Shadows of Malboria (The Chronicle of Kurgish -updtd 11/09/05)

[Sir Brennen]

April 19th 998 (morning)

On the way to breakfast, we had a brief talk about Bernardino's sword, which was still in the possession of Marcus. Even though Brother Bernardino won't have any further use for it, we agreed it best not to just assume we could simply claim it, and decided to discuss it with the Abbott at an appropriate time.

In the dining hall, we sat with the brothers, and asked about the monastery's plans for the spot revealed in Able's vision. Brother Anselm said they were going to start digging the well right away. We told him we would be glad to assist, especially Barrik and I, as our experience would be valuable for a digging operation. In an overseer capacity, Barrick emphasized. The Abbott graciously accepted.

There were a few other things to take care of first that day, notably the burials of Able and the victims of his revenant. I observed from a distance, saying a few prayers of my own for them on their journey through Shadow.

Meanwhile, Marcus had returned to the scriptorium, looking for any information on the structure that once stood on the spot the well was to be dug. He found a simple map, indicating a few out buildings that once existed around the compound, but no indication as to their function.

Once we had everyone at the dig site, we tried to decide what to do with the rose bush, since it did seem significant. Transplanting it to Brother Able's former grave down by the road seemed to be the most appropriate solution.

The excavation of the well started a little before noon, but after a few feet, the diggers encountered a wood structure, perhaps the planks of a floor. Barrick jumped down and pried up the wood. Peering down, he saw a high ceiling room, filled with boxes and crates. Setting up a tripod over the hole, we attached a rope and all went down to investigate. The boxes were full of books. After flipping through a few of the titles, Marcus commented that almost all of these were important works of one kind or another. Nothing of any real value was in the scriptorium, so we surmised that the members of the order who had stayed behind before the brigand attack twenty years before must have hidden the most prized books here.

We spent the rest of the day hauling up the tomes with the monks and moving them back to the scriptorium. Once we had most of them there, we began searching through the boxes for Vittorio Matteao's journals. Charlotte came across them, including one which had information on the clocks and who he had given them too.

The first clock had been sent to someone named Navarro, head master of the wizard's academy at the time. This was the clock that we had delivered for Handel.

The second clock was given to a wizard called Treben, living in the town of Harta, and the third timepiece was sent to a Lord Griffin Maltus. The name was unfamiliar to us, but one of the monks said he knew of a Viscount Stephen Maltus, living here in the Barony of Streibech, in a town called Elmvale.

Nowhere in the journal was there any indication that the clocks did anything more than tell time.

At dinner we asked the Abbott if we could borrow the journal with the information on the clocks. We explained our current situation, and that forces of Shadow might be seeking information as well, so it might be best that he keep the discovery of the books quiet, at least for a while. Brother Anselm agreed to loan us the book.

Marcus finally brought up the return of Bernardino's sword, using that human subtlety again to imply we wouldn't mind keeping it. Abbott Anselm kindly offered it to us, acting as if it were his idea, as a token of the monastery's appreciation for our efforts. In addition, he went to his office and retrieved several magical elixirs, mostly of a healing nature, which he generously made part of our payment.

For the morning, we made plans to return to Stonehearth and talk to our new friends at the Boar's Tusk. Hopefully they would have a better idea which of the two locations would be our best bet to find the remaining clock.

 

[Sir Brennen]

April 22nd 998

We walked into the Boar's Tusk by mid-afternoon, stamping the road dust off of our boots. We indicated to the inn keeper that we were here to talk to Chelton or Marquetta, and settled into the bar area to wait. Finally we ended up ordering dinner, and shortly afterward, Chelton walked in and invited us into a private dining room in the back. I grabbed my plate as we followed him.

After showing him the journal, he was of the opinion that the remaining clock was much more likely in the possession of Lord Maltus. So Elmvale would be our next stop.

We also asked Chelton if he could work a little magic on the sword we had picked up, to determine to what extent it was enchanted. He agreed, telling us he would let us know in the morning.

 

[Sir Brennen]

April 23rd 998

Chelton has informed us that Bernardino's sword had a "minor magical aura" about it, nothing terribly special. Nonetheless, Father Al was able to find a buyer for it that day, getting fourteen hundred gold coins in exchange. I suddenly realized that, even though the problems at the monastery really had little to do with our current job, and nothing to do with the Shadow elves as I had feared, a little bit of helping out someone on the side had brought us in a tidy sum of coin. This adventuring company idea was already working out better than I had hoped!

