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kingdomsofrain2026-01-17 02:26 pm
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2026-01-17 02:26 pm
shitlords!
placeholder title above! hmmmm
1) Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery.
2) The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
3) Death House Pt. 1: Family, If You Wish It.
4) Death House Pt. 2: Onward and Downward.
1) Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery.
2) The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
3) Death House Pt. 1: Family, If You Wish It.
4) Death House Pt. 2: Onward and Downward.
no subject
The people in the portraits are vaguely familiar - Dima might have had dealings with their relations in Morovsk, and would suspect this to be one of the Durst family households. He can't recall where the family is from.
He definitely recognizes their coat of arms on the shield he nearly demolished: A stylized golden windmill on a red field. This would confirm the family name for him.
<.>
Dima notes the information, though he'll keep quiet about it just now, having learned a valuable lesson about noise in ruined houses, and feeling there's something vital he's missing. Better, perhaps, to dig at his own memories before announcing anything; he'll keep the name in mind as they move through the house. For now, he presses Faolan's hand again, nodding forward as if to say, ’Let’s?’
Rin has continued moving toward the closed doors, glancing through the room in search of anything worth snagging on the way out— And, yes, fine, for any signs of watchful eyes or danger, also for those things.
Reaching the door, they pause. If there's a keyhole or crack in the door, they'll peer through it. If not, they'd like to listen for any sounds on the other side.
<.>
There's complete silence on the other side; in fact, aside from the cacophony a moment ago, the house seems utterly lifeless. None of the lanterns or fires are lit, nothing moves, not so much as a creaking stair.
Sen listens as well, and after a moment shakes his head 'no' - he hears nothing either. Pushing the doors open, the party will find a wide hall running the width of the house, with a black marble fireplace at one end and a sweeping red marble staircase at the other.
Mounted on the wall above the fireplace is a longsword with a windmill cameo worked into the hilt.
The wood paneled walls are ornately sculpted with images of vines, flowers, nymphs, and satyrs.
There are five doors leading from the hall to other rooms.
Fae follows the thieves, unresponsive to the press of his hand - but he does look back once at Dima, his eyes full of complicated emotions.
Sen is going for the sword to see if he can pry the cameo off without attracting attention or destroying anything.
[DEX: 22]
The cameo pops off easily and he slips it into his pocket, leaving the sword behind.
<.>
[PERC, r: 3. rin did not see this from sen and so could not be impressed by it alas!]
Rin is very busy prowling the edges of the hall. They're very interested in that staircase. They want to go up that staircase— But then, they're fairly certain monsters are usually found down, and not very often up. (It's a very good reason to sleep in trees! Usually.)
For the moment, they content themself with tracing a clawed fingertip along the sculpted walls, then pausing before the door they're fairly certain leads to the room they saw through that first window.
They're going to gently, quietly nudge it open and peer inside. There didn't seem to be much in there, but caution never hurts.
As they enter the hall, Dima finds he hasn't been breathing much at all, though he can't say whether it's owed to his attempts at keeping quiet, or the look Faolan gave him. He inhales a little deeper, shakes his head slightly, and starts to move toward the mantle. He'd like to take a look at that sword.
He also hasn't let go of Faolan's hand.
<.>
Faolan lets himself be led without protest, giving Dima gentle steering around what might be warping in floorboards. (He is and isn't watching Dima.)
The ceilings of the room - and indeed all of the rooms on this level - are 10-feet high, and Faolan sees nothing worth remarking on about them, or the walls, or - really, this room at all.
Sen meanders to one wall to examine the artwork - flowers, vines, nymphs, satyrs, and -?
He notices something, but says nothing to the group. Instead, he goes looking for Rin and finds himself distracted by what's taken their interest.
Rin will find upon passing through the door the very room they saw through the window. Throughout the room are taxidermied wolves, and before the opulent fireplace are leather chairs and a sidetable between them.
[PERC, d: 19]
"Two padded chairs draped in animal furs face the hearth, with an oak table between them supporting a cask of wine, two carved wooden goblets, a pipe rack, and a candelabrum. Two cabinets stand against the walls."
Inspection of the two cabinets will reveal that the east wall cabinet is locked.
Dima, upon inspecting the sword, determines it's a very nice sword.
<.>
Rin's response on entering the room and facing the taxidermied wolves is a very soft, very sarcastic: “Great.” It's kind of weird having these wolves-not-wolves being dead and close while you're having your fireside wine, right? Right.
Rin would like to check the sidetable for any knick-knacks, papers, or other objects.
They'd also like to get a sniff of the wine in the cask.
Dima looks after the thieves, looks at Faolan, and lifts one shoulder. Nods in their direction with an unspoken 'shall we follow' query.
<.>
Upon inspection, Rin finds nothing of note other than a few pipes. The wine smells like wine.
Sen's attention drifts around the room, lighting briefly on the wolves before settling on the cabinets. He makes his way to the east one, attempts to open it, and finding it locked, produces a set of lockpicks and gets to work.
Following Dima's suggestion, Faolan joins the others in the room - then catches sight of the wolves, freezes into a stony silence, and shakes his head at Dima. Not staying in here.
He'll try to pull free of Dima's hold, thinking he can just wait in the hall or go inspect one of the other rooms.
Sen snaps two of his lockpicks before tsking in irritation and giving up.
<.>
Dima is. Very torn.
He wants to take a look around the room— He also doesn't want to lose sight of Faolan, or leave him when he looks so suddenly uneasy.
For a moment he hesitates, conflict ticking his lip. He looks at Faolan's hand; he hasn't let it go. His fingers flex, begin to loosen pressure—
Then hold where they are. He cants his head at the man, confused, then nods, as if to say, ’As you say, then.’
A moment later, he Messages Faolan: [I know this family. Or I know their crest. Have you noticed anything?]
<.>
He thinks with a sinking sensation that Dmitri Voronin is going to let go. (He'll leave for something more interesting, and won't that just prove Faolan right about all of them?
Everyone goes. Eventually.)
The renewed pressure almost breaks something vital inside him because he knows it means a choice was made. A small one, true. And it doesn't negate anything else; Dmitri will still tire of the chase eventually. (But it's nice to know his revulsion from what he saw in the room won't leave him wandering this house alone. It's nice to know Dmitri perhaps saw his discomfort.) (Nice to have something like a friend, really, even if that's not what Dmitri is after.)
Once again, the man speaks in a way Faolan is certain only he can hear. He can't reply with the same magic, so he swallows and looks around at the hall, then shakes his head. No, he doesn't know anything about these people. (That's unusual for him - he's come into contact with so many nobles.)
His hand holds perhaps a little tighter. It might be dismissed as Dima's imagination, though.
<.>
Back in the other room, Rin, seeing the lock being very rude to Sen, would like to give it a try if they may. It seems like a good idea to check, and no loCk should keep that idea from happening!
[SLEIGHT: 24]
<.>
Rin easily pops the lock on the cabinet and opens it to reveal a heavy crossbow, a light crossbow, a hand crossbow, and 20 bolts for each weapon.
A quick inspection will reveal these are normal weapons with no magic to them whatsoever. But they are in good shape.
<.>
Rin is immediately taking the hand crossbow thank you very much. They lost their last one to an, mm, to a disagreement a few years back and they've missed it very much. Looking over the weapon, they gesture for Sen to take one or both of the others if he likes; after all, this is their joint discovery, and the elf should reap the rewards too!
...Actually.
Actually. Sen saw the cabinet first. Which means, in all fairness, Sen's got dibs. So Rin, after a moment's think, nudges the hand crossbow in his direction; it's only fair.
That's heartening, the way Faolan takes his hand a little tighter (maybe?) (Dima wants to believe it's true) (Dima doesn't know whether it's true, but why not let himself believe, for now?). Dima cants his head at the man, and now he *does* smile; slightly, encouraging. (Trying to set Faolan at ease after whatever caused him to back from the bare sight of that room.)
And, realizing he ought to have explained the magic, realizing there's something he would like to make clear, he Messages again: [When I speak like this, you can respond to me. It's a little like a whisper, Faolan, but no one else will hear... And I'll hear only what you direct my way. Would you like to try it?]
<.>
Sen nudges away the hand crossbow and shakes his head; he can handle the light one just fine - he thinks, anyhow. He's never used one, but how much different from any other bow can it be? In any case, Rin ought to have one sized for them.
(Rin ought to have anything they want. Anything in the world.)
With a nod at the large crossbow and another at the door, he asks without words if one of them ought to be given another weapon. He's content to let this one sit untouched, really, but it's up to Rin.
(He thinks - he might like to follow Rin's whims anywhere they take them.) (Lovely Rin.) (He really would like to run a caress along their horns -)
He's just going to go inspect that other cabinet and stop thinking about Rin's horns.
