Boff listens carefully to Gooterat, and realised two things. One: this gnome is definitely not from Ansalon - his words don't run together. Two: Boff is getting the gist of the tongue, perhaps because there is enough similarity between theirs and his own, or because of the introduction in Gnomish. Still the sounds are foreign and difficult to pronounce correctly...

Gooterat, he says nodding to Gooterat.

Laurie, he says pointing at Laurie.

He glances briefly around at the others. Introductions will come in time, but first Boff is trying to assimilate the information received so far.

Yer tryn' t' talk t' ghoosts. T' the ghoost of yer friend ye kulled?

Gooterat

"My, my, my, how interesting.  Do you really think that would work?" he asks nobody in particular.  "I wonder if Zepherombie's spirit could tell us what the hells happened in there with that creepy picture."  Gooterat's pace of speech quickened, as it tended to do when he was nervous or excited.  He looked to the sisters, as the resident experts on the matter he wondered what they may think of that.  All the sudden, as if he remembered where he was, he looked around the room, making sure that no ghosts decided to answer their call while they were making how-do-you-do's with Boff.  

Ghosts. Paintings. Zombies. Haunted house. Boff has a lot of questions, but one more important than all the others. Stowing his weapon at last and squatting down on the ground, he looks to Gooterat and asks:

Where are we?

"That is a good question. The two sisters there might be the only ones who can answer that. They were here when we arrived. The rest of us all kind of appeared. This is unlike anywhere I've seen before."

Alaric looks at the sky through the door behind Boff. "This sky is not the sky I'm used to. I did sense some planar magic when I arrived here. Maybe if we find out where we are, we might have a better chance of finding out how to get home again."

Gooterat

Gooterat nods at Alaric's response.  "We were but strangers not long ago.  Odd dreams, strange circumstances,  or bad luck drew us together, and the wierd, misty forest put us here," he starts out calm, but his words come faster as he recounts the unsettling nature of their arrival.  "At first there were many paths, then there was but one, and there was a giant birdman thing; he didn't seem evil, but it was all most unsettling.  Most unsettling indeed."  He paused to take a breath, at which point his brain caught up with his mouth.  "This place has had many names, and many owners, all of whom met a nasty end.  We were told that the locals call the place the House of Lament.  That seems fitting enough to me.  As for where beyond that, I'm not sure we ever sorted that out."

Mist. Magic. Sky. Boff was taught that the stars can disappear in times of war. But different stars must mean different gods, and different gods mean a different world. This was a test beyond his power, and if there's one thing Boff hates, it's being powerless. The most he can do is protect these others as they figure out a way home.

Magic! the dwarf curses, and spits on the floor, then squats quietly against the wall to watch what they will do next.

The parlor settled into a heavy silence as Boff stepped fully inside.  Introductions were exchanged, names passed around with cautious courtesy. If the Weathermay-Foxgrove sisters found anything strange about a dwarf from a different world arriving unannounced at the doorstep of a haunted manor, they gave no sign. Gennifer simply offered him a seat; Laurie made room without a word.

The spirit board had been returned to the center of the table. The candlelight twitched with every unseen draft. 

Cassian took his seat, watching the proceedings with wary eyes, his jaw set. Shinrei had a notebook in hand, eyes flicking from symbol to symbol as he quietly sketched the circle’s layout, but he said nothing.

Gennifer drew a deep breath, her single eye steady and calm as she placed her fingers lightly on the planchette. Laurie followed suit. Then, in a clear voice, Gennifer called into the shadows:

"Spirits of this house, we are strangers who come openly and without malice. We seek only to know your stories and to help you find peace. We entreat you: Make your presence known!"

The moment held. Then a single candle flickered violently! The boards in the floor creaked. And from somewhere deep within the house came a faint, rattling breath.

The séance had begun.

Gooterat

Wide eyed once again, Gooterat makes a warding symbol in the air and mutters a few arcane words.  His defenses, meager as they were, were in place.  The twitchy little gnome waited on baited breath for their gruesome demise at the spectral hands of vengeful undead.  

***OoC: blade ward***

Alaric was wielding his longsword, but as they were meant to be here without Malice he dismisses it. But he is sat there ready to summon it again at a moments notice. 

Boff, on the other hand, understands nothing Gennifer says, and when the candle flickers and the breathing begins, his fingers unclip his large axe and grip the shaft tightly. Beady eyes scan around looking for the source of the noise...

Taking the dagger back from Gootrat, Rats spun it around and around in his hands. Picking at the point, feeling it's balance.
Rats is transfixed.
Not by the blade itself, but by the manner he retrieved it. Zepharion was a flesh and blood living being just like Rats.

