"Whoever is this Ancient, f*ck him!" Alev snaps, furious that the ghosts had not died alongside the monster they just killed. 

Seeing as there was nothing else attacking them, he heads to the exit without looking back. He's tired, and the sight of Thadalas' terrifying demise is still fresh on his mind. He just wants to leave.

Leann sheathes her blade and nods to the others. "Let us get out of here, if we can..."

The party somberly makes their way through the dungeon and up the rickety staircase to the attic. Even though the upper levels of the house were decrepit, they appear even more so. Patches of black mold stain the walls and ceiling. You can see holes in the walls that allow shafts of dim light to seep through. You make your way down through each floor of the house, and each level more decrepit than the last. As you exit the house, you see that it is morning outside, but an overcast sky blocks much of the light. A light mist clings to the buildings in the chill air.

You are now level three.

Sergei emerges from the house and takes a deep breath. He's almost glad to be back among the mist. It seemed an eternity ago that they were ushered here and worried about werewolves. He'd almost forgotten. He views each of his comrades in turn, feelings of solidarity and appreciation welling up inside him.

But there was Lucan. Rudick had carried him out. Rudick had a good heart. Poor Lucan. And Thadalas. Sergei tried not to think about how his fate could easily have been swapped with that of Thadalas.

Little pup, I confess myself a little surprised. You did well. You seem to have taken a liking to my destructive power.

I think we both know it's only so I can strike you down one day.

Yes, keep telling yourself that. Let's see how far I can twist your soul in the meantime. Here, I have a gift for you. You'll need this if you're to survive and one day face me.

Some of the mist siphons away from the surroundings and blackens, thickens into a square shape. It flashes with flame for an instant and solidifies into a thick tome. Sergei picks it up. It smells of smoke and ash and is warm to the touch. On the ash-gray pages are writings that seem to be made of writhing, burning fire. They flash up and burn Sergei's eyes, he flinches and closes the book, but already he feels dark magic entering into him, knowledge of arcane abilities that will prove...useful.

Sergei stows his dark tome and says,

"What shall we do with Lucan? Perhaps there is a church or a physic that can aid him, one way or another?"

As the party ponders what to do, Skip spots a child peeking through the window in the ramshackle house across the street. They hurry and draw the curtain close when you make she contact.

Tomm says to the group, "From what I remember, there is a church on the edge of the town. We can take him there."

You can faintly hear sobbing in the distance, the same sobbing from before

At the same time as Sergei. and perhaps some others, Rudick too took a deep breath. Though he would never admit it aloud, a small part of him had acknowledged the possibility that his previous claims were but lies. And that like so many truly wicked creatures heard in tales, it would be at the very last moment that hope would yet be snatched from them. Yet, as he looked to the mist enshrouded sky again, a certain epiphany seemed to dawn on his face. And as it did, any thought of their original mission being completed got the deepest recesses of his mind.

But with that hope of purpose gone, it took a few moments for the Orc to find the will to direct the others onto the next course. That's when he began to fill the hammer at his hip begin to call to him. Confused and wary, he took one look at it, and over the span of seconds felt more than heard something speak to him.

No sweet nothings was whispered to him. No condolences were conveyed for the loss. That was not the way of things. Rather, he felt. peculiar since of acknowledged in some way. But with it came an understanding that something more was expected of him. He was not quite on the mark yet, but... with guidance and help, then... perhaps? Truthfully, Rudick could hardly make sense of any of it after a while, but would certainly hold on them for reevaluating later. Though before pushing the odd feelings aside, the odd formula into the into the creation of any metallic object caught in his eyes from then on at times drifted into mind.

"... Focus." He muttered, finally taking his eyes off the hammer, and conveniently in time to hear Sergei. "I doubt any local church can fix this.. least what happened to that house would've been dealt with long ago." He admits. "But... where's there's a church, there are graves. The grounds too should also be hallow at least." He nods inwardly, seeming to try convince himself ona  growing thought. "We bring him there for his rest, and then-...." Rudick pauses for a moment, registering the sobbing in he background. And after a moment of grumbling he adds to Tomm, "This better not be another one." He said, before without a word marching int he direction of the sobbing while still carrying Lucan around. And while tempted to put the man out of his misery's at last, he'd sooner go to the nine prior to speed up inevitably being faced with the man's full release of his bowels in death.

Unlike Sergei and Rudick, what Alev felt when emerging from the house didn't came from an outside force like a fiend or a deity, but from within. He felt something akin to a memory, a long forgotten dream: In this strange dream, he was not an aarakocra but a dragon, protecting his hoard of ancient scrolls and tomes from a small group of book-burners. Adverse to killing and not wanting to use his fire breath so near his priceless treasure, the dragon in his dream instead knocks them all unconscious with sleeping gas before taking them somewhere far from his lair.

Dismissing the weird vision as just that, a dream, Alev nevertheless realizes that he's stronger now than he was before entering the cursed house, for better or for worse. But what use could I have for this power anyways, I wonder...?

"How is Lucan? Is he still in pain?" He suddenly asks to Rudick, as he starts following him. "I think I have something now that might help him, without killing him I mean. I just need some sand..."

Leann breathes in deeply as she emerges from the house. She has no great epiphiny as she does so, but feels the ideals she has followed grow deeper all the same.

Glancing in the direction of the sobbing, she also follows in that direction, wishing to know what being was in need of aid.

