The heroes moved to the parlor and found the hearth crackling gently. Worn from the fight, they stepped inside. Laurie looked up from her notes, seated beside a small stack of gear, while Gennifer adjusted a lantern atop a makeshift writing desk. Cassian stood near the door, arms crossed, his expression neutral ... until he saw the look on their faces.
"What happened!?" He asked, then frowned. "... and where’s Zepharion?"
Near the edge of the firelight, Gooterat let his concentration settle. Slowly, the silver dagger floated down from where it had hovered, cradled in the grip of his mage hand.
It was expertly made. Light. Balanced. Silvered along the edge. A wizard’s sigil was etched at the base of the hilt, one he didn’t recognize. Along the flat of the blade, a short phrase was etched into the blade in a unknown language.
The party can take a short rest during this conversation.
Gooterat looks at Cassian sadly and shakes his head. "That creepy painting got him. He was mumbling something about silver, and his arm was elbow deep IN the painting! In the painting, can you imagine my surprise?" Gooterat's pace of speech quickened as he told the story. "Now I wasn't dumb enough to look in that cursed canvas, but when Zepharion turned to me he was a zombie! And if that wasn't bad enough, he was crawling with silver bugs!" The words were flying out now, like a river that broke its dam. "I did the only sensible thing, hucked a wad of fire in his face and ran. The boys came straight away and laid the Zepharombie low. A few more whacks and a bit of ice magic later and the bugs were slain. Rats and Aleric left some blood on the floor, so we need to rest for a minute." The excitable little gnome had worked himself into a tizzy recounting the traumatic events. "Oh, ya," he adds as an afterthought, "I think he pulled that nifty blade from the painting. We haven't exampled it properly yet, I was hoping I could help someone with that task."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Although Alaric knows magic, he is in no fit state of mind to help look at the dagger. He is too busy focusing on recovering as he looks very worse for wear. (before I use my hit dice, is there any healing available? Including from npcs)
Cassian’s eyes widened at the news of the fight down the hall. "But… we heard nothing!?"
Laurie and Gennifer exchanged a look. "That doesn’t surprise us." Gennifer said, calmly setting down her pen and leveling the party with a steady gaze beneath her worn eyepatch. "When houses are haunted this badly, for this long, they become something ... other. The House of Lament is more than haunted. It’s aware."
"Houses like that can separate people." Laurie added. "Confuse sound. Sight. Distance. You might be a room away and still be alone."
Laurie stood, and paced slowly along the length of the parlor, arms crossed, her expression sharp beneath the lamplight. The warrior in her not allowing to be be relaxed at at time like this.
Gennifer, ever the researcher, remained seated in a faded velvet armchair and carefully unrolled a bundle of worn parchment. It contained spellwork, notes, and ritual diagrams scrawled in a tight, precise handwriting.
“We think the house is splintered." Laurie continued, her voice calm but edged with tension. "Layered hauntings. Multiple spirits. Some ancient, some recent."
Gennifer looked up from her documents, nodding along with her twin. "A séance might allow us to reach one of them. Not all of these ghosts are malicious. Some may just want to be heard. Others might even be helpful ... warn us about what we are to face in the coming hours."
Laurie moved to the fireplace, one hand resting lightly on the mantle, the other on the pommel of the sword sheathed upon her hip. "We’ve done this before. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But in a place like this...” She paused for effect and waved a hand at the surroundings in the parlor. "We don’t think we’ll make progress without risking it."
"We will need your help." Gennifer said, finishing her twin's thought.
At the mention of the house being aware, Alaric moves away from the door in case it swung shut like a mouth on him. "Let me guess, you need us on standby in case you contact a violent spirit and they need to be neutralised?" Having recieved healing from Cassian during the conversation (making the most of the 5hp lay on hands taking him to 8/12hp), Alaric morphs his staff back into a longsword and prepares for another fight, without waiting for the answer.
Gooterat's eyes are wide with an 80/20 mix of fear and curiosity. His budding arcane abilities generated a deep desire to know more, and helping with a seance would certainly be a unique experience. The fear that kept him alive on the streets for so many years was always the first and loudest voice in his head. He listens to the sisters, his eyes darting here and there, half expecting another monster to leap out at any moment.
