Party 11

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Henjk looks at Gimbel and nods.
"If something in their took their parents, we should avenge them. However, we need to be careful."

Henjk looks around the town.

"This could be dangerous, but if the monster is a lycan that might lead us to the child".
 
After a drawn out moment Aramil says, "As the house stands alone, I am tempted to scout the perimeter... It would not do to have alternate exits, or even hazards, surprise us. This thick fog though...We are not where we should be, and I suspect this fog plays a role. The idea of separating ourselves into those dense clouds does not strike me as wise... Even I might not be able to find my way back to you through it."

With a glance back at the two children Aramil weighs Henjk's words "Wise words... I agree with Henjk. I suggest we proceed with caution. Listen at doors before you enter a room; we have no idea what lies in wait for us.... It does indeed seem that House Currashel comes knocking this day."
 
Gimbel grumbles to himself. Something about over cautious big people. "Fine. Let's just go!!" he approaches the door.

Raising his hand to knock, he barely stops himself before remembering what he was just grumbling about a second ago. Looking up at the creepy house, he changes his mind and figures that maybe his friends have the right of it.

Taking yet another silver spoon out of a pocket, he places it length wise in his mouth, biting down with his teeth. He'd seen men hold daggers this way before and figured the logic would hold. Then he draws his scimitar and uses his free hand to open the door, slowly and as quietly as he can.

Shaking his head at the loud squeak, because of COURSE this creepy house has squeaky doors, he walks through the doorway into the darkened house.
 
With a grim look, Aramil draws an arrow from his quiver, nocks it to his bow string and moves up beside the door to wait for Henjk to enter. Inside a house is far from an ideal place for Aramil to use his bow, but it is the weapon with which he is most comfortable. The others in the party know that he is equally skilled with his rapier, but while in melee one is likely to be spattered with the blood of their enemies, and that means stains that Aramil would like to keep out of his fine clothes...
 
Henjk readies his shield, gives a loud grunt, and enters the house.

"Damnit Gimbel! Let me go in first! Do you have a deathwish?"
 
The children huddle together in the small portico in front of the house, watching the group of you carefully. A wrought-iron gate with hinges on one side and a lock on the other hangs open in the archway of the stone portico. Oil lamps hang from the portico ceiling by chains, flanking a set of large oaken doors that you push open to see a large foyer. Hanging on the south wall of the foyer is a shield emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, a stylized golden windmill on a red field, flanked by framed portraits of stony-faced aristocrats. Mahogany-framed double doors on the far side of the foyer are set with panes of stained glass.
 
After Henjk all but pushes him aside, Gimbel decides to let the big man go first... Not that he had much choice.

Walking in behind Henjk, Gimbel takes in the foyer. It's oddly neat and tidy. For some reason this part creeps Gimbel out the most. If there was a monster in here, shouldn't the place be wrecked?? Sticks and stars, there weren't even muddy prints anywhere!! Gimbel else takes the spoon out of his mouth and mutters "What kind of monster wipes his feet?"

Spreading out and looking at the room, Gimbel isn't impressed. The furniture was nice enough, but didn't look comfy. What's the point of a couch if you didn't want to sit on it?? The family portraits made the people look boring and stuffy. Eyeing the only other door in the foyer, Gimbel waits for his friends. He didn't want Henjk to shove him out the way.... Again.
 
Henjk walks slowly into the room and peers around. He notices the coat-of-arms shield and admires it.

"Aramil, stay hidden in the shadows. Your bow and blade are no use to us if you are seen". "Naz and Gimbel stay close behind me."
 
Absentmindedly, Aramil smooths the fletching on the arrow he had knocked. A curt nod was the only acknowledgement he gave to Henjk, as speaking aloud would foil his efforts to fade into the background while others led the way.

Aramil could not help but think that he had trained Henjk well, for the Paladin to suggest exactly what Aramil would have suggested in this situation...
 
Gimbel shrugs and falls in behind Henjk, spoon and scimitar ready. Waiting for Henjk to enter the door first, he feels Nazire take her place behind him.

He liked the girl. Gimbel hadnt met to many people with a better heart than the young tiefling. Oh, certainly Henjk was a nice guy, too. But Henjk was more practical. Naz always made Gimbel feel like she would jump in a bear trap to keep a bunny from stepping on it. He liked the feeling. Like she was a spark of hope for everything around her.

Not today, Naz. He thinks to himself with a glance at her. You won't be stepping in any bear traps today.

It only takes a few seconds for them to fall into position. Then Gimbel says to Henjk "alright, let's go. Right behind ya, Big Guy".
 
Henjk looks behind him and smiles. This is the type of thing Henjk loves. He is a leader, always has been always will be.

He pushes the door open slowly and peers in.
 
