Check out part 1 here: Part 1
So we’re one player down and Chris is trying to juggle both his own dwarf fighter and Kenny’s human cleric, and we’re currently stood outside this mansion of white brick mostly bickering about wither or not we should push over the gnome statue to see if it breaks and there is a gnome inside like some delicious Kinder Surprise Egg, or if, he does in fact just shattered into unsavable pieces. We eventually settle on the later and meanwhile Morlin is going for the more traditional approach of knocking. The door opens. In we go. The first room on the right has a column of fire in the room, or the fireplace, I did not catch which, hence orange glow and a cabinet of vials of coloured liquid, which we try and convince the fighter to test, he declines and we try pouring it on the ground.
Pour it on the floor. We say.
What happens? We ask.
It is on the floor. The DM grins.
Smell it? We try.
It is alcohol. The DM grins
And with that discovery suddenly the dwarf is all on-board with this vials testing business and sets to stockpiling as much of it as he can carry while the Halfling throws one of a few small silver balls we found into the fire, a fireball forms up in the midst and fires back. A second forms. The Halfling flees and closes the door behind him trapping his party in the room with hurling fireballs. Pleasant gent, maybe even more so than the dwarf robbing the booze cabinet.
On the left the second room is a cloak room. Arana puts on a black cloak. The dwarf gets a reversible black-white cloak and the others take no cloaks, I somehow reckon this cloaking disguise thing will not work so well with one half of us invested. The Halfling with his rope, pole and mirror tied to his forehead, bundles up in a pile of cloaks and has a little sleepy.
This is where it gets interesting and starts to go downhill almost in tandem. In the next room there is an apparition of a woman stacking books symmetrically. All of these books written in ancient languages, Morlin, terrified of this ghost creature, tries to avoid looking at it and pretend it is not there as he scans these books for anything interesting. The Halfling asks the woman if he can help, she says ‘’Sshhh.’’ He asks again. So the woman turns to him, in that creepy slow horror movie way that makes it good and clear that ‘you’re dead now, son’, and screams. Jaw unhinged, sonic blast kind of scream. A scream so loud we all take five damage instantly and the mage dies, bleeding from the ears. We drag out the wounded Halfling and the dead Morlin, and slam the door.
The next room is black. Nothingness. Dark beyond dark, so dark it is just nothing. Words written in an odd language above the door. The Halfling throws a stone into the blackness. Nothing happens.
Bolbo: ”Hey there was no sound of a floor.”
Durin: ”That’s nice; tie this rope around your waist.”
He throws a stone to the side to see if there is a wall.
Bolbo: ‘’There was no sound of walls either!’’
Durin: ”That is nice, tie the rope”
The Halfling does so and goes into the room.
The rope goes slack, still looped but no Halfling
–When checked later the words above the magic door read ”This Space Left Blank’’–
–Boilbo rerolled Geldaf the elf mage–
–Morlin rerolls his twin brother; ‘Morlin Strikes Back’–
Kendor’s player returns and is filled in on what went down to peer at us, puzzled.
‘’Hang on why didn’t you use command dead/turn dead”
While trying to muse on what we should do next, someone suggests we take the small silver balls back to the priest in the town for him to examine, in case they might be magical, you see;
DM: ”So you go back to the temple and you ask the priest to examine your balls?”
DM: ”They just look like balls for a sling.”
Chris: ”Ooooooooh the cleric had a sling too.”
Kenny: ”Did you not read the sheet at all? No?”
We return to the town, heal, regroup, pick up the new characters and return once more! The door is barred and the eyes on the door knob glow red. I, Arana, turn to stone. I re-roll another human thief; James, while the stone Arana is used as a glorified doorstop to hold the door open and move back inside, into a large grand and open hallways past the first few rooms, suspended above us is the skeleton of a dragon and in the far corner is a large golden harp at least six feet tall.
Kenny/Kendor: ”Play the harp!”
Chris/Durin: ”NO. NOONE TOUCH THE HARP.”
Bolbo/Geldaf: ”They are not big fans of free thinking in this group”
We decide not to touch the harp and bully the free thinkers into agreement before trying another right hand door. These right side doors tend to bear bad news we discover as this one seems to be a dining room. A wagon-wheel dotted with candles hoisted up with a chain as overhanging lighting, table and chairs, the usual and of course inhabited by shadows of figures that seem to be enjoying a lively party. Until we interrupt them that is. Seven of them peeling themselves from the walls and looming towards us, two of them at the cleric, unfortunate soul that he is. At least he is back and reading his sheet now right?
Being the geniuses that we are we come to the conclusion that –shadows- need –light- to fuel them, no? I know. That high-school education is paying for itself now, chums. So we set to the task of turning out the lights, and to do this we reckon breaking a window to let in the wind is the best option, what’s a bit of vandalism between travelling adventurers and a mysterious necromancing Lich anyways? Child’s play you would think; to break a window? Not so much.
I cannot recall exact figures of how many arrows, daggers, swords and other items were hurled in a window-wards direction only to miss the large unmoving and fragile target by miles. We are good at this, we are. We manage to break it eventually and a gust of wind does indeed blow the candles out and much to our collective surprise it does actually dispel the odd demon shadows. So what do we do? Why we case the place and bundle up all their silverware in a tablecloth to leave by the door with plans of snagging it on our way out. What can I say? We have high hopes. Ezra the human fighter climbs out the window to have a poke around the garden and an odd looking well while the rest of us head into the kitchen. Which is pretty standard fare save the large jar of cookies sitting in the middle of the table in the center. How ominous.
Tensions are high. Guards are raised. Eyes sharp and blades drawn.