During one of many fireside meals late in the evening after a day of hard travel, the party as usual turned to story telling to pass the hours until sleep came. Waeslyn’s eyes were drawn to the firelight reflected in a dull gold wedding band on Therran’s finger, something he’d noticed several times before. Having spent enough time together, Waeslyn finally felt comfortable enough to ask about it. Therran didn’t respond immediately, and went to refill his mug, implying that the answer would not be short.

Twisting the ring back and forth on his finger, Therran’s eyes lost focus as he stared at nothing in particular. He says that as Waes;yn guessed, it’s a wedding band. But he ain’t been married for some time now. In a round about way, that ring is how he came to be in that manor. With an empty laugh, he admits that the ring has gotten him into several manors actually.

Many years ago, in Trinity Bay, Therran was a locksmith. Certainly not a glamorous profession, but it kept food on his plate, and he got to practice his craft which was more than many could say in those days. Having built a reputation early on as a craftsman of reliable quality, his clientele would often recommend him to friends. He was contracted to replace all the locks on a particularly fancy manor when he met a woman. She was in another social strata above him, but they were both too young to realize what that meant.

Their relationship grew despite the protestations of her parents and he eloped with her. For a few brief wonderful years he had everything he wanted, but of course that didn’t last. Her status caught up with her, and she was forced by unrelenting pressure to abandon him. Therran should have been furious, or at least devastated, but all he felt was hollow. He could never bring himself to hate the woman he loved, regardless of her actions.

When she had been escorted back to the family manor they had taken all the jewelry in their more modest home assuming that it had all belonged to her. Therran’s wedding band was among what was taken. Not wanting to leave it behind, and knowing all about how to get in, Therran made to sneak in at night and recover what was his. As he made easy time on the locks he had himself installed, he crept through the house to the dressing room. There the jewelry was laid out, his ring among them.

As he slipped it onto his finger, he felt his heart finally burst. This must finally be the despair I’ve been owed for so long, he thought to himself. When he looked down, he realized that the pain was more physical, as blood began to quickly stain his vest. Collapsing to the floor he realized everyone would smear the Lighthammer name further for a locksmith turned common burglar.

There was a period where everything was a blur. Images he didn’t understand, voices he didn’t comprehend, no concept of time passing. And when he came to, he was trapped in a mansion smelling of blood and with terrified screams behind every door. Waeslyn of course knew the rest, having been the person to free him from that cursed manor.

The lumber merchant shielded his eyes against the midday sun. In the distance he could just barely make out his destination. Sitting back down on the wagon’s bench he encouraged the stubborn oxen to resume their pace. First thing he was going to do with the profit from this sale was get a younger pair not so defiant. And possibly a grill. Strike that, he thought. Definitely a grill. He’d certainly be able to afford it. The representative from the Rentyllian estate that he normally dealt with had given him a fair bonus for transport. He had only ever sold his timber near Cape hope, but they had insisted on transport to this remote site.

Approaching the final hill, he was clearly not the only one they had contracted, and not the first to arrive either. Logs were neatly stacked and supplemental planks organized nearby. Two figures were arguing near the supplies looking at a map. One had a sword on their hip, the other had a saw on their belt. He chuckled to himself imagining a duel between them for leadership. They only briefly paused their heated debate to sign off on his delivery and direct him to the storage area. From what he caught, it was something about security concerns versus function.

Much later after the last log was unloaded, he was relaxing and wiping the sweat from his brow. He had to admit that the place had a certain beauty to it. The thin inlet to the sea was bright and clear, though too shallow for cargo boats to come directly. With a little work he wouldn’t be surprised to see this crossroad outpost become a serious hub in years to come. He certainly hoped so anyway. Expansion was always good business for a lumber merchant. As he began the long trip home, he saw them laying out the finishing touches on the sign, some sort of bird he guessed.

Hopukanga sharpened his dagger. The action was more habit than necessity. The blade was already so sharp it could split parchment, but the methodical scraping of the whetstone focused his thoughts. Seated near him were three others, all performing similar rituals. Less experienced individuals might have filled this time with idle chatter to ease the tension. But less experienced individuals would never have been chosen for this.

