Party 7

“We can’t take one and not the other.” Marcon picked up the other swaddled skeleton and cradled it in his arms. It was much lighter than he imagined. Reverently he followed Jeymus down the spiral staircase.
 
Jasper has been standing quietly in the corner watching the doll house for the last few minutes, never doing more than biting his lip. Without saying anything he calmly follows the party downstairs.
 
The long spiral staircase is filled with dust and mold, making it hard to breathe as you decend into the earth. Once you can reasonably assume you are underground, you find the end of the stairwell. It opens up into a crypt containing two sealed coffins, and two that lie open. Each one has a nameplate above it.

To your right, there is a hallway that leads into a large open room. There are sconces on the walls that appear to have burned out years ago.
 
Unlike Jeymus, Clover felt no animosity to her passenger and set the body in its crypt carefully, "You two rest in peace," and more quietly, "until later, possibly."
 
"There's nothing wrong with human children on principle, you know." Jasper lectures Jeymus. "It's just that these ones happened to be trapped in some creepy evil haunted house that's trying to kill us as well." He proceeds to say a quick prayer over the corpses, then turns his attention to exploring further down the hall.
 
Clover picks the other chest and opens it, "Fancy drinking glass and what looks to be a ruby pendant. The pendant could be worth something, the glass probably won't be after I put it in my backpack and am dropped down a couple pit traps or am clubbed by a giant or whatever is around there."

She slips the pendant into her backpack, "I'm not really huge into jewelry, but it might be the arcane key to opening a mystic puzzle door or could be holding the spirit of some long-dead sage."

Standing up, Clover adds, "Alternatively, I could be listening to too many corny bard tales."
 
In between Jeymus' and Clover's talking, Marcon could hear a low, rhythmic chant coming from... somewhere. In addition to the door in the north wall from which they entered, two passages joined this room, one to the south and another to the east.

Marcon held up a finger. "Shhh! Just for a minute." He cautiously dipped an ear into each passage. The chanting was definitely coming from the south. He waved his arms to get everyone's attention and pointed enthusiastically to the east. "I reckon we should try this way." He said in a whisper he hoped wasn't loud enough to carry outside of the room. "I'd rather not meet anyone else in this place if we can avoid it..."
 
Last edited:
Hearing the commotion, Jasper stops dragging his feet and rushes into the room toward the zombies. He summons a flash of holy light to burn away two of the zombies, but as it vanishes both are untouched. Caught off guard by this, Jasper yelps and barely manages to duck as the one to the right strikes back.

Taking a second to gather his magic, Jasper shouts his word of radiance louder this time as he tries again to burn away the zombies. This time the divine light burns bright enough to kill one of the monsters, the other one staying standing just long enough to be hacked apart by Jeymus.

Jasper shakes his head. "I think the lesson here is that people don't appreciate when you try to steal from them. Not that this house is evil and we should expect that every room has some sort of trap and monster that will try to kill us, that was the lesson last time."
 
Marcon shrieked as the black cloaks rose from the floor and the figures inside shambled towards him. Putting his hands up to protect himself he spread his fingers and sent forth three sheets of flame. Two of the zombies took the brunt of the heat, their dry clothing and the fat in their reanimated corpses acting like a wick, making them burn brightly. Before they collapsed into smoldering heaps, though, one managed to scratch at Marcon's arm with a couple of swipes of its clawed undead hands.

Shaking, he slid to the floor and took some deep breaths. So much for taking the safe path!
 
Clover shakes her head at Jasper, "Evil doesn't use morals to teach lessons, it uses them as an excuse to do more evil. I'll caution myself against greed, but I strongly suspect the most righteous soul who found themselves in this place would find some twisted 'lesson' taught to them by the fiendish forces at work here."

Clover retrieved the spent crossbow bolts she could find, "Either way, we didn't ask to enter, the house used deceit to manipulate us inside, abusing our humane sensibilities. At first, I only worried for the children, but once I realized their innocent souls were being treated as naught but bait by the house, held from their rightful rest, my concern with its property rights faded to nil. The sooner this house is truly dead and at our backs the happier I shall be."
 
After dispatching the creatures, the party proceeded South through an open doorway into a large area. As Clover entered the chamber, foul water - sewage? - seeped into her rather expensive slippers and heard the repeated chanting coming from all around her.

"One Must Die," the ghostly voices chanted, "One Must Die."

Between the chanting and the dais before them with its roughly hewn stone altar covered in the stereotypical brown stains - unmistakably blood spilled over years - it seems like the haunting here wanted a bit more blood. She couldn't see any fish in the water, though admittedly it seemed there were likely to be other things floating about in it she'd rather not step in, but there were a few cockroaches scuttling about back and forth between a crack in the wall and the disgusting lump of decaying vegetation and offal just strewn in what appeared to be a blocked off hallway.