Finding bravery in cowardice, Gooterat decides quickly to do whatever keeps him around the most other living people in this creepy old manor. "I'll be right behind you!" he says to Gennifer. Given the tone of his voice, it's difficult to tell if he means that in a supportive manner or literally like if scary things happen he will move behind her. In either case, glances around nervously once again and chants softly.
"Can't be to careful, you know," he mutters as the protective ward settles over his diminutive frame.
"It shouldn't come to that." Gennifer said replying to Alaric offer to neutralize the threats.
At least ... not at first." Laurie added.
"A circle, open minds, and someone to speak."
Laurie moved with practiced focus, clearing space on the parlor floor by rolling up the threadbare rug and nudging aside a table and indicating to the others where they should sit. From her satchel, Gennifer retrieved a length of white chalk and began sketching a ring around the center of the room, adding careful sigils between its arcs.
A lacquered wooden case was set on the floor and when opened ... it revealed a spirit board. Its surface was aged, letters and symbols burned into the wood. Beside it, she placed a smooth planchette, made from ivory or polished bone of some kind, its edges worn from use.
Laurie struck a match and lit the candles one by one. The flames burned steady, but the shadows they cast felt somehow too still. The twins drew a simultaneous deep breath. "When the circle is complete," Gennifer said, "We’ll call out to the house."
"If something answers, be ready."
After spending a short rest with the silver dagger, Gooterat discovers that it is indeed enchanted and has been imbued with the power of lightning. The script along the edge was from a language called Oeridian ... and translated roughly to Silver Spark. The wizard's sigil upon the hilt of the weapon was still unknown, however.
To Gennifer, "You'll call to the house? You said it means to confound us. We should not call. We should burn it!...Or our we trapped?....we do seem trapped." Rats trails off, more confused and slightly alarmed by this situation.
Looking at Gootrat now, "What of the dagger? Will it make us a zombie? Or will it be handy for when the house answers?"
"Silver spark, she is called. A fine weapon, magical and silvered. It has some lightening magic about it, and i sensed nothing evil. The wizard's sigil remains unkown," he says, handing the dagger to Rats for inspection. "A fine blade indeed," he says wistfully, his eyes following the dagger long after it leaves his hands. Being a team player was new to Gooterat, and old habits die hard. His fingers twitched just a bit, then he shook his head gently. "Such a weapon would better serve a warrior," he says softly and then turns his attention back to the sisters.
He watched the creation of the magic circle intently, trying to determine if he knew the meaning of the symbols.
The parlor had grown still. The flickering candlelight casting long, shifting shadows across the spirit board as the group gathered around it, hands resting lightly on the planchette. The air hung thick with anticipation.
Gennifer's voice was steady, low and deliberate. "If there is an entity within this house willing to speak... give us a sign."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Then three knocks struck the front door like a hammer blow. Deep. Resonant. Insistent.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Gennifer gasped, but no words came.
"Well," Laurie said grimly. "We did ask for a sign."
Outside Halvrest Manor
The mists had receded just enough to reveal the grim silhouette of the manor. A broken tower hunched beside a sagging house, ivy-clad and weather-stained. A dwarf stood at the edge of the dead grass, squinting up at the place, one hand resting on the hilt of his axe.
He had been in the Khalkist mountains, wandering through fog thicker than any he had ever seen. Following a trail that hadn’t existed moments before. When the fog had lifted, Boff was no longer in the mountains. But that wasn't the worst part ... the sky in this new place -wherever that was- was the most unsettling.
The sky was simply wrong. The twin moons of his home world were absent. Solinari, the large white moon venerated by the white robed wizards of Ansalon was different. Lunitari, the reddish moon revered by the neutral wizards was nowhere to be seen.
In this strange new place ... just a smallish, single white moon hung in the heavens above.
In fact, no recognizable stars or constellations were in the sky.
Wherever Boff had found himself ... this certainly wasn't Krynn.
As if commenting on the dwarven warrior's confusion, the wind whispered through the trees. Like mocking voices just out of reach.
Boff tightened his grip on his shield and stomped up the warped steps to the front door. There were answers inside, there had to be, and by Reorx, he meant to have them!
The dwarf's knuckles thumped upon the wood — three times — hard and deliberate.