With our newfound wealth, we took the beginning portion of the afternoon to buy more supplies and upgrade equipment. I'd been working more with my urgrosh, and decided that I could wield it more effectively without a shield strapped on my arm, so I ditched that. I did, however, find a very well made chain shirt to replace my worn studded leather.

Barrick and I had discussed making a few pieces of armor and weapons ourselves, but decided it would take too long for our current assignment. However, in case the opportunity present itself later, I went ahead and purchased a set of smithy tools worthy of a master craftsman.

Once we had all joined back up, we determined there was enough daylight left to begin our journey. With our faithful pony, which Barrick had named "Bob", in tow, we headed out of town eastward.

 

[Sir Brennen]

April 24th 998

[Session 4 Feb 6th '05]
We reached the limits of Elmvale just a bit past noon. The town appeared small, perhaps five hundred or so, if you included the farmhouses we past scattered along the way. There was no defensive wall, and we came in by the north road unchallenged.

Leading Bob the pony down the center of town, a large sign hanging prominently over the steps of a squat building caught our eyes. A dog and rabbit chasing each other in an endless circle were painted on it, with a stein and plate of something I guess was suppose to be food depicted in the middle. Figuring this local tavern would be the best place to feel out the locals about the Viscount Stephen Maltus who might have our clock, we headed over.

A burly looking human walked out of the building rather quickly. His manner was such that we paused a moment to see if something might be going on. Charlotte recognized the barred shield symbol on the man's tabard, and whispered to us that it was the crest of the Baron Streibech, though she did not think it was the baron himself. He was starting to cross the street with long strides when the tavern door swung open again and another man, this one a bit of a dandy, came running out.

"Wait!" he yelled after the bigger man.

The baron's man stopped besides a horse tethered opposite the tavern. "I'm just the messenger, Lord Blaine," he said, hoisting himself into his saddle. "Any further discussion, you'll have to take it up with the Baron."

The other man kept right on talking. "I know what this is about.” He held his fancy hat in his hand as if he were begging for coins. "But I swear I didn't know it was his daughter!"

This caused a sour look to pass over the mounted man's face. "Like I said, you'll have to take it up with the Baron. He'll be expecting you, day after next." With that, he spurred his horse like he couldn't get away from the dandy fast enough.

Sensing an opening that I apparently must have missed, Father Al sauntered up to the man, who was still standing there, staring into his hat. Seeming at a loss for a conversation starter, Al asked for directions to the local tavern. Glaring at him, the fop said, "You're standing in front of it. The Hound and Hare." With that he stormed past the priest and back into the establishment.

Father Al looked at us and shrugged his shoulders, and we all headed inside.

It looked like several farmers and business owners were taking an early afternoon break, because the place was pretty packed. Lord Blaine was seated at the bar, head down on the counter, an empty shot glass in front of him. Determined, Father Al took a seat next to him. Charlotte and Marcus wove between the tables, greeting people as they passed, trying to chat up the locals. Barrick and I sat down at the first empty table we could find, and ordered lunch. After being on the road all morning, talk could wait.

Glancing up to the bar, I could see Father Al was getting nothing but terse responses from the dandy, who had knocked back a couple more whiskeys during the conversation. After it looked like he wasn't going to get anything more from him, Al turned to the bartender and asked, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear, I suppose, if he knew where we might find the Viscount Maltus. The barkeep seemed to just shake his head, and turned back to arranging the bottles behind the bar.

The silk-shirted Lord Blaine, fairly stable despite the whiskies, got off his barstool and sat down with at a nearby table with some of the locals. The rest of our fellow travelers joined our table just as the barmaid was bringing the second half of our chicken, with extra boiled potatoes. Father Al sat down first, telling us he struck out twice in trying to get any information.

As the siblings approached, Charlotte leaned over and asked our priest "So, how did your conversation with the Viscount go?" Al looked at her in surprise then clapped his hand to his forehead. It seems, Charlotte and Marcus had found, that Stephen Maltus had passed away recently, and Blaine was his heir. Hopefully Father Al hadn't blown it for us already with his subtlety.

Once everyone was seated, we finished our meal while watching Blaine work the room himself. He was asking, almost begging, for help with something, but each table he spoke with good-naturedly turned him down. Eventually he walked back up to the bar and dejectedly ordered another whiskey.