Really, you'd think people would take better care of their fiendish sacrificial temples. Sheesh.

She catches Jasper loudly calling out "Not it".

Oh, right. There's the matter of the voices wanting us to sacrifice one of our companions. Gosh, which one of us would be the easiest to place up there and stick a knife through her breast?

"Oh, lovely, a sacrificial altar. Uh, also not it." Clover quickly put her finger to her nose. Old Elvish tradition, you know.

Before it occurs to her party, she quickly wades through the ick towards the cockroaches and grabs a few of the gross little bugs, then starts heading up to the altar, "So, yeah, if anyone wants to kill a thing, kill an icky thing like these... not one of your valued fellow teammates, especially not a cute one."

The moment she drops a cockroach on the altar, though, the voices stop and the earth begins to violently shake.

“Oops.”

As the team begins to dash away, they each use their own strengths to their advantage. Marcon uses a translucent field resembling armor to repel falling masonry, though one particularly large rock falls from the ceiling and delivers a glancing blow to him. Jasper moves to a door and, with an application of leverage Clover had never before seen, pushes aside a large pile of rubble that had blocked the doorway.

Jeymus, on the other hand, builds up steam and runs headlong into a wall. Clover very nearly looks away, but watches as the humanoid shreds the wall as if it were nothing.

Of course, as he busts through the blockade of rubble and step into the attic, it's apparent that the doorframes have morphed... rather than wooden doors, they now host rapidly swinging blades. The characteristic gleam on the edge, of course, indicating that they're razor sharp. She wouldn't know it lobbed off a leg until she had a hard time taking another step.

I really need to get off my duff and learn more magic than just grabbing things from a distance.

I can help with that, another voice stated in her head. Clover started in shock, but as the rest of the party found a way through already, it's her turn and ... stuck in the middle of a homicidal haunted house isn't really her idea of a good time.

Clover counted silently to herself for the next swinging blade and jumped as it was passing low, nearly peeing herself in terror as it swung back far too quickly, and used her hand to deflect herself off the jamb in the other direction, somehow landing upright after a triple spin through the air.

Glancing back, she discovered that the blade had sheared through some of the excess leather strap trailing from her backpack, the thick leather belting caught up in the air eddies and getting minced to bits by the doorframe blades.

Clover gulped, and watched Jeymus guide the group down a section of flooring that had collapsed onto the second story into a room filled with far too much glass for her liking.

She witnessed as Marcon tied his rope to a handy harpsichord and casually chucked the remainder out of a broken window, slipping past the dagger-like shards of glass without a second thought.

Moments later, his voice calls up, “Err it’s a bit foggy down here guys...”

Fog? I'll take it! What's the worst that could happen, right? Clover thought.

Clover, please don't ever think that again.

Throwing caution (and common sense, decency, and fair play) out the window, Clover followed those concepts, remembering at the last moment that grabbing the rope would probably help. It did, slightly, slowing her descent enough so that when she impacted the ground, she rolled a few feet and stopped in a crouching position.

That lasted for almost long enough for her to stand and join her companions, who also arrived on the ground and apparently living, when the window slams shut dropping Marcon's rope onto him and the house shakes as if in imminent outburst of rage, and implodes.

Clover wasn't entirely sure what happened after that, but she lifted herself off the ground slowly and the haunted manse wasn't anywhere to be found -- well, nor was its debris, other than some of the building materials clinging to her and, in the case of one nasty shard of glass, impaling the fleshy bit between her palm and thumb. Ow.

Oh good, you made it.

Clover shook her head, Later, okay? Right now I want to pretend I'm not hearing voices and going insane.

She felt, rather than heard, the alien voice in her mind smirk at her.

Looking about, finally, she noticed that the small group was being stared at by other people, though the building styles were different and there were certainly more houses than where they just were.

"Wow, it blew us back so hard we're back in the land of the living," Clover quipped.

She caught Marcon's comment from where he casually stood nearby, "Everyone is looking at you guys funny," and, after a moment, “I feel awful guys. Could do with resting somewhere safe.”

She kipped up onto her feet, nearly losing her balance with the backpack, and picks an animal quill out of where it nearly impaled her arm in the hefty pilgrim's robes.

"Good idea, did you remember to make reservations, Marcon?"
 
As the house began to shake, Marcon's mind shut down and he acted on instinct alone. He followed the others as they led the way back upstairs.