Zepharion became a zombie for looking at a painting?...was it the painting?...was it the dagger?...was it the house....This was too quick. It happened too quiet! It could happen to anyone here....it could happen to me...it could happen to roach

Rats is a survivor. He's fearless to a fault because he believes so heartily in his ability to survive. No matter what. Just as he had in the deserts of Anauroch.
After breaking from this new found existential dread, Rats looks up at the group. "What do you thi....wait who's the dwarf?"

Boff. Son of Dorf. the dwarf answer for himself, one hand absently checking the location and contents of his money pouch. Whatto they call yoo, kender?

Looking at Gennifer and Laurie, "Why did you summon a dwarf?"

To Boff, "Rats, son of...someone"

Back to Gennifer and Laurie, "Is he a ghost?"

To Boff, "Are you a ghost?"

------------
(Since I forgot to describe Rats,  He's a halfling just shy of 3 foot. He's unkempt, young and with patchwork leather armor, sewn from different sets made to fit his small frame. His hair is obviously cut short by his own knife and appears to be poorly dyed red from the dark staining on his scalp. He is thin, sinewy, and tanned in such a way that only those who spend their entire lives outdoors achieve. And for those with a keen eye, a small cockroach can be briefly seen, scurrying on his pack into a small compartment.)

Gennifer's call to the spirits hung in the air like a held breath, the candles flickering.

Laurie’s gaze swept the room. "They’re listening."

Gennifer nodded, calm but focused. "Before we go any further, there are some ground rules." 

Her fingers remained lightly on the planchette. "The spirits in houses like this are ... fragmented. Their sense of time, of self, of memory ... it isn't like ours. So we must be careful."

Laurie took over. "Speak your questions aloud.  And if the spirits respond, don't ask the same thing twice.  It can confuse them. Or worse."

Gennifer gave a faint smile. "And try not to ask them how they died."

Laurie rolled her neck. "Unless you really want to know."

Alaric asks the first question. "Which room in this house holds the most danger to living creatures?" 

Gooterat

Oh, great, the gnome thought, now we are gonna try to talk to the ghosts.  Best case scenario, they talk back.  Worst case scenario, they talk back.  In Gooterat's mind this was a no win situation.

"Why are you still here?  I mean, uh," his eyes dart left and right as he wipes swear from his brow, "like why aren't you  final resting or something that dead folks do peacefully?"  The twitchy little gnome made another warding sign as he finished speaking, making sure that his small measure of protection was up.

***OoC: maintains blade ward or recast if needed***

The two siblings seem like they are in charge around here, although Boff can't make sense of their accent. Once the others start asking questions however, Boff assumes they are back to the business of talking with ghosts. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained...

'Ow do I get 'ome? he asks simply.

 The spirit board was an old, lacquered plank of polished wood.  Its surface was inscribed with letters, numbers, and symbols.  

The silence in the parlor stretched tight.  Even Cassian, sitting ramrod straight in his chair with his sword still belted, looked uneasy.  Shinrei scribbled in a leather-bound journal with a charcoal nub.

Then the planchette twitched.  The movement was slight at first, as if something had brushed past it ... but then it began to drag across the board in slow, deliberate motions.

Gennifer gasped slightly. "Whom are we speaking with?"

The planchette moved, smooth and sure:

R-A-N-D-E-L——V-O-Z

Gennifer repeated it, softly.  "Randel Voz ..."

Gooterat leaned in.  "Why are you still here?"  The gnome asked. "Instead of resting peacefully?"

The planchette paused. Then, letter by letter:

T-R-A-P-P-E-D

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. The fire in the hearth gave a single, snapping pop.

Alaric. "Which part of the house contains the most danger?"

Again the board responded, almost eager now:

L-O-W-E-S-T

A soft groan echoed from deep within the house's bones — no floorboard shifted, no window stirred — but everyone felt it.

Boff.  "How do we get home?"

There was a long pause. The candle flames stilled. Then the planchette scraped along the spirit board once more:

G-O——D-E-E-P-E-R

The flames all flickered toward the center of the table, and the planchette paused its eerie movement.

"Go deeper? You just said that was the most dangerous part!" Rats frustratingly blurted out.

"And who is Randel Voz? Did you call to me? Land is not what it seemed? We are trapped?"

Looking to Gennifer, "Do you know him? Does he answer?"

Gooterat 

"Who trapped you here," the gnome asked softly.  He knew a thing or two about being trapped with no escape in sight.  He knew the hopelessness that came when your choices, your desires were not factored into your situation.  "How can you be set free?"  Gooterat's own fear was momentarily forgotten as a wave of unaccustomed empathy distracted him from the overall sketchy predicament they found themselves in.