Post by Kaber on Aug 26, 2007 9:47:21 GMT -5
Here we will continue our side adventure in Ravenloft. Remember to wait until everyone has posted their actions. We will wait three days at the latest for everyone to post.
RECAP:
As the town of Mirkist was set upon by the small army of Ogres and such, a bank of fog rolls in to completely obscure the town and the advancing army. When the mists clear, there is no sign of the army. Upon questioning the members of the city council next to you, you find that they no longer remember a castle or the dwarven boar riders. They know only of a house on the mountain side called....The House of Lament.
Using your planar knowledge you have deduced that you are no longer in your own world and that foul magic has transported you to a place of darkness and fear. Tales of these mists have been used here and there to scare young children but one among you had a teacher who ventured to just such a place ...he barely escaped with his life.
And so you set off, knowing that even before these mists were known this town was cursed. Misplaced out of time. Perhaps the House of Lament holds the answers you seek but the towns people are loath to speak of that house.
Gisgard summons a raven and commands it to scout but it only perches nearby, cawing at the party. He summons another thinking his spell has gone awry but instead of the first disappearing with the arrival of the second, two ravens now sit cawing. Their raucous laughter grates on his nerves and unsettles the party.
...................
The sky is leadened gray with a blanket of angry looking clouds. The air is heavy and the moist coldness of late autumn hangs on the trees in the form of red/orange leaves that flutter back and forth like old parchment in the stirring breeze and sinks into the bones, making joints stiff.
3/4 of a mile beyond the small city, a rutted toad rises up along the mountain side. A single stone tower is visible. between the rocky slopes. At the end of this road a high, thick stone wall broken by a rusted, wrought Iron, double gate marks the boundaries of the house. Though aged over centuries the gate still functions. A stylized D has been welded between the bars and the family crest ( a dagger behind a shield) is displayed at the gates center. Dead vines cling to the bars and as the party opens the gate they crack like old bones. The gates squeal in protest.
As the party pushes through they see a mote filled with black, brackish water and decaying leaves, encircles the wall on the inner side. Beyond that is a narrow yard where black, leafless oaks stand guard over a tangled ground.
From the yard you can see the house itself. It is built from cut stone with a round tower at the corner. Tall windows stare down from the second floor of the house. A wind blows and the crows caw. Daring you to enter. Aramil spies a door close on the front porch and mentions so to the party.
And so it is that the party ventures forth, to enter the house and
seek audience with those that dwell within. Little do they know....
The party steps up on the rickety porch and trying the thick oaken door finds it latched. They open it and enter in the foyer, two stories high. A chandelier fully ten feet across is hanging overhead. A black canvas stair curving stair with heavy rail winds to the second floor. The spindles of the the staircase are stout, carved to look like wood nymphs, but the faces are hideous. Near the ceiling, on the outer wall, is a tall, narrow Gothic window with crimson panes that bleed a very dim, red light into the room. A huge painting of a man in fine clothes, rests against the wall on the right. A door next to it mirrors the stained oak door directly across from it on the opposite wall.
Seamus casts continual light on the chandelier, illuminating the staircase and its carvings as well as the painting.
Gizgard examines the painting. Cleaning away the years of dust to make out a name, pricking his finger on a splinter of wood in the process. Lord Dranzorg. The name is etched on the fine wood frame, black as the floors with the centuries of aging.
The party jumps at a sudden rapping and raucous laughter from the Ravens outside as Toth examines the door to the right. Finding it opens easily he enters. Continual light cast in a dagger. The room beyond is dark but for the faint light smeared through the grim encrusted windows. There is a velvet cushioned Love seat and matching chairs, caked with layers of dust and three portraits hang on the walls here. One, larger than the others shows a warped and aged canvas with the image of a woman. Toth examines it and also pricks his finger on a molding nail.
In the foyer, seamus, finding himself unable to except the strange turn of events, notices a cool breeze that seems to pass through the house. A sigh that gently loosens dust webs and stirs the dust on the floors. The portrait of Dranzorg seems refreshed, newer. The stains of the centuries seem to recede, the edges of the frame seem to shine a touch.
Toth finds no name on the first portrait and examines the other two. Each showing a man, one in middle age, wearing finery. A bit chubby with shifty eyes. The second an older man. He has the look of a baron about him. A military stare with short hair grey hair, clean shaven and a stern face. A door across the room leads to the next.