The way Dima says 'Faolan' - a voice, omnipresent in his ears and mind, unknowable by anyone else, and maybe a little possessive - unsettles him. It's not a good idea to let Dima - Dmitri - get accustomed to ...well. Him. Nearness with him.
He never should have offered his hand.
He does reply - softly, with shuttered eyes: [ I don't know them. ]
And, without challenge (does he have it in him to challenge anymore at all?), he adds:
[ And you don't know me. ]
He looks down at his hand in Dmitri's and back up again.
[ Stealth. Nothing else. ]
<.>
Rin won't argue; if Sen's all right with the light bow, they'll just keep this one, thank you very much! Maybe even put it to use against the monster! If there is a monster, which Rin is still not sure about. (Sometimes people make up monsters. Sometimes Rin makes up monsters. Monsters make for good stories!)
They'll grab the large crossbow after a moment's thought, intending to hand it to the human who has... Not joined them in the room? That's all right; more space for Rin and Sen to seek and take what they please!
Rin will join Sen at the other cabinet, intending to help with the inspection.
Dima—
Well. Dima thinks maybe, maybe he shouldn't have explained the spell. He doesn't know why that went wrong, or what brought what he takes as regret to Faolan's eyes; he only knows that something tenuous seems broken.
Not beyond repair! He thinks. He tells himself. (Was his mistake in mentioning the Durst family? Did it seem a slight to mention such a family, when, when... Gods, he can't fall down those thoughts right now. He has to keep some focus on what's happening. For stealth's sake, if nothing else.)
There's an impulse to withdraw his hand at those last words; it's an impulse Dima fights off, though his hand stiffens slightly, and he looks at their joined hands. Nods, looks back at Faolan: [ Stealth, then.]
A breath. A nod to himself. And: [ Please. If you see anything of note, let me know? I admit it's taking half my focus to keep from knocking over everything I see. Even with your guidance. ]
It was a joke. Or an attempt at one, anyway.
<.>
no subject
And holding hands still.
Last night, that boy was chilly to all of them, but Dima most of all. Now, he looks like he's at the bottom of a well and his only hope is that hand.
Or - that could be Sen's fanciful imagination. He IS a bard, after all.
Even so, he nudges Rin and nods at the pair - then sends his own Message to the Tiefling. [ Five silver says one of them creeps into the other's bedroll before the week is out. ]
Faolan thinks maybe he went too far. He didn't mean to hurt Dmitri (better him than Faolan, though, isn't that true?)
(It didn't used to be.) (His heart could take it, then.) (Oh, what he would have risked for those eyes three years ago. For a kiss. For a voice in his ear speaking his name. For a hand in his own like a promise.) (Only ever promises, is the problem.)
In another life, maybe he would have gone back on his words. Maybe he would have flirted, would have liked to catch Dmitri up in a kiss, and maybe their twined hands might have meant something else.
He's sorry. He's terribly sorry. A flicker in his expression says it better than words: regret, resignation - weariness.
Rather than reply, he turns to peer into one of the other rooms.
It proves to be the dining room. The centerpiece of this wood-paneled room is a carved mahogany table surrounded by eight high-backed chairs with sculpted armrests and cushioned seats. A chandelier hangs above the table, which is covered with resplendent silverware and crystalware polished to a dazzling shine. Mounted above the marble fireplace is a mahogany framed painting of an alpine vale.
The wall paneling in here is carved with elegant images of deer among the trees.
Red silk drapes cover the windows and a tapestry depicting hounding dogs and horse-mounted aristocrats chasing after a wolf hangs from an iron rod bolted to the south wall.
Faolan fixates on the tapestry, performs only a perfunctory scan of the room to be sure there's no monster or corpses, and shakes his head again at Dima. [ I’m not going in. ]
A wan smile and press of his hand. [ Unless I'm needed, I'm not going in there. ]
<.>
Rin's eyes light up, and they offer Sen a grin. They've encountered this magic or something of its kind before - it's handy among thieves - and their response follows quickly: [ Oh, delightful! ]
They mean the magic— They also mean the wager. Rin's pretty sure Sen's claimed the better bet already, but that's all right. Five silver's easy enough to steal somewhere if they lose out. [ You're on! Five silver at the end of the week! ]
Which. Come to think of it. Suggests the four of them will be staying together for a week. They'll have to, now that the bet's on! Rin's invested. And though they rarely spend more than a day among company, they find they don't dislike this prospect in the least.
Putting these thoughts on hold, Rin's going to make an attempt at opening cabinet no. 2.
[note: Note: The cabinet opens with ease; within is a small box containing a deck of playing cards and a collection of wine glasses.]
Rin is going to offer the deck to Sen; he looks like the kind of very dashing knave who might excel with cards. The glasses— They'd like to throw a glass. For fun. But no, no, stealth comes first. If Sen seems to see nothing noteworthy in the glasses, Rin's going to start out of the room.
Dima knows a cut across his heart; the regret, the look of erosion in Faolan's expression. It's worse somehow than the distance, the 'nothing else.' (Someone's hurt this boy. It's a thought, a certainty forming with slow ire.) (It's another thought he'll have to shelve for now.) Dima's hand loses its tension, and he measures Fae's regret with open eyes, with the subtlest of nods.
At Fae's words - at, oh, the press of his hand? (just for stealth) (maybe not entirely just for stealth?) - Dima presses back, softly, unimposing. He's going to take a quick look into the room of his own, glancing at no more than what his hold of Fae's hand allows, then return his eyes to Fae.
(Wolves again. A showcasing of hunters again.)
(Is there something about the Durst family and wolves? Are they known for their hunting? What is it itching at Dima's recollection?)
(And what it is that warded Fae from these rooms?)
[ For the moment, the room appears entirely incidental. No monster; no father. ] Another small press of Faolan's hand, and, [ If it becomes necessary, we'll send the thieves in, yes? ]
<.>
Whatever might have been said next - by Sen, by Faolan, by anyone - there's a sound just loud enough to bring a different sort of hush on the group.
Footsteps, perhaps, above them. The sound of distant - crying?
Thinking quickly, Sen hurries past Rin ( [ I'll be right back. ] ) and the two men in the hall, motioning wordlessly that he's stepping outside.
A moment later, he returns, his expression grown sober and his eyes cast upward. When the party has gathered at the foot of the stairs, he relays to them in a hushed voice that he asked the children if anyone other was in the house.
Rose and Thorn told him they aren't sure of their parents' whereabouts, their infant brother, Walter, is still in his nursery on the third floor.
"Much as I'd like to continue picking through their things, I'm not interested in leaving an infant alone, monster or none. Perhaps a more expeditious search?"
<.>
Rin's impulse is a question they keep quiet only by the grace of some god or other, because why didn't the older ones take their sibling?
Probably that's not the point right now.
Maybe little Walter's a shit. Maybe little Walter likes the monster?
Doesn't matter; Sen suggests moving on, so that's what they'll do.
First, though, Rin extends the large crossbow toward Faolan. "We found it," they explain quietly, succinct.
<.>
Faolan stares at the crossbow with a frown, then shakes his head. He doesn't know how to use that contraption - though it's nice they found some weapons. With his free hand, he taps the scimitar at his side: he's good.
Good enough to take the lead, because he suspects he might be the only one with actual fighting ability in this group, other than Dmitri - who -
Well. He's not going to think about that. (How taking the crossbow would have meant letting go. Would have been an excuse to let go.)
He starts up the stairs, pulling Dima along behind him. Sen, ever chivalrous, offers to go ahead of Rin.
On the second level, the party arrives in another hall like the one below. The oil lamps are unlit here, as well. Hanging above the mantle of the fireplace is a portrait of the Durst family: Rose and Thorn with their parents. In their father's arms is a swaddled baby, which the mother regards with a hint of scorn.
Four suits of armor wearing helms in the shapes of wolf heads flank doors on either side of the hall. These doors are carved with dancing youths.
Just off the stairs, a door opens into an undecorated bedroom containing a pair of beds with straw-stuffed mattresses. The chests at the end of each are open and empty, and a hook on the wall holds a tidy servant's uniform. Nothing else of interest can be seen in this room.
The stairs continue on upward, and there's a cold draft flowing down.
Sen breaks from the group to move toward the doors on the north side of the hall where he examines the carvings with silent bemusement. Once again, he shrugs it away, but despite the sense of urgency, he does open the door to see what's in this particular room.
<.>
Dima absolutely believes this man can wield the scimitar with aplomb.
He keeps step with Faolan, though he'll pause at the top of the stairs, seeking anything that might prompt memory's return. He'd like to examine the painting, and examine the carvings on the doors Sen hasn't opened.
Dima also intends to keep half an eye on Fae, watching for any recurrence of the unease shown at the rooms below.