Charlotte glanced over at Father Al again and said, "Let me try." She walked up to the bar and gingerly eased onto the stool next to Blaine. At first it looked like she was getting the same cold shoulder as Father Al, but her continued conversation must have hit something, because he finally spared a glance back at us as if considering his options. Barrick saluted with his stein.

Finally, Blaine let Charlotte lead him by the arm over to our table. Gotta give her credit; she wasn't nearly as smug as she coulda been about finally getting the guy over to meet us. I, on the other hand, still wasn't sure that getting involved with this guy's problems, his sleeping with the wrong woman, was something we were in a position to help out with. But then he told us his story.

When his father died, Blaine, of course, inherited his holdings. In human custom, such gains are subject to taxes it seems, though traditionally a fair amount of time is given to pay up. Our friend here wasn't on the best terms with the Baron, however, and he had until the day after next to make good on the taxes.

Blaine did not have that kind of money on hand, but he had a plan. Seems that the Maltus' family had another piece of property outside of town that had been abandoned a couple hundred years ago. At that time there had been some sort of tragedy and everyone on the grounds had been killed. The house had been given up on as being haunted.

However, there was a persistent rumor of a vault hidden somewhere on the grounds, magical in nature, which contained the family fortune. At mention of this, Barrick and I exchanged knowing glances. Over the years adventurous individuals had gone in search of the vault. Some had been frightened away; many simply did not return.

Blaine had taken a few friends with him to the old manor about a week ago. As they approached, they spotted a figure in the window of the second floor, illuminated by a candle it was carrying. They went into the house, heading upstairs first to investigate. There was a room with a message scrawled in fresh blood - "I shall not rest until all my kin rest with me" - but no sign of anyone in the rooms.

They could hear that something spooked their horses outside. One of his friends headed downstairs to investigate, and from the great room below, they heard him scream. Rushing to the spot, Blaine's friend was gone, but another message was left, reading "Soon, dear cousin, I come for you." The group retreated from the house, and he had not been able to get anyone else to go back with him since.

Barrick immediately jumped into the business portion of our meeting, negotiating for any "loose" items in the house Blaine did not declare family heirlooms, plus ten percent of whatever was in the vault. The Viscount seemed a little uncertain, particularly since he didn't appear to know exactly what was in the vault, but finally agreed.

We only had a few hours before dark, and the haunted estate was a good ten miles away. Though time was pressing, we decided against trying to explore the manor at night. Travelling most of the distance and camping off the grounds tonight would save us some travel time, though. Before we left, however, Father Al wanted to visit the local One Church and see if he could get some magical scrolls that might be useful.

There was a small chapel to the new god in Elmvale. It was tended by a priest so old that I would be surprised if he knew which way to face when he oversaw services. Father Gregory, as he was called, seemed a little confused by Al's request initially, but finally rummaged through his desk and came up with everything Al had asked for. For a suitable donation, of course, which Barrick and I dipped into our pockets to provide.

We met up with Lord Blaine, who had changed into a respectable looking set of chainmail, surprising us a bit. He had not brought a horse, he explained, since we were not mounted, and also the last time their horses had all been scared off. We still towed Bob along with our gear, anyway.

As we began trekking out across the country with the couple of hours of daylight we had left, it began to rain. Sometime after sunset, we came within sight of the estate; a two-story wooden structure with a low wall and collection of out buildings in the back. A tower rose another level off the northwest corner. We found some trees to shelter us from the worst of the rain, and made camp.

Sometime in the night, Father Al was rousing me for my watch, but as I bleary looked around to see who was up and who was still sleeping, I grumbled that it was Barrick and Charlotte's watch next, and laid back down. I could hear some discussion between Father Al and Blaine about waking up Barrick, and cracked my eyes open to watch as our employer, gently shaking my fellow dwarf awake, was rewarded with a crack in the nose. I opened my eyes a little wider, as Barrick gruffly mumbled something passing for an apology, explaining he had told the priest he had better not wake him again. Earlier that evening, Father Al had done so to let Barrick know that he had seen a light in the upper story of the manor. Apparently Barrick hadn't been too impressed.

Chuckling a little to myself, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

 

[Sir Brennen]

April 25th 998

Since I was on the last watch, I was already up as the sun rose somewhere behind the gray clouds. Over breakfast Father Al studied the scrolls we bought, saying a prayer which I think might have had a little divine power behind it.