Whilst all this thumping and thudding was going on, Gooterat spent some time peering at Gennifer's handiwork. [Arcana, success!]
Gooterat recognized that the ritual circle was a conduit, not a ward. It wasn't designed to trap or control a spirits in any way, only to make contact.
The symbols themselves were a composite of traditions. It told him that Gennifer had spent time studying magic across many different faiths and disciplines.
The bone planchette on the table served as a druidic focus. Just as a wizard could use an orb or a wand ... and a cleric made use of holy symbols to channel their magic ... so too did druids need to make use of certain foci to effect their magics. This meant that Gennifer was likely a druid.
Gooterat jumped up two feet and back four. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the almost instantaneous knock in response to Gennifer's invitation sent him jumping nearly right out of his boots. His wide eyes darted from the door to Gennifer, the door then Laurie, then back to the door again. "I wasn't expecting the house to answer so soon," he muttered. "I suppose if you think about it, the house is already here, so it wouldnt really take it long to get here, where it already was, you see?" The words were flying out at a high rate of speed again. He paused to take a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as something dawned on him. "Why would a haunted houses have to knock on its own door?"
The little Gnome was willing to ask the tough questions, but not to rush forward in pursuit of expeditions answers. He did, however, like to be prepared. He muttered a few arcane words and flared open the fingers on his right hand. His fingers curled in, as if he were gripping a ball and magical energy began to dance across his fingertips and swirl in the palm of his hand. Staring intently to see who opens the door and what new horror lies behind it, Gooterat waits to complete his spell.
***OoC: ready action sorcerous burst: lightening energy: trigger: something hostile on the other side of the door moves to attack the group or sisters***
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Boff stamps his feet impatiently on the wooden porch: not that it's cold, but this foggy land and dark house are making his skin crawl. He can hear voices inside but none are answering the door. Hefting his handaxe, either for the door itself if no one answers, or for whatever lies beyond, he thumps his other fist on the door once more, yelling:
Gooterat's hand crackled faintly with conjured power as he moved away from the spirit board.
The candles in the room seemed to lean toward the door with each flicker, as if pulled by unseen breath.
"Are we sure that is an answer?" Alaric's question hung on the air.
Gennifer, still seated, answered Alaric’s questions. "I'm not sure. It might have been the house, or it might have been ... something else."
"Let's find out."Laurie said grimly. She drew Gossamer with a smooth, whispering scrape of steel and strode out of the parlor to the foyer.
"... after we have broken our circle, what will happen?" The warlock asked.
"The circle is a conduit." Gennifer replied. "Breaking it would simply end the communication — but sometimes a spirit doesn't want to be dismissed."
A moment later, the front door creaked open.
In the Foyer
Laurie entered the foyer, sword in hand.
She flung open the heavy front door, expecting phantoms … and instead found a squat, broad-shouldered dwarf glaring up at her from beneath a damp cloak. They locked eyes for a moment. Neither spoke.
A long beat passed as the two warriors sized each other up, taking note of one another's stance, gear, demeanor, etc. Laurie’s grip tightened on her sword just slightly. Boff shifted his weight.
Then, without a word, and as quickly as it had arrived ... the moment passed. Then Laurie reached out with a free hand and poked Boff squarely in the chest with her finger.
"Hmph." She said, almost disappointed with her discovery that Boff was not in any way incorporeal, but rather, a being of flesh-and-blood.
"He's not a ghost!"She grinned, calling back over her shoulder.
Laurie sheathed Gossamer in one smooth motion. "Welcome to the show, I'm Laurie." She said. "Things inside were just about to get interesting, and I'd sure be glad to have more steel around when it all goes sideways."
Boff didn't quite understand this woman's strange tongue, but the warrior's code of mutual respect didn't need translating, nor the welcome that came with it.
Boff follows the warrior-woman into the house silently, beady eyes peering out from behind thick brows and beard as he glances around cautiously. His axe drops slowly to his side but he doesn't stow it yet: a warhammer and shield are also slung on his back, clinking quietly as he walks, while a larger axe is clipped to the sling at his chest, which rustles against his long chain shirt.
The dwarf stops in the door to the parlor, taking in the other occupants of the house - two more humans, a creature not unlike a kender, and...