Rin's curiosity follows Sen, but they're going to swing through the undecorated room (servants' quarters?). Their first order of business is to find somewhere to stow the large crossbow; if Sen not's going to take it and Fae's not going to take it, they don't want anyone else stumbling in and laying hands on the thing. Loose weapons sink... Something.
Rin's going to look around the room for somewhere to hide the weapon. They're also going to start wondering how long those kids have been living in this very dark very empty house.
Not that it doesn't happen.
Not that Rin hasn't lived in very dark, very empty places themself.
[note: The only places to stow a crossbow in the undecorated room are beneath the beds; the weapon is too large to fit in the small chests.]
Under the bed works for Rin, and they will shove it as near to the wall as they can.
[PERC, d: 22]
<.>
Examining the wood paneling for a moment, Dima will realize the youths are not dancing, but are instead attempting to stave off a swarm of bats.
From here out, if Dima examines the wood carvings in the house, he will notice things are not as they appear.
Examination of the portrait gives him no further clue to the identity of the family.
Examination of Faolan shows his distinct unease with the suits of armor. He's patiently following Dima, but he clearly doesn't want to be here.
Sen, meanwhile, has discovered a library.
"Red velvet drapes cover the windows of this room. An exquisite mahogany desk and a matching high-back chair face the entrance and the fireplace, above which hangs a framed picture of a windmill perched atop a rocky crag. Situated in corners of the room are two overstuffed chairs. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the south wall.
A rolling wooden ladder allows one to more easily reach the high shelves."
<.>
Dima leans toward the carving, eyes fixed in focus. This could be an affectation in the decor, but given the state of this place, it seems unlikely. He absolutely intends to continue examining the carvings through the house. He's also going to give Faolan's hand a slight half-tug. Partly to share the discovery; partly to draw his attention away from the suits of armor.
(Wolf-helmed armor.) (The hunted wolf.) (The hunted wolves put on display.) (And Faolan, gone silent. Faolan, looking for all the world like he'd rather claw himself away from this place—
But he hasn't done so.
He remains here, still holding Dima's hand.)
[ Do you see this? The swarm? ] He traces a finger through one of the bat swarms, then looks to Faolan for confirmation.
Rin, having stowed the crossbow, sticks their head into the room Sen's found. Wanting to get his attention without making too much noise, they offer a soft 'hoo.' If he looks, they'll cock their head, as if to suggest, ’You got this room?’ He lookS like he's got this room. And if Sen doesn't seem in need of a hand, Rin will go slip open the other set of double doors.
<.>
Faolan didn't see the swarm. He does now, however, and leans in to examine the odd carvings. (Didn't he see more downstairs? Are they all like this?)
Rin pushes past them into a room that appears to be a large, most-empty room. Gossamer drapes cover the windows; a brass-plated chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Upholstered chairs line the walls, and stained-glass wall hangings depict beautiful men, women, and children singing and playing instruments.
A harpsichord with a bench rests in one corner. Near the fireplace is a standing harp. Rin's inspection of alabaster figurines of well-dressed dancers adorning the mantelpiece will reveal several are well-dressed skeletons.
Faolan doesn't particularly want to go in that room. He'd like to continue on out of here; find the infant, find the monster. Get away from this strange house.
Sen, who is still beaming about the hoot sent his way, begins to rifle through the contents of the library, starting with the desk.
In the desk drawer, he finds an iron key and nothing else. Strange. Strange enough to pocket.
He also examines the rows of books. (Perception: 17)
He spots a fake book and, upon pulling it, finds he has discovered a secret door.
Well, of course he must go inside!
The door shuts behind him, plunging him into darkness - but not before he sees the skeleton sharing the room with him.
“FUCK.”
<.>
Rin thinks this is getting weird.
Okay, it's been weird, and the harpsicord's a bit much, but it's not as if they don't appreciate macabre tokens. It's not as if they aren't going to grab for a few of them and drop them into their newfound bag. ’One for me, two for sale,’ they figure. That seems fair.
They're considering plucking a harp string when the windows catch their eye. Rin would like to take a look outside. Just to see if anything's changed. Maybe see if they can catch a glimpse of the two kids.
Dima, having seen Faolan's continued unease, glances around for sight of the thieves, who've made themselves quite scarce— Or, no, there's the tiefling in one room, eyes out the windows.
It's the glass that catches Dima's eye. He'd like to have a look at those images, and see whether they hold any, mm, odd details.
He glances to Fae: [ A quick look? Something's off. I just want to see, and I'd rather not leave you here. ]
<.>
Looking out the windows, Rin can see that the town has been consumed by an impenetrable white mist. The children are not visible from their vantage point.
Faolan looks between Dmitri and the room and back again, then shakes his head no. He feels uneasier the more he thinks of the carving, of the wolves. (Hunted. Dead.)
Dima's right: something is off, and the sooner they find that infant, the sooner they can get the hell out of here.
And, in a low stage whisper, he leans into the conservatory and calls for Rin. ”Rin, let's go.”
<.>
Oh.
...Oh?
Of course he'll go with (Fae) Faolan. All thought of joining Rin is summarily banished, and Dima finds he's staring at Faolan just a little wide-eyed, finds he lost hold of thought for a moment there. He shakes his head slightly, the better to bring himself to the present, then nods—
[ We keep moving, then. Yes. ]
Rin's moving toward Dima and Fae, then past them, remarking quietly, sounding a little bit annoyed: "It's misty out. When'd that happen?"
Awfully convenient for mist to—
Wait.
What—
They call a little louder than they intended (just a bit above a whisper) (not not feeling sudden unease): "Sen?"
A glance back, as if expecting to see the elf poke his head around the door - no, though; that's only Fae and Dima - and Rin begins to search for signs of Sen.
<.>
no subject
Sen isn't here.
He knows Sen didn't come out of here. They would have seen him, even if he was being stealthy about it.
Unless he climbed up the fucking chimney, though...
Faolan breathes out a sound of faint distress and releases Dmitri's hand ( [ I'm sorry- ]) to reach for his scimitar. Not unsheathed, not yet, but his hand is on the hilt (and so much colder for the loss of a (Dima's) hand.)
And everyone who's looking around the library, roll a perception check.
[ f: 4
r: 17
d: 8; he’s is rather occupied with the entire Moment that happened just now, and thinks Sen probably slipped out the window, the goddamn elf. ]
Faolan and Dima find nothing of consequence in the room and Dima might even suspect there's nothing TO find.
Rin, however, will find the red-bound false book if they examine the bookshelves.
<.>
Dima can’t shake the image of Faolan’s distress; of the hand leaving his own, and the apology that followed. (He didn’t have to apologize. He should never have felt the need.) (Oh, but it was heartening to hear.) [ I’ll be right here. ] And he offers a small, tentative smile.
Dima then checks the position of his own dagger and, after a look around the room, shakes his head. Speaks under his breath, “The jackass went out the window.” Got bored with the room and moved along; that seems right to Dima.
Rin isn’t sure about that, at all. When they find the book, they hiss softly under their breath, then offer, their own voice hushed, “I don’t think so.”
Taking their shortsword in-hand, they pull at the book.
<.>
The door to the secret room swings open, prompting Faolan to grasp Dmitri's wrist and hustle over to join Rin.
The three of them crowd in the doorway to find Sen seated on the ground with his arm around the bony shoulders of a skeleton.
He has been in the process of telling it all the things it's missed since it's been dead, but abruptly interrupts himself to thrust out a hand and cry out, "No, no, don't come in here! The door's rigged!"
<.>
For.
Shit's.
Sake.
Okay, the elf didn't go out the window. Okay, this *also* tracks. Or. Sen chattering away at the skeleton tracks; the presence of the skeleton is not precisely reassuring, to say the least.
Dima wants a look at the skeleton. So he turns his head to Faolan, then back to the apparently rigged door.
"Would you mind holding the door while I examine the remains?" And, shooting A Look at Sen, "Assuming our companion here hasn't learned anything, which I don't believe is a vast assumption."
Rin's just glad to see Sen's all right, really. The skeleton is... Weird. The room is weird? There's a question about that, but first they're waving to Sen and beckoning him to join back in the world of the not-secret-closet: "Weird book, right?"
And, as they turn to begin checking the room for other little... well, surprises, traps: "Weird room, too. Is that all there is, a skeleton? Who keeps a room for a skeleton?
"...I guess I might. But maybe that's why people don't just give me rooms."
<.>
Now that there's light shed in the room, it can be seen that there are bookshelves packed with tomes bearing titles relating to the occult and necromancy. Sen and the skeleton are leaning back against an open chest.
<.>
Dima. Absolutely wants to take a look through these shelves after checking the skeleton. Though first, since he’s already going into the room, or planning to. He'd like to look at the chest, maybe, after checking the remains.
(He's not NOT considering snagging a few fingerbones while he's at it.)
<.>
Faolan reluctantly lets go of Dima's hand to hold the door; Sen is all too happy to clear out of the room without searching for loot.