We broke camp and made sure Bob was fastened securely, then worked our way up the western slope to reach the more level road on the north. Looking over the estate, Charlotte asked Lord Blaine where the vault was supposedly rumored to be. "You're starting to sound like the dwarves," Marcus groused, which earned him an icy stare and then a quick slap from his sister. I'm not sure what the problem was; I had been thinking the same thing. It was, after all, why we were here.

Oh, and the clock. Almost forgot.

Before we entered the front, I looked around carefully to see if there was evidence of anyone else moving around the building recently. Nothing showed in the soft mud. Unfortunately, the windows were too high off the ground to peek inside before we went in.

Coming into the foyer, we agreed to search the lower floor first, beginning with the west end of the house. We made our way through a couple of dusty rooms, one that appeared to have been a makeshift barracks, and then bashed our way into the base of the tower. While the stairs in there seemed to draw us, we stayed our course, checking out a series of servants quarters.

Barrick, who had been in the front kicking in doors as we proceeded, slowed us down at one point, as he thought he heard something in what turned out to be the kitchen. It was nothing but mice, apparently, and we also found a pantry and stairs down to what we assumed was a cellar.

From there, we headed into the dining room, which had its ceiling open up to the second story, and a balcony situated around it. I was still in the back in the kitchen, but Barrick saw something above us, and ran to the stairs leading to the balcony. There were a couple of shouts for him to stop, then humans quickly overtook his short dwarven legs. By the time I entered the room, there was nothing to see. The ghost, as everyone called her, seemed to have fled down a side hallway.

Overlooking the dining room were several life-size, full-length portraits, and when I asked what everyone had seen, I was told it was a pale girl in a white dress, standing in front of a portrait of herself. I thought for a moment that perhaps the painting itself, briefly lit by a stray shaft of sunlight, was what Barrick had seen, but after our encounter at the monastery, I held my peace.

The name on the girl's picture was Regine. Curiously, the paintings to either side had be slashed beyond recognition, but they carried the names Rebecca and Reveri on small brass plates attached to the frames.

Determined to finish investigating the ground floor first, we uncovered a weapons room next, probably for those in the barracks, and a spiral staircase descending "to the horrors beneath", as Father Al put it. After that, we moved into the greatroom, with a raised dais opposite the large double doors through which we entered, and a fireplace on the outer wall.

"This is where we lost our companion last time," Blaine said, and there indeed was the message written in blood that he had told us about. I carefully examined the footprints in the dusty room, which seemed to vanish into thin air at the center.

Everyone else moved into the room, and we began to investigate it thoroughly. Strange rattles and thumping sounds made me look up from where I was testing the floorboards, just in time to see a swarm of angry centipedes cascading from inside the fireplace. Marcus dropped the poker he had been prodding with and dragged Charlotte away from the angry vermin.

Father Al, who had been watching the siblings and not the floor, now glanced down to realize the critters had swarmed around him. "Thanks alot, Marcus," he said heatedly. "I won't forget this."

Barrick and I rushed up to help the priest fight the centipedes off, and I was rewarded for my efforts by a painful bite on the ankle. Blaine and Marcus joined in the fray, with Charlotte plugging away with her faithful crossbow. Between all of us, we made short work of the pests.

My ankle became swollen and stiff, but with a little help from Father Al, we were able to keep the venom from spreading any further up my leg. Meanwhile, the rest of the group checked out the chimney, but saw nothing beside the centipede nest of rotting leaves in the loose brickwork.

The next room of interest was a nursery. A decapitated doll lay in an ancient crib, and dark handprints could be seen all over the walls. With a closer look, I determined they were those of a human woman's, perhaps a girl, and the dark prints were made of blood, dry and darkened long since with age. A quick search found a small leather bag, filled with a child's marbles made of fancy stones.

Still carefully investigating the first level, we found a fancy tiled room with a large bath built into the floor. The bath, almost twenty feet across, was full of black, brackish water, though since there were no leaves or visible leaks in the room, I hesitated to think what might be in the water to give it that color.

Seeming to be taking to the exploration activities rather well, or perhaps still andrenalized from the fight with the centipedes, Charlotte grabbed a cleaning rake from the wall and plunged it into the water, despite protests from Father Al and her brother.