Një xhuxh! Je nga Mount Nevermind? exclaims the dwarf, his eyes brightening and his stance relaxing...
[Gooterat: The dwarf speaks to Gooterat in clear Gnomish, asking if he is from a place called Mount Nevermind]
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Gooterat watches the dwarf enter and relaxes a bit at the sound of the Gnomish language. Having never heard of that particular mountain with such a curious name he shook his head. "I am from a city called Neverwinter." He then switches to draconic, and then to the common tongue of his home. He is trying to figure out what other languages the dwarf may speak so that the whole party could communicate more freely.
Almost as an afterthought he closed his hand, extinguishing the crackling ball of energy.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
The dwarf wrinkles his hairy face at the unfamiliar tongues. Although perfectly intelligible, the gnome's native accent was far removed from that of the gnomes of Sancrist Isle, and Boff didn't miss the coincidence of the term "Never" in both place names. Was this a dream? The second language attempted is far too exotic for the poor dwarf, but the third is slightly more intelligible. He is certainly no linguist, but he picks up enough of the phrasing and emphasis to guess at the meaning of a few of the words, and then attempts to communicate. Pointing at his own chest, right where the warrior-woman had poked him, he says:
Boff. Aye. yam. Boff.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
"Well met then Boff. I am Gooterat," he says, pointing to himself as he said his name. "Your timing is most fortaterous. You see, our friend was reaching into a painting, got zombied somehow, and we had to kill him." He adds matter of factly. "So as you can see, we are trying to talk to ghosts, the house being as haunted as haunted gets and all," he went on, as if this sort of thing were just ordinary everyday occurrences.
***OoC: deception (16) to seem nonchalant, he is actually terrified***
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
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The heroes moved to the parlor and found the hearth crackling gently. Worn from the fight, they stepped inside. Laurie looked up from her notes, seated beside a small stack of gear, while Gennifer adjusted a lantern atop a makeshift writing desk. Cassian stood near the door, arms crossed, his expression neutral ... until he saw the look on their faces.
"What happened!?" He asked, then frowned. "... and where’s Zepharion?"
Near the edge of the firelight, Gooterat let his concentration settle. Slowly, the silver dagger floated down from where it had hovered, cradled in the grip of his mage hand.
It was expertly made. Light. Balanced. Silvered along the edge. A wizard’s sigil was etched at the base of the hilt, one he didn’t recognize. Along the flat of the blade, a short phrase was etched into the blade in a unknown language.
The party can take a short rest during this conversation.
Gooterat
Gooterat looks at Cassian sadly and shakes his head. "That creepy painting got him. He was mumbling something about silver, and his arm was elbow deep IN the painting! In the painting, can you imagine my surprise?" Gooterat's pace of speech quickened as he told the story. "Now I wasn't dumb enough to look in that cursed canvas, but when Zepharion turned to me he was a zombie! And if that wasn't bad enough, he was crawling with silver bugs!" The words were flying out now, like a river that broke its dam. "I did the only sensible thing, hucked a wad of fire in his face and ran. The boys came straight away and laid the Zepharombie low. A few more whacks and a bit of ice magic later and the bugs were slain. Rats and Aleric left some blood on the floor, so we need to rest for a minute." The excitable little gnome had worked himself into a tizzy recounting the traumatic events. "Oh, ya," he adds as an afterthought, "I think he pulled that nifty blade from the painting. We haven't exampled it properly yet, I was hoping I could help someone with that task."
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Although Alaric knows magic, he is in no fit state of mind to help look at the dagger. He is too busy focusing on recovering as he looks very worse for wear. (before I use my hit dice, is there any healing available? Including from npcs)
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Cassian’s eyes widened at the news of the fight down the hall. "But… we heard nothing!?"
Laurie and Gennifer exchanged a look. "That doesn’t surprise us." Gennifer said, calmly setting down her pen and leveling the party with a steady gaze beneath her worn eyepatch. "When houses are haunted this badly, for this long, they become something ... other. The House of Lament is more than haunted. It’s aware."
"Houses like that can separate people." Laurie added. "Confuse sound. Sight. Distance. You might be a room away and still be alone."