Testing the edge on his fingertip, Hopukanga was satisfied with his work, and slid the dagger into a fur lined sheath on his arm. Two other such daggers were concealed on his person, each sheath’s lining coated with deadly poison. Wordlessly the others began to don their armaments as well. An early stage of the plan had involved using smuggled weapons from the invaders to frame the colonists for the deed. But that was quickly abandoned. This was about tradition, and even implying one of the invaders would make it to Kotahitanga was a heinous misdeed.

Signaling to each other that they were all ready, the four assassins adjusted their uniforms: the honor guard of the Chieftan. It had been nerve wracking these past few months playing the part, and if he was honest with himself, Hopukanga was looking forward to being done with it all. He flexed his wings one last time and strode out onto the balcony. In front of them, Nanakia was overlooking the town, preparing to make her grand address.

Tatati pulled her cloak tightly as she made the walk from Koka’s new medicine cabin to the village chief’s meeting. Apparently, one of the farscouts had found something, and they wanted Koka’s thoughts on it. Koka had become increasingly reclusive after his recovery, citing chronic pain from the amputation. Tatati suspected it was simply that he couldn’t stand the stares he received wherever he went at his lack of wings. She could hardly blame him, it was well into the warm season, and a full bodied cloak like she was wearing was clearly unnecessary. But she wished to avoid the looks just as much.

Skirting the main paths, she swept aside the cloth covering the doorway and entered into a room feeling much larger than it was for how few people were a part of this meeting. Chieftan Rango looked up from the table and saw her approach, his immediate understanding clear on his face. Tatati hoped this would be some trivial matter and she could recuse herself quickly. When the other elders parted to give her room, she spied what lay on the table and realized this was anything but trivial.

Splayed out on the table were several items she vaguely recognized. There were two curved pieces of metal that she thought the young human who had come to town had been seen placing on the feet of the pack animals. Beside them was a scrap of leather with a mangled buckle on one end and a case affixed to the other. And from the case had been pulled what to any eye was clearly a map. Or more accurately part of a map. Whatever had caused the case to come loose from its carrier had torn off a majority of the details. But what was there, even without fluency in their script, would decidedly narrow their search for this hidden village of medicine makers and earth tenders.

Rango explained to Tatati that he wished for her to go in Koka’s stead with the next farscouts, and granted her approval to make peaceful contact if the opportunity arose. Tatati gazed long and hard at the map, attempting to appear like she was memorizing it, or searching for some unnoticed detail. But in truth she was barely able to stand upright as her mind warred between crushing apprehension about spending that much time with other scouts, and renewed hope that her condition might be curable if they find them.

As she returned to the medicine tent, she was slightly surprised to see Koka outside waiting for her. When he saw her approach, he made a show of yelling at nearby kids that “My wings might be gone but if you put one more rock through my window, I’ll sting you just the same!” Tatati didn’t buy it for a second, but appreciated the gesture. As they walked inside past patient’s too sick or wounded to return to their own home just yet, she explained what Rango had revealed. Koka silently nodded and helped her pack for the trip. When she asked why he was bundling a long sleeved traveler’s robe instead of simple leathers, he turned and mused that perhaps the hidden village people would appreciate someone who wasn’t wearing armor to make the introductions. Tatati hugged the grumpy old wyvaran, ignoring his empty threats about old age and personal space.

Julius heaved. Or more accurately, the boat heaved. But the ramshackle sloop he’d chartered passage on had far more experience than he did on these open ocean waters, and if it was going to heave, clearly heaving was the thing to do and who was he to argue with it. His medical training told him it was a simple imbalance of internal fluids. His mixed elven blood told him he was above such displays. And his feet told him that despite the surroundings, they were firmly planted on solid wood. Sadly Julius could hear none of those internal monologues over his resounding headache.

The crew had celebrated in typical seafarer fashion after the harrowing battle with the sea monster by breaking open several barrels of rum. Julius, lost in the moment and excitement had joined right in. Too much it seemed. It was only now to his dismay he learned that of the bountiful and varied supplies they had purchased with their winnings from the “festival catch” had included not one single bean of coffee. At that moment he would have gladly traded his entire suture kit for even a lukewarm mug of java.

