Party 9

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Returning to the road, you follow it down the incline and towards the silhouetted settlement you had spotted earlier. As you approach, the muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes in the fog become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance. Walking the mist-filled street, you spot no signs of life, until the rustling of a bush outside a derelict, old house indicates that there is someone, or something, hiding behind it.
 
Kellen finds himself surprised at the lack of light. A village should have people, and lights. Though perhaps he should have known better than to be surprised, based on what they had seen so far of this place. His excitement of discovery wanes as he hears nothing but..."Is that crying? Maybe this wasn't..." he stops speaking as he notices the rustling of a nearby bush. He notices his companions do as well - and he puts his hand out - used to finding animals in the underbrush "Hold friends, don't startle" he thinks for a moment "it." He reaches out a hand, waving it quickly in the shape of the arcane symbol that Enna taught him "Cam Templa". A translucent green appendage reaches out of his open hand, forming fingers of it's own. As he reaches from across the street to pull the bushes aside. "Don't worry" he says to whatever may be inside "we are not here to hurt you.
 
Parting the bushes, you see two children huddled together. The older one, a girl of about ten, is trying to keep her brother, about six or seven, from snivelling as he clutched an old rag-doll to his chest. Seemingly unperturbed by Kellen's magic, she looks through the newly formed gap at the group of you.
"There's a monster in our house!"
She then points to a tall brick row house that has seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor, and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.
 
Just as Bronria begins to slide her sword free from its sheath, she catches sight of the children and lets out her breath. Still, she regards them with some amount of severity as she approaches their hiding place.

"What happened here? Are you unharmed?" She bends down a little to get a better look at the two. "Tell us your names, then perhaps we can figure out what to do about this monseter." Though her words aren't necessarily wrong, she maintains her usual brusque tone as she speaks to the children.
 
The girl speaks again.
"I'm Rosavalda, and this is Thornbaldt, but everyone calls us Rose and Thorn. There is a monster in our house. It lives in the basement. Ma and Pa always told us that it can't get us, but last time they went to check on it, they didn't come back."
 
Kellen walks over to the children, he's impressed by the children's courage in front of Bronria's imposing figure, but doesn't want to abandon them to her. He comes beside her and crouches down in front of the children. He looks to the others, judging their intent, their resolve. He turns back to the little ones - "I am sure we can go see what has happened to your parents. Did they lock the basement behind them?"
 
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Bronria listens with one eye on the house, watching for movement behind the windows. She turns back to the children only to ask another question. "Is there anybody nearby whom you could stay with? Family members, neighbours?" The silence in the decrepit village, save for that strange sobbing, was beginning to unnerve her.
 
Not much for interaction with adults, Abalister hangs back while his companions speak with the children. He didn't believe in monsters, per say, but he knew there was much more out there that goes bump in the night. Armed with that knowledge, he gripped his staff tight enough that his knuckles were whitened. He did not look at the children, already on edge as he was, and stared wide eyed at the buildings around him, looming over him like the silhouettes of giant gravestones.
 
The girl, Rose, shakes her head.
"Just us. We aren't allowed to leave the house, so we don't know anyone else here. But we can wait outside until you go in and beat the monster. We'll be okay out here."
 
Bronria nods slowly, then bends down a little further to bring herself closer to the children. "Stay here. Keep yourselves hidden, and do not move or call out if you hear others approaching." She stands back up and looks to the gnome, the scholar and the bard in turn. "It seems we have little choice," she says, carefully strapping on her midnight-blue shield with its flaking paint. "We must investigate whatever is inside that house."

Help the children. Find the daughter. Kill the lycanthropes. Return to Daggerford. Hurry home. Her list of tasks grows ever longer.
 
As Bronria speaks to the children, Kell notices the fog rolling in, seeming to thicken as when they were brought to this place. "Bronria! I agree, and we should be quick about it, I am not sure about this fog..."
He is torn about how to care for these children. Clearly they don't want to come into the house, but he has a sinister feeling about the change in weather - it was what brought them here after all.
He turns to them "What my friend here says is good advice - I know about hiding." Kellen hands them Nimble, his weasel familiar - with telepathic instructions to alert him if they are in trouble. "This is my friend, he also hides well. Hold onto him, be quiet, and he will keep you safe." As he finishes speaking he causes the mage hand to move and waves his charm above them in an intricate pattern, creating a minor illusion that makes the bushes appear thicker. Beyond forcing them back into the house they have fled, he sees nothing else he can do for them.
As he stands he turns back and notices Abalister, staring in apparent fear at the house. He realized that, perhaps, in caring for the children he had been avoiding his own apprehension about this house. It comes easily for him to act to protect people, but now he had to willingly step into this place of apparent death. He said to Abalister, while now also peering at the house. "I think I once heard that all study of magic is useless without practiced application - I guess this is where we find out if our study has served any purpose."
 
The scholar makes a face as Kellen puts his art to work. His fear subsides briefly as his inquisitive nature takes over and he appreciates both the gnome's form as he manipulates the weave and application of spells. Each mage is different in how they choose to bend the weave, he considers. He blinks himself out of his mind as Bronria's more forceful voice cuts through his mind fog.

He cringes, hearing Kellen again and responds, "I uhm,I pref-ferred when my magics were used to deciph-pher languages and to light th-the w-w-way."
 
