Ismark leads the party down the main road, the weight of the town's despair palpable with each step. Sparse light from a nearby building spills out from behind heavy, drawn curtains. Above the door, a sign creaks on its rusty hinges, reading "Bildrath's Mercantile." The mournful crying that fills the city streets grows louder as you pass the shop, echoing a haunting symphony of sorrow.
Ahead, a weary-looking mansion squats behind a rusting iron fence, its once-grand presence now a shadow of decay. The iron gates are twisted and torn, with the right gate cast aside and the left swinging lazily in the wind, emitting a stuttering squeal and clang that repeats with mindless precision. Weeds choke the grounds, pressing with menace upon the house itself. Yet, against the walls, the growth has been trampled down, creating a narrow path that encircles the domain. Heavy claw markings have stripped the once-beautiful finish from the walls, and great black scorch marks tell tales of fires that have assailed the mansion. Not a single pane or shard of glass remains in any window, all of which are barred with planks marked with stains of evil omen, casting a foreboding atmosphere over the dilapidated structure.
Ismark strides up to the house and pounds five times on the scratched wooden door, calling out, "Ireena! It's Ismark. Open up!" From within, you hear the sounds of movement, heavy objects being dragged, followed by the clinking of latches and locks being undone. After a tense moment, the door creaks open, and Ismark gestures for everyone to enter.
Once inside, the door slams shut, and a young woman quickly begins relocking it and moving items back to barricade it. The mansion's interior, though well-furnished, shows signs of significant wear and tear. The windows are boarded up, and holy symbols are prominently displayed in every room. In a side drawing room, the burgomaster lies on the floor in a simple wooden coffin, surrounded by wilting flowers and a faint odor of decay.
Ireena is a striking young woman with auburn hair cascading in loose waves around her shoulders. Her eyes, a deep and vibrant shade of green, hold a mixture of determination and sadness. She wears practical, though somewhat worn, clothing—a sturdy leather tunic over a simple dress, both showing signs of frequent mending. A silver pendant shaped like a sunburst hangs around her neck, glinting faintly in the dim light. Despite the weariness in her eyes, there's an air of resilience and strength about her, emphasized by the way she carries herself with an almost regal bearing. Her face, though beautiful, is marked with faint lines of worry and exhaustion, telling a silent story of the burdens she has borne.
Ireena Kolyana
Once everything is closed Ireena gives the party a stern look as if searching for something. "Who are they?"
Ismark sitting down in one of the old chairs. "They are here to help. Hopefully they can put some sense into Father Donavich so we can get father Buried..."
