Prologue - Death House

The party is enveloped by silence in the derelict hall, but with great focus Taniwha can hear the softest sobbing from beyond the door.

Amalthea investigates the armor. Beaten and dented as it is, she can't tell if there ever was any writing at all.

P.S. Abraham finds many oil lamps around the walls to light, but there are no open doorways for Drina to look through. She can always listen at a door.

With a brief introduction Taniwha puts up a hand indicating for there to be silence, and he leans closer to the door. Not quite sure he heard it the first time, he concentrates on the noise behind the door. "I think there is someone, or something, crying behind this door."

He steps back a little from the door. After the last attack he is not sure how to proceed, is this a trap or someone in genuine need. He had seen many crocodile tears that lured many a victim in. He turns looking to the others . . .

"I think we have passed the point of niceties but it is good to know the names of those I stand by."

"Well, with all the commotion made out here, there is no way our presence can not be known. That means whoever lies behind the door chose not to attack." Perhaps it was caring for one younger than herself but the ranger had a habit of stating the positive while leaving more disturbing truths unsaid like when the dinner pot had the last of the game with no promise to be refilled the next day but Drina only spoke of how satisfying the current meal was. A similar situation here. Yes, no one had attacked but neither had assistance been offered.

The green eyed one drew closer to the door indicated while motioning those who had been injured back. Grimacing for having to do so, Drina drew her sword. Knuckles then rapped on the door. Just the definitive sound of wood echoing under her hand had a calming effect on the ranger. In the possibilities of a myriad of actions, Drina found those moments unsettling but let the path be decided and then all that was left was consequences and she would deal with those. "Hello. No need to fear. The armor is no longer a threat. I'm coming in."

Drina had a calming way about which could be liked to the Monks he had grown up with, this made a familiarity with the green eyed human. He did make not that none had commented on his appearance, which in his experience was a rare thing. He pushes back the thoughts as the Ranger knock and announced herself, and he set himself to follow her into the room . . .

Amalthea looks expectantly at their last companion to introduce himself before they are directed to check the closed door. She takes out her crossbow, holding it low, and follows behind Taniwha.

As both Abraham and Drina give light to the hall you see underneath the hood for the first time. The most striking feature is the thick black mop of hair covering a large portion of the head. Dark red curled horns rolling out and back in, like two sea serpents cresting the darkened seas of night. Pointed ears push their way free from the hair that cascades around the sides of Taniwha’s head.

Not until you drop your gaze down would you notice the alert, piercing glaze of fire coloured eyes , watching everything going on. The pale face contrasted by two red streaks dripping down the forehead and cheeks. He appears young possibly just passing twenty years, with a lean but powerful build Taniwha would stand approximately five and a half feet tall.

When Taniwha motioned for silence, Abraham complied. Then everyone started talking again, so Abraham chimed in as well. "I am Abraham Van Kirk, Faithful of Lathander." The man takes in the group as gathered, and nods. "I do not know how any of us arrived here, but I believe I am here at Lathander's bidding. There must be work needing to be done."

"Well met Abraham, Taniwha, and Drina. I am Amalthea and now owe each of you a life debt for today. Let us hope our debts are not being called in now."

She goes on her tippy toes to peer around the others and through the now open door.

When Drina knocks on the door and offers her soothing voice, the quiet sobbing stops. Opening the door, the party can see a wide, elegant bedroom covered in dust and cobwebs. Against the west wall is a large bed with an end table on either side. Two windows look out onto the lawn where the party first met, still impenetrably shrouded in mist. There are two exits from this room in the north wall: a small door that leads to a side room and a set of double doors that lead out to the third-floor balcony.

Tracking game through the forest trained one's eye. Broken grasses or fresh scat gave invaluable clues to tracking game, big or small, and so Drina put her hunting abilities to use. Benefitting from an untended house, Drina looked for clues in the dust and any disturbed cobwebs to see the truth in the situation. Someone had been crying. Now where could they have gone?

Drina enters the room and begins inspecting the layers of dust on the floor and the cobwebs strung along the baseboards. At the door to the side room, an ice-cold draft chills her to the bone—and it's one that she's felt before. Drina knows exactly what kind of creature she's dealing with, but at that moment a flash of blue light comes out of the wall and collides with her!

Despite the disinterested look upon his face, Taniwha was shocked at the acceptance of his appearance. Those in his company had not reacted as any normal would, no angry or open disgust. He refocused on the job at hand, but the distraction was enough he had not seen the any warning of the attack once again. He moved to cover Drina.