A large piece of masonry detached from a ceiling and raced towards him. Marcon raised his hands and the debris hit an invisible barrier above his head and bounced away harmlessly. Oh, that's new... He thought vaguely as a smaller chunk of plaster took advantage of his distraction and slammed into his shoulder.

With no time to think about the pain Marcon watched his companions skillfully dodge falling bricks and the swinging blades in the doorways. What!? Swinging blades!? Asked a few neurons in a small corner of his brain. They were quickly shut down by the majority who realized that right now escape was more important than pondering such questions.

Marcon saw himself lift a wooden strut that had recently been part of a nearby wall and jam it into a doorway, stopping the scything blade for a moment so they could crawl through safely.

From the top floor, someone, perhaps the Gith, found a hole that provided them a quick route down into some kind of music room. A large Harpsichord stood near a shattered window. Across the landing smoke poured out of an open door. If they kept going in that direction they might survive being buried alive but would likely burn to death before they could celebrate...

From somewhere deep in his closed mind, an idea came to him. He rummaged in his pack and drew out a loop of rope. Tying one end to the musical instrument he threw the other out the window. "Come on!" He shouted, and lowered himself to the ground.

He felt the fog before he saw it. It burned at his exposed skin. “Err it’s a bit foggy down here guys...” he managed before he collapsed.

His companions joined him on the ground and he saw a number of strangers looking his way. A bit hysterically he quipped: "Everyone is looking at you guys funny," then, admitting it to himself at last : “I feel awful guys. Could do with resting somewhere safe.”

He felt that Clover had asked him something and he tried to focus on her. She seemed to be moving around a lot, so he closed his eyes for a while instead.
 
Carrac finds himself split from the group he was leading through the mountains, and is very lost in an unfamiliar forest. Unable to figure out where he was, he continued to walk, trying to get any kind of bearings. He quietly comes up on a group of humans around a small fire in the middle of the woods. Something seems off, and he hides to observe them for a few moments. He sees that they are cooking meat over the fire, and upon further inspection, realises that the meat is human(oid). He lets out a small gasp, which causes the group to turn and look in his direction. He takes off running, and he sees the people change shape as they began to follow through the forest. Howling and panting could be heard as he sped off as quickly as he could. After a long run, Carrac found himself in a dark village, seemingly not being followed anymore. He finds himself at the front door of the Blood of the Vine Tavern. He finds that the rather distracted barkeep offers him a key as soon as he walks through the door, seeing him panting and clearly tired. He points over his shoulder at a door down a small hallway and grunts, “Go, rest.”

The rest of the group find themselves looking for a place to stay the night, and quickly come upon the same tavern, and the same gruff looking barkeep who immediately offers them a place to stay for the night. Without seeing their guide, they make their way to their rooms and sleep for the night. Carric is the only one who hears the howling and scratching outside the inn during the night and the barkeep piling up furniture in front of the door. It isn’t enough to wake him, but he will be aware of it in the morning.
 
With the icy touch of adrenalin still surging through his veins, Carric drops into an uneasy trance; those familiar mental exercises start to calm him. Pulse slowing he sinks deeper and deeper. Even in his trance he can still hear the wolves.

He wakes early to an overcast day, checking over his weapons before heading to the common room. Not to busy this time of the day, thinks to himself. Taking a seat at the bar, he orders a simple breakfast. "Thank you for last night, without your help they would have had me."
The words hang in the air for a moment before Carric continues, "I don't have much in way of financial compensation, but when I locate my companions you will be suitably rewarded."
Provided they survived the night without me. The thought hangs there as he hears someone else leaving a bedroom.
 
Clover entered the cramped and drafty inn room, singlemindedly focused on committing the mingled knowledge of her childhood magic tutelage with the alien memories of a little human girl to paper.

The sharp quill she pulled from her skin earlier would make a good pen, once the tip was sliced with her razor-sharp pocket knife. One of the thick leather-bound journals rescued from the Durst household earlier would make for a perfect spellbook. Another nick of the knife against the heel of her palm into a now-damaged crystal goblet reclaimed from that home and she had a ready supply of ink.

Several hours later through delerium and sweat and Clover had a passable first spellbook, a sheen of sweat on her brow, and a pallor of blood-loss that she hoped could be remedied with the rations and water in her pack.

It would be many hours of sleep and disturbing dreams later when the elven girl would wake and evacuate the room, ravenous.
 
Jasper walks into his room at the inn and just collapses on the bed. He puts his hands on his face and just lies there, drained and motionless, without marking the time. Eventually Cartwright begins scurrying around in his jacket looking for food, which prompts Jasper to sit up.