Laurie stood, and paced slowly along the length of the parlor, arms crossed, her expression sharp beneath the lamplight. The warrior in her not allowing to be be relaxed at at time like this.
Gennifer, ever the researcher, remained seated in a faded velvet armchair and carefully unrolled a bundle of worn parchment. It contained spellwork, notes, and ritual diagrams scrawled in a tight, precise handwriting.
“We think the house is splintered." Laurie continued, her voice calm but edged with tension. "Layered hauntings. Multiple spirits. Some ancient, some recent."
Gennifer looked up from her documents, nodding along with her twin. "A séance might allow us to reach one of them. Not all of these ghosts are malicious. Some may just want to be heard. Others might even be helpful ... warn us about what we are to face in the coming hours."
Laurie moved to the fireplace, one hand resting lightly on the mantle, the other on the pommel of the sword sheathed upon her hip. "We’ve done this before. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But in a place like this...” She paused for effect and waved a hand at the surroundings in the parlor. "We don’t think we’ll make progress without risking it."
"We will need your help." Gennifer said, finishing her twin's thought.
At the mention of the house being aware, Alaric moves away from the door in case it swung shut like a mouth on him. "Let me guess, you need us on standby in case you contact a violent spirit and they need to be neutralised?" Having recieved healing from Cassian during the conversation (making the most of the 5hp lay on hands taking him to 8/12hp), Alaric morphs his staff back into a longsword and prepares for another fight, without waiting for the answer.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Gooterat
Gooterat's eyes are wide with an 80/20 mix of fear and curiosity. His budding arcane abilities generated a deep desire to know more, and helping with a seance would certainly be a unique experience. The fear that kept him alive on the streets for so many years was always the first and loudest voice in his head. He listens to the sisters, his eyes darting here and there, half expecting another monster to leap out at any moment.
Finding bravery in cowardice, Gooterat decides quickly to do whatever keeps him around the most other living people in this creepy old manor. "I'll be right behind you!" he says to Gennifer. Given the tone of his voice, it's difficult to tell if he means that in a supportive manner or literally like if scary things happen he will move behind her. In either case, glances around nervously once again and chants softly.
"Can't be to careful, you know," he mutters as the protective ward settles over his diminutive frame.
***OoC: blade ward***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
"It shouldn't come to that." Gennifer said replying to Alaric offer to neutralize the threats.
At least ... not at first." Laurie added.
"A circle, open minds, and someone to speak."
Laurie moved with practiced focus, clearing space on the parlor floor by rolling up the threadbare rug and nudging aside a table and indicating to the others where they should sit. From her satchel, Gennifer retrieved a length of white chalk and began sketching a ring around the center of the room, adding careful sigils between its arcs.
A lacquered wooden case was set on the floor and when opened ... it revealed a spirit board. Its surface was aged, letters and symbols burned into the wood. Beside it, she placed a smooth planchette, made from ivory or polished bone of some kind, its edges worn from use.
Laurie struck a match and lit the candles one by one. The flames burned steady, but the shadows they cast felt somehow too still. The twins drew a simultaneous deep breath. "When the circle is complete," Gennifer said, "We’ll call out to the house."
"If something answers, be ready."
After spending a short rest with the silver dagger, Gooterat discovers that it is indeed enchanted and has been imbued with the power of lightning. The script along the edge was from a language called Oeridian ... and translated roughly to Silver Spark. The wizard's sigil upon the hilt of the weapon was still unknown, however.
Silver Spark, +1 dagger, uncommon magic weapon
To Gennifer, "You'll call to the house? You said it means to confound us. We should not call. We should burn it!...Or our we trapped?....we do seem trapped." Rats trails off, more confused and slightly alarmed by this situation.
Looking at Gootrat now, "What of the dagger? Will it make us a zombie? Or will it be handy for when the house answers?"
Gooterat
"Silver spark, she is called. A fine weapon, magical and silvered. It has some lightening magic about it, and i sensed nothing evil. The wizard's sigil remains unkown," he says, handing the dagger to Rats for inspection. "A fine blade indeed," he says wistfully, his eyes following the dagger long after it leaves his hands. Being a team player was new to Gooterat, and old habits die hard. His fingers twitched just a bit, then he shook his head gently. "Such a weapon would better serve a warrior," he says softly and then turns his attention back to the sisters.