Close inspection of the skeleton reveals that it belongs to a human who triggered a poison dart trap. Three darts are stuck in the leather armor at his chest.
Apparently, there's no more trap, as everyone going in and out of the room has not been hit by anything.
Clutched in the skeleton's left hand is a letter bearing the seal of a distant, well-known entity named Strahd von Zarovich.
<.>
Dima is going to bow out on inspecting the chest. Having seen the poison darts, he's going to take the letter, attempt to snag one (1) finger from the skeleton (breaking off the forefinger from the first knuckle), then move to examine the books.
If no one else moves toward the chest, Rin will move in and have a look.
<.>
Rin finds three blank books with black leather covers, three spell scrolls, two property deeds, and a signed will.
Further inspection of these items shows the will is signed by Gustav and Elisabeth Durst and bequeaths the house (deed 1), the windmill (deed 2), and all other family property to Rosavelda and Thornboldt Durst in the event of their parents' deaths.
[ARC, d: 10; with Guidance from Fae]
The books are fiend-summoning rituals and necromantic rites of a cult called the Priests of Osybus.
[INS, d: nat 20]
Dima at first thinks these tomes are intriguing, but recalling his GODDAMN EDUCATION, knows every word is totally bogus and none of these spells could possibly work.
<.>
Fae reaches to take the letter and, finding the seal already broken, unfolds it and reads aloud while Rin and Dima search and Sen peers over his shoulder.
"My most pathetic servant,
“I am not a messiah sent to you by the Dark Powers of this land. I have not come to lead you on a path to immortality. However many souls you have bled on your hidden altar, however many visitors you have tortured in your dungeon, know that you are not the ones who brought me to this beautiful land. You are but worms writing in my earth.
“You say that you are cursed, your fortunes spent. You abandoned love for madness, took solace in the bosom of another woman, and sired a stillborn son. Cursed by darkness? Of that I have no doubt. Save you from your wretchedness? I think not. I much prefer you as you are.
“Your dread lord and master, Strahd von Zarovich."
[HIST, d: 11]
Dima can't remember anything more, but something about all of this just keeps niggling at him.
<.>
[q: Does Dima recognize/know anything about this Priests of Osybus cult?
a: His history check says nope.]
Dima, growing increasingly irritated by his failure to catch whatever memory keeps slipping his hold (and, perhaps, by the hand he's lost hold of), feeling uneased by the letter, begins with "This stinks of desperation. The melodramatic, the megolomaniac as well." Speaking partly in order to find some way toward a point; none of this is adding up. He's missing something key.
And, flipping through another of the books, lip ticking. "It's nonsense, all of this. None of this is functional.”
He's been talking more to himself than the others, but when he glances back, meets Fae's eyes, he feels a little bit more grounded. Cants his head and thinks, thinks. "The letter was to your" (nodding to Sen) "skeletal friend, or to someone else entirely. Begging the question— Where is the altar."
Rin, rocking back and forth on their heels, hasn't really been listening to Dima. They have been trying to examine the deeds, but they also really, really don't care for legalize, and they wave the papers toward Sen, "Do you know about houses? Or windmills." And, idly, not really considering the remark, "You know what, I don't think stillborn infants do a lot of crying."
<.>
Sen takes the papers and examines them thoughtfully. "If there is some stillborn infant in question here - well. Judging by his condition-"
He motions towards the skeleton.
"It was certainly long enough in the past for another babe to come along, surely."
Looking back down to the papers, he simply shrugs. "These are only land deeds. Some windmill in Vallaki - haven't the foggiest where that is. The other is for this place, I imagine. Boravia? We're apparently in Boravia. I don't suppose any of you know where that is?"
Before anyone can answer, he nods to the letter Faolan is silently re-reading. "I think Dima has a point, there. What altar? What fucking dungeon? I -"
He stops abruptly and fishes out the iron key he found in the desk drawer, slowly waggles for the other three to see.
"In case we find a door with a lock. But I didn't see anything on the first floor leading down, so perhaps we continue 'up' for now."
Faolan folds the letter carefully and passes it back to Dmitri before speaking. "We heard someone moving around up here. Maybe we ask them the questions."
<.>
Something about this still doesn’t sit right with Rin. But also maybe they just don’t trust kids who run up to the first strangers in view and forget to mention their tiny brother.
…They do have one question though. “How old’s the skeleton?”
Dima will answer if his look over the remains made this clear; if not, and if Sen learned nothing, Rin will simply let the question be.
[note: It's hard to tell; it's clearly been in here for some time; granted, it's a locked secret room that may have been untouched for years by the master of the house. After all, he hardly needs bogus occult tomes.]
Dima conveys this information; Rin decides there’s more to be seen and anyway the skeleton’s not going anywhere. Rin’s ready to move onward and upward.
Dima is going to suggest taking the items from the chest and putting them in Rin’s bag, if nothing else; he’ll take the scrolls if no one else does - for examining another time - then reclaim Faolan’s hand, Messaging [ Thank you. ]
Dima is now ready to move on as well, and will be holding Fae’s hand just a little tighter. Thinking to message ‘Stay with me, please,’; deciding it doesn’t need to be said.
<.>
no subject
The party continues out of the library and up the stairs to the third floor; Faolan takes the lead with Dmitri behind him.
At the top of the stairs, the party arrives at a dusty balcony. Against the far wall is another suit of armor like those below, though this one is draped in cobwebs.
Oil lamps are mounted on the oak-paneled walls; these, too, have carvings of woodland scenes of trees, falling leaves, and small animals.
Faolan, seeing the wolf-helmed armor, averts his eyes and pulls Dima hurriedly past it; these representations of wolves and hunters of wolves are beginning to honestly frighten him.
<.>
When was the last time anyone passed through these halls.
(A question echoing in-kind, half-grasped: When was the last time anyone truly lived here?)
Dima feels these questions, though his attention is currently caught upon Faolan's hurry; the way he once more seems averse to the armor. Dima doesn't stall his progress. He will, however, pause to examine the wood paneling currently nearest to him, setting a hand to Faolan's arm to signal that he's pausing, just for a moment.
[ You needn't look at the armor, Faolan. You needn't look at anything. We'll get through this; I promise you. ]
Dima leans in to study the panel's details.
<.>
Examining the wood panel, Dima will discover corpses hanging from the trees.
[PERC, d: 17]
While examining the grove with its 'strange fruit', Dima finds the outline of a hidden door in the wall.
Sen is preoccupied with thinking perhaps there are more secret doors in this house, or treasures to be found - it's a good distraction from the threat of unease (fear) running through him. He sees the boy and his tag-along heading to the right, so he suggests to Rin perhaps they ought to go the other way and see what there is. They're within earshot, mostly, and splitting up will allow them to cover more ground.
If Rin is amenable, Sen is going to head in the opposite direction, towards the double doors at the north end of the balcony.
<.>
Rin is amenable, and joins Sen at the double doors. They're going to motion for Sen to join them in another round of 'listen for sounds from the other side' and try to check for signs of movement through any keyhole or gap beneath the door. They'd also like to examine the handle, just in case anything seems rigged. They don't want Sen stuck in another skeleton trap!
Dima points out the outline to Faolan immediately, gesturing toward it and Messaging, [ Do you see it? ]
<.>
Rin's inspection turns up nothing of note; there's no noise and there are no traps. Peering through the keyhole, they see no movement.
Faolan cocks his head and nods slowly, then places his hand against the wall to see if it moves; it swings open inward easily to reveal a dusty, cobwebbed set of stairs leading up.
He peers in and up, then withdraws and says, [ Let's see if there's anything down here first. No one's climbed those steps in years. ]
<.>
Dima could admire the morbidity of details in this paneling if he didn't feel so uneasy; if he wasn't so aware of Faolan's dis-ease. (And, yes, if he wasn't still irked by those nonsense 'necromancy' tomes.) Better now, anyway, to focus on this door, and the itch he feels looking up the stairs, knowing both foreboding and a desire to see, to find, to know what's up there. (Something, something— There must be an answer to all of this.)
For now, he nods. [ That's wisest, yes. ]
And, looking at the nearest door, he'll move to push it open.
<.>
The doors open to reveal a bedroom suite with two sets of doors along the west wall. The bedroom contains a large bed, two end tables, and a wardrobe. Mounted on the wall is a full-length mirror with an ornate wooden frame carved to look like ivy and berries.
Sen and Rin, upon entering the opposite room, find an elegantly appointed master suite. It is furnished with a four-poster bed draped with tattered curtains, a vanity with a wood-framed mirror and jewelry box, a matching pair of wardrobes, and a padded chair. A rotting tiger-skin rug lies on the floor and above the fireplace is a dust-covered portrait of the Dursts. In the corner is a web-filled parlor with a table and two chairs. The doors lead to a dust-choked closet and a balcony.