He reaches into his pack and pulls out a ration, breaking off some crumbs of hardtack to feed the mouse. When that's done he packs the food back up and nods his head in prayer, letting himself fall into a mindless chant. Intoning the words and letting them pass through his lips without considering the meaning, Jasper finds some solace in the ritualistic gesture as he leans on his faith for comfort. Eventually he lies back and closes his eyes, falling quickly into a dreamless sleep.
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

The morning comes fairly uneventfully, at least compared everything that occurred last night. The first of you to make it downstairs would find the gruff, slightly pudgy barkeeper pushing in a chair at an empty table, before returning to the counter and wiping it down with a dirtied dishrag. Upon noticing that his customers are starting to awaken, he gives a curt nod and disappears past a door behind the bar, only to return a few minutes later with cups of water and a few passable bowls of porridge. "Free," he intones matter-of-factly, placing the meager meal before each person that arrives. "More will cost you."

Though the sun cannot be clearly seen through the windows, hidden behind a thick murk of grey clouds, you get the general sense that it's still somehow early morning at this point. Aside from you all, there's almost no one at the bar or seated amongst the tables; through the windows you can see only a handful of people wandering the streets in whichever direction.

It's quiet and overall there's a hint of hesitation hanging in the air, but for you lot it's a welcome reprieve from the nightmare you're not quite sure how you lived through.

In the far corner, close to a humble fireplace (and the smouldering ashes of last night's fire) sits an older woman surrounded by scattered papers and a cup of steaming tea. She lets out a soft yawn, glancing over at Carric when he speaks. She raises an eyebrow when he mentions that he can't pay, but merely shrugs it off and jots a note down. "I suppose it couldn't be helped that he had to let you in last night," she states, adjusting her spectacles, "but I do believe a good start to your 'reward' would be to pay for the room, if you wouldn't mind." As more people arrive she seems to make a tally, scanning your faces but not recognizing them. "Did you all come last night? Are you together?"
 
Clover walks down the stairs slowly, paler than usual and shaken as she approaches the table nearest the fireplace with awaiting porridge and water.

"We've traveled together so far, though I dare say we're far off from our original course. How much do I owe for the room?"
 
"Speak of the devil," a familiar voice comes from over by the bar. Carrac rises from the bar, bringing his porridge him with him. "Glad to see you made it through the night without me. Judging by the look of you, only by your teeth." As he sits down his voice lowers, "What happened?"
 
Clover coughs into her hand, "I'm probably just coming down with a cold, though... perhaps we should all catch up a little?"
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

The woman at the table looks slightly surprised when Clover and Carric come to sit down at the table, but merely nods and slowly pushes her various papers closer to her into some semblance of a neat stack. "Five raven-claws... or silver pieces, rather, if you're not from around these parts." She seems to look them both up and down a bit as she says that.

When Clover coughs she reaches into a small satchel at her side and pulls out a soft handkerchief, offering it over in her direction. "If you've a bit more currency on your person, Arik over there can fetch you a cup of tea as well, or perhaps some warm food. Warmer than that, at least," she adds, eyeing the drab-looking porridge.
 
"Well I suppose that depends on where here is." He looks around the room, trying to peace things together for himself. None of it belongs in this part of Faerûn. His eyes settling on the barman, "How much for a pot of tea?"
 
Last edited:
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

"One silver, I'll just take it here -- makes it easier on the accounting." She looks over to the bartender with a nod, who then disappears into the back kitchen once more. "You're in Barovia Village, in the nation of Barovia. Confusing of course, but I don't make the rules here." She shrugs, taking another sip of her own cup of tea. "That honor belongs to our sovereign, a certain Strahd von Zarovich."
 
Marcon descended the wooden stairs, grasping the balustrade tightly for support. His wounds had stopped bleeding but he still felt weak, traumatised by yesterday’s escape. He vaguely remembered stumbling towards this inn last night, supported by friends who were only in slightly better shape than he.

At the thought of his companions he caught sight of Clover sitting at one of the tables with a woman he didn’t recognise. A man sat on the other side of her but, no, it wasn’t Jeymus. For a couple of heartbeats he couldn’t place him in this unfamiliar environment, then, as the man spoke and turned his head a certain way, exposing his elven features, recognition sparked. Carrac! How had he forgotten? Was it only yesterday they’d become separated?

Marcon sat down, fished out a gold piece and slid it over to the woman. “For our two rooms.” He said, nodding towards Clover. “Least I can do for all your help yesterday.” And he gave Clover a weak smile.
 
Jasper is the last of his party to rise, walking into the dining room without a word. He nods an acknowledgement at the woman and the others, then sits at the table and focuses on eating the watery porridge.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)

Similar threads

Brianne13
ISO of RP Partner
Replies
2
Views
315
Brianne13
Brianne13
Back
Top