He watched the creation of the magic circle intently, trying to determine if he knew the meaning of the symbols.
***OoC: arcana. 22 (natty 20)***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
In the Parlor
The parlor had grown still. The flickering candlelight casting long, shifting shadows across the spirit board as the group gathered around it, hands resting lightly on the planchette. The air hung thick with anticipation.
Gennifer's voice was steady, low and deliberate. "If there is an entity within this house willing to speak... give us a sign."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Then three knocks struck the front door like a hammer blow. Deep. Resonant. Insistent.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Gennifer gasped, but no words came.
"Well," Laurie said grimly. "We did ask for a sign."
Outside Halvrest Manor
The mists had receded just enough to reveal the grim silhouette of the manor. A broken tower hunched beside a sagging house, ivy-clad and weather-stained. A dwarf stood at the edge of the dead grass, squinting up at the place, one hand resting on the hilt of his axe.
He had been in the Khalkist mountains, wandering through fog thicker than any he had ever seen. Following a trail that hadn’t existed moments before. When the fog had lifted, Boff was no longer in the mountains. But that wasn't the worst part ... the sky in this new place -wherever that was- was the most unsettling.
The sky was simply wrong. The twin moons of his home world were absent. Solinari, the large white moon venerated by the white robed wizards of Ansalon was different. Lunitari, the reddish moon revered by the neutral wizards was nowhere to be seen.
In this strange new place ... just a smallish, single white moon hung in the heavens above.
In fact, no recognizable stars or constellations were in the sky.
Wherever Boff had found himself ... this certainly wasn't Krynn.
As if commenting on the dwarven warrior's confusion, the wind whispered through the trees. Like mocking voices just out of reach.
Boff tightened his grip on his shield and stomped up the warped steps to the front door. There were answers inside, there had to be, and by Reorx, he meant to have them!
The dwarf's knuckles thumped upon the wood — three times — hard and deliberate.
Whilst all this thumping and thudding was going on, Gooterat spent some time peering at Gennifer's handiwork. [Arcana, success!]
Gooterat recognized that the ritual circle was a conduit, not a ward. It wasn't designed to trap or control a spirits in any way, only to make contact.
The symbols themselves were a composite of traditions. It told him that Gennifer had spent time studying magic across many different faiths and disciplines.
The bone planchette on the table served as a druidic focus. Just as a wizard could use an orb or a wand ... and a cleric made use of holy symbols to channel their magic ... so too did druids need to make use of certain foci to effect their magics. This meant that Gennifer was likely a druid.
Gooterat
Gooterat jumped up two feet and back four. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the almost instantaneous knock in response to Gennifer's invitation sent him jumping nearly right out of his boots. His wide eyes darted from the door to Gennifer, the door then Laurie, then back to the door again. "I wasn't expecting the house to answer so soon," he muttered. "I suppose if you think about it, the house is already here, so it wouldnt really take it long to get here, where it already was, you see?" The words were flying out at a high rate of speed again. He paused to take a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as something dawned on him. "Why would a haunted houses have to knock on its own door?"
The little Gnome was willing to ask the tough questions, but not to rush forward in pursuit of expeditions answers. He did, however, like to be prepared. He muttered a few arcane words and flared open the fingers on his right hand. His fingers curled in, as if he were gripping a ball and magical energy began to dance across his fingertips and swirl in the palm of his hand. Staring intently to see who opens the door and what new horror lies behind it, Gooterat waits to complete his spell.
***OoC: ready action sorcerous burst: lightening energy: trigger: something hostile on the other side of the door moves to attack the group or sisters***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
"That knock came from outside. You asked if an entity inside the house was willing to speak. Are we sure that is an answer?
Also more pressing question, if we go and check that door and another spirit answers after we have broken our circle, what will happen?"
Alaric is torn between seeking out the knock and staying put in case of malevolent spirits appearing behind them.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Boff stamps his feet impatiently on the wooden porch: not that it's cold, but this foggy land and dark house are making his skin crawl. He can hear voices inside but none are answering the door. Hefting his handaxe, either for the door itself if no one answers, or for whatever lies beyond, he thumps his other fist on the door once more, yelling:
Ey! Otkryvay! Chto, chert voz'mi, zdes' proiskhodit?
