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Bronria has to stop for breath. Rather than focusing on the long-dead bodies in the hidden room, she busies herself by fetching a chair to prop the bookcase. Then, moving into the room properly, she takes great pains to examine the chest for dormant traps before drawing close. She examines the chest's contents first, still reluctant to pay attention to the corpses.

What she turns up makes her eyes go wide. A trio of nicely bound, empty books, three obviously arcane scrolls, a deed to a windmill bearing the signatures of Gustav and Elizabeth Durst, and a pair of envelopes bearing different seals. Bronria breaks the one that depicts a windmill and scans it. "A will," she murmurs, eyes locked on the page. "It states that the Dursts, Gustav and Elizabeth, will relinquish all their worldly belongings to their children, Rosavalda and Thornbaldt." Stopping herself from speculating out loud at the significance of it, she lays the will down on top of the chest for the others to read as she moves on to the second envelope.

The seal on this one is distinctive. Perhaps it belongs to a noble house? Bronria closes her eyes in silent apology for a moment before carefully opening it and retrieving the letter. She reads it aloud:

"My most pathetic servant,
I am not a messiah sent to you by the Dark Powers of this land. I have not come to lead you on a path to immortality. However many souls you have bled on your hidden altar, however many visitors you have tortured in your dungeon, know that you are not the ones who brought me to this beautiful land. You are but worms writhing in my earth.
You say that you are cursed, your fortunes spent. You abandoned love for madness, took solace in the bosom of another woman, and sired a stillborn son. Cursed by darkness? Of that I have no doubt. Save you from your wretchedness? I think not. I much prefer you as you are.
Your dread lord and master,
Strahd van Zarovich"

More than confused, she lays it down next to the will and turns to the rest of the room, intent on distracting herself by examining the hidden library. But the books that she uncovers shock her just as much as the letter: their authors write of demon-summoning, blood sacrifices, and other things too awful to go on reading about. Grinding her teeth, she takes an armload of books and almost shoves them at the wizards. "See what you can make of these," she says, eyes flicking to the corpses on the floor. "We were right to be suspicious about this house."
 
"Most assuredly. I can't decide if I'm more or less worried about the children outside now." Kellen takes the books that Bronria hands him. He scans them, seeking for some magic within these tomes claiming to be of great evil magic.

"Pah! These are theatre. Smoke and mirrors and nothing else." He tosses them on the floor, going to join Abalister in examining the scrolls from the chest.
 
A flicker of shock registered on the scholar's face as, before he had a chance to peruse the books on the shelf, Bronria inadvertently triggered a switch revealing a hidden door behind. Her quick thinking ensured their exit once completed and Abalister be turned his attention to the secret room.

Things long dead did not register with him nearly as much as the volumes of tomes on the bookshelves within. Hearing the woman vaguely, he reached a hand out, fingertips brushing against the forgotten spines of these books. Taking a few at random, he came to the same conclusion as Kellen had voiced. "Faux inte-te-tellectuals and wanna-be summoners," he murmurs. This could have potentially been much worse, he muses, knowing the high stakes game of summoning could have dire consequences for entire regions of the realm.

He is a bit shocked as scrolls and books are shoved at the pair, but he accepts his role within the group and gets to examining the scrolls. He studies the arcanic runes and diagrams inscribed and deduced their divine origins. Handy, he posits before flipping one of the scrolls towards Kellen while stowing two away into the interior folds of his overcoat. "That is a s.....croll of blessing," he informs his counterpart.
 
Despite herself, Bronria finds herself drawn back to the bookshelves. Her normally dour expression grows even darker as she skims through the tomes.

Finally she seems to have sated her morbid curiosity. Closing another heavy book with an uncomfortably loud snap, she clears her throat and turns back to the others. "So. It appears that the Dursts — or perhaps their predecessors, or others close to them — were demon-worshippers. I cannot say how this von Zarovich fits into the broader picture, though evidently they exerted some influence over these villains."