Beyond the door, a wide hall runs the width of the house, with a black marble fireplace at one end and a sweeping, red marble staircase at the other. Mounted on the wall above the fireplace is a longsword with a windmill cameo worked into the hilt. The wood-paneled walls are ornately sculpted with images of vines, flowers, nymphs, and satyrs. The decorative paneling follows the staircase as it circles upward to the second floor. A cloakroom sits with its door open, revealing several black cloaks
hanging from hooks on the walls, and a top hat sitting on a high shelf. Besides the cloakroom, three doors are set into the walls of this room, all shut. Two are in the far wall, on opposite ends of the hall, while the third is set into the same wall as the door you have just entered from.
 
As they all walk forward into the Hall, Gimbel can't help but admire the decorative wood paneling. It's absolutely gorgeous and it speaks to him. Not literally, of course. His eyes take in the open cloak room, the stairs, and the other closed doors.

"What do you think?? Split up?? Or search room by room??" He whispers from behind Henjk.

After asking his questions, his eyes fall on the top hat. Abandoning his half crouch stance, he walks over to stand below the shelf. Staring up at it, he sighs in frustration. Darned stubby legs!! He decides to just knock it off the shelf with his rapier.

Picking it up and dusting it off, he plops it on his head, and walks back over to stand behind Henjk again.
 
Upon seeing the myriad of ways to move forward, and knowing that some ravenous, voracious beast was rumored to be hidden among the nooks, and crannies of this remarkably well appointed home, Aramil slinked forward cautiously to seek out sign of something hidden in wait for these audacious companions.

Often while traveling, as was certainly the case upon arriving at this impoverished hamlet, Aramil carries himself as though he is trying his best to not touch anything dirty . Yet here, in this well appointed home, where things are neat, clean, and ordered, Aramil appears to be more relaxed in the apparent finery. A hand lingers on a well crafted table... In passing the lush materials of an opulently crafted chair receive a generous stroke of appraisal... Fingertips dally upon the exquisite wood paneling as Aramil slides smoothly, and quietly, from one closed door to another to listen for any sign of the reported beast.

At each door Aramil waits with the near interminable patience of the long-lived races as he listens for any sign of something within. When he shifts his attention away from each portal, Aramil uses a simple hand gesture to indicate that he hears nothing behind that door, and then moves on to the next. While his movement through the room may seem painfully slow to those impatient to find the beast, Aramil moves to minimize both the sound he creates, and his visibility from both the open cloakroom door, and the stair well. Eventually, after examining all possible points of exit from this hall, Aramil looks back expectantly at his companions to both repeat the gestures indicating that he neither saw, nor heard, sign of the monster, and to indicate that he suggest they attempt the door nearest to them first, and check each room thoroughly in turn.
 
As he watches Aramil walk around, listening at doors and making hand signals; Gimbel also fiddles with his new hat. Wait, was it his hat?? Suddenly remembering that he basically stole the hat, and from some people they were supposed to be saving, he quickly gets embarrassed. whatever, he thinks, I'm only borrowing it. I'll give it back.

He couldn't get the darned thing to sit right. He knew fancy clothes were supposed to be big. He'd seen ladies that wore dresses dragging on the ground, Men with top hats almost as big as him, and long dinner jackets that had tails hanging down past the back of their knees!! So if this hat was only being held up by his ears, he must be one fancy gnome.

After Aramil (finally!!) Finished his circle of the room and motions toward a door, Gimbel confidently walks up to it, using his scimitar like a fancy man's walking stick. As he walks by Aramil, he stops before the elf and bows with a flourishing of his hand (that still holds the silver spoon).

Without anymore ceremony he throws open the door and waltzes in. Fanicly. Stopping a step in the door, he puts both hands on top of his 'walking stick' and surveys the new room.
 
This oak-paneled room looks like a hunter's den. Mounted above the fireplace is a stag's head, and positioned around the outskirts of the room are three stuffed wolves. Two padded chairs draped in animal furs face the hearth, with an oak table between them supporting a cask of wine, two carved wooden goblets, a pipe rack, and a candelabrum. A chandelier hangs above a cloth-covered table surrounded by four chairs, which is all set tidily on a simple, yet elegant rug in the centre of the room. Two cabinets stand against the walls, reaching from floor to ceiling.
 
After walking in the room and taking a look around Gimbel dramatically falls to the ground, pretending to faint at the sight of all those dead animals. With his arm thrown over his eyes he says after a few seconds "I understand hunting for food, but why oh WHY would you get them stuffed?? It's just cruel."
 
Henjk looks at Gimbel and smirks.
"Ah Gimbel some love to remember their hunt."

Henjk props up Gimbel and brushes the dust off him. " Don't be so dramatic, let's see what else is here".
 
After getting picked up by Henjk, Gimbel dusts himself off and decides to look around.

When he sees the cabinets he immediately perks up. He already found a fancy pants hat, maybe he'd also find a monocle. Fancy people always wore monocles. He walks over and opens the first one, finding a deck of cards and a few cups. Ignoring the cups, he snags the cards and puts them in his pocket for later.