<.>
Rin pulls a 'yikes' face and kicks the tiger-skin rug, catching an edge on their toe and gesturing to Sen: pointing their fingers toward Sen's head, opening and closing their fingers in imitation of a talking mouth, then pointing at their own head; they'd like him to start a Message so they can speak without sound.
Rin's going to see whether the rug is just a rug or perhaps a convenient cover for something. They're also going to take a look at themself in the mirror, because it's never a bad time to check yourself out— And if there's nothing to see with the tiger, they'd like to rummage through that vanity. Might be something worth taking!
<.>
Inspection of the vanity turns up a silver jewelry box with gold filigree. Inside are three gold rings and a thin platinum necklace with a topaz pendant.
Sen comments at best guess, the total worth of the thing is about 850 gp.
Faolan, seeing nothing of note after a quick visual sweep of the room, begins opening the doors; he gives Dmitri's hand a tug and is just about to say that the room is the nursery he's been looking for.
Roll for initiative.
Okay; Rin is first up. They can hear the clanking of armor as it moves along the balcony towards the master suite.
<.>
Rin would like to begin by scooping the jewelry box into the bag of holding, because like fuck are they going to leave that behind. They'll then move up to the edge of the door; looks like somewhere between 10 and 15 ft? They'll try to keep against the wall and stick to any shadows they can find.
[STEALTH
r: 22
s: 10 ]
<.>
Sen rolled a 10, beating the passive perception by a hair. Both he and Rin fall back into shadow.
Back to the other battle: As soon as Faolan opens the door, a Spectral woman begins to materialize; she is skeletally thin and young, and as she shrieks as she floats toward Fae.
Dima, you're up. You're also behind Fae at this point.
<.>
Dima's going to pull Fae's hand (gentle quick but firm little tug), with the intention of taking the space Fae initially occupied.
<.>
Faolan, dumbfounded, moves aside and immediately regrets that choice.
<.>
Dima, having taken Fae’s spot, casts Burning Hands for 9 damage. The spectre takes 4 points of that damage.
[q: It looks like there are no windows in the nursery; were there any in the bedroom?
a: There are, in fact. The door to the balcony has glass inset, and there are windows on either side of the bed. And the nursery itself has one window.
q: Is the nursery window curtained or uncurtained?
a: No curtains.
q: Did anything in the nursery catch fire?
a: Nope.
note: The only thing in the nursery that Dima can see is a cradle, and it’s just out of range. The windows are shuttered from the outside. ]
Dima is going to try to run past the specter, over to the cradle on the end by the window.
<.>
As Dima runs right through the specter. He takes no damage, but the specter takes 5 points, itself.
The specter's attention is now on Dima, who is much too close to the cradle for its taste. It turns and flies at him with a wail. The attack misses.
Faolan is going to close the distance between himself and the specter as he draws his scimitar and try to slash the entity across its back. Hits for 4 damage, reduced to 2.
Faolan is going to shout "A LITTLE HELP IN HERE!"
During this time, the suit of armor, unable to detect the owls, has begun to return to its original spot.
<.>
Stealthed Rin begins moving toward the nursery.
Dima would like to look into the cradle while drawing his dagger pls and thank you.
[note: Upon looking into the cradle, he will see a tightly-wrapped, baby-sized bundle lying there.]
Dima's going to pick up the bundle. (And everyone thank Fae for his presence bc if that boy were not there Dima would've gone instastabby.)
<.>
Picking up the bundle, Dima will find it's empty.
Just a blanket.
However, Faolan saw Dima. Pick up a bundle of maybe baby while holding a dagger.
<.>
Dima, holding the bundle, is about to shout something at the ghost when he catches Faolan's expression, and forgets entirely that he was about to speak, that there's a haunted goddamn house around, and that there's an actual goddamn specter beside him.
Dima ends his turn staring at Faolan, slowly, slowly realizing he may have erred.
<.>
The specter turns on Faolan and attempts to grasp him by the head.
Faolan's attention is on Dima and so he fails to move out of the way in time; the specter grasps him, doing 4 points of necrotic damage.
And Faolan just barely passes a constitution saving throw at 11, which brings us to his turn.
Faolan feels life literally draining from him and manages to break free, gasping. He isn't going to think at all about what he just saw. (Or the look of horror Dima is giving him.) He's going to kill this fucking - thing.
He summons a vine-like whip into his hand and attempts to bring it down on the specter. That hits at 20, for 4 points of piercing damage.
And holding the whip, he backs up, attempting to draw the specter away from Dmitri.
Sen and Rin move toward the nursery. The suit of armor likewise begins to move in that direction, but is clearly much slower than the owls.
<.>
Dima is going to let the blanket unfurl and, waving it at the ghost, declare in his most Authoritative Voice, "There's nothing here. Your child isn't here.”
If that doesn't take his full action, he's going for the ghost with the dagger.
[note: She doesn't seem to hear him at all.]
Dima is all his glory rolls a crit fail for that attack.
<.>
Dima misses; the momentum of his miss takes him lurching forward; he passes through the specter again, falling almost directly into Faolan's arms.
And the specter takes another 5 points of damage.
As this is the second pass through the specter - Dima, make a constitution saving throw.
[CON: nat 1]
Dima feels a sensation like part of his life force has been sapped from him entirely. Until his next long rest, his hit point max is reduced by 1.
The specter turns on the pair and attempts to reach for Dima. And misses.
Faolan is up; he drops Dima, sort of depositing him to one side to free up his hands, and he's going to make another Thorn Whip attack. Just BARELY hitting at 13. And squarely hitting the specter with a crack of the vine for six points of damage.
The specter wails, the sound echoing as it vanishes.
Right as the owls join them, the group hears the approach of clanking armor.
Faolan turns, panting and pale, to Dima and - for a moment, hesitates.
Then offers his hand to help him up.
His expression says there's going to be a conversation later, but right now, he's going to keep protecting the man.
<.>
Dima holds Faolan's gaze, for a moment moving no more than to nod slowly: [ Yes. ]
Yes, he understands; doesn't yet see the full meaning of what he did or what Faolan saw, but knows he erred in that fight.
Yes, he sees Faolan's aid, and yes, he's appreciative of it (and of the man).
Dima takes Faolan's hand, and will rise, leaving the blanket on the floor.
The Message is more an offer than necessity; the 'yes' could be read in Dima's expression and assent, but if Faolan wishes to speak, he now has the passage.
<.>
Faolan hears the approaching clanking and hears another message aimed for him: [ Time to go, Gents. ]
For a moment, he ignores Sen; there might not BE a later, or time enough to have that conversation, and Dima did cast his spell.
His hand tightens on Dmitri's and Faolan pulls it close to his chest, he ducks his head a little to meet eye-to-eye, ensuring the other man understands what's happening here.
He doesn't know for sure what Dmitri meant to do with that dagger and what might have been an infant, but he knows how it looked, and he knows the moment of panic he saw in the man's eyes when he realized Faolan was watching.
[ Never again. Swear that to me, right now. ]
There's no 'or else'. No ultimatum. Just a soft, firm demand.
<.>
He doesn't know what he meant to do.
(That isn't true. Dima was going to run the dagger through whatever he found in that cradle. It was a hunch; it was an educated calculation.
It also wasn't built on evidence. It also could have gone very, very wrong.
What in fuck was he thinking.)
There's an impulse to look away; to stray from what must be disappointment in Faolan's eyes, but Dima keeps his eyes locked, curling his hand within Faolan's. There's a sideways twitch of his lip, stray signal of the concern he's trying to keep muffled, and he nods once, small and a little wavered, but certain.
[ Never again. I swear it: Never, never again. ]
<.>
Faolan regards him a moment, then nods slowly. He doesn't smile or speak, but there's a slight - very slight - squeeze of his hand.
He believes it. (He believes when this man swears a vow.) (He won't think about that.)
Sen, meanwhile, truly doesn't care to fight an animated suit of armor, and spends their precious little time searching the room for a quick exit. The drop from the house isn't viable, but a sweep of the room reveals a hidden door behind the mirror which opens onto the selfsame stairs revealed by the door on the landing.
With a pointed look, he waves the others toward the door; whatever's up the stairs has to be better than whatever's coming for them.
<.>
no subject
Seeing nothing with which to barricade the door behind them, Faolan presses an ear to the wood to ascertain whether the suit of armor is approaching.
The rooms below are silent, so he turns back to the others and with a low voice says, "I need to rest."
And, glancing at Dmitri, he adds, "So does he."
<.>
(He could use the rest, true.) (He doesn't like to *admit* as much.) (He also doesn't bristle at Faolan's words, though he would have taken sharp offense from any other being.)
Dima's eyes dart sideways and he sighs slightly, nods. "It wouldn't hurt. Rest, gather our thoughts. This is all turning cockeyed rather quickly."