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
In the Parlor
Gooterat's hand crackled faintly with conjured power as he moved away from the spirit board.
The candles in the room seemed to lean toward the door with each flicker, as if pulled by unseen breath.
"Are we sure that is an answer?" Alaric's question hung on the air.
Gennifer, still seated, answered Alaric’s questions. "I'm not sure. It might have been the house, or it might have been ... something else."
"Let's find out." Laurie said grimly. She drew Gossamer with a smooth, whispering scrape of steel and strode out of the parlor to the foyer.
"... after we have broken our circle, what will happen?" The warlock asked.
"The circle is a conduit." Gennifer replied. "Breaking it would simply end the communication — but sometimes a spirit doesn't want to be dismissed."
A moment later, the front door creaked open.
In the Foyer
Laurie entered the foyer, sword in hand.
She flung open the heavy front door, expecting phantoms … and instead found a squat, broad-shouldered dwarf glaring up at her from beneath a damp cloak. They locked eyes for a moment. Neither spoke.
A long beat passed as the two warriors sized each other up, taking note of one another's stance, gear, demeanor, etc. Laurie’s grip tightened on her sword just slightly. Boff shifted his weight.
Then, without a word, and as quickly as it had arrived ... the moment passed. Then Laurie reached out with a free hand and poked Boff squarely in the chest with her finger.
"Hmph." She said, almost disappointed with her discovery that Boff was not in any way incorporeal, but rather, a being of flesh-and-blood.
"He's not a ghost!" She grinned, calling back over her shoulder.
Laurie sheathed Gossamer in one smooth motion. "Welcome to the show, I'm Laurie." She said. "Things inside were just about to get interesting, and I'd sure be glad to have more steel around when it all goes sideways."
Boff didn't quite understand this woman's strange tongue, but the warrior's code of mutual respect didn't need translating, nor the welcome that came with it.
Boff follows the warrior-woman into the house silently, beady eyes peering out from behind thick brows and beard as he glances around cautiously. His axe drops slowly to his side but he doesn't stow it yet: a warhammer and shield are also slung on his back, clinking quietly as he walks, while a larger axe is clipped to the sling at his chest, which rustles against his long chain shirt.
The dwarf stops in the door to the parlor, taking in the other occupants of the house - two more humans, a creature not unlike a kender, and...
Një xhuxh! Je nga Mount Nevermind? exclaims the dwarf, his eyes brightening and his stance relaxing...
[Gooterat: The dwarf speaks to Gooterat in clear Gnomish, asking if he is from a place called Mount Nevermind]
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Gooterat
Gooterat watches the dwarf enter and relaxes a bit at the sound of the Gnomish language. Having never heard of that particular mountain with such a curious name he shook his head. "I am from a city called Neverwinter." He then switches to draconic, and then to the common tongue of his home. He is trying to figure out what other languages the dwarf may speak so that the whole party could communicate more freely.
Almost as an afterthought he closed his hand, extinguishing the crackling ball of energy.
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond
Alaric's eyebrows raise at the sound of draconic. He was not alone in his knowledge of the ancient beast's tongue.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
The dwarf wrinkles his hairy face at the unfamiliar tongues. Although perfectly intelligible, the gnome's native accent was far removed from that of the gnomes of Sancrist Isle, and Boff didn't miss the coincidence of the term "Never" in both place names. Was this a dream? The second language attempted is far too exotic for the poor dwarf, but the third is slightly more intelligible. He is certainly no linguist, but he picks up enough of the phrasing and emphasis to guess at the meaning of a few of the words, and then attempts to communicate. Pointing at his own chest, right where the warrior-woman had poked him, he says:
Boff. Aye. yam. Boff.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Gooterat
"Well met then Boff. I am Gooterat," he says, pointing to himself as he said his name. "Your timing is most fortaterous. You see, our friend was reaching into a painting, got zombied somehow, and we had to kill him." He adds matter of factly. "So as you can see, we are trying to talk to ghosts, the house being as haunted as haunted gets and all," he went on, as if this sort of thing were just ordinary everyday occurrences.
***OoC: deception (16) to seem nonchalant, he is actually terrified***
“Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.” — Elrond