Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
The
VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX
is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Journal of Eamon Vigil (Ravenloft: Legacies of Darkness)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="MDSnowman" data-source="post: 2026082" data-attributes="member: 6255"><p><strong>March the 8th, in the 759th year of the Barovian Calendar</strong></p><p></p><p>I fear that our efforts these past six months have been counter-productive.</p><p></p><p> To clarify: our return visit to the grounds near the Mournesworth estate, while proving eventful and not without discovery, yielded more questions than answers. Even with that clarification, I digress: the day’s events began much earlier, with the rising of the sun (and our party, in turn), and a terrible discovery that served as the harbinger of more ominous tides.</p><p></p><p> The body was found suspended from the rafters of the stable behind the inn: the driver of our coach, his life taken from him in a horrific attack that left him split from throat to groin. Though I am no expert in the science of forensics (I have never entertained any sort of interest in the departed, only in the origins of their beliefs and the details of their history), I was able to deduce from the nature of the wound that it was rendered using a hooked or curved implement, though its exact description is beyond my untrained eye (at this juncture, in any case). Connor was able to calm the innkeeper (as he was understandably upset by a grisly murder occurring so close to his establishment) while Natheme busied herself with cutting the body down and preparing it for transport. Gravoir, forever true to self, barely contained his outrage at the scene and muttered incessantly until we were ready to revisit the Mournesworth manor. I hesitate to call it fortuitous that disposing of the body would in turn lead us to another encounter with the caretaker (and in so doing bring us closer to our destination): I will simply attribute it to coincidence and speak no more of it. At any rate, we collected what equipment we deemed necessary and began the hike towards the caretaker’s domicile.</p><p></p><p> Our second conversation with said individual was no more productive than our first: after relieving us of the coachman’s remains, he dismissed us with his trademark silence and left us to our own devices. Despite Gravoir’s demands that we take the caretaker to task for what he felt was the man’s obvious guilt, we persuaded him to join us in our second foray into the mysteries of the Mournesworth grounds. With the caretaker preoccupied with the duties of his station, we were free to focus our exploration on the crypt spoken of in the Mournesworth text.</p><p></p><p> A series of symbols etched into the exterior wall proved easily translated, allowing us passage inside the mysterious structure and into a small antechamber furnished with aged sarcophagi surrounding a single, larger sarcophagus that seemed, if only by virtue of its placement, to be an integral piece of the puzzle as to how best to proceed (as the room offered no exits, save the portal through which he had entered). Carvings of a religious symbol, used by the Church of Ezra, sparked curious speculation among our group: though not uncommon among the usual trappings of a burial site, its presence here was strange, given that the construction of the crypt (if the family tome is indeed accurate) predates the Church’s inception by a millennium. Our theories on how it came to be etched in the walls here were soon forgotten, however, as a collective search of the chamber revealed a simple switch at the base of each coffin which, when pressed in succession, granted access to a hidden stairwell that descended into darkness. Natheme, given her racial propensity for accurate sight in those same conditions, immediately took the lead as, one by one, we followed the steps downward. Connor, Gravoir and I quickly lost sight of Natheme, which was shortly thereafter explained by the stairs ending in a glowing portal that concealed everything beyond it. With some trepidation (and an unwillingness to abandon Natheme to whatever fate might await us on the portal’s other side), the three of us stepped through, unsure of what to expect.</p><p></p><p> We emerged outside the crypt, unscathed: the only immediate differences of note were that day had changed to night, the entire grounds (and its structures) had been blanketed in fresh snow, and a strange tome filled with undecipherable script was clutched firmly in both of my hands. Connor and I had little time to adjust to the sudden shift in our location, as (along with Natheme, who stood nearby, equally shocked by the change in venue) we were greeted by a pale gentleman, dressed head to toe in black clothing, who demanded that we surrender the mysterious manual lest we tempt the edge of his blade.</p><p></p><p> To render a lengthy account in a concise manner, Natheme’s combustible temperament ignited a melee between ourselves and the strange gentleman: the aftermath saw his demise at Natheme’s hands, while the caretaker – an unexpected arrival armed with a rusted sickle, and evidently a thrall to our aforementioned adversary – was left to stand guard over the place where his master fell, a silent addition to the other ghosts that haunt the Mournesworth estate. I glanced over my shoulder numerous times as we made our retreat from the grounds to mend our wounds and gather our strength, but the caretaker never once stirred: an unmoving shade, his gaze locked on something none of us could see: perhaps he stands there even now, I cannot be certain. It is not something that will disturb my slumbers in the years to come, of that I have no doubts. Enjoy your vigil, quiet monster.</p><p></p><p> It is only a handful of hours later, and we have learned little since our return to the inn. The inn-keeper was rather surprised at our appearance, an emotion that was readily explained when he informed us that in the time since we had entered the crypt and emerged from its confines, six months had transpired. Thankfully, none had proven brave enough to disturb our belongings (including Connor’s horse): the inn-keeper, more fearful than benevolent, offered us the comfort of his rooms for one last night, an offer of which we have taken full advantage. In the morning, we will begin the journey home to Port-a-lucine (a journey on which Natheme has graciously agreed to accompany us) to report our experiences to the faculty, and perhaps finally be given some answers as to the true motivations behind our expedition. Six months...perhaps our family, our friends, will already believe us dead. I can only surmise that this question, like many others, will be answered upon our return.