He scans the room, slightly, *slightly* relieved that it seems to be quiet. "And I'd like to look over the papers from the chest." He'd like to look at the scrolls, as well.
<.>
Sen has no argument against a rest, even if he doesn't feel particularly fatigued, himself. It's no good having the two men drop, leaving them all somewhat (mostly?) defenseless.
If Rin's in agreement, he'll hand over the papers he happens to be holding. Faolan likewise passes over the letter he read off.
<.>
Rin is in agreement, if only because they don't really care so much about papers; they'd rather check over their newly acquired crossbow and maybe have another look at the jewelry.
They're going to take a quick prowl around the room before settling in against a wall, preferably very near to Sen.
<.>
Meanwhile, Faolan slips his hand from Dmitri's and crosses the room, away from the three others. With his back as close to a corner as possible, he sinks to the ground, draws his knees up to his chest, rests his chin on his forearms, and stares at - nothing, really.
He ought to try to meditate. The trance state he's supposedly able to achieve.
It's hard to think with the weight of the dead wolves below and - what Dmitri might have done. And how he'll get home. And. And. And.
Bless the dice, Fae recovers 7 hp during the rest, bringing him back to full health.
<.>
Faolan looks so lost.
Dima wants to go to him. (Dima would rather sit near him, next to him, feel his presence as a comfort.) But Dima also knows he's caused the man distress; knows Faolan made the choice to settle himself apart. So Dima chooses a place against the wall approximately equidistant between the thieves and Faolan; somewhere he can keep an eye on the man. Somewhere he can let his gaze wander, and still let him have his space.
Settled on the ground, Dima begins to examine the contents snagged from the chest, beginning with the scrolls, then progressing to the deeds, the will, and the letter. In the latter documents, he'll be seeking clues that might unsnag the not-quite-remembered detail(s?) from his mind.
<.>
Sen spends the next hour nodding off against Rin's horns. Faolan at last manages some brief state of meditation.
He does feel a little better. A little more capable of looking Dmitri in the eye (should the need arise) or of confronting whatever might be waiting downstairs. (There was a monster, after all.)
As he stands and moves to rejoin the group, he says carefully, "Listen. This place is...Something's obviously wrong here, so it's best if we stick together, we four. But I want to make something clear. Just in case someone feels a wild impulse: we don't harm children, no matter how strange they might be. None of us, while we're together."
Perplexed, Sen stares at Faolan; briefly his eyes drift to Dmitri, then come to settle on Rin. [ Have you been eating children again, Pretty Rin? ]
And with a smile, charming (if somewhat tense), he responds, "Not at all unreasonable."
<.>
Dima spends the hour engaged in his examinations and - yes - more than a bit of intentional and unintentional gazing in Fae’s direction.
Is there anything about the spell scrolls he’s found, or anything in the papers that might trigger his recollection?
<.>
The spell scrolls are "Bless", "Protection from Poison", and "Spiritual Weapon".
[HIST, d: 16]
So, while he's reading the papers, Dima begins to recall there were rumors about the Durst family and a scandal revolving around a cult of some sort. He remembers specifically that there were rumors about guests of the Dursts vanishing, never to be seen again.
He can't recall *when* this happened, or which family members were involved.
<.>
It was, he thinks, his sister who dealt with most of the business relating to the Dursts. He ought to have paid closer attention; mostly, he remembers thinking the cult absurd, the rumors not worth his time when there were actual troubles at hand to be solved.
He's setting the papers in order when Faolan speaks, and though Dima tries to appear unflustered by the man's words, he can't help tensing, freezing—
Then returning his eyes to the papers, to storing them carefully in his pack. (Where the raven totem still waits, thank the gods.) He nods, glances up again at Faolan as he speaks, "Agreed."
He's not certain it's wise to agree. He's also not certain of his own reasoning, and does know he's inclined to trust Faolan's judgement in this. (Knows he doesn't want to see that horror, that disappointment again.)
Not yet rising, he indicates the scrolls. "We have three spells scrolls. I'd like to take them down eventually, but if worse comes to worst and we need a little aid, these may be useful." He'll convey the gist of the spells if anyone should ask.
Rin spent nearly the entire rest sleeping peacefully against Sen, and they meet Sen's message with a grin, a laughing flash of pointed teeth. [ Not for years now! Tsk! ] And! They're going to acknowledge that 'Pretty Rin' with a pleased little huff.
To Faolan, they offer a shrug and a nod. "I can work with that."
<.>
Faolan nods, more to himself than the others. He can work with them if they can work with this.
(Maybe. Maybe this will be enough to send Dmitri after someone a little less...Faolan.)
He listens quietly to the spells, giving Sen leeway to do most of the questioning. Then glances around at the doors leading deeper into the attic. Wonders if there really is an infant somewhere here, or if - what? The children were lied to? Mistaken, somehow? The baby was taken by the parents to safety? He can't quite make any of it fit.
Sen rises and offers a hand to help Rin up; neither he nor Faolan seem eager to make decisions just now.
<.>
Rin accepts Sen's hand; of course they can hop to their feet, but it's a nice gesture, and they like gestures.
They also like to keep moving, so Rin's going to give Sen a little wink, then begin moving quietly toward the nearest door. Might as well work around the perimeter, they figure.
They're going to check the door for signs of traps before readying their crossbow and opening the door.
<.>
The nearest door is locked from the outside with a heavy iron padlock. There are no traps that Rin can see.
At this point, Sen remembers the iron key he found and - feeling not great about this - offers it to Rin, but holds it when they try to take it.
"Careful. I'll be aiming overtop your head."
Faolan approaches to join them, glancing back once at Dmitri to see if he, too, cares to see what's behind the lock.
<.>
no subject
And, as he aproaches the group, intending to keep near the back, he dares it: He offers his hand toward Faolan, and Messages: [ For stealth? ]
<.>
Faolan looks again at Dmitri, then down at his hand, held in - offer? Plea?
There's no need for stealth now. Whatever's here knows they are here - Dmitri knows that.
It's a moment. Faolan knows this is a perfect moment to put Dmitri off - to laugh at him, to rebuff him, to speak again of what he might have done (what he might still do to Faolan.) As much as he doesn't have the heart for romance, neither does he have the heart for cruelty, however. His hand eases into Dmitri's, but not without an unreadable, mostly-rhetorical, [ Is it? ]
Sen raises the crossbow and Faolan settles his free hand on his scimitar, ready for - whatever may occur.
Nothing occurs when the door pushes open.
In the room's four corners are a pair of small beds, a chest of toys, and a dollhouse - a perfect replica of the Durst house in miniature.
In the center of the room, lying entwined, are a pair of small skeletons, one of them holding the tattered remains of a doll.
<.>
Dima's on the verge of messaging again - knows the impulse to offer, simply 'No' - when the door opens, and the room falls into view.
This is... Oh.
This is far from hearteningly.
He sees the dollhouse, but his attention fixes - of course it fixes - on the skeletons; on what they could mean, seem at this moment to mean. And he squeezes Faolan’s hand, turning, seeking to meet his eyes. [ Stay here. ] It's a request; an imploring. An attempt at shielding something he can't quite see the shape of.
Dima is going to approach the skeletons, and examine them for signs of identity and signs of just how long they've been here.
<.>
Approaching the skeletons, Dima quickly sees they're wearing the same clothes as the children the party met outside; the doll in the smaller skeleton's arms is indeed Hildabear.
They have clearly been here a very, very long time.
Long enough to become skeletons and their clothes to rot away in an enclosed room.
Sen is dumbfounded; he lowers his arm and steps in the room after Dima; no words come, however. Sometimes, eloquence means knowing when *not* to speak.
<.>
There isn't a lot in life that unsettles Rin. In this moment, though, they know unease - they know a cutting sadness? - at the sight within the room.
They don't want to keep looking at it.
There's nothing they can do with that, or for it.
So Rin drifts quietly, quietly toward the dollhouse and inspects it - it's an intricate thing (it's something they might have like, when they were very young) - giving particular attention to the attic and the rooms they've not yet seen.
[INSP: 18]
<.>
Rin finds that the front of the dollhouse swings open on cleverly disguised hinges, allowing them to see a cross-section of the house. Within are all of the details, down to the rugs and crystalware.
They are able to see numerous secret doors, including one here in the attic that leads to a spiral staircase.
Faolan looks on in undisguised horror, his empty hand now gripping the doorframe. The other things in the room don't matter.
It's the pitiful sight in the center that holds him (will stay with him.)
He thinks about rushing to stop Dmitri from inspecting the bodies, fearing the man will take something from them as he did the skeleton downstairs.
Them, he thinks, We can't leave them like this.
As the thought forms, so do the ghostly apparitions of Thorn and Rose beside their bodies.
"Please don't touch our things," Rose says, her voice a dim echo of that of the girl they met in the street.