Sadly, that was not an option. Steeling himself against the sway, Julius went back below decks. his mercantile ability notwithstanding, his suture kit was sorely needed. The fight against the serpent had not been without injury. Nor for that matter had been the celebrations afterward. With a suppressed grin, Julius admitted the rag tag crew of the Chimera certainly weren’t what he expected.

At first he’d simply select the vessel that struck him least likely to ask questions about his destination or reason. But he quickly learned he was not the only person here who had that particular desire. And as it seemed his services were needed ere, perhaps he might see about staying on when next they make port. Provided they drastically reassess what constitutes vital provisions.

Dirk sat at his desk, grumbling at the apparently permanent source of paperwork that had become a depressingly significant portion of his day. Hearing the bell toll outside his window, he stood up, resolving to tackle it after he stretched his legs on the midday rounds. As he put his hat on and walked outside, he noticed a small cloud of dust on the road into town. Recalling what day it was, he headed out to greet the traveler. As usual, the carefree sound of whistling reached his ears before he could make out the driver.

Dirk didn’t recognize the whistler lass, a young one who must be new to this route. Judging by the parcels and packages adorning her cart, Leopold’s oddities had arrived in bulk. Dirk had no interest in those, Leopold had other channels he assumed if he wanted to bring questionable materials past his guard. What he searched for desperately was a package of unknown size or shape, but with a distinctive marking. His heart skipped a beat as he scanned twice and saw nothing, but he almost failed to hide his relief when she dismounted and he spied it strapped to the seat across from him, that same distinctive green twine.
After exchanging the usual pleasantries with the lass, granting her entry and lodging, Dirk plucked the small brown parcel from the seat. When she protested, he reassured her he knew who it was from, and where it was going. He was just as excited to receive it, and swore on his badge it would not be tampered with.

Drydia was behind the counter stacking clean glasses for the evening when Dirk walked in. Before he could say anything, she spied the parcel hanging from his fingers and shouted up the stairs for Louby to come down. The three of them eagerly gathered around a table before undoing the twine. Inside the straw packing lay a rusted pirate hook, encrusted with barnacles as well as a couple curiously purple sea shells. Dirk examined the curious hook while the worried parents eagerly read the exploits of their adventurous son. He didn’t pry overly much, but it would seem the wandering lizard warrior was an able mentor, if stubbornly brusque.

Drydia tenderly picked up the sea shells, and turned them over in her hands, wondering aloud if Abigail could make some earrings of them. Louby meanwhile pulled out a stool to reach above the bar and mount the hook on the wall of increasing oddities he’d received. The hook while noteworthy, was nothing compared to the three foot long barbed quill of some terrible beast his son had slain. So long as there were ears to listen in his bar, he promised himself he’d never stop telling his customers how proud he was of his son.

As the party explored the strange gallery of mirrors, a growing feeling of dread consumed them. The scene playing out upon the animated glass mural seemed to imply that the “burning ones” mentioned in cryptic notes were the trapped souls of the Mahi-Tahi that had become entrapped in the Rentyllian family curse. Unlike the rest of the mirrors in the mansion, these held nothing but masses of hands clawing against the glass to get out. Therran became overwhelmed by the atmosphere and desperately tried to pick the lock, but they were sealed in and the door would not open.

As Waeslyn continued to stare at the moving stained glass landscape, he became increasingly hypnotized by the lights, and when he touched the point they were congregating at, the entire scene shattered outward. Along with the mirrors multitude of shards, the glass came together in the center of the room in the form of a towering ghostly titan.

The heroes sprang into action, and did battle with the angry Shattergeist. With every rapport of gunfire its attention was redirected to destroying the user of that most hated weapon in its eyes. The myriad surfaces of its body were in a state of constant flux reflecting the countless victims who had been slain by bullets, both colonial and Mahi-Tahi. The voices let out a terrible wail in unison, shaking the adventurers to their core, save Maarus who stood resolute in his determination to put these tortured spirits to rest.