Almost immediately, human bones roiled to the surface. Even more frightening, the blackened skeletons began reaching and grabbing at anyone standing near the bath. One wrapped its bony fingers around Charlotte's ankles, but she was able to dance out of its slimy grip and retreat into a corner.

Barrick and I began flailing away with our weapons. The axe-head of my urgrosh bit deep into the tile of the bath without hitting my target, while Barrick decapitated two of the skeletons with a single blow. Even Marcus came in swinging his staff at the undead in the water, but the cramped quarters kept him from connecting solidly.

By now some of the skeletons had climbed out of the pool, one threatening Charlotte in the corner. I could see her trying to use her magic while avoiding him, but the flailing arms of her attacker knocked into hers, spoiling the spell.

Behind us, we could hear Father Al calling on his god to rid us of our undead foes. I almost rolled my eyes, thinking how effective he had been against the revenant at the monastery. Unsurprisingly, the creatures ignored him.

While Marcus, Barrick and I continued to fight off the skeletons trying to drag us underwater, Father Al seemed to have an epiphany. His invocation to his god was something like, "C'monnn... Alioth!", sounding more like what I'd expect to overhear in a back alley dice game than a temple. Whatever it was, his god must have recognized a truer tone in that plea, because the animated bones burst into pieces, raining into the black water all across the sunken bath.

A couple of the skeletons had escaped the blast, including the one in the corner by Charlotte. It grabbed and wrapped its arms around her in a gruesome embrace. She slid out of its grasp again and dropped to the floor. I struck him with my urgrosh to get his attention, then jammed the spear-tip end through his eye socket, tearing the skull loose while the body collapsed.

Marcus and Barrick finished off the other stragglers. After catching our breath, we completed dredging the bath for anything of interest, but came up empty.

Moving on, we found a small, cozy library room, with an open book resting on a stand in the corner. While everyone else investigated, I broke apart one of the chairs to start a small fire in the fireplace. Didn't want any more nasty surprises from that direction. My ankle still ached.

The book's author was Reveri Maltus, the same name as one of the defaced paintings upstairs. Beyond that, we found nothing else of value, and continued on.

We came across a long, narrow room, empty except for another book, lying on the floor near the far wall. Barrick, sensing something was up, very slowly eased across the floor. He halted when he felt the boards give slightly, as if unsupported further on. To be safe, Charlotte used her magical rope spell to retrieve the book instead.

As she pulled it across, we could tell the end of the room was actually covered with a tarp, the dust so thick across it we couldn't distinguish it from the rest of the floor. Barrick kicked the fabric away, and it fell into a large hole in the floor, splashing into a pool some distance below. "Latrine," he surmised. Thankfully two hundred years of standing unused had removed any smell.

The book was another volume of poetry by the Maltus girl. Deciding there was nothing further here, we headed toward the last room to be checked on the first floor. I almost bumped into Marcus, who was still standing in the doorway, pondering the hole the tarp had covered. I could almost see the wheels turning. Though he still didn't seem satisfied with whatever he was thinking, he finally left and caught up with the rest of us.

The final room on the first floor appeared to be a meeting room of some kind, with a table and chairs filling most of it. At the end was yet another bookcase. A cursory rummaging around revealed nothing initially. As we were about to head back to the dining room and the stairs to the second floor, Lord Blaine said, "I think I found something!"

A wooden block carved as a book unlocked a panel behind the bookcase, leading to a flight of stairs up. I looked at Blaine, wondering if he knew more about this house than he was letting on.

 

[Sir Brennen]

Second Floor of Haunted Maltus Estate (Same Day)

The stairs led up to a small office. On one wall was a tapestry depicting a woman with a shield, which was decorated with a pegasus motif. We had seen similar images been scattered around the house. There was also a framed piece of writing, a fragment of poem written by Reveri again, though it seemed to have been done when she was much younger. It was about a cat named Tinkerpaws.

The office opened into what looked like the master bedroom, with another fireplace and a huge bed. On the mantle over the fireplace was a portrait of a woman, almost five feet tall. Opposite the painting was a shield, again adorned with the pegasus emblem.

As we investigated, Barrick discovered the painting was hinged on one side. Swinging it back, he revealed large mirror, tilted down somewhat so a person standing on the floor could see themselves fully.

Looking at Barrick's reflection in the mirror, I saw he was grinning stupidly. Wondering what was so funny, I started to walk over to him when the smiling reflection stepped out of the mirror onto the mantle, drawing his battleaxe!