Drina is wrapped in the icy blue mist of an undead spirit, a black and yawning face materializing in front of hers. She fights it off—this isn't her first ghost—and the blue mist shrinks into the form of a thin, sallow young woman in a shawl, ghostly tears streaking her face.

The ghost looks shocked, as if she expected to have prevailed in her attack. She puts her hands up. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again if you don't hurt me! I just had to be sure you wouldn't." She looks up timidly, awaiting your response.

In the natural world, anything living leaves its mark on its environment but the dead..... the dead are under no such obligation. Often the dead mock the living by leaving conflicting traces of life like sounds of tears without the drops of moisture to show a trail of tactile pain but Drina had been cultivating another sense that did not rely on her eyes and ears.

Calamir had been the one to introduce her to the ways of the undead. Her tuition for the education had only been her beloved parents. The original dark skinned, green eyed beauty, Drina's mother had had brusque manner with a commanding voice that brook no nonsense. One could be forgiven if one thought Valdy seemed an unlikely pairing to such a woman as he was a man who was rarely serious. However, if one saw them dance then no other explanation would be needed as two parts became whole. In the light of a campfire, shimmering golden dangles vibrated with energy as a muscular man twirled his love in a driving rhythm. It was a pale one devoid of his own blood who witnessed such a dance. His thirst had been stirred that night at the sight of such passion for life until he returned to drain those very vessels dry.

Yes, it was Calamir who had entered the family wagon cursing at arriving too late, helping to bury her parents and introduced her to the Society of the Juniper Berry. Such a mudane name that sounded like a lady's garden club but those that owned a sprig with berries were so much more than gossipy, tea sipping nobles: the SJB worked to restore the natural order of the world and return those beings that were dead back to death. A service to the world and a kindness to those stuck in the between.

Now that keen undead sense allowed the ranger to pick up reactions that played across her own body. Individual hairs along her arms prickled as her lungs burned at air suddenly cooled to the point that whisp of white smoke fluttered forward from every breath that exhaled from her body. Ohhhh, thought Drina, I know you.

No sooner did that thought form than a discorporal ball of light collide into Drina's light frame. Fancy footwork kept the ranger rocking from one foot to the other as the power of the impact was disseminated through her body like the wind through tree limbs. Moved but not broken.
Only to be followed by what Vai liked to call "The Big Scare". Perhaps not the most poetic of names but certainly accurate. But Drina wasn't afraid.

And it seemed the ghost had known that truth and was broken? Or a trick? Inhaling and exhaling deeply gave herself a moment to contemplate the one before her as Drina searched her mind for every piece of lore Granny, an associate of Calamir, had tried to stuff her with along with an apple strudel claiming men liked women that had curves. Drina didn't know about the quality of the "love" advice but Granny's undead knowledge was unmatched. Rumor had it that the older woman had even killed a vampire in her day even if time was ravaging her once nimble fingers with swollen joints. Now Granny's legacy was to instruct those who would follow her footsteps. As a rule of thumb, names were important and held power, "Very well. Tell me your name and your story and we shall see where we go from there."

"My name is Vasha. I used to be the nursemaid here, when the family was alive. I—" She shakes her head and looks away, ashamed. "I made a terrible mistake, and the gods have punished me for it. The baby was mine and the Master's, sure as night, only it didn't cry. It didn't even make a sound."

Vasha holds her head, seemingly caught in a dream. "The gods cursed my poor baby, and I allowed it to happen. He grew fast, too fast. And became hungry. That's when the Mistress came after me. What my poor Walter became . . . it's the reason I can never leave this place. She took him, the poor thing, and. . . ."

Vasha goes still. "I don't want to remember. I still hear him sleeping under the house." After that, she stares each one of you in the eye. "You should never have come here, but it's too late. This place is cursed beyond your understanding, and it will never let you go."

Not for the first time does Taniwha look around and wonder if this is not all part of an illusion, had the Magician’s trap not teleported out of the city limits but trapped him within. The armoured ghast had seemed so real though. He restrained his compulsion to reach out and grab Drina, refocusing on the wailing ghost.

"Vasha, Who was your Mistress and Master? And who is Walter?" The Tiefling asks trying to mentally list the subjects spoken on.

"Her baby is Walter, from the sounds of it," Abraham suggests in response to Taniwha's query. "The children, Rose and Thorn, mentioned their mother taking their baby brother Walter into the basement where the monster was... but they made it sound like it happened just recently..."

Eyes narrowing, he looks to the spirit. "How long have you been trapped here?"