The Shattergeist proved to be one of the most dangerous challenges the group had so far encountered on their journey. With each massive blow of it’s arms, jagged shards of glass tore at the intruders. Woomera exhausted her supply of thrown weapons and resolved to get in close to the monster, hoping her magical weapon would be more effective. After an initial shock that would have caused a malfunction save for his years of training, Waeslyn regained his composure and laid down suppressing fire from a distance. Maarus fanned the hammer of his blessed weapon, filling the screeching giant with holy shot. And Calder searched deep into the planes to call out to a spirit of light for help. The lantern archon’s illuminating presence weakened and disoriented the Shattergeist until it was finally brought crashing down.

Bloody, tired, and shaken, they witnessed the torches that had been burning with blood red light go out. In their smoke was dual representations of the many Mahi-Tahi whose souls had been held here. As they vanished, a blinding light consumed the group. They found themselves back at the entrance to the mansion, the doors to the outside world open to them. With relief and renewed energy, they all stepped back out into the sunlight, save one.

Therran had paused at the threshold, clearly unsure about proceeding. Waeslyn turned and Therran pointedly asked Waeslyn if it was by the wish of a Rentyllian that he leave the manor. As he stepped out, he revealed an old gunshot wound that faded into the light. As he took his first breath of fresh air in a long time, he fell to his knees and wept.

They returned weary but triumphant to the Rentyllian manor to inform Waeslyn’s father about what they had seen. He was not as startled as one might have expected, and instead set about trying to determine how to avert the issue repeating itself in the future. Woomera offered the services of a priest of MoeMare that she knew quite well, though admitted that contacting him may prove to be a daunting challenge in its own right.

As the party relaxed and restocked, they set about planning their next destination. The luxuries of city life were a poor substitute for the siren song of the open road. Plans were laid down for a possible stop over at a site to be built with both colonial and Mahi-Tahi citizens upon their return. And all too soon for his father’s tastes, Waeslyn and his fellow adventurers set off on the road once again, this time headed deep into the forest and one step closer to their dreams.

As the party descended the second staircase, they once again emerged into winding corridors, much to their increasing dismay. They quickly arrived at a set of stairs more decorative in nature leading abruptly into the ceiling. Going around the curiosity, the party returned to a room they’d previously seen, the dining room, food still fresh upon the table. Confusion ensued as they were certain they had gone down two floors, and that some cruel trick of the manor was warping the building to torment them.

As they continued to wander the shifting halls, they were subjected to increasingly gruesome mockeries of life. Rugs that were as scabs covered wounds in the houses floor. Casks of aged wine held within them foul blood. Furniture was haphazardly and confusingly misused room after room. And as they pressed further inward, malevolent spirits began to hurl objects at them to deter them.

A particularly well locked door was unlocked by Therran to reveal a conference room, empty save for a fountain. Maarus’ keen eye spied something within the waters and he pulled out a small handheld glass. Calder’s examination revealed that the glass allowed the user to view invisible objects. An immediate test found a poltergeist hiding in the corner of the room; Woomera drove it off with her spear.

Once again a witching mirror was hidden around a corner and Calder fell prey to its enchanting powers. Caught in his reflection’s whims, he began to stab himself repeatedly until Woomera shattered the mirror. Calder seemed to have no recollection of what had occurred, and magically healed himself as the party pressed on.

A trophy room held each of their heads upon display, with golden filigree about the frame mounting Waeslyn’s head. Extremely disturbed by the morbid parody, the party made hasty exit from that room, save Calder. He stayed behind to see if there were any hidden treasures within his doppelganger, but found only dirt.

Past rooms containing increasingly poor choice of decor, the party entered into a room where everything had been affixed to the ceiling. Suspecting spirits at work, Woomera examined the room with the spirit glass and did in fact find a poltergeist perched upon a table suspended from the rafters. An extremely keen strike from her spear dispatched the foe, causing all the furniture to come crashing down at once. Thankful that they would not have to dodge any more tables, they pressed onward.

Next door, a statuary corridor awaited them. One statue in particular held a heart in its palm, and as the party tried to skirt past it, the heart seemed to resonate with those walking past. Gathering strength and life, it animated and assaulted the group. Taking heavy punishment with it’s marble form, it was finally stopped when it’s bloated heart was revealed inside its chest and a crack shot from Waeslyn destroyed it.