</p><p></p><p> It is a slim hope, but I shall cling to it with all my strength. For now.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="MDSnowman, post: 2026082, member: 6255"] [B]March the 8th, in the 759th year of the Barovian Calendar[/B] I fear that our efforts these past six months have been counter-productive. To clarify: our return visit to the grounds near the Mournesworth estate, while proving eventful and not without discovery, yielded more questions than answers. Even with that clarification, I digress: the day’s events began much earlier, with the rising of the sun (and our party, in turn), and a terrible discovery that served as the harbinger of more ominous tides. The body was found suspended from the rafters of the stable behind the inn: the driver of our coach, his life taken from him in a horrific attack that left him split from throat to groin. Though I am no expert in the science of forensics (I have never entertained any sort of interest in the departed, only in the origins of their beliefs and the details of their history), I was able to deduce from the nature of the wound that it was rendered using a hooked or curved implement, though its exact description is beyond my untrained eye (at this juncture, in any case). Connor was able to calm the innkeeper (as he was understandably upset by a grisly murder occurring so close to his establishment) while Natheme busied herself with cutting the body down and preparing it for transport. Gravoir, forever true to self, barely contained his outrage at the scene and muttered incessantly until we were ready to revisit the Mournesworth manor. I hesitate to call it fortuitous that disposing of the body would in turn lead us to another encounter with the caretaker (and in so doing bring us closer to our destination): I will simply attribute it to coincidence and speak no more of it. At any rate, we collected what equipment we deemed necessary and began the hike towards the caretaker’s domicile. Our second conversation with said individual was no more productive than our first: after relieving us of the coachman’s remains, he dismissed us with his trademark silence and left us to our own devices. Despite Gravoir’s demands that we take the caretaker to task for what he felt was the man’s obvious guilt, we persuaded him to join us in our second foray into the mysteries of the Mournesworth grounds. With the caretaker preoccupied with the duties of his station, we were free to focus our exploration on the crypt spoken of in the Mournesworth text. A series of symbols etched into the exterior wall proved easily translated, allowing us passage inside the mysterious structure and into a small antechamber furnished with aged sarcophagi surrounding a single, larger sarcophagus that seemed, if only by virtue of its placement, to be an integral piece of the puzzle as to how best to proceed (as the room offered no exits, save the portal through which he had entered). Carvings of a religious symbol, used by the Church of Ezra, sparked curious speculation among our group: though not uncommon among the usual trappings of a burial site, its presence here was strange, given that the construction of the crypt (if the family tome is indeed accurate) predates the Church’s inception by a millennium. Our theories on how it came to be etched in the walls here were soon forgotten, however, as a collective search of the chamber revealed a simple switch at the base of each coffin which, when pressed in succession, granted access to a hidden stairwell that descended into darkness. Natheme, given her racial propensity for accurate sight in those same conditions, immediately took the lead as, one by one, we followed the steps downward. Connor, Gravoir and I quickly lost sight of Natheme, which was shortly thereafter explained by the stairs ending in a glowing portal that concealed everything beyond it. With some trepidation (and an unwillingness to abandon Natheme to whatever fate might await us on the portal’s other side), the three of us stepped through, unsure of what to expect. We emerged outside the crypt, unscathed: the only immediate differences of note were that day had changed to night, the entire grounds (and its structures) had been blanketed in fresh snow, and a strange tome filled with undecipherable script was clutched firmly in both of my hands. Connor and I had little time to adjust to the sudden shift in our location, as (along with Natheme, who stood nearby, equally shocked by the change in venue) we were greeted by a pale gentleman, dressed head to toe in black clothing, who demanded that we surrender the mysterious manual lest we tempt the edge of his blade. To render a lengthy account in a concise manner, Natheme’s combustible temperament ignited a melee between ourselves and the strange gentleman: the aftermath saw his demise at Natheme’s hands, while the caretaker – an unexpected arrival armed with a rusted sickle, and evidently a thrall to our aforementioned adversary – was left to stand guard over the place where his master fell, a silent addition to the other ghosts that haunt the Mournesworth estate. I glanced over my shoulder numerous times as we made our retreat from the grounds to mend our wounds and gather our strength, but the caretaker never once stirred: an unmoving shade, his gaze locked on something none of us could see: perhaps he stands there even now, I cannot be certain. It is not something that will disturb my slumbers in the years to come, of that I have no doubts. Enjoy your vigil, quiet monster. It is only a handful of hours later, and we have learned little since our return to the inn. The inn-keeper was rather surprised at our appearance, an emotion that was readily explained when he informed us that in the time since we had entered the crypt and emerged from its confines, six months had transpired. Thankfully, none had proven brave enough to disturb our belongings (including Connor’s horse): the inn-keeper, more fearful than benevolent, offered us the comfort of his rooms for one last night, an offer of which we have taken full advantage. In the morning, we will begin the journey home to Port-a-lucine (a journey on which Natheme has graciously agreed to accompany us) to report our experiences to the faculty, and perhaps finally be given some answers as to the true motivations behind our expedition. Six months...perhaps our family, our friends, will already believe us dead. I can only surmise that this question, like many others, will be answered upon our return. It is a slim hope, but I shall cling to it with all my strength. For now. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Journal of Eamon Vigil (Ravenloft: Legacies of Darkness)
Top