"Do not assume what we will find inside," Bronria suggests. "Perhaps your magics will remain pacifistic." No, she's hardly even convincing herself. Every bone in her body knows that this land isn't peaceful; it's been obvious from the moment they stumbled into it. And now, with that eerie fog closing in, she can only wonder what "monster" is lurking in the house that has the children so terrified.

"Shall we?" she says, gesturing for the wizards and the bard to come along as she heads for the unlocked gate.
 
The children pull back cautiously from the offered creature, but seem content to stare at it curiously as it hops down onto the ground beside them. The gate creaks noisily as it is pushed open; the sound cutting through the otherwise silent street. Above you, the house looms ominously. At the front of the house is a small portico, with extinguished oil lamps hanging from the portico ceiling by chains, flanking a set of oaken doors that sit closed.
 
Even though she was the one who caused it, Bronria still hunches her shoulders as the slow screech of the gate breaks the silence. She vaguely recalls at least a dozen scary stories her siblings had told her as a child that began like this, with a small group of fools entering a mysterious old buiding at night. Unlike those fools, at least she'd had the foresight to bring armour and a pair of wizards.

She isn't reckless enough to go charging in even though the gate has certainly alerted whatever might be lurking nearby. But crouching by the oaken doors and pressing her ear to them tells her nothing. "Are we ready?" she murmurs to the others, straightening up and preparing to enter.
 
As they pass through the gate, Kellen turns back to face the street they are leaving, watching the fog for a moment. "Are we ready?" he hears Bronria say over his shoulder. He had had a small shred of confidence left, if only in his ability to escape. But the way the fog moved, it wasn't natural. Was it coming for them? There was nothing left for it, with the house in front and the fog behind, what could he say? Dagger pulled out in his left hand, and holding his quartz amulet in the right he says, "Ready! One way or another, this will be interesting!"
He notes, with some worry, that he means that.
 
"Interesting is n-n-not th-the word I w-ould use to describe this exp-p-perience," the scholar murmurs, eyeing the house before them with an expression that could best be summed up as dread. He swallows audibly before asking Bronria, "care to be our shining light in dark places?"

He sighs, blowing an errant lock of hair from his face. While they stand on the precipice of what he can only assume is disaster, he calms himself by walking the halls of his memory palace, fingertips brushing against dusty parchment of old tomes, triggering the memories of what spells he has prepared.
 
Beyond the door is a neat and tidy foyer, much at odds with the exterior of the house. 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. Lit lanterns hanging from the walls illuminate the space in a warm and welcoming glow. On the far side of the foyer is a large set of mahogany doors, currently shut, that lead further into the house.
 
"In a moment," Bronria says curtly, having already squared up against the door. She opens it cautiously, going in shield first as she takes stock of the foyer. Surprisingly well-kept... perhaps the exterior was decrepit by choice. She glances up at the figures in the portraits and the shield's coat-of-arms, all predictably unfamiliar to her.

"The children had no idea where the basement entrance might be," she murmurs, as much for her own sake as for the others'. "We will have to scour every inch of this house. Oh, and -- scholar," she adds, turning towards the tall man. I still don't know his name. "If you must illuminate me again with your crushed insects, please daub them on my breastplate. Not the shield." Having said her piece, she goes to examine the portraits more closely; it might serve her well to get acquainted with their names, if any are present.
 
Listening to their conversation around light, Kellen suddenly remembered that humans could not see at all in the dark. "That must be hard...not being able to see without light." He wanders through the foyer, re-summoning his spectral hand to inspect behind the paintings without getting too close. He doesn't find anything and so advanced towards the door. "Rather than shine a light in, i'll just have a quick look...." He stands 5 feet back from the door and opens it with his spectral hand, looking to get a peek inside.
 
The door opens with ease, revealing a wide hall that 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. Two doors are set into the wall opposite the door you are peering through, and between them, a cloakroom has several black cloaks hanging from hooks on the walls. A top hat sits on a high shelf.
 
Kellen reaches in with his mage hand and grabs the top hat that grabbed his attention. He looks it over, and puts it on. He turns back towards the other two. "The next room looks clear." He pauses to adjust the hat that is overlarge for his head... then takes it off, tossing it to the side "Besides ridiculous outfits. I guess there is a rather nice sword in there too."
 
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Bronria glares down at the gnome as his spectral hand returns with a hat, which he then tries on and tosses aside. "Try to be serious," she growls, throwing the door wide and advancing into the hall. She quickly takes in everything that the wizard described, her eyes being drawn to the fireplace and the sword hanging above it, that same windmill emblem etched on the hilt.

She heads for the nearest door on the opposite side of the hall, ignoring the stairs. "We must search every room on this floor," she explains as she walks. "Keep looking for signs of disturbance, and perhaps then we will find this basement. Search under carpets, wardrobes, armoires. And do not fall behind."
 
Kellen jumps to follow the fighter, not wanting to be far from her reassuring...solidity. "Shall we search this hall first? Perhaps the cloak area hides something?" He asked, running to keep up with Bronria's quick, and much longer, stride. He was feeling a little thrill at the thought of discovering secrets hidden in this surprisingly well maintained house. "With a house who's outside was so deceptive, I imagine the inside also hides something, we shouldn't..." he stopped speaking to catch his break and exhaled finally "rush!"
 
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