A bedside table lay at the end of a short hallway with a desperate warning scrawled on paper. The spirit glass revealed a hidden quill and ink, which the party tried to use to communicate with the force animating the objects. It dispensed cryptic warnings before running out of paper, only adding to the confusion.

Many windows were found as they wandered the bloody halls. Each of which seemed to be facing out of one of the towers on the corner of the house from the highest point, despite them having descended multiple flights of stairs. Breaking them destroyed the illusion and showed only brick and mortar behind them. Dashing hopes of an easy escape they began to ignore the windows fairly quickly.

Methodically reexamining rooms they had passed through before, they began to attempt to dismantle many of the enchantments presented to them. The ethereal musicians in the dance hall were silenced, causing the dancers to depart. The throne of thirsty boNes was doused in holy water, burning away the spirits within.

Once again the party came to the long dark hallway that they had seen before. Mustering every last ounce of courage, they moved down the ominous hallway. Behind an ornate door was a room dancing with reflected lights. Flanking an ornate stained glass window, two torches burned bright red. Marble statues stood at regular interval about the room holding up mirrors. An almost palpable dread washed over them as the door they had walked through slammed shut behind them.

Session 13

The party boarded once again the Hugo II and was bound for dry land at last. Each of them spent they voyage contemplating what they had seen in the caves, or at least trying to distract themselves from doing exactly that. As before, time had been warped while they were in the lair of the dreamfolk, lasting almost a week in the rest of the world. As their ship pulled into the harbor at cape hope, it was apparent that it had been an eventful absence.

They returned to their lodgings, Calder again wishing to recuse himself from the spiritual discomfort of Waeslyn’s mansion chose a more modest inn. Waeslyn’s father had come to town on business but was overjoyed to see his son. He invited the entire group to the dining hall to meet the people his son was traveling with. After some social missteps regarding the Mahi-Tahi relations the talk inevitably turned to firearms as it often did in that house. Maarus’ exceptional skill was displayed and he again turned down the lucrative offer of abandoning the life of the sheriff.

Interrupting dinner late, Waeslyn’s elder brother and heir to the family titles burst into the room in disarray and had a hurried conversation with his father. It turned out that the spirit home constructed on the isolated hill near town had become increasingly disturbing of late. The first team of soothsayers had returned raving mad, the second team not at all. Despite tremendous personal apprehension, Waeslyn volunteered to investigate the disturbance in a more prepared fashion, bolstered by the support of his comrades.

Swelling with pride at his son’s bravery, he authorized the dispensation of Rentyllian assets to prepare for the excursion. As they went to market, the party set about outfitting themselves as they had not had a chance to in a long while spending time in the wild. And as they donned their new gear, wondered how long it would be before they again had the opportunity…

Session 14

The party began the somber journey up to the path. Calder still wrestling with whatever his personal preparations had entailed. The guards bid them entrance under orders to allow them in, but warned them that strange events had increased of late coming from that wicked mansion. A large oaken door gave them entrance in the early morning sunlight, but as soon as the last of them crossed the threshold, slammed shut behind them and would not open.

There was immediately a haunting event when the party encountered a mirror wherein their reflections were performing gruesome acts of self mutilation. Fortunately the party’s iron will resists the compulsion. Maarus did not wish to incur any further black marks on his luck and simply reversed the mirror so that it faced the wall. The hallways beyond began to wind in a confusing labyrinth, and Milvin suggested the use of chalk to track their way.

Brute force from Woomera forced open a door to what once may have been a portrait gallery. The once animate paintings had been savagely massacred, the subjects now unrecognizable. With great effort they removed the massive portraits from the wall to see what was behind them. The first four had grim caricatures of the subject drawn in what seemed to be blood. The last one held a safe with three key holes. Not having any of the necessary keys, they marked the site with chalk and the word SAFE before making a point to return later.

Back the way they had come, Waeslyn’s nerves began to get the better of them and a locked door was unlocked by a powerful rifle blast. Inside was a curious parody of a greenhouse. Plants that had been denied care and sunlight too long withered in piles of dirt atop an ornate carpet. Calder once again under the influences of forces unseen by his comrades , set about vainly trying to care for the plants. But in his attempts, he did find a rusty iron key.

