Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
The bedroom remains quiet.
Ptolus: The Legend of Longcoat
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Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
Looking around the room, Maugra notices the shadow behind the desk is blacker than it should be -- it looks as though there may be a hollow space behind it.
Cthulhudrew
First Post
Vanden follows Maugra's lead, still wary, if a bit confused.
Jossen continues to peer into the poorly lit room, wishing they had had time for him to purchase lighting equipment. He will check to see if there is a fireplace with any kindling left in it. Jossen's ideas of fun do not include stumbling around a dark haunted inn in the middle of the night.
Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
Maugra carefully pulls the desk away from the wall, revealing a hollowed-out section of the wall. A pair of books, much the worse for time and weather, sit within. One has nothing written on its spine. The other faintly bears the words "From Bone Hill" as a title.
Downstairs, Jossen turns around and looks to the fireplace in the middle of the common room. From this angle, its interior is a black mouth, but there's a small pile of wood stacked to the side. And, of course, there's pieces of broken furniture laying around the room now.
Downstairs, Jossen turns around and looks to the fireplace in the middle of the common room. From this angle, its interior is a black mouth, but there's a small pile of wood stacked to the side. And, of course, there's pieces of broken furniture laying around the room now.
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Cthulhudrew
First Post
Peering over Maugra's shoulder, Vanden notes the two books with interest. He reaches out for the "Bone Hill" volume, quickly perusing its contents, then does the same with the nameless title.
Whizbang Dustyboots
Gnometown Hero
The compartment behind the desk contains nothing else other than black mildew that fortunately had not yet made the books illegible.
"From Bone Hill" is a flowery book of prose and poetry discussing the unquiet dead of Ptolus' Necropolis district. Spiritualism was faddish during an earlier era of the empire, and Vanden can see that this book is clearly intended more toward rich merchants' gullible wives than it is serious scholars.
"... apparitions can be bound by the burning of human flesh and blood," Vanden quietly reads out loud. "Consequently, primitive cultures offer sacrifices to appease the dead and seek wisdom from their ancestors. To give of yourself is the highest flattery to a spirit, and they cannot help but be attracted to such demonstrations ..."
For the most part, the binding and summoning rituals for the spirits of deceased are almost laughable, but his smile fades when he gets to the last few pages, which are filled with what look to be very real formulas for spells.
He closes the book and opens the other. It's a journal of a man named Henry Crofter, who was the Ten Bells proprietor. Most of the journal is mundane -- discussions of the price of beer, issues with tavern girls, bribes paid to the Longfingers Guild and City Watch -- but the last few pages discuss the ghost of Coraithe Whitetree:
"It was from the secret tome that I learned how we can be together, the secret to unraveling the mystery of life," Vanden reads, eyes flicking a moment to the copy of "From Bone Hill" tucked beneath the journal in his hands. "The process is drastic and -- unskilled as I am in the ways of things arcane -- perhaps even dangerous. But it is well worth the risk. One look at her beautiful face is all the encouragement I need to go through with this plan. There’s nothing for me here now. The Ten Bells is desolate, my beloved having unwittingly frightening away the patrons, and so she’s all I have. Life without her is no life at all, so I willingly spent my resources, and will if need be offer my very life, to be with her, truly... finally capable of caressing her face, holding her in my arms, shielding her from what pains her, kissing those gentle lips ... The chamber in the cellar is ready, my sweet. I feel my time is drawing near. Soon, we’ll be together, one way or another, and you’ll finally be free you from your eternal torment."
"From Bone Hill" is a flowery book of prose and poetry discussing the unquiet dead of Ptolus' Necropolis district. Spiritualism was faddish during an earlier era of the empire, and Vanden can see that this book is clearly intended more toward rich merchants' gullible wives than it is serious scholars.
"... apparitions can be bound by the burning of human flesh and blood," Vanden quietly reads out loud. "Consequently, primitive cultures offer sacrifices to appease the dead and seek wisdom from their ancestors. To give of yourself is the highest flattery to a spirit, and they cannot help but be attracted to such demonstrations ..."
For the most part, the binding and summoning rituals for the spirits of deceased are almost laughable, but his smile fades when he gets to the last few pages, which are filled with what look to be very real formulas for spells.
He closes the book and opens the other. It's a journal of a man named Henry Crofter, who was the Ten Bells proprietor. Most of the journal is mundane -- discussions of the price of beer, issues with tavern girls, bribes paid to the Longfingers Guild and City Watch -- but the last few pages discuss the ghost of Coraithe Whitetree:
"It was from the secret tome that I learned how we can be together, the secret to unraveling the mystery of life," Vanden reads, eyes flicking a moment to the copy of "From Bone Hill" tucked beneath the journal in his hands. "The process is drastic and -- unskilled as I am in the ways of things arcane -- perhaps even dangerous. But it is well worth the risk. One look at her beautiful face is all the encouragement I need to go through with this plan. There’s nothing for me here now. The Ten Bells is desolate, my beloved having unwittingly frightening away the patrons, and so she’s all I have. Life without her is no life at all, so I willingly spent my resources, and will if need be offer my very life, to be with her, truly... finally capable of caressing her face, holding her in my arms, shielding her from what pains her, kissing those gentle lips ... The chamber in the cellar is ready, my sweet. I feel my time is drawing near. Soon, we’ll be together, one way or another, and you’ll finally be free you from your eternal torment."
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