Then he walks over to the second cabinet and tries to open it. But it's locked.

Calling over to Aramil, Gimbel says "hey Mil, you're a sneaky guy. And sneaky guys can get by locks, right?? Why don't you come over here and work your magic."

Gimbel steps away and makes room for Aramil to work.
 
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With a dismissive snort, Aramil emerges from an innocuous shadow. "I am not 'Sneaky', as you put it... I am simply, 'Efficient where others are less than observant'... Though I suppose that might seem an arbitrary distinction to those who are less than observant. However, you are correct in that 'Efficiency' does lend itself to bypassing barriers such as simple cabinet doors..."

Aramil moves towards the cabinets by way of the wine casks as he talks. He pauses just long enough to locate a small tasting vessel, and pour a small sample from the nearest cask. Like a sommelier born to the craft, Aramil lifts the glass to the light to examine the colour of the wine, swirls it in the glass, inhales its fragrance, and then takes a sip... With a frown Aramil looks deep into the glass again. He stares at its contents with a look that speaks of both perplexity, and confusion. Then he takes another, deeper sip... Which he promptly spits out... Or, at least he attempts to spit it out. All that leaves Aramil's lips is the black stain of dust, and ash.

Those same dark-stained lips purse in a dissatisfaction as Aramil ponders the small glass of wine. Eventually he sets down the vessel as though he is trying to distance himself from it, and mutters under his breath "Well, I did not believe it was possible, but I think that I might actually miss our Patron Lady's wine steward..."

With some of his usual arrogance drained from his stride, Aramil distances himself from the casks to approach the cabinets to which Gimble had originally drawn his attention. After extracting a small set of tools from a hidden pocket, Aramil gets promptly to work on the cabinet doors. It is but the briefest of moments before their little locks cleanly click open, and the doors to the cabinets swing open to reveal their contents. "Hrmmm... This does indeed appear to be a hunter's cabinet. Inside you will find a heavy crossbow, a light crossbow, a hand crossbow, and ammunition for each, Gimble. Whomever it was who owned these weapons was rather pragmatic in their care... These are well-crafted pieces made with function in mind rather than the flair for opulence we have seen in the rest of this home... Oh, and I do not recommend the 'wine'..."

Aramil leaves the contents of the cabinets alone, and steps aside so that Gimbel can poke about as he sees fit.

EDIT: Word choice.
 
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Walking over to the now unlocked cabinet, Gimbel doesn't see anything worth taking. He was sure he could figure out how to shoot a crossbow..... Ya know, if he wanted to.

Turning to walk out the room, he says "welp, this rooms empty. On to the next." As he says this, he makes a circle in the air with one finger in a 'lets go' motion.

Back in the hall, Gimbel stands in the middle of the hall, staring at the unopened doors. "Anybody have any other preferences??"
 
Following Gimbel back into the hall, Aramil returns to silence, and soft steps. As he wipes some of the remaining ash from his lips with a fine silk pocket square, Aramil uses his other hand to point to each remaining door in turn to indicate a pattern of approach to circuit the rooms leading off of the hallway; he indicates a preference for just searching each room in sequence from nearest to farthest.
 
After a pause to make certain that everyone has gathered together, and is ready to move forward, Aramil moves quietly up to the next door, listens briefly again for any sign of trouble, then slowly opens the door to peer inside...
 
Opening the door, you see a large, elegant dining room. The centerpiece of this wood-paneled dining room is a carved mahogany table surrounded by eight high-backed chairs with sculpted armrests and cushioned seats. A crystal chandelier hangs above the table, which is covered with resplendent silverware and crystalware polished to a dazzling shine. Mounted above the marble fireplace is a mahogany-framed painting of an alpine vale. The wall paneling is carved with elegant images of deer among the trees. Red silk drapes cover the windows, and a tapestry depicting hunting dogs and horse-mounted aristocrats chasing after a wolf hangs from an iron rod bolted to the south wall. In that same wall is a free-swinging door that appears to lead into some sort of kitchen.
 
Peering through the gap in the slightly ajar door, Aramil takes note of the contents of the room with a particular eye for the alleged Beast which dwells somewhere within this home... His assessment might have been expedited by not focusing on the quality of workmanship of both the room, and its contents, but Aramil finds nothing to lead him to believe that the Beast lays in wait herein.

Once satisfied with the extent of his observations, Aramil enters the room. He moves along the walls, checking for loose paneling, or a secret passage. He peers behind curtains, tapestries, and paintings yet wears the dour expression of someone who has not yet found what they had hoped. This expression turns a fair bit more sour as Aramil pauses at the window and sees that the house is now an island in a dense fog which cuts them off from the rest of the town. The sour expression is short lived though, as Aramil turns his attentions to what he presumes is the door to a small kitchen. After easing up to the door as quietly as possible, Aramil listens intently... If there is indeed an animal of some sort in the home, it is probably looking for food and the kitchens would then serve as an ideal lure to such a Beast...
 
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