Having come to the end of the path that they found in that direction they followed the chalk arrows back the way they had come to discover with dismay that they were not immune to the haunting effects of the manor. Waeslyn as a result abandoned their use as markers. As they entered an elaborate dining room, a stranger was found attempting to pick a lock on the opposite door. He revealed himself as Therran, and cryptically dodged most questions about his arrival here. Suspicious of his character, they party agreed that for the time being at least, his skill set might prove useful. Calder purified some extremely suspicious food and they ate to replenish energy before continuing onward.

A curiosity was found by Woomera in the form of a full bed affixed to the wall, the sheets squirming with life. When Calder moved to investigate, a mass of bedbugs, lice, and other minor parasites washed over him. In a disgusted panic Calder striped down and summoned a large spider to cleanse himself of the infestation. The key that fell to the ground was small reward for the ordeal he felt. Upon seeing the second in the set of keys the party remarked that they needed but one more. Therran offered that with those two already they might not need anymore having accepted his skills.

They returned to the portrait room, but Waeslyn was horrified to see the chalk writing had been replaced by the word DANGER. after using the first two keys, Therran was able to jimmy the final lock revealing a collection of bullets left there by someone expressly to combat ethereal foes. Collecting the suspicious gift, they pressed further into the mansion.

In a master bedroom with animal figures carved from hedgerows, the party was assaulted by a pack of dead and deranged hounds. With Maarus’ holy gun the pack stood no change against the party. In this room was found pointlessly the final key to the safe, lifted by force of mind from the hedge by Therran. Woomera’s suspicion of their tag along grew with this display. In the adjoining chamber, Calder collected some eclectic tomes while Maarus noted that the writing implement had ordered them to leave.

Rounding a corner, they spied a staircase leaded down deeper into the labyrinth. The halls continued to twist at the bottom, and Woomera examined their options. One hallway appeared to plunge deeper into darkness suspiciously straight, and they elected to continue investigating the winding corridors instead for the time being. The suspected remains of the second soothsaying party were found, having suffered a grisly fate. The throne in the same room enticed those near it to sit upon it, but magical examinations from Calder revealed what a painful decision that could be.

As the party entered into a grand ballroom, enchanted instruments were heard playing an eerie tune. Bloody footprints appeared and disappeared in time with the song, performing some sort of macabre dance. The party tried to skirt the edges of the dance floor, but Calder’s feet strayed onto the ornate tile, and a bloody partner invited him to join them. Fearing for his fate, Calder was able to resist the invitation and quickly lept from the dance floor.

After picking another lock and rounding another corner the party found themselves again with a choice of paths. Deciding that whatever event ultimately vexed this place was probably deeper within, they chose to descend even further into the haunted darkness, hoping that this would be what led to a swift escape from this maddening manor.

Separated by the magical rings, the party traced back their steps in search of Calder. A doorway that had previously been barred by magical energy was now clear and they explored further that direction. A nightmare materialized before them and briefly communicated with them. Milvin volunteered to trade places with Calder and try to find his way back. They learned some interesting information about their foe, but the communication barrier made many of the answers unclear at best. Conversation quickly broke down however, and a fight broke out.

The towering figure attempted to incorporate traits from each of the group but only Woomera and Calder were copied. Emboldened by the confidence that their foe was a copycat at best, they made a truly impressive showing and easily put down the figure. Milvin meanwhile had been stumbling through the dark and become entangled by a hidden octopus. He was retrieved and they pressed further inwards.

As the water in the cave began to quickly rise, travel became more difficult. Waeslyn in particular began to stress the need for haste towards their objective. As before in the last ruin, they finally encountered the figures they had seen in dreams before. Despite the strange method by which they communicate, the party began to develop theories about just who or what they were.

As they retrieved the crystal the pendant displayed a rough map of the continent. Waeslyn guessed that the points may be other hidden ruins in the area, but the rising tide cut short musings on the subject. A hurried dash down flooding tunnels led them to a geyser spout up through the rock. Escaping by flight in the nick of time, they signaled the Hugo II to send a longboat and ferry them back to dry land after a harrowing adventure.