Barrick immediately attempted to grab his double's legs and yank him off the fireplace mantle, but wasn't able to get a grip. The mirror Barrick swung at his head with the axe, narrowly missing.

Charlotte brought up her crossbow and fired, followed by a slingstone from Father Al. Both merely struck the stonework of the fireplace. Thinking I might be able to eliminate this sorcery at its source, I rushed forward and swung at the mirror itself. Instead of shattering the glass, the heavy axe-head of my urgrosh merely bounced off!

As I tried to recover from my surprise, Blaine deftly stepped into the fight. "This is for that punch in the nose!" he said, swinging at the twin Barrick with his sword, slicing deeply across the arm.

We all crowded around the fireplace then, probably getting in each other's way more than anything, because the evil Barrick managed to avoid any further injury. In a move that would have been uncharacteristic of the real Barrick, he jumped off the mantle over the heads of both we dwarves, then spun and caught Barrick across the chest with his axe.

From beside the bed, there was a loud snap, followed by Charlotte's bolt flying into the air at a quirky angle. Her broken string hung loosely from the side of her crossbow. Knowing that at least we didn't have to worry about her firing into the battle, the rest of us pressed the attack.

The mirror Barrick started to back away, and I went after him, scoring another hit. Just as he was about to reach the door, Blaine lunged forward and plunged his sword, tip first, through the double's heart. In a crackle of mystic energy, the false dwarf disappeared.

Father Al, who had been holding the warm glow of healing magic in his hand for a bit, tended to Barrick. I went to the side of the mirror and put the painting back in place over it. In the corner, Charlotte made a quick gesture and her bowstring seemed to regrow right there on the weapon. Handy, I thought.

His wound tended to, Barrick stepped up beside me by the fireplace.

"Maybe I should open it again and see what happens."

"No!" came the instant and unanimous reply.

While we weren't certain why such a bizarre device would exist in the bedroom, we did decide that it would be worth taking the mirror with us later, as our magically-inclined sponsors back in Stonehearth might be interested in it.

Pressing on, our search turned up a couple of more rooms with nothing of note. As we were all moving through a hallway, I caught a sound from outside. It was Bob! Shouting a warning, I ran back to the master bedroom, looking out of the window to where we had left the pony tied up. He was loose and heading downhill away from us. Though my newly purchased (and expensive) smithing tools were loaded on him, my only thought was for my friend Giri's pickaxe I had also stowed on the animal. Barrick ran down the secret stairway without pause, and I hustled after him.

Bob was nowhere to be seen when we got to our original campsite. However, I was able to spot and follow his tracks easily with the ground muddy and soft from the continual drizzle. A bowshot away, we found him in the trees. Barrick herded the frightened pack animal to me, and I caught him by the tether and calmed him down.

Since he seemed to feel safer in the trees, we securely tied up the pony where we found him, and headed back to the house. I was so relieved I didn't stop to think about what might have frightened him.

Back in the manor, we came upon what was apparently a woman's bedroom, even though the bed was missing. It was covered with astrological charts on the walls. Looking around, Marcus discovered a false panel in the wall. Inside was a necklace with a gemstone of jasper, engraved with a serpent. There was also a small jar with a clear, thick liquid. Charlotte worked a little of her hand waving over the items, and declared them both full of magical energy.

Another bedroom, this one with a half-completed tapestry, again with a woman bearing a shield with the Maltus crest. The wardrobe held a bit of a surprise for us: a skeleton huddled in the bottom, the front of its tattered gown stained with ancient blood. Father Al conducted a closer investigation, and concluded that the person had died here, as the bottom of the closet was discolored from where the victim had bled out.

We entered a more sparse room next; another shield with the pegasus emblem hung on the wall. However, this one had been defaced with the image of some sort of bird drawn over it in blood. At the end of the bed was a footlocker that contained armor and weapons suitable for a knight of the family. It all seemed to be in remarkable condition, compared to the other weapons and equipment we had discovered downstairs.

We found ourselves back on the balcony overlooking the dining hall. Trying to determine which direction to take next, Marcus called our attention to a door opposite us. "A candle just passed by there," he said. We worked our way around, passing the hall the ghost girl had ran down earlier, and walked into a library that covered the length of the west side of the house.