<.>
At the ghost's (girl's?) words, Rin steps back from the dollhouse. It was fair game for looking when no one was around, but if the children are still here - even if they are a little see-through - things get a little murkier. They twist their lip a little and offer, "It's a good dollhouse."
Dima, who had dropped to one knee to examine the skeletons (the remains) (the remnants of these children, and there's a surging desire to usher Faolan from the room, to keep him from looking; there's a flashing image of the man hugging the children - 'children' - outside, attempting to offer comfort, and Dima's heart twists), wonders at the appearance of the ghosts. Wonders how long they've been tethered here; what drew them to this moment.
He can't precisely move, or he won't, and he knows better than to speak at length - when has he known what to say to children, let alone their spirits? - and speaks only, "Pardon, we— Wandered in."
<.>
The girl doesn't respond to Rin; it seems enough that they moved away from the dollhouse; from beside her, clutching her spectral skirt, Thorn Durst peers at the tiefling with unblinking, haunted eyes.
She does, however, respond to Dima when he speaks.
"No, you didn't. You unlocked the door."
She points at the door in question and, by proxy, at Faolan. He jerks in faint surprise, then looks down at the door's lock.
And back up again, realizing this wasn't an accident.
"Who locked it?" His voice is almost inaudible, hoarse. He tries again. "The door. Who locked it?"
"Our mother and father," Rose replies. Thorn immediately pipes up, " To protect us from the monster in the basement."
Rose hushes him and frowns, then continues, "They never came for us. No one came, and there was no food."
<.>
Technically, the godsforsaken elf unlocked the door.
Dima isn't going to point that out. Especially when Faolan's unlocked a more important piece of information—
To protect them.
To leave them, knowingly or not, in abandonment.
He considers. He nods. He looks at the bones - there's a thought here; there's something that might be done, if they can find the way, the right set of skills - then looks at the girl and speaks, "So we did.
"There's something happening in your home. This— Monster you speak of. We're looking for it.
"Do you know anything about it?"
And, after a moment: "Do you know where it came from."
<.>
Both children shake their heads.
Unsure what to do, Faolan slowly begins to approach, thinking - he wishes he could lay these bones to rest. He wishes this hadn't happened. He wishes the children could be as lively as -
Focused suddenly, he asks, "Do you remember meeting us outside in the road?"
Again, the children trade looks - now showing more confusion in their faded expressions. Rose again answers for them both. "We couldn't leave. The door was locked."
<.>
Rin thinks - but mercifully and for once doesn't say - that they knew there was something off with those kids. Mostly, that doesn't matter a whole lot right now. Mostly, they just don't like anything about this situation, and they step just a little closer to Sen.
Dima doesn't want that question to linger. (It's something they'll all need to deal with. Something with a meaning that can hold no good, and the word that comes to Dima's mind is 'lure,' and 'trap,' and what are those beings - what is that being? - they met outside?) (What was it that dared to lure Faolan's compassion for the sake of some foul trick?)
His jaw sets. He exhales. And Dima speaks, "No; of course you couldn't." And (thinking; calculating): "How long have you been here?"
<.>
Sen slides a hand to the small of Rin's back in gentle reassurance - or solidarity. Or flirtation. Whatever they need, he's happy. (And really, he could use at least the solidarity, himself. This situation is grotesque. Abominable.)
(Fucking odd.)
Rose considers a moment, her mouth puckering with thought as she gazes towards the sad little window of their attic room. "I lost count of the winters. At least sixty."
Faolan makes a small, pained noise, but quickly turns away under the guise of inspecting the window in question.
Sen doesn't quite as easily hide his reaction: a sucked-in breath that comes out again as “Fuck.”
<.>
Rin doesn't mind that hand at all. They don't usually care for being touched by strangers, but Sen's not really a stranger, and if they're being honest, it's kind of... not bad to not be looking at this all alone. So they don't move at all. So they only continue to watch, not sure at all what to make of this, or what any of them are doing here, or what they're supposed to do about ghost children.
Dima, meanwhile, nods at the girl's response. "That's quite some time." Quite some time, but possibly, possibly not too much.
(If only he could remember more of the Dursts.) (If only the deeds had mentioned some date— He could ask about the deeds! But the thought that follows says it might not be a question for children. Says that he should take care in prodding the edges of what these ghosts remember, what pains they might yet hold.)
(Another thought, stray and barely registering: It's a little easier to talk to ghost children than flesh-and-blood children.)
He should be careful, he knows, not to promise more than he can reasonably offer. But there isn't any hurry, is there? They've waited at least sixty years; perhaps they won't mind a little longer.
(What would Faolan want for them?) (And.) (What does Dima want for them.)
"There are a few more questions we'd like to ask you, but—" Think of the names Faolan shared. "It's Rose and Thorn, yes?
"Would you like to be freed of this room?"
<.>
Faolan bites the inside of his cheek to keep silent, folds his arms, and makes a slow beeline for the door. He can't listen to this.
He knows it's right - this talk of moving on. It's right, it's natural.
But it's miserable, too.
Those poor children.
Rose shakes her head no and Thorn follows suit. They've been so long in this room, trapped as shadows of who they were; they can't imagine any longer anything beyond the small (un)life they've had.
<.>
It makes sense.
Ghosts who linger long enough forget what possibility can mean, what the world can be, and these children had— Mm. Painfully, painfully few years to learn in the first place. The world they know most is in these walls, is a composition of memory and dust-riddled absence.
Dima watches them, breathing slowly, letting the rest of the room fall out of focus (save for one presence that seems to shimmer radiance) (save for one presence, who's heading for the door) (’Don't go far,’ he thinks; ’Please, Faolan, don't go far’). He keeps his eyes on the ghosts; needs to, in case the moment takes a turn for the worst, or in case they should lose interest and disperse.
"Rosavalda; Thornboldt. You've been here for a very long time. It would be different to exist outside, but— But we could help you." (It's odd, to speak 'we' like this. He doesn't have the space to think on it.)
"We could find you a home. Somewhere safe. Where you could be together still, and drink warm tea with honey, and have biscuits whenever you like.
"You'd see trees and streams. Beautiful things. I know of a woodworker— Oh, she's skillful. She could build on new dollhouse for you, twice as large as the one you have now.
"We could mend" (the briefest pause; what was the name again?) "Hildabear; you could hold her through it all.
"You'd have each other still. You would— You could play freely. You'd have soft beds, and new clothes.
"And you'd feel warm again."
<.>
Faolan wishes he could bring himself to flee the room. It's not his nature, but this is unbearable - two children, dead from neglect (padlocked away in an attic -), and Dmitri trying to convince them to move on to whatever awaits past life.
- Except.
Except that isn't what he's saying at all. Oh, it starts as a gentle framing of a beautiful next world, but then he speaks of food, of honey and beautiful things - of a woodworker he knows.
(Faolan's heart clenches in his chest, lodges in his throat.) He's looking now, not at the corpses, but at Dmitri (who said 'we', and just what is he thinking?)
This man doesn't deserve his hope. No noble does, and not one who just drew a dagger on a potential infant. (...Maybe it was stupidity, a panicked act?) (He swore never again.)
He doesn't deserve it, and - the more Faolan thinks about it, the more he thinks maybe, he shouldn't be giving these children hope, either. (Not for the mending of the doll, and not for warmth, and not for life.)
(...But it's. Possible. The druids know ways.)
He almost says Dima, don't make promises to them.
But Sen is stepping forward and placing a hand on Dmitri's shoulder, whispering something in his ear that Faolan can't hear, and the moment might be past for him to intervene.
Sen, realizing what Dima means to do - what Dima might, someday, be ABLE to do - steps forward as Dima talks, realizing it isn't enough to say these things. These are ghosts, yes, but frightened children in need of convincing.
He grasps Dima by the shoulder and whispers at his ear, "You want these things for them. You can see beauty in a future for them beyond the walls of this wretched house. Convince them of yourself. Swear to yourself that the world you'll give them is better than this one."
And, banking on what he's been observing since the four of them came together (was it only a day ago?), he adds, "Do this for Faolan."
[PERSUA, d: 27; with Bardic Inspiration from Sen]
Thorn steps out a little from behind his sister's skirts; maybe it was the mention of Hildabear that did it, or perhaps it's just that he was young when he died, and can hardly recall their parents. He regards Dima curiously, then tugs at his sister's hand. His whisper isn't particularly quiet. "He'll fix Hildabear, Rose-"
Rose hushes him, her expression both very young and very old; at ten, of course she must have known - suspected - they weren't locked away without food for their protection. And of course, she wants to feel warm again. (And - perhaps a new dollhouse, too.)
They fear being abandoned again; these strange men - and the tiefling - might not.
A moment of silence passes and, after giving Dima the same critical (curious) look as her brother, she ventures, "You'll never leave us?"