Realising that her fingers are twitching again, she tucks her hands behind her back. "Frankly, I would like to continue scouring this house as quickly as possible and then take our leave of it. Whether or not those children have vanished as you say, gnome, this place evidently hides something sinister that we ought to bring to light." Her gaze strays to the long-dead men on the floor before returning to her companions. "There is still the similarly-decorated door on the other side of the hall that we have yet to investigate," she recalls.
 
Kellen peruses the scroll handed to him. "Thank you" he says, sliding it into the side pocket of his pack. "it is good to have a blessing in this place of darkness"

"I do wish to see what other secrets this place might hold - it seems the occupants may no longer be with us... and perhaps learning more of this place - this plane - might help us learn the whereabouts of the werewolves. Perhaps this von....von Zar... person holds sway over them as well."

As he turns back towards the trap door he notes a couple untitled books still in the chest. He grabs them, notes they are empty - perhaps some future fake summoning tomes - and pockets them. The binding was rather pleasant.
 
The gnome's words make Bronria pause. She nods her head slowly. "You may be right. If we can, we will have to interrogate one of the werewolves once we have caught up with them." Feeling the weight of the many tasks ahead bearing down on her, she straightens up and moves back to the entrance of the secret room, quickly regaining her stride. "To the next room, then."
 
The moment of discovery past, the scholar feels his chest tighten once again as his companions discuss their current predicament. We're wolves and shadowy lords were the things of fiction, and fiction was well outside of his wheelhouse. He blows a sigh, his hand resting on one of the many pouches about his person holding spell compartments before squaring up to the secret door. "Lead on," he responds grimly.
 
Pushing open the door, you see that this room appears to be a conservatoire. Gossamer drapes cover the windows of this elegantly appointed hall, which has a brass-plated chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Upholstered chairs line the walls, and stained-glass wall hangings depict beautiful men, women, and children singing and playing instruments. A harpsichord with a bench rests in the northwest corner. Near the fireplace is a large standing harp, and alabaster figurines of well-dressed dancers adorn the mantelpiece.
 
A music room. Bronria no longer wastes any time; after taking stock of the room and making sure they're alone, she immediately sets off to start checking the room for malignant secrets. She turns up very little, though she looks suspiciously at both of the instruments and raps her knuckles against each panel of the walls. Towards the end of her search she finally makes a minor discovery as she toys with the alabaster figurines. Rolling one between her fingers, she discovers that it isn't in the likeness of a human, but a skeleton. And so is another, and another.

"How terribly macabre," she says dryly, setting the figure in her hand back on the mantelpiece. "It seems we are done here. On to the next floor." She turns on her heel and strides back toward the door.
 
Abalister watches as the warrior takes point, inspecting the minutia of the room for Mystra knows what. She points out the skeletal figurines and the scholar offers a shrug of his shoulder, commenting, "Seems to be th-the ssssstandard theme..."
 
Climbing the curving marble staircase, you finally reach the top. You are now standing in a large hall, similar to the ones on the previous floors. However, unlike previously, this floor looks to be much more in line with the outside of the house. The wooden walls are cracked and splintered. The floor is scuffed, and the paint is peeling. Standing against the back wall, a suit of plate armour, battered and tarnished with age. Unlit oil lamps are mounted on the oak-paneled walls, which are carved with woodland scenes of trees, falling leaves, and tiny critters, and a thick layer of dust and cobwebs lies across everything.
Two doors sit in the wall to your right, one sits in the wall to your left, and a fourth is set into the back wall, beside the old, dented armour.
 