Sitting by the window, the lit candle rested by an open book. It was more poetry, the current page entitled "Thrice Cursed". The poem appeared incomplete, and a chill ran down our spines when Marcus announced that the ink was still wet on the last line written.

I stood watch by the door as everyone else inspected the library. In his browsing of the shelves, Marcus paused and asked if anyone else could hear what he did. Listening closely, I could hear it too: a rasping, crunching noise coming from the bookshelves somewhere. Marcus saw piles of powder, like fine sawdust, on the shelves near the sound. Pulling out a book, it practically dissolved into dust in his hand, with just a scrap of the cover left.

Sweeping the shelf with his quarterstaff, he knocked away several more disintegrating tomes, the last few falling open with half missing pages, revealing strange, fist sized grubs chewing at the paper. I recognized them from stories: bookworms. Dwarven collections never had to deal with them, with our books of metallic sheets, but they were a scourge of human libraries. Shaking his head, Marcus ground the pale creatures under his boot.

There was little else of interest in the library, so we left through the door at the north end. Here was the upper level of the tower. Broken and fused glass lay everywhere. Looking closely, we deduced that it was an alchemical lab, where some sort of explosive accident had happened.

We finally came to the bedroom where Lord Blaine had first seen the candlelight on his initial visit. There was the threatening message still on the wall. Marcus noticed that the broken window seemed to have traces of old blood still on it.

Again, we found little else to help us find the vault, so we moved on to the next bedroom. Another appointed for a young woman, this one had a writing desk in the corner, and a stack of journals on a shelf. They belonged to the girl Reveri, obviously the writer in the family.

Divvying them up to glean what we could more quickly, we discovered that the three - Regine, Rebecca and Reveri - were identical triplets. There also had been two younger brothers, their mother dying while giving birth to the last. The children’s aunt Jacasta had raised them in their mother's absence.

According to Reveri’s journals, Rebecca had been the most social of the three girls, outgoing with the boys and such. Regine had always been distant and detached, but became more so after the death of their mother. For her fifteenth birthday, Regine had received a raven as a present. Reveri, however, had hated it, feeling it was always watching her and intended her harm.

That was the gist of what we learned from the diaries, but no solid clues as to the tragedy that had obviously happened here. Pressing on, we found an empty guestroom, and then a bedroom that must have been the girl Regine's. An empty bird perch stood by the window, and on the vanity, a skull sat staring at itself in the mirror.

The bedroom's door opened back into the tower, and Barrick and I ventured up the last flight of stairs and out onto the roof. Looking out over the back of the house, we saw a pale figure leaning over the fountain in the yard. Rushing back down, we told the others what we saw, and all of us headed out into the backyard.

She was still there, leaning over the empty fountain and scrubbing at her hands, which were covered in blood. Marcus attempted to communicate with her, but the specter just ignored him, muttering to herself, "It won't come off. It won't come off."

Finally she stood up and faced us, and shouted, "It won't come off!" With that, she ran at us, passing right through Barrick, and disappeared into the wall of the house.

Running after her, we cut through the dining hall and into the first small library we had seen. She was there, sitting in a chair, staring off into space. The blood was no longer on her hands, and a ghostly raven sat perched on the back of the chair. Marcus again attempted to speak, this time with the bird. It merely caw'd, then flew at us, though as it did, it seemed to expand and stretch like a shadow, filling the room. It disappeared through the door, and when we looked back, the girl was gone as well.

After we recovered our wits, we agreed it was time to search the basement area of the manor, to the horrors beneath.

 

[Sir Brennen]

Basement of the Maltus Estate (Same Day)

We worked our way down the spiral staircase we had found earlier. At the bottom, a narrow hallway lead to a door. Barrick shouldered the door open, then let out a shout, "Great Darvas' Beard!" He held his battleaxe high and nearly stumbled as he backpedaled into the hall.

After a moment, nothing happened, and while we whispered for him to tell us what it was, Barrick carefully crept back into the room. From the rear of the line, I could see his posture relax, and his axe lowered.

"Of all the…" he started. "It's stuffed!"

The rest of us moved into the room, and could see what had startled him. In a menacing pose, wings spread and forelimbs raised, stood an earth dragon guarding its hoard in the corner of the room. The treasure scattered below it was merely scattered shiny copper and brass coins. The dragon itself could have been an offspring of Malhafren, the enslaver of my homeland, though this one was obviously very young when it was slain.