Faolan is listening very, very closely.
<.>
no subject
Isn't taking any of this lightly. He hears what the girl is asking; he knows the risk in promise. How difficult it could be to reach from now to some distant future, to the time Dima can find the right practitioner or learn, perhaps craft a spell all of his own. And 'never' is, particularly for ghosts, a complicated term.
Still. He does know what he wants for them; it's a picture growing slowly clearer; it's a feeling in his sternum.
"You'll never be abandoned.
"I'll never abandon you." For all his faults. For all his lacks, hasn't he always defended his family?" There are bonds I keep above all else; in my care, you would stand among their utmost.
"If I leave home, I will always return to you. I will always sees to your care.
"It will take some time to bring you life. It must be done correctly; it must be done when we can bring you both, together.
"But we'll have you with us. I will— I mean to gather your bones. To wrap them in fine cloth, and keep you safe. Keep you with me— With us. If you can travel as you are now, or visit us at all, so much the better." He might, Dima thinks, learn to call up their ghosts; it isn't beyond possibility.
"When the time arrives— You'll have family, if you wish it. And I will never leave you to hunger, or to wither. I won't leave you without word, or without a way to reach me.
"You'll never be alone again. You will never be forgotten.
"I want life for you, Rose, Thorn. I want to see you thrive."
Behind Dima, a voice speaks, quiet but certain as Rin chimes in: "You'll have to show me your new dollhouse. You'll have to show me everything; I bet it'll be the greatest."
<.>
It's like penance.
(It isn't at all like penance.)
Dima's promises to never leave them, isn't it a little like mending, though? For the wrong he did -
For the wrongs others have done. To these children. (To Faolan.)
He doesn't know when tears first stung his eyes, but he blinks them away, warning himself off this path. It'll only bring harm later when Dmitri can't deliver. (When Dmitri vanishes from all their lives.)
He doesn't believe the promise that they won't be abandoned, but Faolan does know life can be lived after abandonment, and they deserve a chance to live. (And there are ways.)
There are ways.
To resurrect them.
To carry them until that time.
"You could -" His voice is weak, but he ventures again, "They're attached to something. Here. The dollhouse, or the room. They'll need something else to carry them with us-"
No.
"With you."
(No.)
He doesn't want to suggest taking a bone from their bodies. It's ghoulish.
"Something from the house."
Sen glances at Rin and, after an awkward pause, furrows his brow in pained apology and mouths I'll owe you.
Out loud, he comments, "We just happened to find a pair of rings downstairs."
Thorn steps a little closer to Dmitri, though he doesn't release Rose's skirt. It's clear what he'd like, but that what Rose decides, he decides.
<.>
If there's a moment's reluctance in Rin, it's brief, scarcely noticeable. There are always other rings, after all. There's more still to be found in this house, most likely, and—
Well, if nothing else, these kids definitely had dibs on the rings for a long, long time.
So Rin's already reaching into the Bag of Holding, and produces the rings. They move a little closer to the ghosts - to Dmitri and Sen waiting close, and what was it Sen said to the man? (it seems a lot like they know each other somehow, and doesn't that seem strange?) - and hold out their hand, showing the rings.
"These. These are what we found.
"Do you know these rings?"
<.>
Rose steps a little nearer to Rin and reaches out to take the rings - then stops, hand hovering as she seems to recall she can't touch them. (Maybe, that's what makes the decision for her. Maybe the desire to touch things, to feel things.)
"Those are mother's." Her hand doesn't recoil, however. There's a faint sorrow in her expression as she looks first to Rin, then to the men around her and Thorn. "But they're meant to be ours. One for Thorn when he -
"When he marries - and -
"When I'm - old enough -"
She stops speaking and her lip trembles.
Faolan and Sen both share the same thought: it's a wonder she kept it together this long. Faolan alone thinks it's a terrible thing, not to be able to comfort a crying child.
He does what he can, kneeling before them just as he did in the street, just beside Rin. He gives the girl an encouraging smile.
"Those will do," he says softly. "And you see, Rose? Dmitri can wear the rings, and then you'll go along with him until he make you well. Do you think you can take hold of a ring the way you've held on here, in this house?"
Thorn looks uncertain if hopeful, but Rose's nod is almost eager in its certainty.
Faolan glances at Rin and offers a wan, grateful smile, then reaches out and carefully - almost reverently - takes the tattered doll from the bones at the feet of Rose and Thorn. The boy gasps and reaches out in a panic, but Faolan meets this with patience. "Dmitri will mend you, and I'll mend Hildabear so she's waiting for you."
<.>
Oh, no.
(The poor child. The poor children.)
(He will mend this. He will.)
There's nothing Dima can do to reach them, touch them, and though he isn't particularly practiced at handling children, he knows they could use an embrace— Faolan's, perhaps Sen's, if not his own. A hold, a hug from someone with a caring that runs to their core.
He curses himself for not knowing better magic. He thinks thanks to Faolan for speaking, for thinking quickly, for the rings and for holding the bear; it's something, and the boy must see the meaning.
(Dima noticed as well the particularity of Faolan's words: That the bear would be waiting. The bear, alone? The bear, alone in promising.
He won't think on it now. He won't entertain the twist of sadness, sorrow that it brings. This isn't the time for his own concerns.)
"Yes; we'll have Hildabear ready and waiting, and she'll have adventures to tell you about. While you hold her; while you and your sister and I all sit together." He doesn't precisely think about what he's committing himself to; he also knows the meaning in his words, and knows no pull against this vow. Someone ought to aid these children, and there's plenty of room in his home in Morovsk. There's plenty of coin, should Dima choose to commission a home all of their own.
He doesn't like to see these children abandoned, and stranded as ghosts. He won't let this continue.
And he nods. "You'll have your rings, as well. They were always yours, and waiting for you; I'll keep watch of them, I'll keep them until they sit upon your fingers.
"Your mother's wish will be fulfilled.
"And you'll be so beautiful, so handsome with your rings."
Dima cants his head slightly, manages a smile. "I am Dmitri. This is Faolan, Sen, Rin. I think we'd all like to help you—" And. Because what Faolan suggested holds weight; because it's a better-than-viable approach: "You need only take hold of your rings, and we'll begin."
<.>
It's apparently no difficulty at all for the children to grasp on to some tangible connection; their images fade for a moment, then appear once more, if a little less vividly. They each step away from their bones and towards Dmitri, Rose quietly instructing Thorn to be brave. (Hearing this, Faolan wonders if she's speaking more to herself.)
He tries not to think about the small pieces of speech that remain ingrained with him; things Dmitri said that might promise (a home) (a family) (love?) a world Faolan knows won't be his. He focuses instead on the task before them of carefully wrapping the bones; his cloak is sacrificed for the task. After a moment, Sen stoops to help him, surprising Faolan with the care he shows.
(Even if he does keep casting glances up at Rin that Faolan would characterize as 'adoring'.)
As they work, Thorn tugs Rose's skirt and whispers to her, and Rose wipes away ghostly tears, sniffs, and instructs, "Hildabear should be there, too, until you can mend her."
<.>
Rin stands very near, more moral support than anything; as far as they can tell, Sen and Faolan have a deft handle on wrapping the bones, and they don't want to upset anything by intruding a hand. It seems important that this be done with care. It seems important not to break the solemnity of this moment, and what Rin does speak is simple, again soft—
"It's good you have Hildabear. I can tell she really wants you with her."
Dima does offer a hand here and there - adjusting the shift of a bone; looking to Rose, to Thorn, then adjusting another placement - though he strays from interfering with Faolan and Sen's work. Mostly, he remains attuned to the children (the ghosts) and to the room around as best he can. To listening for any changes in the atmosphere; to seeing whether the children seem to be particularly discomforted as hands ready their bones for holding.
He raises a hand toward Rose, toward Thorn, and tilts it slightly sideways. As if offering the shadow of a gesture, a reassuring, slightest touch. "Both of you are very brave. You've been brave all this time.
"You can rest now, children. It's all right; you can hold close to one another, and to Hildabear, and let us take care of everything." He's taken the rings from Rin, or Rin's slipped the rings into his hand, and Dmitri closes his fingers around them, slipping his eyes shut briefly, nodding to himself. "You've done so well; I can feel your presence in these rings.
"Thank you. I— You ought to be very proud of yourselves. Brave Rose; brave Thorn.
"Everything will be all right; I swear it."
<.>
When the children vanish - though their ghostly presence may still be felt near at hand (figuratively and literally for Dima) - and their bones carefully stowed in the Bag of Holding, the party is free to continue on to the staircase leading down into the dungeon. Faolan argues there's no need to search the rest of the attic; whatever's left to be dealt with, it's in the basement.
XP awarded: 480.
That should roll everyone over to level 3. (Meaning everyone now is at level 3 / 900XP.)