Rudick snorts. "Fresh out of sand, I'm afraid." He said without taking his eyes off the way ahead. "But yes. With the altar at least ruined, any further transformation should be halted. Unfortunately, it will truly take a miracle to reverse it, I believe. And in this place, the only miracles I wager are few and far between... or perhaps even come with heavy costs. A hope, either way, we may not be able to afford holding on to." He admits as much, and yet his stride stays even and strong.

The party way makes their way to the sounds of miserable weeping. The overcast sky matches the feeling of fear and misery that clings to this town like the ever present fog. You walk through moist, empty streets towards the sounds of crying. You see no one else walking along the streets, but you see figures in windows closing the drapes as you pass. You come to a two-story house that the crying is emanating from. You see that the door is hanging on its hinges, and the front of the house and ground is scorched and smoldering. It looks almost as if someone cast a fireball at the door. You can see the inside of the house is in disarray.

Sergei remarks,

"Not a very cheerful place, is it? I hope we're not walking into another house of death."

He indicates that he'd like to go inside, but perhaps not first...

Also, his hex fades away and his eyes go jet-black again as he resumes his eldritch sight, keeping up detect magic.

"I'll go first if you wish." Leann says, moving to the door. She steps inside, her shield held in front of her and her longsword drawn.

(OOC: I most likely won't be online much tomorrow or Friday, feel free to bot my character as needed.)

"That's too bad" Alev shurgs, trying to look away from the injured bard. How did a simple werewolf hunting mission go so wrong? Had he knew, he would have never wandered this far from the streets he knew. Heck, he wouldn't have even joined the Zhents.

Alas, at least he was still alive. And he was going to keep it that way.

When they arrive at the house, he stares at it, suspicious. "I don't like this. Sure, the cries could be coming from a survivor from whatever did this..." He says, pointing at the scorched door. "...Or it could be yet another monster, luring prey inside by crying before eating it. I already had enought with one creepy house, I don't want to deal with another."

back in the dungeon under the house of horrors, at the very moment that Lorgath died, as he drew out his blades, a....spark?....left the body of the beast. Catching Skips eye, the gnome marvelled at it for just a moment, this barely visible mote of energy dancing before his eyes. Skip couldn’t help himself, he reached out to it, wanting to take it, it would be like stealing a star from the sky........

As his hand drew closer to the dancing spark, as his fingers drew closer, reaching out towards it, the spark touched.....and disappeared. 
A little crestfallen, his hand dropping to his side, Skip sheathed his swords, and moved off to leave with the rest of the party. 

Back outside, Skip thought he caught a flash of movement. It was coming from that window over there. But the party seemed intent on following that sound, the sobbing. Maybe they would be saving more ghost children from another house of horrors......

at this thought, a sensation ripped through skip veins, like a small static shock inside him. He blinked, grimacing a little. When his eyes opened, before him floated a hand. Spectral, translucent, shimmering in front of his face. Startled, his eyes darted to the others, wanting to know if they could see it too. 
As he tried to swat at it, the hand seemed to mimic his own movements. Shocked, Skip began to experiment, and each thought he sent to his own hand, this spectral hand would carry out too. He found he could control it without moving his own hand. This could be useful. 
hearing Leann say she will go in first, Skip hurried to rejoin the group

”Alev, Alev, something weird just happened.....I, ummm, I have a ghost hand, and it does what I think”

At Leann's brave initiative, Alev just shakes his head. "Are we really doing this? Wasn't what happened on the last haunted house enough? Are we seriously going through that again?" He asks, annoyed, but his moodiness is interrupted by Skip and... his new hand.

"That's... something!" He squeaks, taking a closer look at it. "I think wizards have a spell like this... And sorcerers like me too, but I prefer my fire anyways. Is this your first time using magic? I wonder what uses could this have. It might be good to steal with, or to check for traps, or..."

His excitement and curiosity over Skip's ghost hand makes him forget about his fear and distrust of the house. For now.

As everyone cautiously enters the house, they see it is in disarray. Furniture lay scattered around the rooms in pieces. You notice scorch and claw marks all thought the house. It is dark, and you can smell death hanging in the air. 

You make your way up the creaking stairs tentatively, heading towards the sounds of sobbing. You wander through the upper floor and come to a bedroom. You see an older woman hunched in the middle of the floor cradling something. Her back is to you, and her shoulders shake as she cries. A bed lies broken in one corner, and clothing and torn sheets are scattered throughout.

((Forgot to mention that you guys just pulled an all-nighter, so you're probably pretty tired.))

Maybe cradling instead of cracking? Fun with autocorrect. Or maybe she’s cracking something - bones to suck the marrow out of them?

Sergei clears his throat to announce his presence and asks,

”Everything alright, ma’am? Do you need assistance?”

(@T0dd0: Definitely auto-correct it feels. Ah, the cruel jester it is.)

'Then, you can keep watch from out here.' Had been Rudick's initial thought in response to Alev's initial hesitance. Thankfully, he's able to swallow the words, realizing the foolishness of them, and press on inside with Lucan in tow. And when again the sanity of their little side mission is questioned, and rightly so given the their last encounter, the Orc took them in stride and just stayed silent and placid of of expression; not having much of answer.

As far as Skip's latest magical experience, the words register, but Rudick's focus stayed on keeping an eye out for suppose danger. "Indeed. What... happened here, exactly? By all accounts it appears you ran afoul a mage of some kind." Rudick inquired.

She says between her sobs, "They took Gertruda, my sweet Gertruda." Her crying redoubled at her words. She keeps her back to you.