The sudden change in decor threw Bronria off her stride. Redoubling her grip on her shield, she began to pace about the hall just as she had on the lower floors, tapping at the walls and scuffing her feet deliberately on the floor. It all seemed liable to fall apart at the slightest touch, but at least that was conducive to an easier search. The squire frowned at the walls' benign, pastoral carvings, hardly even surprised when a closer inspection revealed images of hanged corpses among the trees. "It seems we are almost finished here," she said, roughly tugging at the last of the mounted oil lamps before crossing over to the suit of armour. "I will be happy to see the back of this --"

She broke off with a gasp as the suit swung a clenched fist for her throat. She barely had time to interpose her shield -- Lady Beryl's shield -- before it made impact, crunching into the thick wood and almost knocking her down. Stumbling back, Bronria planted her feet and drew her sword, regarding the statue with wide eyes. It was still moving. "Gods," she whispered.

Without any time to think, she lunged forwards and brought her sword around in a wide swing, crashing into the side of the thing's rusted helmet. The blow was forceful enough to take the entire helmet off the armour's torso, setting Bronria's spirit soaring, only to sink again as the armour continued to advance on her. Ignoring the shuddering ache in her sword arm, she hefted her shield once again. "Stay back!" she called to her companions, not risking a glance behind her to see how they were faring.
 
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The attack seemed to happen so fast as the suit of armor sprung to life with a lunging blow that was deflected by the squire's shield. Surprising himself, muscle memory took over as a book from the depths of his Mind Palace appeared before his mind's eye, his fingers instinctively tracing an arcane rune in the air before him as he utters, "congelationis."

His attention turning back to the scene before him, Abalister was pleased to see a layer of frost quickly spreading over the animated armor.
 
As they come to the highest level, Kellen is distracted by the change in decor of the house. He begins to think they have gone from illusion to illusion. Is this the real house?

He's looking back down the stairs they came up when he hears a loud clang and scrape. He turns around in time to see Bronria knocking the head off of a suit of armor.

"Why in the world are you...." he begins, before noticing that the suit is readying a second blow of it's own.

As Abalister mutters an incantation, he shouts "Gurtha Mapa!" and a skeletal hand scrapes across the armor - to, seemingly, no effect.
 
Ordienna, who has definitely been here the entire time, throws a dagger at the armour, which glances harmlessly off the metal. She follows it up by calling out to Bronria.
"Nice hit. Keep it up."

The now headless suit of armour seems unperturbed by the incoming barrage of attacks. It swings one fist, slowed by the cold, which is easily deflected by Bronria. However, it manages to shrug off the frost as the second fist swings up, scoring a glancing blow against the soldier in front of it.
 
The musician's words ringing in her ears, Bronria does her best to weather the flurry of punches that the armour begins to launch. It has a slow start, its joints creaking under the cover of the scholar's ice, but even as she deflects the first blow she leaves herself open to the second, which catches the side of her jaw and almost stuns her outright. Biting through the pain, she launches a quick counterattack, feeling herself somehow buoyed up by the strange woman's encouragement. The burst of energy is enough to slip past the armour's guard and rend its torso open, but the diabolical thing continues its assault without slowing.
 
Seeing the crease torn into the torso of the armor by the warrior woman, a different cantrip pushes itself to the scholar's subconscious. Furrowing his brow with concentration, sweat beading on his upper lip with the mental exertion, Abalister uses one hand to trace another rune in the air as he spits out, "fulmen ignem!"

As he does, a mote of fire forms in his other palm, which he hurls at the armor. The flame gains mass as it crosses the distance, slamming into the torn armor and pushing inside. Fire dances within the armor, flames licking around the edges of it's headless neck hole before it collapses into a heap of heated metal.
 
Even after the armour collapses in a twisted pile, Bronria remains in her combat stance, blood pounding in her ears as she waits for the next attack to come. Then, once she realises that the thing's movements have ceased altogether, her shoulders sag.

She glances over her shoulder at the scholar, actually smiling. "Thank you. That was fine work." She carefully slides her sword back into its sheath before kneeling in front of the charred mass of metal. With her mailed hands she peels back the armour's torn edges and begins to hesitantly explore the interior, limb by limb. But nothing significant reveals itself to her, untrained as she is in the arcane. Perhaps she only searched it because she's got into a habit.