There was not much else to be found, though I wondered if perhaps the family valuables had been stored here at one time, then moved to the vault which we had yet to find.

Leading out of the room was a stairway heading up into a wine cellar. Another flight of stairs from there led back up to the kitchen. The bottles of wine still in the cellar were judged by the humans to be mostly worthless. I was always under the impression that the older it was, the more it was worth, and all these had to be at least two hundred years old. Ah, well. It's a puny drink of men, anyway.

A door exiting the cellar led us into a hallway that felt much cooler than the other underground rooms we had been in. Traveling up it a bit, we entered a room that was half hand-tooled walls, and half natural cave. The cool temperature was due to a natural subterranean stream that flowed across the far side. Several hooks and shelves were placed about the room, presumably to keep perishables and such down there.

There were no other exits from the room other than a low tunnel on each side, by which the stream came and left. It looked a bit cramped for our taller companions, so Barrick and I waded upstream a ways to investigate. After about a hundred feet, we hadn't seen anything, so we turned around and headed back downstream.

After about eighty feet, the stream widened out, and there was something of a bank on one side. At this point, the ceiling also appeared to be unnaturally smooth. Looking closer, there was a section of the ceiling that looked as if a stone cover of some kind had been set from above. We called everyone else down. As they approached, the light of their torches glinted off of something in the water near the bank. Going over to inspect it, we found another skeleton, rough with lime and age, but it appeared to be about the right size to belong to another of the triplets.

Jammed into its ribs was a dagger with a fancy gem set in the pommel. Bones in the skeleton snapped as we wrested the weapon loose. With a closer examination, we saw that the handle and the blade were both hollow, like the kind of weapon an assassin might conceal poison within.

Turning back to the slab set in the ceiling, Barrick and I lifted it up and into a room above. We all crawled inside, to a dark, dusty room with a set of carved stairs leading up. Within the room were three stone sarcophagi, their lids slid off and the bones of the former occupants strewn about the room.

Names had once been etched onto the sides of the coffins, but something had literally clawed them beyond recognition. What would have the strength to scratch into the stonework like that was something I hoped we didn't find out.

The stairs led us to the mausoleum that resided in the backyard of the estate. Several of the burial places here had been disturbed as well; the ancient bodies scattered about. We should have returned them all to their proper resting places, but I wouldn't have begun to know how to sort them out. Besides, there were obviously other restless dead we needed to deal with first. I only prayed that all of these souls had already found their way through the Shadowlands and on to their final reward before their graves suffered this defilement.

Coming out of the mausoleum, we noticed that it had at one time been locked, but the lock had been broken off, most likely by whoever had wrecked the inside.

We stood in the unkempt yard, pondering what to do next. There was a decrepit wooden tool shed, which a quick glance into showed nothing unusual. Next we checked out a vine-covered building of stonework which seemed in better shape. Inside, it appeared to be a small chapel, with a carved stone mask above the altar, and a mask motif worked into the tiles on the walls and the details of the altar itself. Someone finally identified the chapel as being dedicated to Athyra, goddess of dreams. One of the Twelve.

Marcus, displaying little reverence for the old gods, started poking around the altar, and found the top was hinged. Opening it, he withdrew a dusty leather satchel. The bag had a scroll tube within and four pockets, each with a vial tucked into it, which Father Al guessed to be holy water.

All that was left to search was the stable. Not thinking it looked too promising, we pondered over what we might have missed. Marcus observed that, while it seemed that a spirit did indeed haunt the manor, something didn't quite add up for just a haunting. Like the tarp covering the pit in the water closet. That felt to him more like something a physical being would do, to either trap or camouflage the hole from other beings. Agreeing with his insight, we planned to scrutinize the latrine more closely, after we finished searching the stables, since they were right here.

But I wonder: are the treasures of a family that hide their secret vault in the toilet worth having?

 

[Kid Charlemagne]

As the DM of this campaign, I just want to say how cool it is to have one of the players putting the effort into writing a story hour for it... I had thought of doing one myself, but finding the time is immensely tough.

So thanks, Sir Brennen! I appreciate it.

 

[Halma]

Good Job..!!

Just like to say good job with your story hour..! It is good to see our adventures recorded


Halma
AKA "Barrick"

 

[Piratecat]

I meant to comment earlier, but I wanted to say that I really like this. Please keep it up!

Do you find writing from the first person to be difficult? I tried it, but I stink at it. I'm a little jealous.