And so we continue with this early Halloween special. The House Of Lament.......
RECAP:
As the town of Mirkist was set upon by the small army of Ogres and such, a bank of fog rolls in to completely obscure the town and the advancing army. When the mists clear, there is no sign of the army. Upon questioning the members of the city council next to you, you find that they no longer remember a castle or the dwarven boar riders. They know only of a house on the mountain side called....The House of Lament.
Using your planar knowledge you have deduced that you are no longer in your own world and that foul magic has transported you to a place of darkness and fear. Tales of these mists have been used here and there to scare young children but one among you had a teacher who ventured to just such a place ...he barely escaped with his life.
And so you set off, knowing that even before these mists were known this town was cursed. Misplaced out of time. Perhaps the House of Lament holds the answers you seek but the towns people are loath to speak of that house.
Gisgard summons a raven and commands it to scout but it only perches nearby, cawing at the party. He summons another thinking his spell has gone awry but instead of the first disappearing with the arrival of the second, two ravens now sit cawing. Their raucous laughter grates on his nerves and unsettles the party.
...................
The sky is leadened gray with a blanket of angry looking clouds. The air is heavy and the moist coldness of late autumn hangs on the trees in the form of red/orange leaves that flutter back and forth like old parchment in the stirring breeze and sinks into the bones, making joints stiff.
3/4 of a mile beyond the small city, a rutted toad rises up along the mountain side. A single stone tower is visible. between the rocky slopes. At the end of this road a high, thick stone wall broken by a rusted, wrought Iron, double gate marks the boundaries of the house. Though aged over centuries the gate still functions. A stylized D has been welded between the bars and the family crest ( a dagger behind a shield) is displayed at the gates center. Dead vines cling to the bars and as the party opens the gate they crack like old bones. The gates squeal in protest.
As the party pushes through they see a mote filled with black, brackish water and decaying leaves, encircles the wall on the inner side. Beyond that is a narrow yard where black, leafless oaks stand guard over a tangled ground.
From the yard you can see the house itself. It is built from cut stone with a round tower at the corner. Tall windows stare down from the second floor of the house. A wind blows and the crows caw. Daring you to enter. Aramil spies a door close on the front porch and mentions so to the party.
And so it is that the party ventures forth, to enter the house and
seek audience with those that dwell within. Little do they know....
The party steps up on the rickety porch and trying the thick oaken door finds it latched. They open it and enter in the foyer, two stories high. A chandelier fully ten feet across is hanging overhead. A black canvas stair curving stair with heavy rail winds to the second floor. The spindles of the the staircase are stout, carved to look like wood nymphs, but the faces are hideous. Near the ceiling, on the outer wall, is a tall, narrow Gothic window with crimson panes that bleed a very dim, red light into the room. A huge painting of a man in fine clothes, rests against the wall on the right. A door next to it mirrors the stained oak door directly across from it on the opposite wall.
Seamus casts continual light on the chandelier, illuminating the staircase and its carvings as well as the painting.
Gizgard examines the painting. Cleaning away the years of dust to make out a name, pricking his finger on a splinter of wood in the process. Lord Dranzorg. The name is etched on the fine wood frame, black as the floors with the centuries of aging.
The party jumps at a sudden rapping and raucous laughter from the Ravens outside as Toth examines the door to the right. Finding it opens easily he enters. Continual light cast in a dagger. The room beyond is dark but for the faint light smeared through the grim encrusted windows. There is a velvet cushioned Love seat and matching chairs, caked with layers of dust and three portraits hang on the walls here. One, larger than the others shows a warped and aged canvas with the image of a woman. Toth examines it and also pricks his finger on a molding nail.
In the foyer, seamus, finding himself unable to except the strange turn of events, notices a cool breeze that seems to pass through the house. A sigh that gently loosens dust webs and stirs the dust on the floors. The portrait of Dranzorg seems refreshed, newer. The stains of the centuries seem to recede, the edges of the frame seem to shine a touch.
Toth finds no name on the first portrait and examines the other two. Each showing a man, one in middle age, wearing finery. A bit chubby with shifty eyes. The second an older man. He has the look of a baron about him. A military stare with short hair grey hair, clean shaven and a stern face. A door across the room leads to the next.
And so we continue with this early Halloween special. The House Of Lament.......