"It occurs to me that I never learned your names," she says eventually, glancing up at the scholar and the gnome.
 
As Bronria searches the scorched remains, Abalister sucks in a breath through his teeth. Unused to bending the weave to his will in actual combat, the exertion had started a dull throb in his head. The scholar raises a hand to his head, fingers massaging his brow while his thumb soothes his temple. The ache dissipated as quickly as it reared its ugly head, however and by the time the warrior woman addressed them, it was gone.

"Ahh... Abalister Schnell, ma'am. Hopefully I c-can be m-m-more than dead weight," he responds meekly.
 
Kellen stairs into the distance, thoughtful, "Hmm, it seems that I need to take some lessons from you.. My own attempts to help were, well, less than helpful."

He looks up at the woman and says "A pleasure Bronria, m'name's Kellen"

"I noticed you were examining the body - and there was nothing inside. I've heard of animated objects like this - they aren't common, but they are apparently not too difficult to create. For someone with practice, of course." he ends with a small shrug.
 
The scholar looks towards his companion for a long moment before offering a weak smile, retorting, "I am s-sure you willllll fare better n-next time. Mayhaps it is y-your selection of sp-p-pells is an issue. Or ttttttttechnique. Practisss makes perfect..." with a shrug.
 
Unsure how to comment on the gnome's spellcasting technique, Bronria shrugs. "In any case. Kellen, Abalister, Ordienna. We should keep moving." With their brief moment of camaraderie apparently finished, she heads for the first door on the right from the stairs. "I suggest we proceed anti-clockwise, and keep careful watch for any more of these 'animated objects' as we go," she says, checking and re-checking the strap on her shield.
 
The double doors to this room have dusty panes of stained glass set into them. Designs in the glass resemble windmills. The room beyond is a dusty, cobweb-filled master bedroom. It has burgundy drapes covering the windows. Furnishings include a four-poster bed with embroidered curtains and tattered gossamer veils, a matching pair of empty wardrobes, a vanity with a wood-framed mirror and jewelry box, and a padded chair. A rotting tiger-skin rug lies on the floor in front of the fireplace, which has a dust-covered portrait of Gustav and Elisabeth Durst hanging above it. A web-filled parlor in the southwest corner contains a table and two chairs. Resting on the dusty tablecloth is an empty porcelain bowl and a matching jug. A door facing the foot of the bed has a full-length mirror mounted on it, and hangs open to reveal an empty, dust-choked closet. A cracked glass door in the parlor leads to an outside balcony. You can see the balcony and metal railing through the dirty glass, but beyond that, an impenetrable wall of mist blocks your view.
 
Bronria prowls the room with shield raised and one hand on the hilt of her sword. Despite the number of items in the room that might have come to life and attacked her, however, her search turns up nothing monumental. All that stands out from the rest is the dust-covered jewellery box and its contents: three simple gold rings and a platinum necklace bearing an amber stone at the throat.

Remembering the silver dragon pendant from before, Bronria touches it where it hangs at her neck. "If Gustav and Elizabeth Durst are dead, then their valuables pass to their children as per their will," she says out loud, as if the other members of the group might have forgotten. "We will deliver them once our business here is concluded." With that she finds a pocket of her bag to hold the jewellery box and turns to survey the rest of the room. "Now, then. The next room?"
 
Kellen's curiosity at Bronria's new collection of jewellery is satiated with her explanation. "That is very thoughtful of you, I can't help but feel like we've been going the wrong way this whole time to deal with the monster in the basement. But yes! Onto the next room!"

He is still standing at the doorway to this room, having let the armoured big 'un go first in case there were more enemies within. He turns and mutters, with an arcane twist to his wrist "Cam templa".

A spectral version of his hand, extends out to open the next door set into this wall.
 
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