weird monster in the basement."
 
"Listening to their choice in ambient music is all the indication we needed of odd taste, Hazel."
Reppip responds, hoping that his joviality doesn't show any hints of the fear he is starting to feel.
 
Upper Hall:

As you start upwards towards the stairs, the soft tones of the harpischord fade away into silence once more. Those of you near the top can almost swear that you hear steps walking away, tapping on the creaking wooden floors, but your eyes fail to catch sight of any movement in the distance.

A cold draft sweeps down the marble staircase as it delivers you to a darkened hall, seemingly as cold and lifeless as the first floor below -- though the furnishings are still fine and well-maintained. Above the mantelpiece in front of you as you ascend to the last step hangs what appears to be a complete portrait of the Durst family: Rose and Thor, slightly younger, smile down upon you, along with a few other faces. A stone-faced woman, likely their mother, cradles a swaddled baby as she stands next to a larger man -- presumably the father.

Two sets of large mahogany double doors sit to each side, intricately carved with figures of dancing youths and flanked by lifeless suits of armor guarding the entrance to the various rooms. A third, less extravagant door hide unassumingly to the right of the stairs, which continue climbing upward into the darkness to yet another floor.
 
Benson's light illuminates the landing and casts dancing shadows over the walls. He gasps. Then lets his breath out in a low sigh.

"Thought there were people standing here," he says with a tiny chuckle. "Interesting armor," he notes as he continues to the door where he heard the music coming from.
 
As Varïs ascends the stairs hearing the eerie music he keeps his head on a swivel looking up and back towards the first floor to ensure he doesn't get any surprises from behind. Upon reaching the second floor the music fades oddly, and he sees 4 tall sets of armor standing 2 a side to each door.

Nodding to Benson at his comments as he goes towards the southern door. Varïs, with a slight tremor in his hand, remains fixed on the armor with it's wolf headgear, "odd they would just have this so out in the open. I guess any guests they do get are suckered in like us, and they don't expect them to leave... Whoever was playing that music must be close."
 
As Hazel crests the stairs, she takes a quick look around. "Man, this music sure does put you on edge don't it? Though I do find this armor peculiar. I wonder if any of it would fit me? Looks downright fearsome. Hazel - the Wolf Queen of Paladin fury!... nah that don't roll of the tongue that well. Though I'm sure Reppip could come up with someone better than that in a jiff." She goes over and begins inspecting the nearest suit of armor.
 
"Horrendous hound of justice,
her rage it has awoken,
Not only defending just-us,
Mighty and plainly spoken..."
 
"Let's get to the bottom of this. Hopefully whoever is in here has some answers," Benson says as he grabs the double doors and pulls them open.
 
Upper Hall:

Despite Hazel's interest in the armor, they all seem just a bit too wide and broad for her to equip appropriately -- whoever they were fitted for was likely much taller and muscular, based on the way they hold an imposing stance over the second floor halls. There is a soft silence, with the only sounds being the movement of the group and the faint, muffled breeze pushing against the creaking walls.

Conservatory:

You stride across the still-silent hall to the further door, opening the twin mahogany doors wide to what appears to be a performance room of some sort (though absent of any performer). A harpischord looms out from the dark, facing a nearby standing harp by the edge of the wall. The brass-plated chandelier casts a dull sheen in what little light you bring in, while the fireplace lies cold, alabaster figurines of dancers neatly placed on the mantelpiece. Velvet upholstered chairs line the walls, no doubt for those who would play audience, but they do not seem inviting right now -- not with the strange silence and the chill that hangs in the air.
 
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